De-ca-dent* (de-kə-dənt)
1. characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence
a rich and decadent dessert
2. marked by decay or decline
an increasingly decadent society
Summary: You are new to the city, starting a job at a the research facility of your dreams. Speaking of dreams, your dreamy boss, Miguel O'Hara leaves an impression on you you'll not soon forget. But this brilliant scientist hides a dark secret - will his darkness drag you under? Or is love strong enough to overcome anything?
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader
Warnings/notables: AU-ish story. 18+, please note the warnings for each part/section of this story. Some things are canon accurate and some are not. The secret Miguel hides requires him to do dark deeds to sustain his own life. Therefore there are non-con "vampiric" elements, but all sexual activities are consensual.
Co-workers to co-workers-with-benefits to lovers. Slow burn on the feelings, fast track on the smut.
Dividers by saradika
*as defined by Merriam-Webster
Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update!
Summary: You and Miguel can't keep your hands off each other. Will he be able to tell you the truth about himself?
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings/notables: NSFW 18+, cursing, p in v, masturbation, oral -m and f receiving, mention of a period, but just a mention. (non period) Blood, violence, numbness: reader is partially paralyzed and not in control of the situation for a bit. sex is consensual but the paralytic is not. nor is the biting/feeding. Miguel is a bad boy. You've been warned. not beta'd
PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...
"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.
"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.
Every day at your new job was an adventure - a mind-expanding, challenging, thrilling, orgasm-inducing adventure.
Miguel did not sacrifice one moment of work in the lab, nor behave in any way as if he'd been inside you on a daily basis.
But just like the first time, once you were back in his office...
Pretty much every day for the last two weeks, he needed you to "come over here and look at something," - which would inevitably end up with you on his lap. He really did have things to show you, but they varied in range, from deep, scientific hypotheses, to deep, frantic thrusts of his cock inside you.
Miguel loved for you to ride him, sitting on his lap, at his desk. Seeing how he appreciated your legs so much, you made sure to wear a skirt and the sexiest possible panties. He had a shredded collection of them in his desk drawer, and he'd already gifted you several new pairs.
So you were this girl now: working a challenging, fullfulling job in your dream field, while also letting your boss fuck your brains out.
Lucky you.
"Fuck, Miguel, fuck!" You gasped as he gripped your hips, roughly dragging you back and forth on his lap. Gripping the edge of his desk, you pushed your ass back to meet him thrust for thrust, bouncing and moaning the way he loved.
While he lived to work you up slowly and get you all needy and begging beneath him, when you were on top, he knew you liked it fast.
He had, a time or two, added the slightest bit of super speed to his hips rabbiting up into you, drawing the most obscene little noises out of your pretty mouth. He hoped you hadn't noticed the odd things about him yet - how he would never finger you, fearing his talons would slice you. How he would fuck you so fast that he might as well be your personal vibrating fuck toy.
Or how he never kissed you.
God, how he wanted to. But no. You had clearly seen his fangs by now since they weren't retractable like his talons, but he couldn't risk hurting you. And if he cut your tongue - fuck - he couldn't even dwell on how the mixture of your tongue and your blood would taste inside his mouth.
He had to control himself. But, with each day that passed, with each time he spread you across his desk and worshipped your gorgeous body - he wondered if he had the strength to keep his fangs out of your supple skin.
You came suddenly, your cries of pleasure shamefully loud. Feeling Miguel slowing inside you, you managed to lift up off his lap and turn around, kneeling in front of him.
"Baby, what are you--oh shit..." he gasped as you took his slick, coated length into your hot mouth. You had been on your knees for him before, sucking him relentlessly until he came.
Then it evolved. Instead of quick fucks on his lap, with your skirt bunched up around your waist, Miguel started asking you to strip for him. You found that the slower and more deliberately your pulled your clothes from your body, the more desperately he fucked you.
Being stark naked in his office became this unexpected thrill for you. Sometimes you would work that way -not in the lab -never there. But you would arrive in the morning, give Miguel a little striptease and promptly sit down at your desk wearing nothing but high heels.
His newest thing was to give you instructions. He would coyly mix questions about work with sexual requests and commands.
"Tell me what you think of this article..." blurred with, "spread your legs for me."
Miguel liked to give you instructions while you were naked. "Show me your pussy... touch yourself... play with your nipples..." and one day he folded his massive arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair and said, "Crawl to me."
Without hesitation, you eased out of your chair, completely naked, and slowly started crawling toward your boss on your hands and knees. You thought he would demand that you suck him off, but instead, he rewarded you.
Spreading your naked body across his desk, he kept his fangs safely behind his lips - and with no sucking whatsoever, he used his tongue to wring two orgasms in a row from your soaking wet cunt.
You could die happy - really, you could. Miguel O'Hara - genius, sex god - had fucked you with his tongue.
You were fully aware that a "relationship" like this was probably a bit supernova, and would likely run its course. Miguel would eventually get bored of all the sexy games and move on to his next source of entertainment. It might even get weird, but you felt like you would be able to keep your professional relationship in tact.
And in the meantime, you were having the time of your life with the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.
Sure enough, one day, Miguel was different. As soon as you walked into his office, ready to lift up your skirt and show him the royal blue, cheeky panties he'd given you - he held up his hand and told you to stop.
"Don't - not today." He never explained himself, except to say he wasn't really feeling well. The two of you remained fully clothed and then headed to the lab for a completely normal day of work. At the end of the day, he offered a weak apology.
"Don't come in tomorrow," he ordered, avoiding looking at you. "Actually...take a few days off. I need some time to think."
Okay, that offended you.
"Miguel, if you want to get more work done, I understand that," you explained, wondering if he thought all the fooling around was interrupting the research. "You don't have to send me home."
"I don't recall asking for your input," he all but snapped. "I don't care what you do. Work from home. Just don't come in the rest of the week."
Narrowing your eyes, you decided to keep your mouth shut. You were not going to get emotional in front of him, even if he was being rude. You left without another word.
Miguel had never felt more like a monster, nor more disgusted with himself. He was growing rather attached to you, and you still didn't know what he was. The problem was...he smelled you. Your monthly cycle was imminent. He'd never had a problem like this around other women, but it had been a while since he worked so closely with one.
Repulsed by his own anatomy and thoughts, he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, leaving a gaping hole. How was he supposed to get any work done with a brilliant mind like yours if he couldn't even handle your womanly body doing normal things? He knew the answer. You were the perfect one - he was the monster.
Fuck.
This wasn't going to work. He couldn't send you away for a few days a month. What kind of misogynistic asshole would he be? Apparently, the kind who would do what he just did!
Reaching for his phone, he sent you a message.
'Hey, I'm really sorry about today. I was an asshole. I wasn't feeling very well. You can come in to the office if you want to get your work done. I'll be out of town for a couple days. We can talk then, if it's okay. Sorry again.'
He was both relieved and nervous to read your reply.
'Thanks for letting me know. If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I can handle it. Are you sure you're okay?'
It took him an hour to figure out a response.
'It's not you. You're doing amazing work. And I love the time we spend together. Can I make it up to you when I get back? Have dinner with me.'
You freaked the hell out. Was Miguel asking you out? And where was he going for the next few days? If it was a work trip, why didn't he tell you about it? You supposed he might explain a little more when he returned.
The big night arrived. Miguel actually sent a car for you - to bring you to his home. You were expecting dinner in a nice restaurant, but as the car pulled up to a posh skyscraper not too far from the office, you realized Miguel lived here.
To your delight and surprise, he met you in the lobby, smiling warmly as you entered the building.
"Hi, you look incredible," he sweetly complimented, taking your hands and kissing your cheek. "Come on, I'm on the top floor."
Of course he was.
The two of you took an elevator up a few floors - then got out and switched to a private elevator which was operated by a key. An attendant greeted Miguel and was promptly dismissed so the two of you could ride up to the top floor alone.
"This is all very you," you commented, feeling your stomach flip-flop as the elevator zinged upward.
"Is that a good or a bad thing?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes playfully.
"I'm still deciding." Shrugging one shoulder, you winked at him.
Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, he inched closer to you. "You still mad at me?" He stared down into your eyes.
Batting your eyelashes, your nose wrinkled with a cute smile. "I'll let you know."
The elevator doors gave way to the penthouse, and Miguel offered his hand to lead you into his home.
If this were another man, you would have felt this momentum - this film-style, rush-off-the-elevator and fall into one another, kissing wildly thing. But Miguel never kissed you. And he didn't now.
