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spider-man-199999 · 2 years ago

Text

Pacifier pt2

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader;

word count: 7,5 k

part1! part3!

warnings: 18+; smut; drug abuse; mentions of sex; p in v; unprotected sex; Peter is younger than the reader, but still 18. Reader is around 20. Peter is trying to pin reader even though he is younger; Switch Peter;

summary: In this one you’re hired as Morgan’s babysitter (and low-key underpaid Stark!assistant). Looking after a little girl isn’t too hard, but looking after her “big bother” as well, definitely is.

an: I'm scared of writing smut but i did it; also I wanted sitcom vibes! It's a long one.

You didn’t end up actually doing the things you did in your dreams that night. You were too drunk to explain exactly what you wanted, and he felt like he was taking advantage of you. So, after a long and heated make out session, plus a tantrum from you, he carried you to your bedroom and put you to bed before anything actually happened between the two of you.

You woke up from a wet dream about Peter again. It seemed like they were getting more and more frequent. The entire thing began with you two kissing on the couch, you told him you wanted to do it, he carried to your bedroom and you did it. You looked around your bedroom, there was no Peter around. You had your clothes on. Great, it was just a dream. You stared at the ceiling. Your head felt like it was about to burst open from the hangover.

“That felt so real.” you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and ran a finger over your lips, recalling the kiss from the beginning of the dream.

It was time to get up. All this party business had to end at some point and that point was in 5 days from now. Getting back to your routine was going to be hard if you kept this act up. So, you took a shower, changed your clothes and prayed there was something in this house that was going to cure your hangover. First thing's first - water. You felt like you could down a gallon. Drinking last night really took a toll on you this time. You walked into the kitchen and as soon as you did, the smell of burned eggs hit you and made you stop in your tracks like you had hit a wall.

“Wow, what’s going on here?” You asked, waving your hand in front of your face to get rid of the smoke.

“Hi! Good morning! I wanted to make some breakfast for my fake-but-not-so-fake girlfriend!” Peter said cheerfully when he saw you were there, turning towards you with the pan and wooden spatula in his hands. He was trying to make eggs, and failing miserably. Peter was still in his pajamas, his hair was everywhere. Seemed like the boy woke up and was practically on a mission to make breakfast as soon as he was awake.

“First of all, shhhh.” You shushed him, sitting down on a chair by the kitchen island, placing a hand on your forehead. “Second of all, I’m your nanny, not your… whatever you mentioned a few seconds ago.”

He stared at you confused but went on with scrambling the eggs.

“That’s weird, definitely not what you were saying or doing last night”.

You looked up at him. If your eyes could shoot lasers, they would. You would have absolutely killed him on the spot because of what he said.

“What am I missing about last night?”

“Missing? Wait, so you don’t remember us…” he stopped, turning to look at your face. He gulped when he saw the anger in your expression.

“Us doing what, Parker?”

“Well… you were pretty drunk.” He started, turning his back to you again. “And um, I drove us here.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we sat on the couch.” He said, taking a plate and placing it in front of you, still avoiding eye contact.

“Aha and then what?” You asked, starting to get worried. That sounded exactly like your dream.

“Um, we… I mean you… I didn’t want to take advantage of you in any way, but you kind of just did it, and you know how I feel about you so…”

“I did what exactly?”

“You kissed me. And I kinda kissed you back because I really like you, you know that.”

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds. He was too terrified of looking at you, you were too shocked and upset to even say anything.

“And what did we do after that?” You asked after a few seconds.

“Hmm, well, you kept saying things about your dreams of me and how I should do what I do in them. And you were kissing my neck and… you gave me this.” He pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, revealing a hickey on his collarbone. “I really didn’t get the dream part, you were very much insisting on “doing the thing” but I’m not sure what “the thing” was and you wouldn’t really specify. It's not the first time you mention things about dreams, what's actually up with that? And then I had to pick up up and take you to-“

“I’ve heard enough.” You cut him off, standing up from your chair. He finally looked at you and you were staring back at him, which made him blush.

You didn't know how you were supposed to feel about all of this. So the whole thing wasn't a dream? It was just a memory? You were silently freaking out on the inside.

"Please tell me you used protection." You said after you got up from your spot.

His eyes shot up at you, confusion written all over his face.

"Protection?Oh... OH-" he started, waving his hands in front of his chest "We did not do that! I would never! You were so drunk! No, no, no, we didn't do it."

It finally felt like you could breathe again. So, it was a dream after all, or at least part of it.

"Thank god!" you said, sitting back down and grabbing a water bottle that was conveniently already on the island. ''I'm so not prepared to go to jail for pedophilia!"

----

Another night, another party. This time you were determined to not let any alcohol inside your system. Last time you drank led to almost hooking up with Peter and you were definitely not letting that happen again. This time you didn't allow him to come with you to the basement party. You knew there ware going to be a lot of drugs and what kind of babysitter would you be if you exposed him to that? No way in hell that was happening. Plus, it was sunday night already, he had school the next morning. One more reason not to bring him here. And of course, the most obvious being that you didn't want to spend more time with him than necessary, because your suppressed feelings for him kept slipping out.

"Y/N" Lidia called and waved at you from the other side of the room.

You were standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. You smiled once she got your attention, squeezing through the crowd to get to her. The smell of weed was suffocating and the room was already foggy from the smoke. You sat down on a poof next to your friend, tightening your ponytail.

"Where's Peter?" she asked

"I would have appreciated a "hey, how are you?'' before Peter was brought up but okay." you rolled your eyes, making her laugh. "He's at home, not exposing his underage ass to alcohol and drugs. I mean his home, not mine."

"Underage?"

"Yeah, he's an intern, he's 18. He's been building legos all afternoon, which makes him mentally 12."

She made an "oh" sound and nodded her head, taking a cigarette from the table and lighting it.

"He seems nice, mature, he was really worried about you when you got lost last time." she said after taking a drag from the cigarette.

"We broke up. Do you mind not talking about him tonight?" you asked her.

She passed you the cigarette. You took it reluctantly, you had promised yourself not drinking tonight, getting high had an unclear status. Suddenly the cigarette with Lidia's lipstick on the filter was between your lips, and the smoke was in your lungs.

"Okay, I won't talk about him." she said, taking the cigarette back from you. "Just one question. How would you feel about linking me up with him? Nothing serious, I don't want to be his girlfriend or anything. Building legos all afternoon sounds kind of fun."

You thought about it for a second. If you said no to this, you would be admitting you actually had feelings for him. If you said yes, you were risking him developing feelings for her and forgetting about you. Both of those sounded really bad for you. But somehow, giving her the number was the most logical, most convenient way to force yourself to move on from this circus show you were currently stuck in. If they did end up having a thing, you wouldn't have to worry about him flirting with you, you wouldn't have to worry about cracking under the pressure and giving in. After thinking about it for a minute, you finally pulled out your phone and gave it to Lidia. She happily took it and put Peter's number in her own.

----

High you was nothing like drunk you. The drunk version of you didn't really know what was going on around her, couldn't control her reactions or her actions. High you, however, was very aware of her surroundings, but hyperactive and happy. You were running around and talking to everyone like a dog that had the zoomies. Lidia and Peter had been texting throughout the night, by which you were pretending to not be bothered. But when he showed up at the top of the stairs in the middle of the night, you felt like you were hallucinating. Was the weed that hard really? No way you would start hallucinating. Soft giggles escaped your lips as you watched him walk down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, holding back laughter once you met him at the bottom.

"Wow, actually here to pick you up." he said, seeing the state you were in.

"Nah" you said, shaking your head and fixing the collar on his flannel. "You're here to flirt with Lidia, go." you said and pushed him into the room, sending him off.

He made a few large steps forward because of your force but stopped and turned to face you.

"No, really, she said you got the zoomies and needed to go home. That's why I came, to pick you up."

You looked up at him, laughing softly. Like you were going to believe that kind of nonsense. Sure, Lidia was your friend, but she was the one who asked you if you were okay with the idea of her hooking up with him. No way in hell she texted him just because she thought you needed to go home. Maybe it was a tactic to lure him in here? You looked around, making a step closer to him. You grabbed the sides of his open flannel while looking around the room, Lidia and some of her girlfriends were standing by the bar, having drinks. They were all looking over at the two of you, whispering something to each other. Was Lidia really going to turn into the anime villain? The only friend you had?

"You okay?" Peter asked you, placing a hand on the small of your back to grab your attention.

"I need some air" you said, taking his free hand in yours and turning towards the stairs. "And your phone."

"My phone? Why would you need that?" He asked, following you up the stairs.

He gave you his phone, and stood by you while you read through the chat between him and Lidia. There was no one in the yard besides the two of you, which eased your nerves at least a little bit. She was most definitely flirting with him in those chats and he looked too oblivious in his replies. She had invited him over a few times and he had declined all of them. So, it really was a cruel plot to bring him to the party after all? You shoved the phone in his chest, startling him, before walking off somewhere. He gathered himself, running after you.

"Hey, hey, care to explain what's going on?" he grabbed your elbow, stopping you. You turned around to look at him. He seemed worried, tired and confused, which was his usual state around you. You looked around again, relaxing your shoulders once you were sure it was just the two of you there.

"Okay so, I was talking to Lidia, she asked me about you, I told her we broke up." you started, getting closer to him so you could whisper. He leaned in closer to hear you better while you nervously played with the hem of his flannel. "And after I told her that, she asked me for your number, because well... obviously she likes you."

"Oh." he replied. "And that is an issue because?"

You didn't say anything, you didn't even look in his eyes. You were starting to come down a bit, which meant you weren't as bold.

''Communication, please?'' he said after the two of you stood there in awkward silence, placing a hand on your cheek and lifting your head so you would look at him.

You did look, with your faces dangerously close to each other, which made you remember the kiss. It made you blush, you were starting to want more than just a kiss at that point. You looked at his lips, then into his eyes again, which made him smirk cockily.

"I knew it!" he said, letting go of your face and throwing his hands in the air like he had just single handedly won a football game. "You were jealous! You actually like me!"

You blinked rapidly a few times while you watched him run around.

"Oh my god, you don't have to do a flip just because I was jealous!"

"So you admit it? Now I actually have to do a flip."

"No, Peter, don't."

He did a flip anyway. It's not like it was hard for him, he was Spider-man after all. You facepalmed yourself as you watched him, shaking your head. It was kind of funny though, him being so happy over something so small. But it actually was a big deal to him, you finally admitting you had some feelings for him made him so happy, he felt like he could fly.

"You just gave me the ick, I no longer feel anything." You joked, laughing softly.

He didn't take it as a joke, stopping immediately and walking over.

"So I did a flip for nothing?"

You placed your hands around his neck, kissing his cheek. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. The two of you stood there in silence like this for a while, enjoying the moment. You heard a door close, which made you let go of him and turn around. He still had his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as Lidia approached the two of you. You immediately tensed up, not sure how this scene was going to unfold. She did admit to liking him, you lied about not liking him. It really was a whole mess in your head. You didn’t want to lose your only friend over a boy, but you also didn’t want to lose Peter over something so dumb.

"I knew you two didn't really break up!" he said cheerfully, clapping her hands happily.

"No. Well, in reality we never dated to begin with, he just said that because he's annoying." You confessed.

"Annoying?" Peter asked, acting offended.

"He's scared of girls flirting with him. He's scared of girls in general."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay, okay, no need to justify anything, I'll leave you two to it!" Lidia interrupted, smiling at the two of you. "I just wanted to make sure my plan worked."

"Your plan?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to see if she would get jealous, she totally did! I wanted to know if she was actually a cyborg or not."

"A cyborg?"

Peter laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"She's very capable of human emotions, such as anger and annoyance." he continued the joke, kissing the side of your head. You pushed his arm away crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Get lost, both of you!" you whined as they collectively made fun of you, walking away from them.

"Thank you." Peter said to Lidia. She nodded in return, going back inside the house. He ran after you, hugging you from behind so you would stop.

“I thought you weren’t drunk? Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not. I wasn’t jealous, I take it back. I don’t like you.”

—

Your back was pressed against the cold elevator wall, Peter’s fingers were gently touching the skin on your waist under your shirt. Your tongue was in his mouth while the two of you kissed hungrily. His hair was messy because you played with it while you made out. He lifted one of your legs, his hand running along it until he reached your butt, squeezing it playfully. The elevator door opened, which made you break the kiss. You did feel like you started coming down from the weed earlier in the evening, while still at the party even, but the effect definitely was not over yet. You looked at Peter, his arm was rested on the wall next to your head, he was looking down at you, panting softly. A soft blush was painted across the pale skin on his cheeks. He looked unbelievably cute. You grabbed the hand that was holding your ass, taking it in yours and leading him out of the elevator. The weed was making you very needy, and now that the rabbit was out of the hat, nothing was really stopping you from doing what you wanted most. And Peter was the thing you wanted to do the most right now. You walked rapidly to your bedroom, turning the lights on before pushing him on the bed. Peter looked at you in shock, he didn’t expect you to be this bold. Meanwhile you got on top of him, already trying to take his flannel off. He helped you with that, placing his hands on your hips, still processing that this whole thing is happening.

“Do you mind taking part in this?” you asked, annoyed by how stunned he was underneath you.

“Yes! I mean, no, sorry! I’ll just stop talking…”

“Yeah, that would be best.” you cut him off, kissing him afterwards while your hands went under his t-shirt and touched… spandex underneath it. You broke the kiss, sitting up and looking at him.

“Are you wearing the Spider suit?” you asked him, furrowing your brows.

He had completely forgotten about that.

“Yeah, I was on patrol when Lidia texted me to come over…”

“Please stop talking about her.” you whined

“You said you weren’t jealous.” He teased you, his hands moving under your shirt. He ran his fingertips along your back slowly, lifting your shirt further up with each movement.

You didn’t reply, just took your shirt off and lay down on him, attacking his neck with kisses and soft nibbles. His breath hitched when your lips touched his skin, moaning softly when your teeth dug into it.

“How do you take that suit off?” you asked, undoing his jeans before you kissed him again.

“Well, you just place your hand in the middle of my chest and it loosens up so you can take it off.”

“Take it off theeen.” you said, sitting up again.

You got off of him so he could get rid of all the clothes he was wearing, including the suit. It was your first time seeing him naked, which meant you had to stare. The clothes he usually wore weren't doing any justice to his physique, you could definitely tell that now. He snapped his fingers in front of you, pulling you out of your trance.

“You good?”

“Oh, I’m really good.” you smiled, getting on top of him again.

After making out for a few more minutes, your hand reached down to his underwear, slipping inside and taking a hold of his dick. His hand grabbed your shoulder, breaking the kiss you both were very invested in, to look at you in shock. You smiled at him encouragingly, kissing his nose before you gave him a few strokes. It’s not like he needed them, he was already hard enough. You pulled his underwear down, he still looked terrified and tense.

“Are you okay with this?” you asked.

He nodded, closing his eyes and biting his lip while you stroked him again with your hand. You had to loosen him up a little bit so you kissed down his jaw and neck, placing soft butterfly kisses further and further down - on his chest, his stomach, until you reached his penis. You got off the bed, getting down on your knees to stand between his legs. Peter still had his eyes closed, his muscles would flex when you touched him. Was he actually a virgin? You chuckled at the thought, your lips pressing against the shaft. It made him moan and flinch softly, his eyes flew open and he saw you between his legs. It made him support himself on his elbows so he could look at you better. Once he was looking, you gave him the most innocent stare you had in you before taking the tip in your mouth, running your tongue over it. He threw his head back, his fingers digging into the sheets. You giggled softly after that, giving him a slow long lick from the bottom back to the tip before taking the entire thing in your mouth, bopping your head. Your hand was stroking the parts that you couldn’t fit in your mouth, watching him as he squirmed and moaned under your touch. It turned you on even more, watching his toned chest rise up and down, his stomach muscles flexing. Seeing him like this made you more needy than before, so you undid your jeans and slipped your free hand inside to touch yourself. You moaned with his dick in your mouth.

“Ah, fuck.” he said, looking at you.

You two held eye contact for a few seconds while you went further down on him with your mouth, his hand found its way to your hair, resting there. Touching yourself wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. You stopped sucking him off, resting your head on his leg while you looked at him. He whined when you stopped, looking at you. Peter’s fingers brushed some stray locks away from your face. Your fingers were still moving down your clit while you looked at him.

“Pete.” you moaned softly, your knees weak because you were getting close.

“Yes?” he replied between pants, cupping your cheek with his hand.

He ran his thumb along your cheek. You hid your face in his thigh, your free hand was still loosely holding his length as you came, moaning his name once more.

“Fuck, that was so hot.” Peter said, still petting your cheek calmly as you were coming down.

“Just wait ‘till we get to the actual sex.” you laughed, taking your hand out of your jeans.

You moved on the bed, sitting down next to him before you placed your cum-coated fingers on his lips and he obediently took them in his mouth, licking them off clean. He held eye contact the entire time, making you bite your lip as you felt his tongue swirling around your fingers. Now you really needed to fuck him. Peter’s hand moved to undo your bra, taking it off of you and immediately pinning you on the bed afterwards. He showered your chest with kisses, his fingers quickly pulling your pants down. You whined from the feeling of his soft lips against your skin, his hands touching your body. You loved it more than you ever imagined you would.

“Who told you you were in charge?” You asked playfully, flipping him over again.

He was slightly puzzled by your sudden movements, throwing his hands back while he looked up at you. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. You didn’t have enough nerve to take your panties off so you just pushed them to the side before taking his member with your other hand, teasing around the entrance. His hands were on your hips again, his head back while he enjoyed the feeling of your wetness on his tip, it felt heavenly, intoxicating, but incredibly painful to be teased like that.

“Who told you you could be on top?” he asked in return to your previous question, digging his nails in your soft, silky skin.

“Do I hear a complaint?”

“No, no, definitely not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What about-’’ he started, unsure if he should finish the question. “Protection?”

“Fuck.” you cussed out, it had slipped your mind altogether. “Okay um, a few minutes like this and we use a condom after?”

He nodded at your suggestion, neither of you could wait any longer for this. You squeezed the shaft of his dick, holding it in place while you slowly slid down it. The two of you moaned in sync, which made you laugh softly. It took a few seconds to adjust to the size before you started moving your hips. You didn’t want to brag about your skill, but you knew you were going to give him a very good time. All these dancing lessons when you were younger were paying off so well right now. You had one hand running up and down his stomach while your other hand was on his leg, supporting you as you rolled your hips on his, like the good cowgirl you were. Peter felt like it was too good to be true, if he didn’t have your nails digging into his leg, which was a pain he was definitely willing to ignore, he would have assumed this was a dream. The way your body moved like fluid was hypnotizing, and combined with the way you felt, he was really losing his mind. The two of you were playing a very dangerous game. His name rolled out of your lips, which was enough to drive him crazy given the circumstances. Peter closed his eyes, everything was getting too much for him.

“Pete, look at me.” you whined when you saw him.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I can’t, I’ll- Fuck.”

You stopped, getting off of him. What you were doing really was dangerous, you had to use protection at that point. You opened the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom and tossing it to him. He grabbed it, unwrapping the thing and putting it on.

“I think it’s kinda…”

You looked down at it, the condom did seem small on him. It made you laugh, kissing him after that.

“Wanna be on top?” you asked him.

He nodded again, but he had different plans to yours. He grabbed your hips, turning you over on your stomach.

“Peter!” you protested in shock, looking back at him.

Peter smiled coily, positioning himself. He pulled your hips back slightly with one arm, inserting himself and started thrusting in you forcefully. You cried out burying your face in the mattress while he fucked you. This whole being innocent act really got you in the beginning, you actually believed he was a virgin for a second. You should have known he was a freak the second he licked your fingers. He was absolutely merciless, holding your hips in place while he slammed you, making you moan and whine with each movement. You were never the loud type, but the way he was fucking you, you just couldn’t help it. Peter’s hands moved up and down your back, held your waist. He made sure to touch every inch of skin that was exposed to him. His hand wrapped around one of your wrists, pulling it back. He did the same with the other, holding both of your small wrists with his hand at the small of your back. He really was a freak. You couldn’t move, he had full control now. All you could do was sit there, whine and cry his name while he rearranged your guts. It was getting too much, even for you, it felt like he knew all the right spots to make your legs shake. You tried moving your hips with his, but he would shush you and hold you down so you couldn’t move. You hated not being in control, but he wasn’t giving you a choice. You were actually enjoying being absolutely dominated by this shy, awkward geek. You were having a shaking orgasm all over his dick sooner than both of you had expected. He had to let go of your wrist and use both hands to help you stay steady while he fucked you through it, and even after you were done, he didn’t stop.

“Peter, Peter, please, I can’t.”

“What was that? Were you begging me?”

“Please” you cried out.

You hated being overstimulated, it felt so much better to just stop for a short break and do another round, but this you hated. He lay on top of you, not stopping even for a second, so he could whisper in your ear.

“I’ll stop when I make you squirt, princess.”

You whined, feeling his body weight on top of you. He was so warm, you could feel his toned muscles on your skin, his hair was tickling the side of your face while he kissed your neck and your shoulders. You gripped on the sheets in front of you, you were moaning his name, it was the only thing you could say, the only thing on your mind. I had never squirted before, you weren’t even sure you could, until you did. It was a shaking, strong orgasm, you felt like you had peed yourself but in the best way possible. It lasted so long and it was so intense you could barely breathe after it. You were still disorientated when Peter pulled out, turning you around, he came on your stomach and breasts. Your legs were flooded, he was wet all over as well, your sheets were soaked. You were too fucked to even think straight, to even care that you were about to fall asleep in this whole mess.

—-

You were woken up by the alarm on Peter’s phone. It was 7 am. You opened your eyes, seeing a curly head next to yours.

“Oh no.” you said, sitting up. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

You shook him awake, which made him groan in displeasure.

“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked “I’m so sore, wow.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” you kept repeating over and over.

“What’s up with you?”

“This didn’t happen! Please tell me it was a dream! It didn’t happen, right?”

“By the looks of it, it definitely happened.”

“God, no.” You cried, laying back down.

You definitely needed a minute to process it, staring at the ceiling, Peter rolled over on his side, supporting his head with one arm while he looked at you.

“I would suggest a shower, but I can see that you’re freaking out.”

You gave him the death glare, which made him slowly get out of the bed before you actually got the chance to strangle him. He was butt naked, which confirmed your memories of the night before. You groaned and turned your attention back to the ceiling, cursing yourself mentally for allowing this to happen. After a solid 3 minutes, it was time for a quick shower before driving Peter to school. He was already late, you didn’t want him to be even more late.

You caught him in his spidersuit, standing on the edge of the window with his backpack on his back. He turned his head to look at you, already holding the web he had shot a web somewhere into the distance.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked him, still in your towel.

“Going to school?”

“In your suit?”

“I’m late, this is the fastest way there.”

“Take it off, I’m driving you.”

“But-”

“No, that’s too risky, take it off.”

“Well that gave me flashbacks from last night.”

“Forget them.”

The silence in the car while you drove him to school was deafening. Peter was looking out of the window and you were trying to concentrate on driving. But he kept distracting you, every time he moved you got freaked out that he would touch you. And you were even more terrified because you actually wanted him to touch you, it was more anticipation rather than fright. And his breathing, you were either hyper focused on his presence in general, or he was just breathing way too loud. And it reminded you of last night, his breath hitching under your touch, the warm tinkle on your skin from when he exhaled as he was on top of you. You were so drowned in your memories that you were caught off guard when the high school building suddenly appeared in front of you. You stopped the car in the parking lot, finally turning your head to look at Peter. He smiled weakly, his hand reaching out to hold yours. You were hesitant at first but you let him do it.

“I don’t want this thing to come between us.” he said

“You’re going to be late, you should go.”

“We really need to talk about this.”

“You’re gonna be late.”

He sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance. He ran his thumb along your hand, sitting like this for a few seconds. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, a tingly feeling in your stomach with every movement he made.

“Have fun in class.” he told you, opening the door and walking out of the car.

—-

It had been two days since you decided to stay over at Lidia’s place. Being around Peter was too much to handle for you right now. He had been blowing up your phone ever since you disappeared. You didn’t really disappear, you didn’t want him to think you got kidnapped so you left him a note that you’d be staying with a friend for a few days.

It was a tough few days, you appeared at Lidia’s door shaking because you had been crying too hard. She helped you in, holding you while you cried your heart’s content out. After a good sleep in the night, mixed with some confusing stories you were trying to tell your friend, you were actually finally ready to discuss the situation. You walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen, sitting at the table as Lidia gave you a hot cup of tea.

“You doing okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded, taking a sip from the warm liquid.

“Want to talk about why having feelings for someone is such a drama?”

“It’s more complicated than just that.”

“How?”

“For starters, he’s barely legal. Also, he’s basically a colleague of mine and office romance is a big no.”

“You don’t even work in an office.”

“I didn’t mean it literally. How do you smoothly transition from nanny to girlfriend overnight? I imagine Tony freaking out if he finds out about this. They have a very weird son-father relationship.” You fussed your brows when you thought about it.

The two of you sat in silence, Lidia looked at you smiling like she had an evil plan. Your eyes met hers and you knew she was about to suggest something really crazy

“You can always leave Stark Industries. How about working for Oscorp Industries? I know Harry Osborn, he’s a really cool guy.”

“That’s basically like sleeping with the enemy.”

“Come on, it’s not like you’re planning on being the Stark nanny for your entire life! You can check out your options. You’re pretty, smart and young. Top of the class in both math and physics, you’re wasting your time babysitting. And Peter would no longer be your coworker.”

“I’m not EXCLUSIVELY babysitting. I do science work at Stark too. And I can't do that to Tony, he already pays me way too much for the job I do, he took me in when I had nothing left... In a very weird way he's like a father to me.”