You were tempted to yank on his arm and pull his lips down to yours, but something made you stop, feeling hesitant to be rejected this early in the evening.
"I hope you like Mexican food," he chirped, leading you to his gourmet kitchen.
"You know I do," you grinned, "considering how many empanadas and tamales we've eaten."
You paused, taking in the incredible spread before you, "Holy shit, Miguel, did you make all this?"
"No," he laughed, "it's mostly catered, but I did make the empanadas," he opened the fridge and produced a clear, crystal pitcher, "and - the margaritas."
"Oh my god - if these are any good, I just might have to marry you," you teased, as he reached for a glass with salt around the rim.
The two of you ended up eating at the kitchen island, sitting on bar stools, making a mess of the spread of Mexican food and enjoying a few margaritas each.
"How did things go while you were out of town?" You politely asked, and you could have sworn he stared at you for minute as if he had no clue what you meant.
"Oh, yeah...uh...it went fine," he finally answered, taking a long drink as if needing a moment to think. "Sorry again about that. It was...unexpected."
He was totally lying. He didn't go out of town, he was just avoiding you. He felt like an idiot. But that's what tonight was for. He was going to try to tell you the truth. Or maybe break it off with you? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't do that to you again - punish you for being a woman and having bodily functions.
"It happens," you shrugged, reaching for your drink for a little more liquid courage. You had a lovely buzz going and you were honestly ready to jump on top of Miguel. "I missed you though."
Your eyes dipped down as you waited for his reaction.
"Me too," he quietly admitted, reaching for your hand. "That's why I wanted you here tonight."
You thought he would elaborate. Or if he had no intention of talking, it was the perfect opportunity for him to kiss you, especially with the way he was staring adoringly into your eyes.
Maybe you mistook adoringly for hungrily - because he slid his long fingers under your dress, up your inner thigh. Okay, maybe he missed your body more than your actual company. Either way, you weren't going to complain if you could spend the night with this gorgeous man inside you.
"You're wet," he murmured, brushing his knuckles over the lace of your panties, beginning to rub up and down deliciously. "You're always wet and ready for me."
"Yes," you panted, arching into his touch. He teased you for a moment longer, then abruptly pulled his hand away, pulling a whine of protest from deep in your chest.
"This way, baby," he softly instructed, reaching for your hand and leading you up a winding staircase. Your heartbeat quickened as he led you into a luxurious den - spacious and decadent, with a roaring fire.
"Holy shit," you marveled, taking in the half dozen shelves filled with books, the expensive-looking paintings and antiques scattered around the room. "If this is one of your moves - it's a good one."
Miguel chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. "I don't bring anyone here, sweetheart. Just you."
A thrill zipped through your body. Even if he was lying - even he brought other women here - you were more than happy to be the focus of his attention for the night.
"Now, why don't I get comfortable," he chimed, easing down into an oversized leather chair. Leaning back, he spread his legs, thrusting up slightly as if putting himself on display.
Wondering if he wanted you to join him, he gestured to your body. "Take your clothes off."
Biting your lip, you eased into your office routine, thrilled at the thought of a private striptease for Miguel, in his home.
Deciding to stretch it out a bit, you pulled one thick strap of your dress off one shoulder, pausing to lock eyes with him, making him wait just a moment before pulling down the opposite strap. Your dress had no zipper - it was pretty form-fitting. So you started to push it down over your breasts, pausing as the material pooled around your hips.
Shifting his own hips, Miguel stretched one arm out on the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on your lace-covered tits.
Pausing just a moment longer - just to feel like you had a little bit of power - you finally turned around, giving Miguel a generous view of your ass as you pushed the dress over the swell of your hips. It dropped to the floor and you leaned all the way over, showing off your lace thong as you pulled the dress off your feet.
"Stay," he ordered, wetting his lips at the sight in front of him. The thin slip of lace barely covered your pussy and left your round ass bare for him.
Bracing yourself on your fingertips, you obeyed, your body folded in half - ass on display.
"Get on your hands and knees."
You thought he would join you - maybe fuck you like this, but he wasn't done giving orders.
"Turn around and crawl."
Fuck. Something about his new crawling command made your pussy quiver. You quickly complied, slowly crawling toward him in your lace bra and thong, noticing the huge bulge in his black pants.
"Good girl," he purred, his eyes flashing wildly at you on your hands and knees for him.
After ordering you to stop, he asked you to take off your bra. "Want to see those pretty tits," he almost growled. "Play with them for me."
You did as he asked, grabbing two handfuls of your breasts and kneading them, putting on a show for him, before rolling your nipples tantalizingly.
"That's it, baby," he panted, reaching to stroke his hard length over his pants. "Look so pretty for me."
"Don't you want to touch me, Miguel?" You pleaded, working your breasts and rolling your hips downward temptingly.
Damn you were breathtaking. Miguel unfastened his pants and slid his hand inside to pull out his cock, needing some friction.
He ignored your question, instead demanding that you get your panties nice and wet for him. You rubbed your panties up into your center before removing them and making sure they were sopping. Reaching for them, Miguel draped the soaked lace over his cock and began to jack himself off.
A really embarrassing sound left your mouth at the sight. This brilliant man was filthy and you could not get enough of it.
"Show me your pussy," he commanded, his voice strangled as he pumped his cock with your panties around it.
Leaning back on your elbows, still on the floor, you spread your naked legs wide for him.
"Use your fingers," he panted, "and fuck yourself."
"Miguel, I want you," you begged. "I'm so wet, baby. I need you so bad."
Disobeying his command, you closed your legs and got on all fours again, crawling toward him.
He almost came at the sight. But you weren't listening to him.
"I told you what to do," he warned, halting the motion of his hand on his cock.
"I don't want to," you pouted, reaching up from the floor to place your hands on his thighs. "We're not at work - you can't tell me what to do."
Growling, he tossed your panties aside and grabbed the nape of your neck, yanking your head forward. "I'm nice to you at work, muñeca, but this is different."
"Prove it," you challenged, a little on the bratty side. "Because I'm getting bored over here by myself."
His crimson irises flashed angrily. "Bored? And what is it that will keep you from being bored?"
Reaching for his cock, you used both hands to twist it almost painfully, causing him to hiss in pleasure. "I want you to fuck me."
Pushing your hands away from him, he kept his grip on your neck with one hand. Standing up, he used his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to his knees.
"Oh, I'm going to fuck you," he darkly whispered, using one hand rub the tip of his cock along your cheek and then over your lips. "Show me your tongue."
Peering up at him expectantly, you complied, the heat between your legs pooling and beginning to drip as he laid his thick, heavy length on your waiting tongue.
"I'm going to give you what you want, baby," he lowly purred. "I'm going to fuck your face until you cry for me."
Snapping his hips forward, he thrust his cock to the back of your throat, making you instantly gag on his tip, which made him groan in pleasure.
"You're gonna take me - all of me - and show me you're my good girl," he ordered, fucking your mouth deeply...steadily.
Ignoring the plush rug burning your knees, you struggled to breathe in through your nose, hollowing your cheeks to make it good for him. Tears burned your eyes as he hit the back of your throat again.
He growled at the mess he was making of you, but there was a small part of him that wondered if he would push you too far. You hadn't been quite this rough with one another in the office. Loosening his grip on your hair, he slightly slowed his thrusting when he felt your soft hands reaching around to grasp the round curve of his ass. Then you pulled him hard down your throat, sucking and swallowing so deliciously that he almost came from that one motion.
If Miguel wanted to be rough with you, then you would be rough right back. He was going to fucking pay for it later though. You wanted some things from him too.
Ramming him back into your face, you worked him fast and deep, moaning against his cock until you felt him wet and hot on your tongue. You drank him down, your pussy fluttering at the animalistic noises you'd managed to pull from him while he finished.
Pulling off his softening cock, you wiped your messy mouth with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath.
Your eyes flickered up to his fucked out expression and you held his gaze, standing up, ready for the next round.
"My turn," you purred, taking his hand and pulling him toward the plush leather chair he'd first sat in. Easing down, you spread your legs. "Get on your knees."
Still reeling from the life-changing things you'd just done with your mouth, Miguel huffed out a laugh. "Funny."
Narrowing your eyes, you closed your legs and crossed your arms over your tits. If he was going to deny you, then he wouldn't get to gawk.
"You fucking heard me, Miguel," you warned. "It's my turn."
Feeling a little apprehensive about eating you out, he decided to remind you, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."
"Yeah, I do," you teased, "with your tongue."
You spent the next several minutes in absolute heaven. Miguel wasn't about to deny you. Something about you bossing him right back had him hardening again, quickly.
Being careful with his fangs, he dragged his tongue up and down your slit, toying with every fold and crevice, teasing you, tasting and relishing you. You had expected Miguel to eat pussy like a demon, but this slow sampling thing was making you feral.
What started as begging words descended into the most desperate, filthy sounds that had ever emanated from your throat, ever. Flattening his tongue, Miguel pressed hard on your clit, moving side to side before rapidly fluttering the tip. The change of motion and the faster pace made you come instantly.
Somehow, your first orgasm only made you hungrier for him. It hardly relieved any of your desire for him to completely ruin you all night long.
Sliding your fingers into his dark waves, you turned his head up to face you. "I want more," you desperately whispered, easing off the chair and shoving him down onto the rug. Pushing his shirt up his ripped abdomen, you stopped as your fingers toyed with his nipples.
"Get out of these clothes and fuck me."
"So bossy," he smirked, rolling you over and laying you on the soft carpet. Ripping his shirt over his head, he enjoyed the sight of you licking your lips at his rippling muscles. Shedding the rest of his clothes, he eased back onto the chair, preparing to pull you backward onto his lap like usual.
Safer that way.
He could tell you wanted him to kiss you, but maybe you could go a couple rounds and blow off some steam before he tried to confess to you why he hadn't.
"Come down here," you purred, stretching your hand out to him. "Lie down with me."
"You like giving the orders, don't you?" He smiled at you and decided to join you on the floor.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you inched your body underneath his, allowing your legs to fall open. "I want to see your eyes while you fuck me," you admitted to him, your gaze flickering to his mouth.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he could even think about trying to control the signals he was giving you.
Easing up just a little, you pressed your lips to his, reaching to ease his stiff cock inside you.
"F-fuck," he whispered against your mouth, shifting his hips to sink into you fully. "Always feel so good around me, baby."
"Kiss me," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
This was such a bad idea. But he kissed you. Just your lips. Slowly fucking into you, he pressed his mouth gently to yours. Then he nibbled your top lip before switching to your bottom. It all went to hell when you slid your tongue inside his mouth.
His first instinct was to roughly push you away, but he managed to sit up, his back hitting the chair and his cock still inside you. You eagerly shifted to this new position, easing down in his lap to ride him, letting out a soft whine as the two of you rocked back and forth.
"Feels so good, Miguel," you gasped, twisting your beautiful body, your tits bouncing as you moved a little faster.
Strong hands slid up the curve of your back as he took a nipple into his mouth, careful to lick rather than suck. You moaned, gripping his hair and fucking yourself down on him harder.
He switched nipples, pulling the most deliciously desperate sounds from your mouth. But once he eased back to look at you, you pounced. You kissed him hard, gripping the sides of his face, slowing your thrusts as your tongue plunged into his mouth.
Then the tip of your tongue ran across his fang and sliced open.
His eyes shot open as the warm, metallic taste of your blood filled his mouth. Gripping your hair, he sucked hard on your tongue, his hips fucking up into you at a rapid, bruising pace.
Everything he was doing had turned suddenly rough, but you were into it, moaning into his mouth as he sucked your tongue. Then you felt his other fang slice into your tongue and Miguel growled like an animal into your mouth.
Letting out a little whimper at the sting, you thought maybe he'd just gotten carried away, when he ripped his mouth away from yours and buried his face into the crook of your neck.
"Taste so fucking good," he darkly growled, fucking you so hard and so fast you could barely think straight.
You started to say his name when you realized he was licking your throat. Your brain short-circuited when he kissed you there. You felt like a limp rag doll, unable to keep up with his wild bucking.
A sudden pain zipped through your body as you realized Miguel had bit you. Hard. You had noticed his sharp teeth before. They looked like fangs, but you just assumed they were very prominent canines.
You were wrong. They were definitely fangs because now, Miguel was drinking your blood. He was actually sucking blood out of you.
You should have been afraid. You should have been disgusted. But your body simultaneously ascended to a euphoric bliss and began to go strangely numb. You were coming - it was the strangest, wildest, best orgasm of your life. But at the same time, you felt as though you had been drugged.
Miguel was sucking and sucking and growling and fucking - he finished inside you, and by then, you couldn't even feel his warmth. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glowing bright red, matching the blood - your blood drenching his chin.
You felt so weak, so limp in his arms - strangely safe but never more vulnerable. You wanted to reach up to touch his face, to somehow connect with him in some way, or to calm his eyes, which were franticly scanning over your body. But you couldn't move your arm.
Realizing you were somewhat paralyzed, you let out a little whine of desperation, and started to feel afraid.
"Shhh, shh, it's okay," Miguel soothed, cradling you close and rocking you in his arms. "It's okay, you're okay."
Your eyes burned with tears but you could barely feel them roll down your cheeks.
Miguel should have felt awful.
But as you laid there, limp in his arms, crying for him, numb and bleeding from your throat - he'd never seen a more perfect sight. What he wouldn't give to fuck you again, just like this.
He knew he was a monster, and that he was never going to see you again after this night. But just for a moment, he allowed the beast to revel in the madness.
Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you down the hall to his bedroom, a thrill spiking through him as you whimpered in fear.
"You were such a good girl for me," he whispered, laying you down and brushing his fingers across your cheek. "I'm going to take care of you now."
He left the room just long enough to get a couple of damp cloths - one to wipe up the mess between your legs and one to clean the bloody wound on your throat. Just the sight of his spend leaking out of you and your blood dripping from the punctures in your neck made him hard - again.
That was the thing about regenerative powers and superhuman stamina. He was always ready to fuck.
The animal in him wanted to climb on top of you and take your limp body, listening to your sweet whimpers and drinking and drinking until he'd had his fill. His gaze roved over you hungrily as he reached to brush one hand over your breast.
But as your beautiful, desperate eyes flickered up to his, he wanted to be more for you. He wanted to be human again. "I'll get you some clothes," he said softly.
When he returned, he was dressed in a pair of black joggers, his mouth clean of blood. Lifting your body up, he slid a soft t-shirt over your head. Then he slid a pair of his boxer shorts over your legs. They were hilariously big, but it would signal to you that nothing more was going to happen between your legs.
Lifting you up a little, he pulled the covers out from under you before tucking you in gently. He eased down beside you and reached for your hand.
"The numbness you feel will wear off soon. I'm going to get your things. If you feel tired, you can sleep. I won't bother you." He sighed, realizing how badly he'd fucked everything up. Nodding to the bedside table, he added, "There's a phone if you want to call for a car. Whatever you want to do is fine."
Giving your hand a final squeeze, he stood and turned to leave the room. Hearing a distressed whimper, he turned back. "It'll wear off, I promise."
He was right. In a few minutes, you could start to feel your fingers and toes and your tongue didn't feel like sandpaper. But with the returned feeling, you distinctly felt the sharp stab wounds in your neck.
Miguel returned with your dress, handbag and shoes and set them on a nearby chair, before placing your phone on the bedside table.
"M-Miguel," you managed to whisper, your fingers twitching as you tried to reach for him.
Seeing your distress, and hearing his name on your lips, brought him back to reality. The guilt he felt was crushing, but he deserved it. He was an animal and he had hurt you.
"I won't bother you again, sweetheart. Just rest, okay?" Then he turned to leave.
Happy new year! Almost 3 months since my last one of these! I wrote so much in Nov. and Dec. for my 1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration that my brain shut off for a month. (That event is still OPEN, btw!)
I've been writing, but nothing has been quite ready to post. I've also been reading some amazing fics! (I'm gonna do my first rec list soon).
Posting this weekend:
The Only One - A Poe Dameron Story
🚀 Episode 5 - UPDATED
💫 5/10ish Episodes completed
On My Knees - Part 3 of 3 - UPDATED
(Steven Grant x f!reader) 18+
The sequel no one asked for. You're Steven's boss and the two of you aren't exactly keeping things professional at work. Not that you're complaining.
Previous parts, if you're interested:
"On My Knees" Part 1 (fluff, can be read alone, without part 2)
1.2k words
"On My Knees" Part 2 (nsfw, continues from part 1)
2.1k words || 18+
In Progress but not quite ready:
Perfect Fit (Nathan Bateman) 18+
🤖 1/2 Parts completed
Decadent: A Miguel O'Hara Story 18+
🕷️ Up next: Chapter 13 - An accident in the lab!