“If I were you, I’d be trying to actually bag Harry Osborn. He’s your fan.”

You looked at her with the side of your eye. Whose side was she on? You had been crying for two days straight because you had feelings for Peter and suddenly she’s suggesting you start dating someone else?

“Are you just saying that because you still want to fuck Peter? How does Osborn Jr. even know I exist?” you asked her.

“Oh no, you already did that, cute Stark intern if way off limits at this point.” She said, taking a banana from the fruit basket and peeling it. “It was just a suggestion. If dating Peter is sooo complicated, just date someone else instead. Harry used to take Math with us last semester, he was asking around if you were tutoring but I didn't know you back then."

“But that would break his heart!’’

“Honey, you’re already breaking his heart. You keep saying you don’t want him, but you let him be your ‘fake boyfriend’ for the party, then you kiss him for real. After that you have a fake breakup with him, and the same night you sleep with him? And he has all his hopes up that you finally feel the same way, so you just run and hide from him. If that’s not toxic behavior, then I don’t know what is.”

She was right, you were leading Peter on, constantly playing hot and cold with him. One minute you wanted him and the next you didn’t. If you were feeling confused, which you definitely were, then it was probably even worse for him.

“Oh, god, I’m an actual asshole to him.”

Lidia nodded, biting off her banana.

—-

After the dire realization that you were a terrible person that did not deserve anything good to ever happen to you ever again, Lidia decided it would be good for you two to go out and eat some ice cream to cheer you up. You knew that no amount of ice cream could ever fix the damage you had done, but it sure was a way to give you some kind of dopamine, which you desperately needed. Peter still hadn’t given up on calling and texting, which was making you feel even worse for what you were doing to him. Lidia made sure to cover your tracks when he texted her in desperation, assuming you had gone to her since you had no one else. He was right, but she didn’t tell him where she lived and would only inform him that you were doing somewhat okay. That didn’t help his stress in any way, shape or form, if anything it just made him feel worse, like he had fucked his chances up big time.

But Lidia took you to her favorite gelato place anyway, treating you to some pistachio gelato, which you weren’t sure whether you loved or hated. Just like you did with Peter. But it was nice to go out for a change, and try something new. It was good to get your mind off of that awkward geek that has been driving you crazy for months now. After the cute gelato date, you decided to walk down two blocks to one of your favorite coffee shops. You went there all the time to get orders for the Avenger meetings, it was close to Stark tower and everyone appreciated a good coffee blend.

“So, that’s actually where you live?” Lidia asked, looking up at the glass building in the distance, coffee in hand.

“Yep.”

“The view must be amazing!”

“Breathtaking is a more appropriate word.”

And just as you were engrossed in the view, finally feeling some kind of peace after an eternity, you saw a red and blue spot swing around.

“Oh no.” you said, turning to Lidia, using your hand to turn her into the direction from which you came from, pushing her so she could go.

“What happened?Why are we going?”

“Just trust me, we need to go!” you said, still pushing her.

But you were too late, he had already spotted you. In a matter of seconds, Spider-man dropped down from the sky right in front of the two of you.

“We have to talk.” The masked one said, looking at you, as you attempted to hide behind Lidia.

The girl turned to look at you, slightly squatted down so you could hide behind her back.

“You know Spider-man?” she asked, stepping away to expose you to him.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at you with his head tilted to the side.

“How do you know spider-man??” Lidia asked you.

“I don’t, stranger danger.” You said once you gained your composure, looking at him.

He laughed at your words, shaking his head.

“We both work with the Avengers, she brings me coffee every meeting.”

“You don’t even drink coffee, you big man-child, you beg me to bring you hot chocolate so you don’t feel excluded from the coffee drinkers.”

“Oh, so you know my coffee order but I’m somehow a stranger?”

You were blowing the cover, which was really bad for the two of you.

“Okay I do know him.” you admit, turning to Lidia.

“And we need to talk, now.”

Before you even had the chance to reply he took your coffee cup and shoved it in Lidia’s hands, wrapping his arm around your waist and swinging you away from the scene. He had never done this before, you were actually shaking with fear for your life. You wrapped your arms and legs around him like a koala, holding him so tightly you were probably going to strangle him soon. He landed the two of you on a roof when he noticed you weren’t okay with swinging.

“You can let go now, we stopped.” he said, you had hidden your face in his chest, eyes shut as tight as humanly possible. The wind really had stopped. You looked up at him, letting go and stepping down, taking a few steps back while fixing your outfit.

“You wanted to talk?” you reminded, finally looking at him.

“What the hell did I do to push you away this bad?” he just exploded, all of the bottled up thoughts and feelings taking over. He was pacing around nervously while he talked, waving his hands in the air to emphasize the words. “Like for real, I finally thought I had a breakthrough with you, after all of this goddamn time, you actually admit what we both knew was true and then just…. You flip a switch and you run away? We’re back to square one? What more do you want me to do, Y/N? What else can I possibly do to get to you when you constantly refuse to communicate, you systematically run away from both your feelings and me? I’m really tired and confused all of the time because you just can’t seem to mak-”

“You’re right.” you cut him off.

He stopped walking around and looked at you. If he didn’t have the mask on, you would probably be able to read his expression, but you were guessing it was pure shock anyway.

“I’m right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” you nodded. “I thought that if I pushed you away enough times you would just give up. But you never did. Then I let my guard down and this whole mess happened. It’s not that I don’t like you, I actually do, despite you being the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life. I was toxic to you, like radioactive even, even more than that spider that bit you. I just thought, and I still do, that given our circumstances, it’s unwise to date.”

“If this is about me being younger again, you’re so wrong. Despite our age difference, I’m the one who actually wanted to work this out, right? You’re being immature.”

“It’s not about age. Well, it is kinda, but I genuinely think I'll be a bad girlfriend to you.”

He walked up to you, placing a hand on your cheek. You put your hand over his, looking at the mask.

“Don’t say that, you’ll be an amazing girlfriend.”

“No, Pete, I’ll act the same way I do now. I’ll be inconsistent and push you away and… hurt you.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pulling you into a tight hug after that.

“How about we try? For a month?”

You pressed yourself to him, thinking about it. A month didn’t sound like a long time.

“Okay.” you said, he tried to let go but you didn’t let him, scared to see his reaction. It wasn't going to hurt you to try. Even if it made your blood run cold.

He moved one arm up, showing you his pinky. Peter really wanted to make this a pinky promise? Real mature. You laughed at his act but did it anyway.

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked him, finally looking up as you locked pinkies.

“I’ll make it work out.”

“Just a heads up, I’m not going as your prom date, Parker.”

----

I'm tagging everone who asked for a part 2! Pls dm me if you want your tag removed!

@groundclueless @spiderman-stilinski @sovrwolfie @wtvbabes

@writingfortheunloved @leavemeoutofitkay @ivyquill

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honeym00ngirl · 3 months ago

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How do we feel about full length fics centered around OCs? Would I benefit more from making an AO3 account to post said fic types or is Tumblr a fine place to start?

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the-wize-1 · 8 months ago

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Thawing the Widow (A Natasha Romanoff Story): Chapter 6 - Frozen Peas

Chapter Summary: Cat's plan kind of fails (is anyone surprised?)... but it also works out? Things happen and she’s reunited with a certain redheaded assassin.

Chapter Warnings: Talking about a mugging, playful threatening with a knife. This is and will be minor friendly! No smut in this story.

Notes: Nat returns this chapter! But this isn’t the last we see of Peter! Thank you to everyone who reblogged/commented/read so far! Getting notifications really encourages me and I enjoy each and everyone one of them. New chapters will come Monday/Thursday 5PM PST (I’m on time FINALLY). Also idk if I should make a tag list but if so lmk who’s interested! Happy reading!

Thawing the Widow Masterlist

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"That was awesome!" Cat breathed as Spider-Man dropped her and Taco back on the ground. Her heart was still beating fast from the exhilaration. Swinging around New York was similar to riding a roller coaster, albeit a faster, steeper, more dangerous one with significantly less elbow room.

Spider-Man looked around the abandoned streets warily. "Um… are you sure this is where you wanted me to drop you off?"

Cat made sure she had the right dark alley. Granted, all the dark alleys looked generally the same in New York, but she had a great mind for directions. And she was pretty sure she was at the right place. If she squinted, she could spot a few familiar landmarks. And… there! If she could get a little closer, she could just make out the sliver of the door on the side of the wall.

The door of the safehouse.

"This is the one," she confirmed.

"If you're sure," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help? I don't think I have any cash on me— wait—" He awkwardly patted himself down for cash, even though Cat couldn't see how any pockets could possibly be hidden in the folds of his spandex. "Yeah, no cash. Sorry."

Cat suddenly had an idea. "Can I have your autograph?"

"What?"

"You know, to sell it," she said unremorsefully. "It might help me make some money. Sorry if that's offensive. I need everything I can get right now."

"Oh, that's really smart. I didn't even think of that. I don't have any paper, do you?"

Cat rummaged around in her backpack. She had a few souvenirs, a mug that was only a little cracked, some pieces of cardboard, and an I-Heart-New-York sweatshirt that was slightly too large for her. Lastly, she pulled out an extra thick sharpie. She'd gotten most of the items in the soup kitchen cupboards, or at homeless shelters.

Spider-Man quickly scribbled his signature on all of them, leaving little sweet but unnecessary notes. "Here you go."

"I'm really grateful for this," she told him.

Before handing the sharpie back, he paused. He stared at her for a long time. "Are you going to be okay?"

She glared at him. "Of course I am!" she said indignantly. "I'm tough, you know."

"I know. You're pretty neat, Cat."

"You're not so bad yourself, Spider-Man."

He awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder, then removed it almost instantly. "Well, just know that if you're ever in trouble, I'll always be around. Just… scream for help, or something." He patted Taco on the head. "Bye, cute beagle." He shot a web up into a ledge of a building. He made a peace sign at her as he yanked himself into the air. "See ya, Cat!"

"Bye!" Cat called after him as he swung out of view.

I'll be okay, she thought.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

She was so not going to be okay.

"Damn," she swore under her breath, jamming her knife in the lock for the eighth time in the dim hopes that it would work that time.

Cat dug it in harder, twisting and turning every which way. She was waiting for the telltale clicks and shifts, but they didn't come. Instead, the knife was met with a stubborn wall that blocked it from moving in further. She'd been there for at least ten minutes, with a sinking heart. They'd changed the locks.

"Damn it!"

Taco barked. Cat liked to imagine she was sharing her frustration.

Frustrated and disappointed, Cat gave up. Plan A was a no-go. She'd have to find somewhere else to sleep. Which actually really sucked, because it was freezing. The wind was blowing with a frigid ferocity that night. She tried to yank the knife out of the lock, but it was stuck.

She swore again, tugging at the knife, but it stayed stubbornly stuck. Her grip slipped and she fell backwards onto the ground, landing hard. Oww. She groaned. Taco jumped up and padded over to her, licking her face.

Despite Taco being adorable as always, Cat was miserable. Her hands and face were numb with cold. She could hardly feel her fingertips. She was shivering in her feeble, tightly stretched coat and thin leggings that offered no protection from the cold. She'd been looking forward to the warm, welcoming safehouse, but now even that wasn't an option. The good thing was, the cold did a good job of numbing the pain on her face and ribs. She had long gotten used to the throb of pain.

Cat got to her feet, shaking with exhaustion. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. Whether she was getting into the safehouse or not, she sure as hell was getting her knife back.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some warmth into them. She wrapped her hands around the hilt of the knife, and raised her left foot to a position over the lock. Taco watched her with a perplexed expression, as if asking her what the hell she thought she was doing. Pushing off of her left foot, leaning sideways, she tugged at the knife as hard as she could.

The knife came loose. Cat couldn't regain her balance quickly enough, so she went flying backwards, slamming into the opposite wall with a sickening crash. She collapsed to the floor with a heap. For a moment, Cat laid there, breathing hard, and felt impossibly tired. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep right there…

Then, she heard something moving behind the door. With a grunt of pain, Cat forced herself to her feet. She held her knife to her side, the slightest sliver of hope in her heart.

The door groaned open.

"You're making an awful lot of noise," Natasha said.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Natasha didn't say a word as she led Cat into the living room, and gestured to the table. Cat took a seat and watched as Natasha took out a bag of dog food from one of the cabinets and poured it into a bowl for Taco. Taco leapt on it eagerly.

"Do you have a dog?" Cat asked out of curiosity.

"No."

"Why do you have dog food?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

Cat took that as a good enough answer. Natasha wordlessly passed her a box of Chinese takeout. The smell of it had been filling up the kitchen. Cat dug in the moment she had it in her hands, feeling impossibly luckier and happier than she had in weeks. She ate like she was starving— probably because she was.

Natasha was silent, watching her as she devoured the takeout. Once Cat had eaten almost half of it, she gently tugged it out of Cat's hands.

"Sorry," Cat said immediately, scooting back in her chair. "I didn't mean to eat so much, I just—"

"Relax," Natasha said. "I'll give it back. You don't want to eat too fast or too much, or you'll throw up."

"Right." Cat took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Here."

Natasha passed her a mug of steaming brown liquid. For a moment, Cat got excited, thinking it was coffee. When she took a sip and the taste of hot chocolate slammed into her, she wasn't too disappointed. It was surprisingly good. She was mostly glad Natasha had decided to let her in at all.

Cat wrapped her hands around the mug, trying to let the warmth of the room envelope her in its embrace. She relished in the moment, having a warm place to stay, food, and water. She shivered, remembering that it was only temporary and soon she'd have to be back out in the streets.

Cat couldn't take the silence. "Do you live here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," she answered vaguely.

"How did you know I was outside?"

"Like I said, you were making a lot of noise. I didn't think that was possible, considering those walls are about two feet thick."

"You changed your locks," Cat said resentfully.

"It's called a safehouse for a reason," Natasha pointed out. "What would be the point if persistent little orphans like you could break in?"

"I didn't think anyone would be inside."

"And that makes it okay?" Natasha asked pointedly.

"Um… no," Cat said, trying to sound remorseful. "Sorry."

Another bout of silence passed. Cat was trying to think of a way to ask for the takeout back. Her hunger was still rearing its little ugly head inside of her. But Natasha was holding the box just out of arm's reach.

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing."

"I said, what happened to your face?" Natasha asked again, this time with an edge to her voice. Her eyes had narrowed.

"And I said," Cat fired back, "nothing."

"I gave you food," Natasha pointed out. Cat eyed the takeout box. "I could've left you out there in the cold. The least you could do is give me a straight answer."

Cat bit her lip. That was true. What would be the harm in telling her? Her stomach whined, yearning for the takeout. Still, some part of her didn't want Natasha to know. She stayed silent.

Natasha sensed the shift in her silence. She pushed the takeout box toward Cat, just a little. Cat reached for it, but then Natasha pulled it away. Cat looked up at Natasha with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. No food?

"Answer the question, and you can have it."

Cat scoffed. "That's not going to work on me."

"We'll see," Natasha said with an infuriating amount of certainty.

Cat worked her jaw. She crossed her arms and leaned back, defiant. Natasha stared back with an equal amount of fierceness. Cat's stomach growled painfully. It was loud enough so that even Natasha heard. She raised her eyebrows. Then, the smell of the takeout got to Cat.

"I tripped."

"You tripped."

"Yes."

"Try again."

"Fine. I got mugged." Cat lunged for the takeout box.

Natasha held it just out of reach, again. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"Who mugged you?"

"How do you expect me to know? They weren't keen on doing icebreakers, and there wasn't enough time for me to run a facial recognition program."

"What did they want?"

Cat crossed her arms. "I thought you said I only had to answer one question. This seems like a lot more than one."

Natasha passed the takeout box to her. Cat started eating with a fervor. She was starting to feel a little full, but too full was better than too empty. She'd learned on the streets that she never knew when her next meal was going to be. If overeating to the point of throwing up meant she could spend another night without starving, that was what she was going to do.

Natasha got up and left, then came back with a first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas. She watched Cat wolf down the food with a horrified fascination.

"Slow down. You're scaring me."

Cat made a show of chewing for a long time before swallowing. The food in the takeout box was almost gone. She polished off the last bit, feeling satisfied for the first time in weeks. She started on the hot chocolate next, tipping the mug over until the last drop fell into her mouth.

Finally, she settled back into the chair with a sigh.

Natasha passed her the bag of frozen peas.

Cat stared at the bag of frozen peas. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Put it on your face, idiot."

Cat pressed it to the bruise on her face. She winced. "Ow."

"Don't be a baby. So, what did the muggers want?" Natasha repeated.

Cat sighed, long and drawn-out. Natasha had been awfully nice to her. She was lucky to be in a warm room with hot chocolate and takeout instead of shivering out in the cold. The least she could do was provide her with a little information.

"Money. They saw me give, like, twenty dollars to this Girl Scout, but it was pretty much the last of it. I kept telling them I didn't have any more, but you'd be surprised at how dumb they are."

"I'm not. How did you get away?"

Cat grinned. "Oh, funny story, actually. You know that guy, Spider-Man?"

"Sure. We've met a few times."

Cat gaped at her for a moment, having forgotten that Natasha was the Black Widow. She probably had met Spider-Man before. "You have?"

Natasha shrugged. "He's a good fighter. He's a bit of a talker, but a decent guy. We didn't really do the whole 'getting to know you' thing. We were mostly focused on trying to beat the crap out of Steve and his groupies."

Steve… Cat thought. Who was Captain America. Natasha was on a first name basis with Captain America— obviously— which was so cool.

"Yeah, anyway, Spider-Man swooped in and beat up all the muggers and stuck them on the wall. Then he swung me here. I asked him to autograph all my stuff so I could sell it."

"Hmm." Natasha moved the bag of peas from Cat's eye to see the bruise. "How hurt are you?"

Cat's ribs were aching, but she knew they weren't broken. Maybe bruised. It was mostly her face that was hurting, but the frozen peas had done a good job of numbing the area. "I'm fine. My ribs hurt a little, but—"

Without warning, Natasha reached out and prodded her side. Cat yelped, more shock than hurt, and thrust her hands up in front of her to defend herself.

"Jesus! Could you warn me before you do that?"

"Where does it hurt?" Natasha asked unapologetically.

"Just… like, around here."

Cat stayed stiff as Natasha pressed lightly against her ribs, examining them. "They're just bruised," she told her.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You know, I could've told you that if you'd just asked instead of prodding me like some kind of lab rat."

Natasha straightened, looking her in the eye. She had an unnerving habit of doing that. Her piercing eyes were impossible to avoid. "So, tell me. What's your plan?"

"My plan?" Cat echoed.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Your plan for living on the streets, finding a job, feeding yourself, making sure you don't die. Unless you don't have one?"

"Of course I have a plan," Cat said, not wanting to admit that she did not, in fact, have any sort of plan. "I'm going to go to homeless shelters and the soup kitchens to get food. And I'm going to get a lot of canned food from pretending to be a Girl Scout. And I'll learn everything I need to know in the library— Don't make that face!"

Natasha's smirk reverted into a suspiciously convincing blank expression. "What face?"

"Like you think I'm some silly little kid who has no idea what she's doing. I'm really good at memorizing things. I could learn everything I need to learn in the library— You're making the face again!"

The second time, Natasha didn't bother to disguise her skepticism. "Yeah, because it's a crappy plan."

"It's not a crappy plan."

"Really? Then why'd you end up here, of all places?"

"Because I—"

"—had nowhere else to go?" Natasha finished.

She took Cat's sulky silence as an affirmation and plowed on.

"You don't have a consistent source of income. How do you expect to pay for things like new clothes, necessities, or literally anything you need to survive? You're also an easy target because you're young and you barely know how to defend yourself. You got mugged, which I promise will not be the worst situation you'll find yourself in, and you only just scraped by."

"I can defend myself," Cat protested. She thought she did a rather good job of fending herself off against the muggers, considering the circumstances. "I have a knife!" She grabbed it from the pocket of her jacket and pointed it at Natasha.

What happened next Cat almost couldn't explain in words. It happened so quickly. In one swift motion, Natasha lunged over the table and did something weird and uncomfortable with her arm, twisting and maneuvering it forcefully so that Cat's shoulder slammed down on the table. Cat glanced up, straining her neck, to see that the knife had made its way into Natasha's grip. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Cat could've blinked and missed it.

"What… the hell," she breathed. Also, ow. Her shoulder.

Natasha released her. Cat grabbed her shoulder, wincing. "Just because you have a knife doesn't mean you can defend yourself." She examined the knife distastefully. "This a kitchen knife."

"That wasn't fair," Cat grumbled. "You're the Black Widow. I stood no chance."

"So? You think a bunch of muggers are gonna go easy on you just because you're a little homeless girl? Haven't you've already learned that?"

Cat crossed her arms. "Okay, I get it. My plan is a crappy plan. It's not like you have a better one."

"Of course I do. I'll take you there myself."

All at once, alarm raced through her. Cat's feet slammed onto the ground. She pushed the chair away from the table with a loud screech and stood up. "You're not taking me to CPS."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'm not. Sit down."

Cat lowered herself back in the chair cautiously. "Then where are you going to take me?"

"I own an apartment not far away from here. I barely use it, so you could crash there for the time being."

For several moments, Cat couldn't speak. "W-what?"

"What is it with you and making me repeat myself twice?" Natasha groused. "Did you not hear the first time?"

"I heard," Cat snapped, recovering quickly. "Does it have heating?"

"Yes."

"And a plumbing system?"

"Yes."

"And coffee?"

Natasha frowned. "Of course."

"And Fruit Loops?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I could get some Fruit Loops," Natasha offered.

"Thank you," Cat mumbled, staring into the distance. This was impossible, right? There was no way something this good could happen to her. Her attention snapped back to Natasha, who was still staring at her.

"Why are you helping me?" Cat demanded. "This isn't a trick, is it?"

"Are you always this paranoid?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Fair enough," Natasha admitted. "But you just have to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone," Cat said.

Something changed in Natasha's expression. Her eyes were faraway, looking into the distance. "You remind me of myself," she said. "I didn't want to rely on anyone either. But sometimes it's better to have people around you, people who are going to catch you when you fall."

Cat thought it was a bunch of bull. The more people she trusted, the more likely they could hurt or betray her.

"Anyway," Natasha continued briskly, abandoning her dreamy-eyed gaze, "you don't have any other choice. You can choose to go back in the streets and inevitably end up starving, poor, and out of options. Or, you could come with me."

"You promise you won't call CPS?"

"Sure."

That wasn't convincing enough for Cat. "I don't believe you."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "What, you want me to swear on a blood oath or something?"

That gave Cat an idea. She stuck out her pinky finger. "Pinky promise."

Natasha looked down at it. "This is hardly a legally binding contract."

"Pinky promise," Cat insisted. "The most unbreakable of promises."

Natasha linked her pinky with Cat's.

Cat nodded importantly. "The deed is done."

Natasha shook her head, bemused. "You're ridiculous."

Cat got to her feet. "So when are we leaving?"

"Slow down there, Turbo." Natasha got up as well and led her to the couch. Taco had noticed and followed them. "You look like you're about to kneel over. When was the last time you slept?"

When was the last time she'd slept? She honestly couldn't remember. "I don't know."

"Sleep first. Then we'll go."

"Okay," Cat agreed, too tired to argue. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and everything hurt. She just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. She laid down on the couch, resting her head on the arm rest. Taco jumped up and laid on her chest. It was a lot more comfortable than the chair she'd been tied to the first time she'd been here.

"Hey," she said with her eyes closed.

Natasha's voice came from a little to her left. "What?"

"Can you teach me how you did that knife thing?"

Cat didn't hear Natasha's response, because she was already drifting off to sleep.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Notes: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! Also my asks are open so feel free to drop anything there too!

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1-800-fuccthisshit · 11 days ago

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𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑯𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶

𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘠 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘖'𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘈'𝘚 𝘍𝘌𝘈𝘛𝘜𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈 𝘚𝘜𝘙𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘚𝘌 𝘝𝘐𝘚𝘐𝘛

𝘔𝘐𝘎𝘜𝘌𝘓 𝘖'𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘞𝘐𝘍𝘌!𝘖𝘊

𝘊𝘞: 𝘍𝘓𝘜𝘍𝘍, 𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘉𝘈𝘉𝘓𝘠 𝘖𝘖𝘊 𝘔𝘐𝘎𝘜𝘌𝘓 𝘖'𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘈, 𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘖𝘕 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘗𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘕𝘛

𝘞𝘊: 2,245

“hey, siri. call-” elena barely got her sentence out when her phone began to ring. she made her way to the counter and peered at her phone before answering it.

“hello?”

“hey, cariña. how are you feeling?” her husband’s soft voice came from the phone.

“i feel fine, mi amor. you know, i was actually just about to call you.”

“were you? we must be in sync,” elena could hear the smile in his voice, “i wanted to let you know i’m on my way to get the girls, and then i’ll be on the way home.”

as elena opened her mouth to respond, there was a knock at the door.

“hm, well i’ll see you when you get here. te amo, miguel,” though she spoke with pure adoration, most of elena’s attention was on the door.

“te amo, mi esposa.”

as the call came to an end, elena made her way to the door. before opening it, she pressed her ear against in an attempt to recognize a voice coming from the other side of the door.

“.. and we’re gonna be friendly and respectful, and we’re not gonna play with our web shooters, alright?”

“i know, dad. what’s taking him so long to open the door?”

“you don’t what he’s doing. that might not even be his car in the driveway, may.”

may?

“who is it?” though she had an idea of who was behind the door, elena wanted to be sure.

“oh- uh, my name is peter! i’m looking for miguel o’hara?-”

“and i’m mayday!”

taking a deep breath, elena unlocked and opened the door, leaving the door chain in place as a precautionary measure.

as she peaked through the small crack, elena looked up and saw a man. he appeared to be pushing fifty, his hair peppered with gray strands. dressed appropriately for the transitioning weather, peter had on creme colored knitted sweater and jeans. mayday had on an army green sweater dress, her wild curls slightly tamed and tied up in a ponytail.