🕸️ 12/14 Chapters completed
Spectre: A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story
👻 Up next: Event #9: Little Shop of Horrors
🎃 8/11ish Events completed
It's the Most Wonderful Time of The Year (Poe Dameron)
Life Day fic
Summary: A passionate night together leads Miguel to accepting your darkest desires...and giving in to his own
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Content: nsfw, 18+, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting, scratching, blood consumption, multiple orgasms, overstim, reader is consensually incapacitated and her body used, bondage, oral - f. rec, face sitting, aftercare, not beta'd
PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...
"You're sure? You're okay with...what we just did - when I cut you and..."
"And scratched me and sucked me and drank my blood?" You shrugged one shoulder, easing your thighs across his lap. "I can see how it sounds when you say it out loud," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Maybe it's you who needs to accept the monster in me."
Since you and Miguel made things official, you had grown quite comfortable sleeping on top of his massive chest.
It wasn’t that you spent every night together. He still disappeared most weekends....which you finally asked him about.
"I promise I'll tell you soon," he swore, so earnestly you couldn't find it without yourself to doubt him. "It's...a lot to take in."
Accepting his word as a sign of trust, a part of you still wondered if you were naive. Perhaps Miguel spent weekends galavanting with a secret family (or something equally horrible.) Your neighbor/friend Gwen teemed with sordid suggestions.
But you loved him. Your heart won out and you made a deal with yourself, agreeing to give him a little more time to explain.
Work in the lab continued, as did a search for a cure for Miguel's blood addiction/weakness. In the mean time, Miguel drank your blood, rather than get as weak and as sick (and irritable) as the last couple months.
At first, he insisted that you draw blood in the lab, but after spending several nights with you, his baser cravings grew too powerful to resist. Using his talons, he would scratch marks into your supple skin and drink from fresh wounds. Burying himself deep inside you while he drank elevated the pleasure exponentially for you both.
Which is where you found yourself right now.
The two of you barely stumbled into his penthouse apartment after work before he tore your panties (again) and stuffed thick fingers inside you. That was well over an hour ago.
Now, he rested against the headboard of the bed, his thick, muscular thighs stretched out along the mattress. Seeing this god of a man stretched naked especially for you never ceased to thrill.
Tipping his chin up only slightly, he beckoned you wordlessly toward him, patting his lap invitingly.
Wetting your lips, you eyed him hungrily, climbing obediently, spreading your slick thighs on either side of his legs, teasing his cock with your sopping cunt - your slick and his spend leaking out of you from the previous round.
"How are you hard again?" You giggled, pushing your fingers up over the breadth of his shoulders before tasting his lips one at a time.
"Mmm...told you. Superhuman stamina," he murmured, licking hotly into your mouth. Powerful hands gripped your hips as he tried to slip inside you again. "I didn't wear you out, did I?" He teased.
"No way," you fired back, easing off his lap to turn away from him. Before could grumble out a protest, you sank down on his thick cock, rotating your hips, riding him in reverse, your back arching in rapture.
"Fuck, you feel good honey," he groaned, his jaw going slack at the sight of your eager body ready to fuck him so good after he'd taken your body all evening. Talons extended to tauntingly scrape along the delicious curve of your back before sliding up your sides to cup your soft mounds. Taking the weight of your breasts in his palms, he fondled you gently, helping you move your lithe body against him. You purred in satisfaction as his thumbs brushed your hardened nipples.
Your drenched, slippery cunt felt incredible to Miguel, but you wanted more friction. With a slight whine, you rocked your hips faster, pushing up on your knees and dropping down hard until you found a vigorous rhythm bouncing on his cock.
"Faster?" He taunted against your neck. You could feel him smirking.
"Harder," you panted. "Fuck me hard. Need more."
Miguel growled out an incoherent response, gripping your hips and using his superhuman strength to work you over his length, slamming you down over and over again.
His appetite for blood had returned to normal, so starvation and weakness no longer plagued him. But this...hours on end in bed together - he was dying to sink his teeth into your flesh - despite having sworn he never would again.
"Miguel, harder," you whined, even as your sounds of pleasure ascended embarrassingly loudly. "Faster, please. I need...I need..."
He knew. He felt it too. You both craved the deep, primal, monstrous connection that had formed between you so early on.
Yes, he was certain of exactly what you wanted.
"I'm hungry," he groaned, fingers sliding around your throat. Roughly grabbing your jaw from behind, he tilted your head to one side, exposing more of the smooth skin of your neck.
He was fucking you so deep, but now - the possibilities made you wild with desire. “Please, Miguel. You can taste me.”
Damn. That was probably going to upset him. You'd promised not to ask him.
He dragged a talon across the side of your neck, growling as a sprinkling of blood sprang from your soft, sweat-soaked skin.
You felt the warmth of his tongue, wishing he would give in and sink his fangs into your flesh.
Unsure if Miguel gave into his cravings or if his fang slipped and sliced you - you felt that familiar pain and your heart both soared and sank. Because he would surely stop, horrified.
His massive chest rumbled with a hungry moan so powerful, you felt his deep satisfaction vibrate through your whole body.
“It’s okay, baby,” you panted, reaching blindly behind you to card your fingers through his thick waves. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Need you so much, Miguel.”
He apparently passed the point of needing permission, squeezing your throat a to the point of pain. However, the elation of him drinking you, the delicious pressure on your throat, the brutal slam of his cock plowing you so deep inside had you shrieking in pleasure as your walls clenched around him, your body rocked with a powerful orgasm that made you tremble and shudder against him.
Right as your pleasure crested and started to subside, you felt his fangs pierce your neck, fully. This was no accident and there was no turning back.
Lips sucked as his tongue laved ravenously, drinking until the venom in his fangs weakened you into a limp doll.
Lightheaded from blood loss, you slumped over.
Miguel laid you gently down, staring, conflicted, at the wounds in your neck, oozing with life-giving blood. Yet his cock twitched, aching for another release.
Gripping your thighs, he spread you apart, running his tongue along his fangs to collect excess blood.
“Fuck you’re pretty for me like this, muñeca,” he panted, recalling the sounds of you begging for this night after night.
Even if he punished himself for it later, you loved when he used you like this. It felt so wrong that you somehow craved it. You couldn't feel him fucking you, but his loss of control as he got off using your body - you wanted it. You only hoped he wouldn't back down.
His massive chest heaved as crimson eyes darkened lustfully. With his grip on you firm, he thrust inside your pliable, bleeding, paralyzed body with one deep stroke.
He molded you like a doll, like his dirty little toy. The languid, loose weight of your lifeless limbs added pressure as he pushed in and out of you.
“I could do anything to you and you’d let me. I know you want it. Want me to use you.” Lifting one of your limp legs over his shoulder, he groaned as your head lolled to the side, your vacant eyes unable to meet his.
You were spread so wide from him - soaked from endless hours together - of his cum and your slick heat. His balls slapped messily against your cunt as he fucked you so deep… he knew you would be sore tomorrow but he couldn’t find it in him to slow down.
When he was close, he pulled out of you - not that you could feel it - before jerking himself and spilling all over your breasts and your neck, leaving you a used-up, lifeless, fucked out mess. Panting harshly, he admired his handiwork, eyes raking over your beautifully ruined body, covered in his spend from your jaw down to your knees.
He didn’t even ask permission before reaching for his phone to take your picture. Not that you could protest in this position, but the thought that he wanted to remember you as his ruined, used toy made you fucking feral.
Flopping down on the mattress, Miguel tried to catch his breath for a moment. Even with his stamina - the exhilaration of finally feeding on you again was overwhelming.
After a few moments, he gathered your sweat and cum covered body into his arms and took you to the bathroom. Holding you gently, he ran a bath, adding some oils and salts before easing into the luxury garden tub with you.
He cradled you in his arms sideways, with your cheek laying against his chest.
By now, the paralytic was wearing off and you could feel the pain of the wounds in your throat. You hissed as the warm water stung the scrapes and bite you had sustained.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, starting to carefully wash you.
"Don't - " you started, but he hushed you.
"I'm not sorry for what we did," he clarified, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. "I'm only sorry that the water stings."
You slowly nodded. "It felt good, Miguel. It's been so long. I wanted it so bad. Don’t be mad."
"I’m not mad, baby," he assured you, touching his forehead to yours.
You let out a sigh of blissful contentedness. "Feels so good."
A chuckle rumbled in his godlike chest. “Even when you can’t feel anything because you’re paralyzed?”