“why are you looking for miguel?” elena had an inkling of a feeling as to why, but she wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

“well, we used to work together, ya know? and it’s been a while so i figured nothing wrong with checking in,” peter had a gentle smile on his face, but his emphasis on ‘work together’ left a nauseous feeling in elena’s stomach.

strangely enough, though, being seven months pregnant will also do that.

“are you sure you’re not here about work?”

at elena’s question, peter raised an eyebrow. after a silent minute, peter relaxed his body and gave elena a bright smile.

“he’s told you, right? about our adventures? i promise i’m only here as a friend.”

elena’s stared at the man for a short while before softly closing the door in peter and may’s face, leaving father and daughter in shock.

click!

the door opened, revealing elena’s 5’2 figure. she pulled the door back, allowing the two enough room to get inside her home.

“thank you,” peter gave the much shorter woman a kind smile, one which she returned.

as may got settled on the couch, peter took a look at all the pictures on the mantle and on the walls. as he came across a picture of miguel cradling his younger daughter for the first time, peter turned to elena.

“how long have the two of you been together?”

elena looked at the picture and smiled, vividly remembering the day she brought her little Isabella into the world.

“we met a few months after i had gabriella, so about seven years.”

at that, peter did a double take.

“wait, so gabriella isn’t his?”

“biologically, no. but miguel is the only father she’s ever known, and he’s been around since essentially the beginning,” elena got a bit defensive; though she knew he meant no harm, the way peter worded his question didn’t sit right with her.

“of course, of course. i meant no disrespect. it just shocked me because of..” peter trailed off, but elena knew what he was going to say.

“i know,” elena’s voice was soft, “he told me about her.”

peter gave the woman a soft look before moving along and stopped at a more recent picture.

“who’s this kid?”

the kid in question was a young man in his early twenties. it wasn’t his cheeky grin or the glint of mischief in his eyes that caught peter’s attention.

it was the mostly striking resemblance he saw in himself.

as elena looked at the picture she chuckled a bit. she’d have to call him later.

“actually, that’s peter. he’s an intern at miguel’s office. he babysits our girls sometimes.”

“ah, i shoulda known,” peter b. chuckled out.

the two moved over to the couch where mayday had gotten ahold of the remote and was surfing through channels before landing on disney channel.

“oh!” elena exclaimed, “i’m sorry, i just realized i never introduced myself. my name is elena.”

peter let out a hearty laugh before saying, “it’s lovely to meet you, elena.”

as he got comfortable, peter continued, “so, how’d you two meet?”

as miguel’s mini suv got closer to his home, the man’s nerves increasingly got worse. he couldn’t explain it, but something felt off to him.

“papi! i show you ‘n mami my drawing!”

at two years old, isabella was a bit of a fire cracker. the concept of an indoor voice hasn’t registered in her little mind, and she was incredibly demanding.

terrible twos, right?

through a chuckle, miguel simply responded with, “i can’t wait to see it, mi princesa.”

turning into the driveway, miguel stared at his family’s home. as he moved to gather isabella from her car seat, gabriella grabbed her bag and rushed to the front door, waiting impatiently for her dad to unlock it.

with isa in his arms, miguel walked up the driveway. in an effort to be discreet, he gently pushed gabriella out from in front of the door. if someone unfamiliar was inside their home, he’d need his kids to get as far as way as possible, as soon as possible.

with a slow turn and push, the front door was open. the first thing miguel spotted was his pretty wife, her manicured hands resting on the swelling of her belly — yet another girl.

the second was the little red head girl sitting on his couch under his throw blanket watching his telenovela.

the third was the wide smile on the face of the man standing in his living room.

ay dios mío.

“miguel, old buddy! it’s been waaaaay too long! how ya been?” completely ignoring the look of utter defeat on miguel’s face, peter walked over with arms open wide in preparation for the long awaited reunion.

“not long enough. how and why are you here?” Miguel dodged the hug, instead moving toward elena to deposit their little one reaching for her mama.

“your ears aren’t bleeding, are they, amor?” he asked with a kiss to her temple. she chuckled lightly, shaking her head no.

“peter’s been fine. i’ll take isa so you guys can catch up.”

miguel slouched on the couch while elena left with Isabella on her hip. with gabriella dragging may to her room, the two men were left alone.

“elena says she’s a stay at home,” peter spoke first, either unaware or uncaring about his friend’s dread.

“she is. peter, why are you here?”

peter took a minute to examine his friend. there was white sprinkled in his hair, which was a little longer than it was the last time they saw each other. there were light bags under his eyes, but he didn’t look tired. he looked.. content.

“believe it or not, i missed you, man. i wanted to see how you’ve been and then i found out you had a whole family and i just.. i’m happy for you.”

miguel looked at the man standing in front of him. he’d toned down the smile, but there was still joy in his expression, albeit more subtle. the crows feet were prominent on his face even without a smile there.

“… what do you wanna know that she hasn’t already told you?”

peter’s eyes shined.

“everything.”

“- and this is gabi after her first soccer game.”

miguel had pulled out the photo albums he and his wife used to document their lives together.

“wow! man, i gotta say it: for you to have this great life and all you had to do was wai-”

“wait,” miguel cut him off.

“yeah! all you had to do was-”

“no. shut up,” he was looking towards the stairs.

“… what’s wrong?” peter whispered, having no clue what triggered his closest friend.

as he stood, miguel responded, “gabi is never this quiet with company over.”

and with that, he made his way up the stairs taking two at a time, quiet yet efficient. peter wasn’t far behind.

miguel opened the door to his oldest daughter’s room. laid on the bed in the middle of the room were the two young girls stretched out every which way, completely knocked out. peter smiled as he watched the man deflate.

he went across the room to shake his daughter awake. with a groan, she sat up and promptly crawled up her father’s back, silently demanding a piggyback ride. with the girl gathered on his back, peter turned to his friend.

“well, i guess it’s time for me to get this one home to her mama. you mind?”

miguel pressed the buttons on peter’s wristband, opening the portal into what looked like may’s bedroom. as he stepped forward, miguel called out to him.

“peter.”

he turned around and raised an eyebrow, prompting the man to continue.

“it was… nice. to see you, i mean.”

“ahh, it sucks that i’ve got my girl on my back. i would’ve given you a great hug, man.”

“… get out of my house.”

by the time miguel got gabriella properly situated in her bed, put dinner away, and made it into his bedroom, it was pushing 11 o’clock at night. elena was sitting up in their bed, little isabella sprawled out at the foot asleep.

“mi amor, where are her pants?”

“i got up to go to the bathroom and when i came back, she was just standing in the bed chewing on the pants leg. she wouldn’t let me put them back on her,” elena responded, smiling softly at the little one.

miguel chuckled softly as he gathered the toddler in his arms. as she was moved, she began to whine around her pacifier.

“oh, i know, mija. we’re gonna go sleep in your pretty princess bed,” miguel cooed at her, rubbing her back.

as he paced slowly, soothing their daughter, elena smiled at her husband.

“how was your evening?”

miguel sighed. elena knew he was about say something along the lines of a complaint, but the truth was written all over his face before he even began.

“he asked so many questions, my love. And every time i would get around answering them, he’d ask a million more it felt like. and he kept saying how beautiful you are-”

“aw, that’s sweet.”

“- and obviously i know that. how else would you be pregnant right now? and he was saying how nice it is that i have this family to come home to everyday and… yeah. it was all very repetitive. i would’ve preferred to be lying down with my beautiful wife.”

elena laughed at him. even though her husband did, in fact, complain about his night, she could tell he enjoyed seeing peter.

“well now that he’s gone, there’s nothing stopping you from doing just that,” she responded to him, smiling softly and patting his side of the bed.

miguel stopped his slow pacing and looked at his wife. her face was bare of any makeup, all of her blemishes and dark spots out for him to see. she had her hair tied back in a scarf and she was wearing what she affectionately called her “granny gown.” miguel took notice of all of this.

“every time i look at you it’s like i fall in love with you over and over again.”

elena cheesed at him and replied, “hurry up and get her to bed so i can kiss you.”

it didn’t take long to get from his bedroom to the nursery. when he came back, he quickly got ready for bed so he could spoon his wife. as he crawled into bed, miguel pressed three kisses to his wife’s lips before lying down behind her and wrapping his arms around her torso, his hands caressing where the youngest o’hara slept.

“she’s gonna be a daddy’s girl, too. i can feel it,” elena called out softly. miguel hummed in thought.

“she might surprise you. maybe she’ll be under her mama all the time like gabriella was.”

“yes, and gabriella is a daddy’s girl. you’re proving my point, amor,” elena retorted as she rubbed a thumb over miguel’s hand. the man responded by pressing his lips to the woman’s neck.

“i love you, elena.”

there was so much overwhelming love in her husband’s voice that all she could do was repeat his words back to him.

as the two closed their eyes, miguel thought about what peter said to him earlier.

it is nice that I get to come home to this everyday.

𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰 (❁´◡`❁) 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘪 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘦. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩? 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 @1-800-writersblock 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴! 𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪 (≧∇≦)/

— 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘢

#𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨 ✦#𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘷 ✦#spiderman #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x oc #peter b parker #original character #original female character #original child character

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akairawrites · 6 months ago

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THE AMAZING SPIDER MAN READER INSERT| pt3

Taglist

@luvvvjada @urmomsbananabread @cascadingbliss @mysticalhills @420sprite @jackierose902109 @skyesayshibitchez @roxanne-loves-luffy @scribegrl @Bunnyqueen25 @deimks @rukia-uchiha-98 @strawberryereamb @deliciousfatblaekeat @luvelyxp @crystals-faith @godknows-shetried @mess-in-side @lumineliax @instabull @lilupie @stvrfir3 @breadbrobin @bbiaa420 @harleycao @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @dotteeesstuff @just-reading-dany @lzzygrnt @blodmichii2 @solaris-lovegood @4araneia @ballerina-mina @notsaelty @sexyashbish @timmy-27 @xoxolexiiiiii @Amoyanani27 @tigerf-cker @punkinshambles @evilcado @huening-ly @partnersintime1

As you entered the house, you called out, "Mom! I'm home!" you closed the door using your foot and set your bag down on the floor. Walking into the kitchen, you filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, patiently waiting for it to come to a boil. Once the water was ready, you carefully poured it into a cup and gently placed a tea bag inside. Balancing the cup, you carried it into the bedroom where your mother was resting. Placing the steaming cup on the bedside table, you switched on the lamp to bring a warm glow to the room.

"Hey, Mom," you said softly, leaning over the bed to gently wake the woman in front of you. Her eyelids fluttered open, and a small smile graced her face as her eyes met yours. You carefully helped her sit up in bed and handed her the steaming cup of tea. "Be careful, it's hot," you cautioned, picking up the TV remote and switching on her favorite channel.

You sat at the edge of the bed and observed her every move as she gingerly lifted the teacup to her lips, taking small, hesitant sips. The smile that had graced your face vanished as you noticed the pain and exhaustion etched on her features. You shifted your gaze downward, absently fidgeting with the textured fabric of the bedsheets, feeling a pang of concern for her well-being.

You observed her discreetly positioning the cup in her lap as she sat down before addressing you. "So, how was school?" Her voice was gentle, yet fragile. You lifted your gaze at the sound of her question. "Everything's fine," you replied with a nonchalant shrug, not feeling particularly compelled to share. "And your internship?" she inquired further.

“Uh everything's great, I like working with Dr.Conners more than I thought I would, actually.”

There was a moment of silence that hung heavily in the air., filled with unspoken words and shared understanding. Your mother glanced at you, her eyes searching for something beyond your words. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetie," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

You squeezed back, feeling the frailty in her grip, not wanting to let go. "How are you feeling today?" you asked, your concern evident in your voice.

She smiled weakly. "Better, now that you're here. You always bring such light into the room." Her words were tender, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

"Mom, you know I'm always here for you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wish I could do more."

"You are doing more than enough' she reassured you. "just being here, being you, is more than I could ever ask for."

You sat there for a while, holding her hand, letting the warmth of your presence speak volumes. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. the bond between you and your mother transcended for each other no matter what.

After a while, you stood up, gently placing her hand back on the bed. "I should let you rest," you said, smoothing the covers around her. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes already growing heavy with sleep. "I will. Thank you, sweetheart."

As you left the room, you felt a mixture of relief and sadness. Relief that she seemed a bit better, and sadness at the fragility of her condition. You returned to the kitchen to grab your bag and headed straight for your room. You pulled your homework from your backpack and opened your bedroom window. The cool night air hit you in your face, and the sounds of honking horns and people yelling filled the New York night. The air wasn't blowing too hard, so it was a perfect roof night you grabbed your homework and placed it down on the metal railing of the fire escape.

You placed your hands flat on the wall and let the tip of your toes stick to the wall as well. Slowly, you began scaling the wall just like a spider. Not long after, you reached the roof, where you sat down on the shingles and looked down to see your paperwork. Quickly, you flicked your wrist and spider-like weds shot from your arm and gripped onto the paper swiftly catching it as it came to you.

With your homework secured, you spread the papers out in front of you and began working; the rooftop offering a surprisingly serene environment. The occasional gust of wind ruffled the pages, but you used your webs to anchor them down.

As you worked, your mind drifted to Peter Parker and the uneasy feeling in your gut. You knew exactly what it meant; you just didn't want to believe it. Four months ago, you discovered your newfound abilities but hadn't told anyone, not even Dr. Conners. The thought that someone like Peter could have abilities like yours scared you.

No offense.

The next day at school, you spotted Peter in the hallway at his locker. Your heart rate quickened as you approached, a strange mix of curiosity and anxiety bubbling up inside you. You tried not to make eye contact, determined to keep your head down and walk past without acknowledging him, but that same unsettling feeling you had at the Oscorp lab tugged at you, urging you to look his way.

Despite your efforts to avoid him, Peter suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto yours as if he could sense your presence. For a moment, time seemed to slow, and the noise of the bustling hallway faded into the background. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

Neither of you spoke, but the intensity of the moment spoke volumes. In his eyes, you saw the same confusion and uncertainty that had plagued you for months. It was as if he knew what you were hiding, and somehow, you knew he was hiding something too. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the weight of secrets.

You walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. As you walked away one thing was clear: whatever was happening to you, Peter was somehow a part of it.

Later on that same day, word about what happened with Peter and Flash spread around quickly. You thought it was about time to confront him about what you knew. Luckily enough for you, you didn't have to search the whole school. He was standing at the end of the hall with an older gentleman.

He seemed to notice you first, saying something to Peter before nodding in your direction, causing Peter to turn and look at you. You offered them both a tight-lipped smile. Peter’s uncle said something to him again before walking away, leaving Peter to slowly turn back toward you with a breathless laugh.

"Uh, that was my uncle... he told me to tell you how pretty you are."

"Really?" you replied, caught off guard and unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah..." he said quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

You nodded, eager to shift the conversation. "So, did you get expelled?" you asked, referencing the basketball incident.

“No, not expelled,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile. “But I did get a few hours of community service.”

For a moment, an awkward silence hung between you, both but you cleared your heart pounded in your chest, from the weight of what you were about to say. You knew you couldn’t keep dancing around it any longer.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to just rip off the band-aid. “Peter,” you began, your voice slightly shaky, “I know about the spider.”

Peter’s eyes shot up, wide with surprise and a hint of fear. “What… what are you talking about?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid someone might overhear.

You glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in slightly closer. “The spider from Oscorp. The one that bit you,” you said softly, watching his face closely for any sign of denial.

Peter’s face paled, and he instinctively took a step back, his mind clearly racing. “How do you—?”

You interrupted gently, trying to keep your voice steady. “It happened to me too.”

For a moment, Peter just stared at you, his expression hard to read. It was as if the weight of his secret was suddenly shared, and he didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shrugged, trying to hide your own nervousness. “I didn’t know how. I mean, this isn’t exactly something you bring up in casual conversation, right? But I’ve noticed things, Peter. It's like something told me. And when I heard what had happened in the gym…I just knew.”

Peter didn’t say anything else; he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. You furrowed your brows, wondering what was going through his head, but he remained silent.

"Look," you finally said, breaking the silence, "I’m going to be at Oscorp later. If you want to talk more about this, meet me there." You turned on your heels, not waiting for a response, and started making your way down the hall.

"I gotta go," you added over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner, leaving Peter standing there, watching you until you were out of sight.

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cardierreh15 · 1 year ago

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Web Of Lies

Warnings 18+: Violence , Cursing , Smut , Use of Deadly Force , Near Death Experiences , Blood , Mentions of Parental Loss . (Will be adding more along the way 😊)

Chapter 1: Itsy Bitsy Spiders WIP ⚠️

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me-myself-and-my-oboe · 5 months ago

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A Crescendo of Feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x original female character

Summary:

In the heart of a bustling city, Bucky Barnes finds himself at a crossroads, drawn into the world of music he left behind. When his friend Steve persuades him to join the local orchestra, he unexpectedly encounters the vibrant and adventurous Tara, a primary teacher with a passion for the oboe. As their paths intertwine through rehearsals and spontaneous jam sessions, Bucky grapples with the ghosts of his past while Tara’s infectious spirit challenges him to embrace the present. Amidst the melodies and laughter, can they discover the harmony of their own hearts?

New story coming!

Chapter 1: New beginnings

Chapter 2: A Breath of Fresh Air

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peanut-butter-parkerxx · 1 year ago

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a reminder that you guys can request anything you like by the google form here!! so PLEASE get creative with your ideas ;)

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myouiminn · 2 years ago

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Threads of Destiny

Peter Parker x Reader

Notes: don't repost without my permission!

In the depths of an alternate reality, Peter Parker found himself lost in thought as he walked the tranquil streets of a past New York. His gaze lingered on the horizon, but his mind was entirely consumed by Y/n, the mysterious visitor who had crossed his path through the folds of time.

Y/n, on the other hand, examined the pocket watch in her hands, an artifact that had become the key to an unlikely love. She felt Peter's absence as a tightness in her chest, knowing the feeling was mutual. While she was confined to her own timeline, Peter's heart was tethered to her across temporal borders.

Peter and Y/n's encounters continued, each moment becoming a precious treasure they shared. They explored museums, attended vintage theater performances, and delved into each other's stories. As they got to know each other better, their feelings only grew, like a wild and untamed vine.

One night, beneath the starlit sky, they stumbled upon an old telescope in an abandoned observatory. While gazing at the stars, Peter gently held Y/n's hand, and they shared a silent moment that spoke volumes about their emotions. The universe seemed to conspire to bring together two souls separated by time.

However, reality caught up with them. They knew they couldn't continue like this indefinitely, and the farewell was inevitable. On a cloudy afternoon, they found themselves on top of a building, gazing at the city skyline that had brought them together. The wind whispered memories as they exchanged looks full of love and goodbye.

"I love you," Peter whispered, cradling Y/n's face in his hands. Tears in her eyes mirrored his deep emotions. "I love you too," she replied, clutching the pocket watch like a talisman of the fate that had intertwined them.

With a kiss filled with emotion and silent promises, they parted. Y/n closed her eyes and touched the pocket watch, focusing on her own time. When her eyes opened again, she was back in her reality, the watch safely in her hands.

The days that followed were filled with longing and yearning. As seasons changed, Peter continued his relentless search for a way to break through the temporal barriers that kept them apart. He delved into science, confident he would find a solution to bring Y/n back.

And then, one day, as the golden light of dusk bathed the city, Peter was in his lab when something extraordinary happened. Y/n's pocket watch began to glow softly, emitting a familiar energy. He looked at the artifact and knew what he needed to do.

With determination in his heart, Peter touched the pocket watch and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he stood before Y/n, who stared at him with wide eyes and an incredulous smile.

"Peter?" Y/n whispered, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"I said I'd find a way," he replied, a smile equally surprised and emotional gracing his lips.

The hug they shared was more than a meeting of bodies; it was the reunion of two hearts that had traversed time and space to be together. Finally, they were united, their souls connected in a story that defied all odds.

And thus, the love between Peter Parker and Y/n proved that there were no limits to what the heart could achieve. Amidst the complexities of time and reality, they found each other, and together, they would face any challenge the universe presented them.

#peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x you #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #remus lupin

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marvelvillian23 · 2 years ago

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Does anyone know any Basement Wife fics. Multi chapter preferably but any fic will do.

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moonbeamoclock · 1 year ago

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🗣️ITS NOT A READER INSERT IF THE ‘READER’ HAS ANY KIND OF PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Hot take that shouldn’t be a hot take:

my biggest pet peeve is when people tag something as a x reader but it’s actually an oc…..i got to the last chapter of a fic only for the description of the ‘reader’ to be of a white person.

then the author got nasty with me after i called her out about it but that’s whatever

it takes an extra 2 mins to have a generic description of a person rather then give the details of their appearance but some of y’all are just too lazy to do even that

#aot x reader #james x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barns x reader #eddie munson x reader #jk x reader #reader insert #x reader #snk x reader #captain america x reader #damon salvatore x reader #jason todd x reader #spencer reid x reader #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #x oc #orginal character #original female character #self insert

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amethystarachnid · 25 days ago

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hey, could i request the secret admirer trope with mcu peter parker from love is in the air? it would be great if the reader was a female avenger (in a world where no one dies and everyone lives together). i just know that peter would be soo cute as a secret admirer; so could you write into the story him being super paranoid when leaving gifts and little notes at y/n’s door and always being the sweetest? oh and also thinking he’s super slick and all that but y/n actually knows it’s him leaving the gifts and stuff (she checked the security camera footage after the second one) but peter absolutely CANNOT take a hint so she decides to mess with him a little and convinces another avenger (maybe sam?) to act like her boyfriend to make peter jealous because she thinks it’s a little funny (:() but he only gets sad and barely leaves his room and no one knows why (except y/n) so she comes clean after the second day (i seem to have an obsession with the number 2) and kisses him after she comes to see him while he’s moping in his room. i should stop rambling i really hope this isn’t too long and im excited to read what you write! thanks!

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ PETER PARKER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said and !! important!! both Peter and reader here are twenty-something

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing i think

ᯓ★ I'm backkk! and I hope to have more free time to write for you guys! <3 also I'm working on a Bucky Barnes x fem!demigod!OC (demigod because yes I said so) so let me know if you would be interested <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Moving into the Avengers Compound is overwhelming in ways you don’t expect. The high-tech security, the endless hallways, the casual presence of literal superheroes—it’s a lot to take in. You’re used to SHIELD facilities, where everything is sleek and professional, where people nod in acknowledgment but don’t stop to chat. The compound is different. It’s still high-tech, still crawling with some of the most skilled fighters on the planet, but it feels… warmer. Like a home, rather than a base.

It helps that the team is welcoming. Sam and Bucky tease you like an annoying pair of older brothers. Wanda is quick to pull you into conversations, treating you like you’ve always been part of the team. Even Tony, in his own sarcastic way, seems to have accepted you.

Then there’s Peter Parker.

Peter is unlike anyone you’ve worked with before. He’s clumsy but quick, brilliant but self-deprecating, always talking like his thoughts are moving faster than his mouth. He’s a dork, really, but in an endearing way. He’s also ridiculously powerful—not that he acts like it. If you hadn’t seen him in action, you’d never guess the guy who constantly fumbles with his web-shooters is the same Spider-Man who’s taken down entire teams of bad guys on his own.

You notice, almost immediately, that he’s nervous around you. The stammering, the way his face flushes whenever you look at him too long, the way he trips over his own feet when you’re in the same room—it’s impossible to miss. It’s cute.

And then, the gifts start showing up.

The first one appears a week after you move in. You find it on your way back to your room late at night—a slightly crumpled bouquet of daisies, placed neatly in front of your door with a small note.

Welcome to the team! Hope you like these. :)

No name. Just a simple message and a cute little smiley face.

You smile, crouching down to pick up the flowers. They aren’t professionally arranged—some of the stems are uneven, and a few petals look a little worse for wear—but there’s something undeniably sweet about them. Someone went out of their way to welcome you, and you have a pretty good guess who.

Still, you don’t say anything. You don’t want to assume. Maybe it’s Wanda. Maybe it’s Sam messing with you.

Then, three days later, another gift appears. A small bag of your favorite candy, along with another note.

Saw you training today. You’re incredible. Hope this makes your night better!

Again, no name. But the handwriting is the same.

That’s when your curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re trained to notice patterns, to pick up on the details most people overlook. And you’re trained to investigate. So, you do what any ex-SHIELD agent would—you check the security footage.

It doesn’t take long to find what you’re looking for. You scroll back to the timestamp from the night before, eyes scanning the grainy hallway footage. Then, right on schedule, someone drops into view.

Peter Parker.

You watch as he crouches in front of your door, carefully placing the candy down like it might explode. His movements are quick but nervous—he keeps glancing up and down the hallway like he expects someone to catch him. Then he pulls out the note, smooths it down three times, mutters something under his breath, and web-slings to the ceiling.

You replay the footage, laughing to yourself.

Of course, it’s Peter.

The pieces click together so perfectly you can’t believe you didn’t realize it earlier. The awkwardness, the way he lights up when you talk to him, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He has a crush on you.

And now, you know.

But you don’t tell him. Because, honestly? It’s adorable. And if Peter wants to keep thinking he’s being sneaky, you’re more than happy to let him.

Since then, the gifts keep coming.

Every few days, something new appears at your door. Sometimes, it’s snacks after a long mission. Other times, little trinkets—stickers, keychains, a tiny plush cat because you mentioned once that you like them. And always, always a note.

You start having fun with it.

You drop hints, teasing him just enough to see if he reacts. You compliment his intelligence, lean in close when you’re standing next to him, smile a little longer than necessary. You even start leaving notes of your own—nothing direct, just little things you know will fluster him.