Gazing deeply into his eyes, you wet your lips before kissing him softly. “Remember, I’m the monster here,” you whispered against his mouth. “I…crave those things. I want you to bite me and use me. Fuck, it makes me want you so much.”
With that confession, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, hand blindly grasping in the warm water, hoping to find his cock hard again.
His superhuman stamina did not disappoint.
“Again, mi amor? You’ll be sore for days,” he chided, a bit condescendingly, one corner of his mouth curling in amusement, even as his crimson eyes widened in wonder that you still wanted more.
Biting your bottom lip, your eyes dipped coyly as you tugged on his thick member, stroking him just the way he liked.
He groaned, “You’re insatiable.”
“You gave me everything I wanted tonight,” you murmured against his lips, working your palm up and down his length, sloshing water sloppily. “Ask me for anything, Miguel, and I’ll say yes. Anything.”
“Corazón,” he moaned, hips shifting, fucking up into your grasp. “Anything?”
Your teeth tugged his bottom lip into your mouth, nipping tauntingly. “Yes.”
Nodding, he started thrusting again. Felt too good not to come if you were offering.
Your lips fused again in a heated tangle as you stroked and tugged him to orgasm.
The two of you managed to clean up and get something to eat before relaxing upstairs in the spacious den, cuddling together in his oversized chair. By this point you were dying to know what he would ask of you.
But you were distracted as he kissed you breathless, holding you like a treasure.
Miguel laid you open on the plush, expensive carpet, stripped your clothes off your body and spent the next hour with his tongue and lips all over you. He kissed you until you were dripping and arching into him, desperate for more. He nibbled at your breasts, littering them with tiny scrapes and cuts, sucking your nipples even as he drank warm red liquid.
He could no longer deny how hard it made him - how possessive over you he felt - knowing he could mark your body - that you wanted his marks on you - you craved them. Something dark lived in you and he was beginning to accept it. To need it.
Down he went, kissing the softness of your tummy, sucking marks into your thighs, passing an hour of attention with you panting his name, begging for what you really wanted.
Firing his warm, sticky webs to hold your thighs apart -spread so wide for him - he gazed down at you, desperate and writhing.
Finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to your cunt, nudging at your swollen clit with his nose. His warm tongue met your sex and your back arched violently as you came instantly. You felt him chuckle against you, inside you - his tongue thrusting in and out - the rumble of his laughter sending shockwaves up your spine as he purposely overstimulated you.
After an eternity of teasing, it was too easy to get you to orgasm, but he didn’t let you come down and you coudn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop or to tap his shoulder for a break. No, instead your heels dug into his muscular back - your thighs slung over his broad shoulders as you bucked up frantically into his waiting mouth, fucking his tongue. Your shrieks of overstimulated pleasure tapered off into pathetic whimpers as he found the rhythm he knew you loved.
His superhuman strength allowed you to fist and pull his dark waves as hard as you wanted - to wildly buck and push his face harder into your sex. He could take anything you could give.
As if sensing you needed it harder, wilder, he rolled you over and pulled you down on his face, supporting your weight as you smothered his mouth with your pussy. He lightly smacked your ass, and, as if spurring a horse into action, you moaned embarrassingly loudly, riding his face as hard as you would his cock, as carelessly as you would use a toy in your bed alone.
Grabbing his hair again, you slammed his head down onto the carpet before yanking it up, using the would-be painful motion for more friction to fuck his face.
You and Miguel had done some dirty, wild things, but he’d never really felt this much unbridled loss of restraint from you. He moaned into your pussy, wishing he could fist his cock to the absolutely wrecked, desperate, filthy sounds echoing off the den walls - the squelch of your soaked cunt, slapping and dripping down his chin, making a mess of his hair, the carpet, of the both of you.
You came on his face only a moment later and before you were even halfway through your high, before the slight chance to start coming down presented itself, he laid you down and started working his tongue gently all over your pussy lips, your thighs, even your ass to clean you up.
“Miguel, fuck…fuck, it’s too much, oh f-fuck!” But since you didn’t safe word, he didn’t relent until you were a blubbering mess, having lost track of how many times you came, if you were currently coming now or coming down from a high.
He never used more than one finger and his mouth, but you finally passed out from exhaustion. He loved that he could do that to you without venom.
The next morning, you woke up clean, wounds appropriately dressed, in Miguel’s freshly made bed, wearing his t-shirt. It took you a few minutes to get your bearings when he entered with a tray of breakfast.
You sat up, feeling the slight sting of fang punctures in your neck and a sore, overused cunt.
“Corazón,” he breathed, rushing over to your side. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his eyes flickering all over you.
“I’m good,” you assured him, reaching to caress his cheek. “I’m a little sore, but for all the best reasons.”
To your delight, he nodded and rolled with it. “You’re a dirty girl,” he chuckled with a shrug. “And dirty girls end up sore.”
Gasping in mock-surprise, you whacked him with the back of your hand. “Miguel O’Hara!”
“Don’t try to deny it,” he fired back, catching your flying hand and tangling his fingers with yours.
The two of you shared a few kisses, and, as you started eating your breakfast, you admitted to him that you were thrilled that he finally seemed to be accepting your dark side.
“It’s not darkness,” he finally answered, surprising you. “Reaching for your hand, he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s devotion.” He placed a kiss to your hand. “It’s acceptance.” He kissed your forehead, then looked down into your eyes. “It’s everything I’ve ever needed.” This time, he kissed your mouth.
“That’s why I want you to live here with me.”
Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"
The air rushed out of your lungs as your cheeks heated at such a request. "Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..."
Massive shoulders sank as a worried frown tugged at the corners of his kissable lips. "But?"
Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."
next
Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update!
View this post to join my tag list! (tag list is for chaptered fics and short stories only)
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, cursing, smut, p in v, masturbation, handjob, it gets messy, workplace nonsense, use protection people! a brief moment of throat squeezing. not beta'd we die like everyones uncle ben... mentions of blood. a mention of violence and death
PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...
Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.
Blood was the key.
But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.
He smelled you coming off the elevator.
New blood.
Fuck, he was hungry. He should have just fed last night. Then he wouldn't be distracted by--
"Miguel, your new assistant is here," LYLA chimed.
Miguel nodded to the hologram figure of his artificially intelligent assistant. "Thank you, Lyla. Send her in."
"I hope you're not attempting to replace me," Lyla voiced. "My capabilities are--"
"Yes, yes, I know," Miguel huffed. "She's not here for that. She's working on her doctorate and needs some practical--"
"Experience. Yes, I'm aware."
"Do not interrupt me," Miguel chided. "Just...send her in."
Miguel was a man who had no trouble getting a date. He didn't hire you for your looks. But damn if you didn't take his breath away as you scurried into his office, dressed to kill.
"Mr. O'Hara," you cheerily intoned, smoothing your sleek suit before extending your hand. "What an honor to meet you in person."
"Pleasure," he smoothly returned, taking your smaller hand in his while minding the retraction of his talons. "I've been anxious to meet you. We have a lot of work to do."
He shouldn't have touched you. Miguel rarely touched anyone unless he needed something specific from them. The blood temptation was too intense, and between talons and fangs and super strength - well it was better to just not bother.
Outside of the bedroom, he was sure he hadn't even hugged or held anyone since his daughter died... Better that way.
So the soft skin of your hand, so confidently extended - the gentle squeeze of your fingers as you smiled up at him beautifully - it made him jerk his hand away abruptly.
His eyes, which you noticed were dark red? in person, roved freely down your figure as if sizing you up, rather than checking you out. As his gaze returned to yours, you wondered how he managed red irises. They had looked light brown on your video call.
"You have excellent taste, but I’m afraid you’re overdressed," he voiced, turning his back to you as if he were busy with 100 other things. "I think you'll find that the work we do lends itself to a lab coat and goggles. I’ll see that you get some."
"Of course, sir," you swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. So much for a first impression. You would just have to impress him with your mind instead.
Hearing you call him sir sent a jolt of desire through his body.
You were a little caught off guard by the pierce of his crimson gaze as he turned back to you - and by the massive span of his broad shoulders. He was far more handsome in person, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here for his brilliant mind.
"Let’s take a look then, shall we?"
Your first day in the lab completely blew you away. Miguel's intelligence somehow exceeded his good looks, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He admitted to you that he had hired you because of your specific theories on genetic coding an gene splicing.
"I've read all your papers," he admitted, "and studied your coursework, all the way back to high school."