Nice work in training today, Peter. Maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit on me. ;)

He reads it while you’re in the same room, and his face turns so red you think he might combust.

It’s perfect.

But somehow, despite all your efforts, he remains completely oblivious.

Tonight, you’re determined to push him just a little further.

It’s late, and most of the team has already gone to bed. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping tea when Peter walks in. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big.

“Oh,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Hey!”

You smile. “Hey, Peter.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say. “What about you?”

“Uh, same,” he says, though you suspect he was probably sneaking around to drop off another gift.

You decide to test him. “I found something outside my door again.”

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird, though. It’s like… I keep getting these little gifts. And notes. No idea who they’re from.”

He swallows hard. “That’s—uh—crazy.”

You nod. “Right? I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. But I wonder who’s doing it.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, no clue. Could be anyone.”

You step closer, just enough to make him notice. “You think so?”

His eyes dart to your face, then away again. “Y-yeah! I mean, maybe it’s, like, a team thing? Or—uh—someone trying to make you feel welcome?”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. But it’s funny… they always seem to know exactly what I like.”

Peter practically short-circuits. “That’s—uh—wild.”

You bite back a grin. He’s so obvious it hurts.

“Well,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him, “whoever it is, I kind of wish they’d just talk to me.”

Peter blinks. “Oh?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I mean, sneaking around is cute and all, but I’d really like to get to know them.”

For a second, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll take the hint. But then, he just lets out a choked laugh and says, “Yeah! Totally! That would be—uh—cool!”

You sigh internally.

Peter Parker is the worst secret admirer in the world.

But he’s also the sweetest.

So, you’ll wait. You’ll keep playing along, keep flirting, keep dropping hints. And maybe—eventually—he’ll realize you like him too.

Peter Parker is a genius.

He built his web-shooters from scraps, made it through MIT’s entrance exams before graduating high school, and helps Tony Stark with tech that makes most people’s heads spin.

And yet, for all his intelligence, he’s completely, hopelessly, unbelievably clueless.

You keep flirting with him, testing the waters, pushing the line between teasing and something a little more. Sometimes, it’s subtle—a hand on his arm when you laugh, leaning a little too close when you talk. Other times, it’s… less subtle.

Like the time you stretch in the training room, arching your back just enough to make him flustered, only to watch in delight as Peter—mid push-up—faceplants directly onto the mat. Or the time you “accidentally” call him handsome in front of the team, and he spends the next five minutes sputtering like a broken car engine while everyone watches in confusion.

At this point, it’s a personal challenge.

You want to see how far you can push him before he finally realizes you’re into him. And if he doesn’t? Well. You’re having way too much fun watching him suffer.

The best part is that no one else seems to notice. Everyone assumes Peter is just awkward (which, to be fair, he is), and you’re just being friendly (which, to be fair, you are—just with extra flirting).

At least, that’s what you think.

Until Sam Wilson calls you out.

It happens in the common room. You’re lounging on the couch after a morning mission, scrolling through your phone, when Sam plops down beside you with a knowing smirk.

“So,” he says casually, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been messing with Parker?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Sam drawls. “You’ve been flirting with that boy so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”

You fight back a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then explain why he turns redder than Wanda’s magic every time you walk into the room.”

You shrug. “Maybe he’s just allergic to me.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, he’s just allergic to rizz.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got it bad for you, and you know it.”

You sigh dramatically. “Yeah. But he has no idea I know.”

Sam squints at you. “Wait. He doesn’t know you know?”

“Nope.”

“…And he doesn’t know that you know that he doesn’t know you know?”

You blink. “What?”

“Never mind.” Sam shakes his head. “So, what’s the deal? You just enjoying the slow burn? Or are you waiting for him to finally grow a pair and ask you out?”

You grin. “A little of both.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s evil.”

“Not evil,” you correct. “Just… patient.”

Sam gives you a look. “Right. And I’m Captain America.”

You smirk. “You wish.”

He grins, then tilts his head, clearly considering something. “You want me to help?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Help how?”

Sam stretches his arms behind his head. “I could drop some hints. Get in his head a little.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Tempting.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudges you. “You know you want to see him suffer.”

That makes you laugh. “Fine. But don’t be too mean.”

“No promises,” Sam says, already grinning like he’s planning something dangerous.

You don’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but you do know one thing—Peter Parker doesn’t stand a chance.

It starts at breakfast.

Peter is sitting at the table, eating a massive bowl of cereal, when Sam slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Parker?”

Peter blinks, mouth full. “Mmf?”

Sam smirks. “You know, I’ve been noticing something lately.”

Peter swallows, already looking nervous. “Noticing what?”

Sam leans forward. “You and Y/N.”

Peter chokes on his cereal.

“I—what?” he sputters, coughing.

“You and Y/N,” Sam repeats, smirking. “Something going on there?”

Peter turns so red you’re afraid he might actually explode. “N-no! I mean—uh—why? Did she say something?”

Sam pretends to think. “Hmm. Can’t say. But, you know, she does talk about you a lot.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “Like, the other day, she was saying how much she loves a guy who’s smart. Thought that was interesting.”

Peter makes a strangled sound. “She—she did?”

Sam nods. “And then she said something about how she likes guys who are good with their hands.”

Peter immediately drops his spoon. “WHAT?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno, man. Just something to think about.”

Peter looks like he’s about to faint.

You, watching from across the room, nearly lose it.

For the next week, Sam continues his psychological warfare.

One morning, while you’re stretching before training, Sam casually mentions, “Hey, Parker, did you know Y/N thinks your arms are nice?”

Peter nearly drops the dumbbell he’s holding.

Then, during a mission briefing, Sam leans over and says, “You know, Y/N was just telling me how much she loves guys who can fight.”

Peter immediately starts sweating.

But the final straw comes during movie night. The team is gathered in the common room, popcorn bowls scattered across the couches, when Sam—loudly, for the whole room to hear—says, “Hey, Parker, Y/N said she likes guys who can take charge. What do you think that means?”

Peter, in the middle of drinking his soda, chokes so violently that Tony has to pat him on the back.

You’re dying.

Sam is clearly having the time of his life. Every time Peter panics, he shoots you a smug look, and you have to fight to keep a straight face.

Peter, meanwhile, is suffering.

And the best part? He still doesn’t get it.

Still doesn’t realize you’re into him.

At this point, you’re genuinely starting to think he might never figure it out.

But you’re patient.

So, you wait. You flirt. You tease. And you watch as Peter Parker, one of the smartest people you know, continues to be the most oblivious person on the planet.

At first, Peter’s obliviousness is adorable. It’s fun watching him squirm, fun seeing him turn bright red whenever you so much as look at him a little too long. But now? Now it’s getting annoying.

You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. You’ve been touching his arm, leaning in close, giving him every possible signal short of straight-up kissing him. And what does he do? He stammers. He trips over his own feet. He gets so flustered that he either short-circuits completely or runs away like a scared puppy.

It’s maddening.

You’re starting to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re not being obvious enough. Maybe Peter just doesn’t think you could actually like him. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone in this compound paid half as much attention to him as you did, they’d see exactly why you liked him. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s got this dorky charm that somehow makes your heart race in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t get the damn hint.

So, you decide to kick things up a notch.

You start small. The next time you see Peter in the gym, you make sure to stretch right in front of him. It’s a bold move, but you’re desperate. You slowly lift your arms above your head, arching your back just enough to be noticeable. Then, when you bend down to touch your toes, you peek up to see if he’s watching.

He is.

And then he immediately panics and turns away so fast he nearly walks into the weight rack.

You barely hold back an eye roll.

Fine. If that didn’t work, maybe something else will.

Later that day, you find him in the lab, tinkering with his web-shooters. You walk in, pretending like you don’t have an agenda, and lean against the table. He looks up, startled, then immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he says, voice slightly higher than usual. “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, resting a hand under your chin. “Nothing much. Just needed a distraction.”

Peter nods, focusing way too hard on his web-fluid cartridge. “Yeah? Um. Cool. What—uh—what kind of distraction?”

You smirk. “Oh, you know. Something fun.”

Peter’s hand slips, and a small burst of web-fluid sprays onto the table. He stares at it like it personally betrayed him.

You grin, stepping closer, casually placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so tense, Peter. You ever think about taking a break?”

He lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. “Me? Oh, no, I’m—I’m good! Totally fine! Not tense at all!”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Really? Because you feel tense.”

Peter swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I—uh—”

You drag your fingers down his arm slowly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you relax.”

Peter makes a noise that is definitely not human and abruptly stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over. “I-I should really finish this!” he blurts out. “So much work to do! Web-fluid doesn’t improve itself! Haha!”

You blink as he practically throws himself back into his project, acting like you didn’t just borderline seduce him in the middle of the lab.

It’s unbelievable.

How is it possible for someone to be this dense?

You sigh, finally stepping back. “Alright, Parker. Have fun with your webs.”

“Y-you too!” he stammers. Then, realizing that makes no sense, he adds, “I mean—uh—have fun with whatever you’re doing! Yep!”

You walk out, shaking your head.

This is getting ridiculous.

That night, you call for reinforcements.

Sam lounges on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, looking entirely too smug. “So. Parker still being an idiot?”

You flop onto the bed beside him. “He’s impossible.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

“I don’t get it,” you groan. “I’ve been all over him. I’ve flirted, I’ve touched him, I’ve literally told him I think he’s cute, and he still doesn’t get it.”

Sam snorts. “Man, that boy is a lost cause.”

“There has to be a way to make him realize,” you say, frustrated.

Sam hums, thinking. Then he smirks. “Have you tried making him jealous?”

You pause. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You know. Flirt with someone else. See if that gets his brain to finally start working.”

It’s not a bad idea.

You sit up, considering it. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sam grins. “Peter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t realize what he wants until he thinks he’s about to lose it.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, mulling it over. It’s risky. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

The plan is simple. The next day, you start subtly flirting with other people. Nothing crazy, just enough to test Peter’s reaction. You laugh a little too hard at Bucky’s jokes, compliment Steve’s biceps during training, even lean in close when talking to Sam just to see if Peter notices.

He does.

And he looks like he’s about to self-destruct.

The first time you flirt with Bucky, Peter nearly drops the coffee he’s holding. The second time you casually touch Steve’s arm, he stares like he’s witnessing a national tragedy. And when you get extra close to Sam at dinner, Peter’s entire body goes rigid like he’s about to short-circuit.

It’s hilarious.

But it’s also not working fast enough.

So, you take it a step further.

That night, when you run into Peter in the hallway, you lean against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “You okay, Peter? You’ve been acting weird.”

Peter stiffens. “Me? No! I mean—yes! I mean—I’m totally fine! Why do you ask?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know. You just seem… distracted.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Nope! Totally focused!”

You step closer. “Are you sure?”

Peter swallows. “Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “Well, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with other people lately. Thought maybe that was bothering you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wh—why would that bother me?”

You shrug, trailing a finger along his arm. “I don’t know. Just wondering if maybe you wanted me to spend more time with you instead.”

Peter makes a strangled noise.

Then, just when you think he might finally get it, he blurts out, “I—uh—oh wow, look at the time! I gotta go!”

And then he runs.

Again.

You stand there, stunned, watching as he practically sprints down the hallway like his life depends on it.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Unbelievable.

At this point, you have no idea what else you can do. You’ve flirted, teased, touched, complimented—hell, you’ve practically thrown yourself at him, and he’s still too dense to see it.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

But then again…

You smirk.

Maybe it’s time to try something even bolder.

This is war.

You have tried everything. Flirting, teasing, touching, straight-up telling Peter you think he’s cute—it’s all been useless. The boy is either the densest human being on the planet, or he truly believes you could never be into him. Either way, you’re at your breaking point.

So, you decide to take Sam’s advice.

You’re going to make Peter jealous.

And not just by flirting with other people. That clearly hasn’t worked. No, you’re going for the nuclear option. If he won’t get a clue after everything you’ve done, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll realize he likes you if he thinks he’s already lost you.

Which is why you’re sitting on Sam’s bed, grinning while he stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You want me to what?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, voice casual.

Sam blinks. “Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, nudging him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just a little act to make Peter jealous. You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I said flirt with other people,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Not start a fake relationship.”

“Please, Sam,” you whine, clasping your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust to do this. And admit it, you think it’ll be hilarious.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, yeah, it will be funny.”

You grin. “So, you’re in?”

He gives you a look. “This is gonna end in disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” you say. “But it’ll be fun.”

Sam groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

The next morning, it begins.

You start by holding Sam’s hand at breakfast. It’s subtle, casual, like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. Sam plays along perfectly, smirking as he squeezes your hand.

Peter, sitting across the table, nearly chokes on his toast.

“Oh, you okay there, Parker?” Sam asks, smirking.

Peter forces a laugh. “Yeah! Totally fine!”

You smile sweetly. “Good. You looked a little… surprised.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly. “Nope! Not surprised! Just, um—just didn’t know you guys were—uh—” He gestures between you and Sam, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Sam shrugs. “Oh yeah, it’s a new thing. We figured, why not?”