You were floored. You might as well have been an aspiring songwriter hearing that their favorite artist wanted to record their song and sing it as a duet.
What Miguel didn't tell you was that he was looking for someone specific. Someone with your intelligence and specialties, but someone...pure. Someone uncorrupted by mega corporations, or too much success or money. Someone young and eager, whose ideas on genetics lined up with his own. He needed someone to eventually help him get rid of his affliction.
He didn't want to drink blood anymore. He didn't want to be Spider-Man anymore. After all his dark deeds, after losing his little girl - he only wanted to see if he could ever be human again.
Unfortunately...or perhaps fortunately, the mutual attraction between the two of you filled the air with questions for him. He could see the effect he had on you, and he was pretty certain that resisting the softness of your smile, the angles of your face - the curve of your body ... it would be a losing battle for him.
He wanted you.
The two of you didn't last a week.
Longing gazes lingered, hands "accidentally" brushed. Complimenting one another's intelligence finally led to remarks that really weren't quite suited to the workplace.
You weren't an idiot. Suspecting Miguel had likely slept his way through his entire staff, you assumed that giving in to this burning in the center of your chest (and between your legs) would make you a name on a very long list. But you were a modern woman. You could fulfill your desires without it reflecting on the quality of your work. Hopefully Miguel would feel the same.
The tension while working together became unbearable and you really started to believe that relieving that tension would actually help your progress in the lab.
The thing you loved most about being around Miguel was that, inside the lab, he was all business. A reputation for being demanding and condescending aside, he really did treat you like an equal. He listened, he challenged you and he did not flirt or make anything personal. In the lab, there was only the science. You felt free to express your ideas without feeling inferior or objectified.
In his office, however, his desires were quite clear - a little more each day.
"You look stunning today." Your third day.
"Come take a look at this, will you?" Your fourth day. He beckoned you around his desk, prompting you to lean over to peer at the screen he'd been studying. Your side pressed against his thickly muscled arm. Your face was close enough to brush up against his cheek. What you wouldn't give to climb across his lap and sink your fingers into his dark waves.
"I thought I told you not to dress up." Your fifth day. You wore a skirt and explained to him that you could still dress professionally under your lab coat. You liked to dress nicely and, honestly, you wondered how he would react. His scarlet stare fixed itself on your legs the entire day.
"You're so beautiful I can't think straight." Your sixth day. Miguel had thought that he would get your gorgeous legs off his mind by draining a criminal over the weekend. Today he was well fed, but it did nothing to lessen his desire to have you. If you planned to tell him to fuck off, or otherwise reject his advances, he'd rather know sooner rather than later. The tension was killing him.
"How do you think I feel?" You fired back cheekily. "I have a thing for shoulders. And dark hair. And jaw lines."
"I have a thing for legs," he darkly responded, easing out of his office chair and stalking toward you. "Can't stop thinking about how yours would feel wrapped around me."
"Can't stop thinking about how you would feel between mine," you shot back as he rushed forward, scooping you up to do just what he said. Your back hit the wall with a thud as he pulled your shapely legs around his waist, pressing himself against you.
"Best not to tease me like that, hermosa," he growled, pinning you in place with his hips while pushing up your skirt, his thick fingers caressing your thighs.
Hooking your heels into the round shape of his ass, you rolled your hips against him. "I don't tease when I want something this bad."
"Fuck," he gasped out, your delicious body writhing in his arms - your beautiful eyes just begging him to take you. "Better be sure, baby." Even as he asked for permission, he helped you hop down just long enough to yank down your lace panties while you pulled open his pants.
Shoving things out of the way and pulling him free, you let out a little whine at his sheer size. Grasping his hand, you guided his fingers to your center, rubbing your wetness over his knuckles.
"I'm sure," you panted.
"Careful," he chided, swiftly pulling his fingers away. He hadn't exactly explained his retractable talons to you. They wouldn't hurt you as long as he concentrated on keeping them down. But as you stood there, flushed and panting, soaking wet, he wondered if he would be able to keep his concentration in tact.
Frowning, you peered up into his ruby eyes. Didn't he want this?
"Come here," he breathed, lifting you right back up to where you started, but this time, as he pulled your gorgeous legs around his waist, he used one hand to guide his hard length between your wet folds - rubbing himself up and down, just feeling you. Shuddering at how hot and wet you felt on his tip, he somehow managed to control himself just a little longer.
Pushing the tip of his cock over your clit, he felt your wetness mingle with his. He grinned wolfishly as you hissed in pleasure.
"M-Miguel, god, please," you moaned, the sound of it sending desire thundering through his body. Lining his cock up with your center, he pushed inside, all the way in, and stopped.
Your body was suspended there against his office wall, held in place by his hands gripping your thighs and his thick cock shoved up inside you. But he didn't fucking move.
Your hands gripped his muscular arms, attempting to pull yourself forward, or use gravity's advantage to plunge you down - something to feel some friction.
"Wh-what are you--"
"Look at me," he darkly ordered, squeezing your hips to almost a painful point.
You complied, but he still didn't move - his scarlet stare burning you alive as his thick, dark hair tumbled across his forehead carelessly.
"This is how I feel between your legs," he gruffly teased, reminding you of your flirtatious words from several moments ago. "Tell me what it feels like."
God, you felt like an insect caught in a spider's web. If you only knew how apropos that analogy was.
Pressing one strong hand to your lower abdomen, he pushed down firmly. "Tell me," he growled, his playful disposition dissipating.
"Just like I imagined," you panted. "Thick. Hot."
He groaned.
"I feel so full of you, Miguel." You squeezed your inner thighs against his torso, using that leverage to manage a small thrust.
How he was able to hold his shit together was beyond you. He hadn't even fucked up into you yet and you were about to come, mostly clothed, against the wall.
Pushing the hand on your abdomen up over your breast, he squeezed, then moved all the way up to your throat. He didn't apply pressure, but just the thought of it made you moan again.
"Love the sounds you make, hermosa. I'll make it good for you," he darkly whispered, giving your throat the faintest squeeze. "But I'm so bad for you."
Letting out an embarrassing whine, your head thumped back against the wall. He was driving you insane.
"What do you want?" you pleaded, digging your heels into his ass impatiently. "You want me to beg?"
"I just want you to understand," he purred against your cheek, his hot breath making you shiver with want. "I want you to be sure."
No. You weren't going to beg. Not today.
"Then let me down off this wall and I'll show you I understand." You stared right into his glowing eyes, locking your arms behind his neck. If you had to push him down and ride him hard, you would. But you had to have him now.
Apparently, he agreed.
Easing both hands back down to your thighs, he began to fuck you...slowly. You found his sudden switch so tender that you were sure he would kiss you...but he didn't. Instead, he breathed hotly on your ear.
"Wanted this...you...from the first second you walked in that door."
The rate of his deep thrusts quickened slightly - the power of his solid body and thick cock easily bucking you like a doll.
"Gonna try not to hurt you. Want to fuck you so hard," he panted, every jolt of his hips, juust a little deeper, faster.
"Please." Now you were begging. You didn't care. "I want you to. I need you to."
You thought, then, that he would start mercilessly pounding into you, but he didn't. Pulling away from your ear, he gazed down into your eyes, loving the way your lips fell apart as you gasped for air. If only he could kiss you. But his fangs were not retractable and he could really hurt you. No, kissing was something he never, ever did.
Kissing was for lovers and no one could love him. Not the real him - the spider. The monster.
So he buried his face in your neck, pumping just a little faster.
Mistake. Fuck, your blood smelled good. He jerked away quickly, deciding it was better to stare down at you and watch you fall apart, rather than tempt himself with his mouth on your throat.
He was right about working you up slowly, going a little faster and harder with each thrust. He was pretty sure you would be expecting him to hammer you into the wall, but he wasn't a college freshman. He knew how to make your beautiful body fall apart.
The two of you had worked up a delicious pace, bouncing together against the wall, the sound of slapping skin and harsh pants music to his ears.
Just a little more speed, and a slight tweak of his hips to see if he could just find the perfect spot...
"Yes, yes, Miguel, right there. Right there," you gasped, gripping his solid biceps once more as you started to bounce wildly.
"Knew you would look so pretty like this," he growled, pushing the palm of his hand down over your mound. The force of his length inside you combined with the heel of his hand roughly rubbing just where you wanted pressure made you shriek in pleasure.
"Don't stop," you begged, heat flaring up your torso and over your neck, punching gasps and whines from your throat. Buzzing, searing, thrilling pleasure twisted through your body, until a wave of rapture pulled you under like a rip current. Pleasure surged through every part of you, from your fingertips down to your curling toes.
Miguel had expected to work you up and watch you come before he finished, but he wildly underestimated how your tight cunt would feel gripping him as you came. He gushed inside you before he could even think to pull out, groaning at the wet mess the two of you made together.
Pulling out of you suddenly, he turned away and stuffed himself back into his pants, leaving you there - skirt bunched around your hips and the heat of him slipping down your inner thighs.
"Shouldn't have done that," he voiced aloud, reaching down to grab your panties as some sort of weak offering. "We have to be more careful."
You thought he meant the sex. Or perhaps the noise you both made.
But he knew he shouldn't have done that. Not without you knowing the risks of who - what - he really was. His...genetic material was not something to mess around with.
Grabbing your panties out of his hand, you shoved your skirt down, feeling a little foolish. You knew this would just be a bit of fun for him - a quick fuck with new assistant - but you didn't expect to be scolded the moment he finished inside you.
Whatever. At least if felt good.
Seeing he had made you uncomfortable, Miguel reached for your arm. "You can clean up in my private bathroom," he said softly, nodding toward a small door you'd yet to go inside.
Rolling your eyes, you did just that, feeling humiliated. Oh well. You had really put yourself in this position.
As soon as you shut the bathroom door, Miguel sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had hoped that giving in to the sexual tension between you would make things easier. It was inevitably going to happen at one point or another anyway. He thought maybe he could just douse the spark you two shared.
Being inside you was gasoline on a flame.
You exited the bathroom a few minutes later, your irritation thinly cloaked under the sheen of professionalism. Without even looking at him, you rattled off a few questions about a hypothesis you'd been thinking through.
If Miguel wanted to be all business, then you would oblige.
You amazed him - how easily you could switch modes from vigorous sex to brilliant hypothesizing. It was just as enticing as your gorgeous legs or beautiful mouth.
He couldn't concentrate - it was the first time you had been all business and he had been distracted. Well, did he want to work or did he want to play? Maybe the two of you should head to the lab to get some real work done.
"What are you staring at, Miguel?" you impatiently huffed.
"You," he quickly and openly answered.
"Why? I thought we 'shouldn't have done this'," you quoted him.
Then he understood.
"Wait, no. Come here," he beckoned you over to his desk, where he was seated.
You hesitantly complied. "What?"
"I'm sorry," he apologized, peering up at you. Reaching for your hand, he pulled you to stand between his legs. "I wanted to do...what we did. I never want to stop doing it," he confessed. "I just...I should have talked to you before I...finished like that."
Ohhh. That's what he meant. Well, fair point.
"You're right," you agreed, raking your fingers through his dark hair. "I guess we got a little carried away."
He rested his forehead on your stomach, pulling you close. "I didn't mean to, I...you felt so good. So fucking good." Pulling back, he gazed up at you hungrily. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you. The things I could do." His strong hands had wandered from your hips around to trace the curve of your ass.
"Even now, I want to...already...again."
Without asking, he roughly turned you around, using his hands to push your skirt up your thighs - again - while pulling you down on his lap. With your back to his chest, he spread your thighs wide, slowly starting to thrust his hardening length against your ass.
"Miguel," you whispered, completely ready to be putty in his hands. So much for getting work done.
He growled in frustration, but you took it as desire. The two things he wanted to do right now were difficult for him - he wanted to kiss your neck and finger you until you came. He needed to show you how good he could make you feel, but he couldn't. Not like that.
If his mouth went anywhere near your neck, especially while he was hard, he wasn't sure he could continue keeping his fangs from piercing your soft skin. Or his talons safely retracted. He was used to the things he couldn't, or shouldn't do to a woman, but you made him want to do exactly those things. Even the thought of laying you across his desk and eating you out was too dangerous - not until you knew more about the creature he was.
Obviously, he found ways around these things from time to time, but there was no way he was going to risk hurting you. If he somehow scared you away...well that was just not an acceptable option. Not professionally, and now he was starting to think he didn't want to lose you on a personal level either.
"I want you to touch yourself," he finally whispered on your ear, "while you bounce on my cock."
All you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him hard and then give him what he demanded. You wanted to ride him until he came inside you again.
But he held you in place.
"Show me," he purred, pulling your panties aside, deviously using one talon to slice them free of your body.
You moaned, thinking he had ripped them.
Rubbing your ass against his erection, you slid two fingers between your folds, making a show of masturbating for him. "I'll show you, Miguel. I'll show you what I do in bed at night when I think of you fucking me."
"Oh fuck," he growled, pushing you over on the desk long enough to shove his pants back down. Reaching for your hips, he gripped you firmly, pushing you down on his cock.
Letting out one of the little whines he already loved to hear so much, you did not do the slow and steady game he had played with you up against the wall.
Obediently, you rubbed firm circles over your clit and started to bounce.
Gasping, Miguel had to restrain himself from shredding the rest of your clothes with his talons. Instead, he worked open the buttons of your blouse and pulled it off your arms before unclasping your bra. Your breasts sprang free, bouncing freely as you worked yourself over his cock, there in his lap. Your fingers returned to your clit, pleasuring yourself.
"Look at you, using me like this," he panted. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watched your little show. Sliding his hands up your soft stomach, he fondled your tits, rolling your nipples carefully between his fingers. "Take what you want, baby."
Putting on a show for him made you fucking feral. Gripping the edge of his desk with one hand, you leaned slightly forward, vigorously riding him, and furiously rubbing yourself. It only took you a few more seconds to come on his cock, panting and moaning his name.
Miguel dug his talons into his thigh to keep from joining you - determined to feel you tight and wet around him. He let you finish and felt you go limp in his arms - biting his lip as he stilled his hard length inside you.
Remembering what he had just explained to you, you eased off his cock, shifting over to his bare thigh. He groaned as your wet pussy and slick thighs soaked his leg.
"Let me take care of you," you panted, sliding one arm behind you, up into his dark curls, while the other hand eased over to his hardened shaft. Teasing the tip with your thumb, you felt his breath on your cheek. He hissed when you moved your hand down to his balls, toying with them with your fingertips.
A string of Spanish curses fell on your ear as you dragged your hand up and down, twisting your wrist and rolling your thumb over his tip deliciously.
"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.
"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.
Summary: An accident in the lab - and Miguel has missed what was right in front of his face (that's you)
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Content: nsfw, 18+ , some angst, unprotected p in v, grinding, scratching, biting, blood consumption, bondage, rough sex, not beta'd
PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...
“That’s why I want you to live here with me.” Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"
"Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..." Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."
FINALE
Spiderman 2099's unstable molecule fabric suit stretched itself across his defined muscles. His heavy cape unfurled behind him. With a sudden leap, he glided across New York - or at least this universe's version of New York, prepared to make sure this universe's timeline didn't somehow collapse.
"Uhhh, boss?" Lyla chimed, appearing in the air, near his head as he floated through the sky.
"Kinda busy, can't it wait?"
"No. You programmed me to let you know if your girlfriend were to ever be in danger, soooo she’s in danger," she fired back.
Miguel aimed for a low rooftop and came to a tumbling stop.
"Where is she? What's wrong?" Miguel had a timeline to attend to, but if you were in danger...
"There was an explosion in the lab - "
Lyla said nothing more before Miguel was quite literally tearing through the fabric of time to get back to you.
His virtual assistant may have overstated the danger you were in. When he arrived at the lab, he realized there had been a very small explosion. More of a misfire of sorts -
...which wasn't the major issue. The reason Lyla interrupted Miguel's mission soon became clear to him.
This was the part of the lab with the spiders. The explosion had destroyed some of the spiders and freed the rest. They must have scurried away. But you were lying on the floor amidst debris, unconscious, with a huge, angry spider bite on your hand.
You were bit by a radioactive spider.
"It can't be," he whispered, rushing to your side and checking you over frantically. Thankfully, you were breathing, but unconscious.
"Baby, what happened?" He gasped, pulling you into his arms and rocking you gently. Pressing a fierce kiss to your forehead, he murmured against your skin.
"This isn't supposed to happen. I'm Spider-Man here. I'm Spider-Man...how..."
Horrible dread filled Miguel's heart.
If this world already had a Spider-Man, that meant this spider bite wasn't going to turn you into a spider woman. It would most likely either kill you or turn you into a villain.
How could he possibly have missed this? How did he not see this coming?