Peter goes rigid. “Oh. Cool. That’s—uh—that’s really cool.”

You squeeze Sam’s hand again, leaning your head against his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Yeah. It is.”

Peter looks like someone just told him Spider-Man isn’t a real superhero.

It’s both hilarious and a little sad.

You expect him to ask questions, to push for details, but instead, he just goes quiet. He finishes his breakfast quickly, mutters some excuse about needing to work on something in the lab, and leaves before you can say another word.

You frown as you watch him go.

“Well,” Sam says, “that was… unexpected.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Sam gestures toward the door Peter just left through. “I figured he’d get all flustered, maybe try to ‘compete’ for your attention. But he just shut down.”

You chew your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yeah. That was weird.”

And it only gets weirder.

For the next few days, Peter avoids you. Completely.

He stops sitting next to you at meals. He doesn’t spar with you in training. He doesn’t even make eye contact when you pass him in the hallways. Every time you try to talk to him, he either mumbles some excuse or straight-up disappears.

It’s like he’s a ghost.

And no one—not even Sam—can figure out why.

At first, you think maybe he’s just adjusting. Maybe he’s trying to process his feelings, or maybe he’s sulking. But then you start hearing things.

“He’s been in the lab all day,” Bucky says at dinner one night.

“Yeah, he skipped training again,” Steve adds. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, frowning. “He barely talks to anyone anymore.”

You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re panicking.

Because you know exactly why Peter is acting like this.

And suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

That night, you find yourself standing outside Peter’s room. You hesitate, hand hovering over the door. You don’t know if he’ll even answer, but you have to try.

You knock.

Silence.

You knock again. “Peter? It’s me.”

More silence.

You sigh. “I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

You lean against the door, voice softer now. “Peter… can we talk?”

A long pause. Then, finally, a quiet voice from the other side.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your heart clenches. “Why not?”

Another pause. Then—so soft you almost don’t hear it—Peter says, “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”

You blink, confused. “Weird? Peter, what are you talking about?”

He sighs. “You and Sam. You guys are happy. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You screwed up.

You thought Peter would get jealous. You thought he’d realize his feelings and maybe—just maybe—make a move. But instead, he assumed the worst. He thought he lost his chance.

And now he’s shutting himself off because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

You feel like the worst person in the world.

“Peter,” you say carefully, “you’re not in the way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “I dunno. Feels like I am.”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re not.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Peter says, “Are you happy?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because the answer is complicated.

You’re happy when you’re around Peter. You’re happy when he smiles at you, when he laughs, when he rambles about some weird science thing that you barely understand.

You’re happy with him.

Not Sam.

Never Sam.

And you should’ve realized that before pulling this stupid stunt.

You take a deep breath. “Peter… can I come in?”

Another long pause. Then, finally, the door unlocks.

You step inside. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking exhausted. His hair is messier than usual, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. It makes your chest ache.

You sit beside him, close but not too close. “I need to tell you something.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, then say, “Sam and I aren’t together.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”

“It was fake,” you admit, voice soft. “I just… I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d realize…”

You trail off, heart pounding.

Peter stares at you, completely still. “Realize what?”

You swallow. This is it. No more games.

You meet his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“That I like you, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. His whole body has gone still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to believe what you just said.

You watch the way his brain tries to process it, his thoughts practically running across his face in real-time. His eyebrows furrow like he thinks you might be messing with him, then lift slightly, like maybe—just maybe—he dares to hope you’re telling the truth.

You inhale, steeling yourself. “I like you, Peter. I have for a while.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

Your heart pounds as you force yourself to keep going. “And I know about the gifts. The notes. Everything.”

Peter jerks back like you just electrocuted him. “You—what?”

You exhale, giving him a small smile. “I know it was you. I checked the security footage after the second one.”

Peter makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You bite back a laugh. “Peter—”

“Oh my god,” he groans again, voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to know.”

You grin. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Peter drags his hands down his face, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. “This is… this is bad.”

You tilt your head. “Why is it bad?”

“Because!” He gestures wildly. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me! I thought I was being sneaky! I had a whole system!”

Your smile softens. “Peter. It was adorable.”

He makes another pained noise, slumping forward, hands in his hair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You shake your head, fondness swelling in your chest. You reach out, resting a hand on his arm. “Peter.”

He stops rambling immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You squeeze his arm lightly. “I loved the gifts. And the notes. And everything about it. You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

Peter swallows. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And you wanna know the best part?”

“…What?”

You smile, shifting closer. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Peter’s breath catches.

He looks at you, and for the first time since you walked into his room, there’s something new in his eyes. Something hopeful.

He licks his lips, voice barely above a whisper. “You do?”

Instead of answering, you decide to show him.

You lean in slowly, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. He just watches you, eyes locked on your lips, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe this is happening.

Then, finally, you close the distance.

The second your lips touch his, Peter freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t move—like his brain short-circuited entirely.

Then, suddenly, he melts.

He kisses you back with so much enthusiasm it nearly knocks you over. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve both wasted dancing around this.

It’s messy, desperate, but it’s perfect.

Peter makes a small, needy sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s making sure you’re real. His heart is racing—you can feel it against your own chest, pounding like it’s trying to break free.

You smile against his lips. “You’re kissing me like a happy puppy.”

Peter pulls back just enough to breathe, his face flushed, eyes dazed. “I am a happy puppy.”

You laugh, cupping his face. “Good.”

Peter blinks at you, then suddenly grins—wide and bright and so full of joy it makes your chest ache. “Wait. I’m kissing you. We’re kissing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, genius, we are.”

He looks almost dizzy with excitement. “This is—this is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

You smirk. “If you were dreaming, would I do this?”

You tug him back in and kiss him again, slow and deep.

Peter practically melts, hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you back like his life depends on it. His lips are warm, a little clumsy but sweet, and the way he holds you—like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—makes your stomach flip.

When you finally pull away, Peter is breathless.

“I’m so happy right now,” he says, looking at you like you hung the stars.

You smile, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Peter’s face lights up, and before you can say another word, he pulls you back in, kissing you again, and again, and again—like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

And honestly?

You’re more than okay with that.

It’s almost ridiculous how unsurprised everyone is when you and Peter officially become a couple. The second you announce it—or rather, the second Peter stammers through telling everyone while blushing like crazy—the reactions are so underwhelming that Peter nearly short-circuits.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natasha says dryly, not even looking up from cleaning her knives.

“Finally,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Wait, you guys weren’t already together?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Bruce just gives a small, approving nod. Steve claps Peter on the shoulder like he’s just congratulated him on getting a promotion. Even Thor, who’s barely around, chuckles and calls you both “young warriors of love,” which makes Peter go completely red.

But the best reaction comes from Tony.

Because Tony Stark, billionaire genius, mentor, and serial eye-roller, just grins. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic look, but a real, proud, genuine grin.

“About damn time, kid.”

Peter practically chokes.

Tony pats him on the back, almost knocking the air out of him. “Seriously. I was starting to think you were gonna need some kind of intervention.”

Peter blinks. “You—you knew?”

Tony snorts. “Knew? Parker, you’re about as subtle as a wrecking ball. The only one who didn’t know was you.”

Peter sputters, but you’re just smiling. Tony’s approval means a lot to Peter, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up that hearing Tony say he was rooting for him is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

But of course, because it’s Peter, he has to ruin his own happiness by still being annoyed at Sam.

Ever since the whole fake-boyfriend prank, Peter hasn’t exactly gotten over it. He knows it was just a joke. He knows you only did it to mess with him. He knows Sam doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

But does that stop him from glaring every time Sam so much as breathes near you? Absolutely not.

And Sam? Oh, Sam knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sam calls out one day, waltzing into the common room where you and Peter are curled up on the couch. He doesn’t even sit down before looking straight at Peter and smirking. “Relax, Spidey, I’m not gonna steal your girl.”

Peter bristles immediately. “I wasn’t—”

Sam laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Relax.”

Peter does not relax.

And you? You’re getting a little tired of your boyfriend pouting every time Sam so much as looks in your direction.

Which is why, after dinner that night, when Peter is still sulking over Sam calling you “sweetheart” in passing (just to mess with him, of course), you decide to do something about it.

You grab his wrist and pull him toward his room.

Peter stumbles after you, confused. “Uh, Y/N? What’s—”

You push the door open and drag him inside, shutting it behind you. Then, without a word, you shove him onto the bed.

Peter yelps, arms flailing as he lands on his back. “What—?”

You climb onto the bed beside him and immediately wrap yourself around him, curling into his side.

Peter freezes.

You sigh contently, nuzzling into his chest. “There. Now you can stop sulking.”

Peter doesn’t move for a solid five seconds. Then, very slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“…I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

You smile against his shirt. “Yes, you were.”

Peter huffs. “Sam’s just—he’s just annoying.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You know he’s only doing it because he knows it gets under your skin, right?”

Peter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less annoying.”

You chuckle, reaching up to brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Peter immediately flushes. “I—I’m not jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He sighs. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

You grin and press a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to be. You already won, Peter. I’m yours.”

Peter makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in your hair. “Say it again.”

You laugh. “What? That I’m yours?”

He nods, arms tightening around you.

You shift so that you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest as you lean down. “I’m yours, Peter Parker.”

Peter looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with so much awe it makes your heart ache. Then, before you can say anything else, he surges up and kisses you, gripping your waist like he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, sweet, and full of emotion. When you finally pull away, Peter just sighs happily and flops back onto the bed, keeping you in his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur against his chest.

Peter hums, already halfway to falling asleep. “Maybe. But I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s never said that before.

You lift your head to look at him, but his eyes are already closed, his breathing soft and even. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And as you settle against him, warm and safe in his arms, you know for a fact—jealousy or not, Peter Parker is yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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twins-write · 5 months ago

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Request Information

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FULL LIST OF WHAT WE WRITE FOR:

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bit-dodgy-innit · 11 months ago

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We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that.

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace.

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May.

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.”

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow.

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May.

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.”

“You and me both,” he huffed.

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.”

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders.

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room.

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms.

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.”

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you.

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys.

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more.

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered.

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts.

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit.

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough.

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!”

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?”

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?”

“Preferably.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Qualitatively, then.”

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.”

“When did your dad first hear it?”

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.”

“Checks out. And how old was he?”

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?”

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head.

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.”

Miguel nodded again.

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.”

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.”

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ”

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since. “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Qué?”

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.”

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty.

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.”

“But we just got started.”

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.”

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.”

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel.

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court.

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly.

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction.

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.”

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?”

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out.

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.”

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.”

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.”

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail.

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave.

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room.

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!”

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.”

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor.

It was Miguel.

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit.

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly.

“At the paper?” Benji was confused.

“No, at my other job.”

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.”

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him.

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother. “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.”

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.”

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.”

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully.

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake.

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.”

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom.

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her.

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now.

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.”

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.”

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this.

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.”

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street.

“Sorry about them,” you began.

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?”

“My family. Embarrassing.”

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?”

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.”

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.”

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice.

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet.

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?”

“No!”

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?”

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.”

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!”

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more.

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained.

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–”

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?”

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.”

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before.

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?”

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.”

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him.

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative.

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.”

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Can we not talk about me for a second?”

“Why?”

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.”

“We are having a conversation.”

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious.

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.”

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.”

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together.

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess.

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?”

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.”

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.”

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out.

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.”

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.”

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.”

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table.

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could.

“Sorry,” you said softly.

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?”

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud.

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.”

“Right,” you hedged.

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some.

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.”

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.”

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.”

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?”

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too?

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?”

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special.

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his.

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all.

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society.

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on.

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded.

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza.

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door.

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?”

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.”

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast.

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him.

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?”

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips.

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together.

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth.

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did.

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses.

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could.

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you.

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly.

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.”

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.”

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well.

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. ��Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet.

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds.

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits.

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom.

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub.

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you.

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves.

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist.

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions.

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin.

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches.

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses.

“Finally,” you bantered back.

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context.

“Do you have protection?”

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate.

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.”

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance.

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had.

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you.

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit.

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he?

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his.

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point.

“You sure?”

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at.

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.”

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.”

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy.

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts. Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix.

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?”

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit.

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips.

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?”

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.”

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.”

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions.

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him.

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?”

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come.

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy.

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter.

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness, his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth.

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival.

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt.

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become.

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?”

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?”

You nodded. “Say no more.”

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways.

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again.

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin.

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel.

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?”

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up.

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked.

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.”

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.”

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him.

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.”

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk.

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts.

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!”

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.”

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him.

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.”

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord.

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep.

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours.

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you.

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off.

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space.

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it.

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.”

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before.

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint.

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind.

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa.

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit.

“Hey.”

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.”

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.”

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.”

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort.

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!”

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.”

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips. “Alright, fine. I missed you.”

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.”

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.”

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #we're not here to f*ck spiders

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