First things first: he wanted to make sure you were okay. Which one of these spiders bit you? They were all radioactive, so in that regard, you were fucked. But it was nothing venomous...right?
Miguel placed you on a lab table and got to work, analyzing your condition and reaction to the bite, drawing your blood, watching you closely for signs of venom - rashes, difficultly breathing -anything to explain why you were unconscious.
He simultaneously had Lyla pull up everything on you - anything that could explain why you would have been bitten by a radioactive spider and he didn't see it coming, as some sort of canon event. Maybe it was just a freak accident. After all, you worked in a dangerous, experimental lab daily.
But Miguel knew the universe. The multi-verse, even. There were no accidents. Ever.
Your Aunt Jessina practically raised you, at least since your parents died at age 12. Miguel had even met Jess.
"Wait, what the hell?" Miguel gasped. Your Aunt Jess actually adopted you and changed your name. And her name.
As Lyla untangled well-hidden files, she discovered that Jess' name was Jessina May Parker. The sister of a scientist named Richard Parker.
Your last name used to be Parker?
Aunt Jess married a man named Ben, who also died. She took his name and completely abandoned the name Parker. You took Ben's last name as well. It was as if Jess wanted to erase any memory of her brother Richard, as well as the name Parker.
But Jess knew what she was doing. The paper trail was virtually nonexistent. One would have to know what to look for and exactly how to look, to find it. And Miguel simply wasn't looking for any spider-related canon events in this timeline because he was Spider-Man.
As Lyla dug deeper, the connections became obvious.
You were raised by your Aunt (Jessina) May. Your Uncle Ben died. Your parents - the Parkers, died behind a veil of secrecy.
Your friend's name was Gwen.
The guy with a crush on you? Jackson Watson. Mitchell Jackson Watson. He went by 'MJ' Watson as a child.
Your life read like a pretty common spider story. So...you were meant to be a spider. That meant he was the wrong spider in the wrong place. Typical. No wonder his entire existence felt...well, wrong. Until he met you...
Now he just had to wait for you to wake up.
You eyes fluttered weakly, struggling to open. You inhaled sharply - shakily, feeling like your skin was on fire.
"Corazón?" Miguel gasped, gently tracing your jaw with his fingertips. "Hey..."
"W-what happened?" you croaked, your throat parched and your lips dry.
"You were bit by a spider. Scared me to death- how are you feeling?” He gently questioned.
"Everything hurts,” you coughed out, struggling to sit up. "Was it poisonous?"
"Take it easy. Just lie still. Let me take care of you,” he softly admonished. "I’m running some tests but you don't seem to be having an allergic reaction. I don’t think that’s what’s happening here."
You moaned in agony, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. "My head is pounding- my skin hurts, Miguel please...”
“It’s okay, baby - "
“Please take me home,” you whimpered. “I-I don’t feel good.”
Miguel explained to you that he wasn’t quite done with the tests he was running in the lab, not to mention the headache of dealing with the accidental explosion and confidential cleanup. So you endured nearly an hour of waiting on an uncomfortable lab table until Miguel felt satisfied with your test results.
Then he carried you to the car, held you close in the back seat, and took you to his home.
Well...hopefully soon to be your home. Miguel had asked you to move in, but you wanted complete honesty from him first. This was way more than working together, sleeping together, or even being exclusive. Miguel loved you and wanted to start a life with you.
He had asked you for one more weekend and then promised to show you all his secrets first hand. This gave you pause, but he explained it would be easier to show you than to explain it to you.
The Spider Society was meant to be a secret, so Miguel honestly wanted to let a few people there know what was going on - how serious he was about you, and how much he trusted you.
Now, it seemed you would not only learn of the Spider Society as Miguel's girlfriend, but as a spider yourself.
Your transformation into a spider wasn't an easy one, but not atypical of other transitions Miguel had heard about and witnessed. Of course, his personal transition was a different type of lab accident, and he was quite the unique spider.
Still, your whimpers of agony tormented him all night as you clung to him, clenching his t-shirt in your firsts, begging him to hold you, to stay with you.
He groaned as you shifted against his body, pulling yourself on top of him.
"Why does it feel like this?" You cried, you lips brushing his throat. "Please make it stop, Miguel, please."
He must have whispered a hundred soothing Spanish whispers and pet names into your ear, promising you he was there - that you were safe, and this would pass.
As you drifted off into a fitful slumber, he wondered how you would ever forgive him for letting this happen to you - for not seeing it coming.
The next morning, you woke up in his arms, feeling much better. And bizarre. A trip to the bathroom later, and your new life started to make itself known.
You tried to brush your teeth, but accidentally snapped the thing in half. Next, you broke the toilet handle when you went to flush, which, made you flinch in surprise, sending your hand slamming into the counter's edge - taking the corner right off as it smashed to pieces.
"Oh my god!' you shrieked, "Miguel?" you called out, rushing back toward the bedroom, only to collide with his solid chest…
…which somehow sent him stumbling backward. All six foot, nine inches or your massive wall of a boyfriend almost lost his balance after you ran into him.
“Miguel? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He grasped your arms to calm you down Damn, you were strong. “Let me explain, okay?”
So Miguel info-dumped absolutely everything about the Spider Society, the multi-verse and your spider powers. He even explained that you getting bit was apparently a “canon event” - a life and story similar to so many other spiders.
To say your mind was blown was an understatement. The fact that you had super powers now? Like super strength, amazing reflexes and possibly something called a spider sense, where you could sense danger coming?
Not to mention a lot other people had these same powers too but they were from other worlds.
You started to understand why it took Miguel so long to tell you where he went on weekends. It would have been difficult to grasp if it hadn’t happened to you personally.
You couldn't believe your eyes when Miguel actually took your hand and led you through a portal to another dimension. A psychedelic, seizure-inducing, multicolored portal, which might have been terrifying if it weren't so amazing.
When you got to this so called Spider HQ, you clung to his hand as you passed by several other people in skin tight suits that looked like Miguel's blue one, but more of them were primarily red.
Each person knew Miguel and seemed to defer to him or acknowledge him as the two of you passed by.
Lyla was there as well, chirping away, updating him on all things multiverse.
The biggest surprise came when you got to what appeared to be the heart of the operation, or perhaps Miguel's...office, containing a rather dramatic elevated platform surrounded by several computer screens.
"So this is where you go every weekend?" You asked him, nodding around you.
"Nights too, sometimes. When we're not together." He winked down at you.
You made a face. "Baby, when do you sleep?"
"He never sleeps," a familiar voice resounded behind you. "That's why he's so damn grumpy."
The multiverse got a lot weirder when you turned around and saw your neighbor's lookalike standing there in a black and white spider suit.
"Gwen?"
Seeing your neighbor/friend's doppelgänger was shocking enough, but Miguel knew it was time to head back to your own universe when you discovered, quite by accident, that you were the proud, new owner of organic webbing.
You accidentally shot a long roped web out of your wrist and shrieked in surprise, inadvertently firing off a few more before Miguel could explain to you what was happening. He knew it could be a possibility - some spiders made their webbing in the lab and wore the tech on their wrists - while others, like you, had organic webbing as a part of your altered DNA.
There was really no way to know for sure until it happened. The thought of spiderwebs flying out of your skin freaked you right the hell out, so Miguel took you home.
After explaining things to you and making you some Mexican food, he noticed you hadn't spoken or even looked at him since he poured your first margarita.
"Mi amor?" He gently prompted, reaching for your hand. "Talk to me."
As if simply waiting on an invitation, you dove right in.
"Why didn't you tell me about all this - about the other spiders?" You whispered. "I mean...this is huge."
"I know." His gaze dropped. "I wanted to, but the Spider Society - we don't really...advertise."
"I get that," you nodded understandingly, "But I'm not just your girlfriend. I'm your research partner. Don't you think it's pertinent to our research - all those other spiders? Didn't you think maybe this information could help you?"
"There are no other spiders like me. No one had the accident I had and no one...drinks blood."
"But we don't know - there could have been something," you argued. "A-and the fact that I was working around radioactive spiders every day?"
"Well...you did know about the spiders, to be fair," he reasoned.
"Maybe, but not that I would turn into a spider-person - and that there were other universes with...us out there. And Gwen - there's another Gwen?" You pulled your hand away during your confused and impassioned speech, running your fingers over your wrists where your spiderwebs had shot out.
"And now like - I'm part spider and I am completely freaked out, Miguel, d-do you understand that?"
His scarlet eyes found yours and he nodded. "I think I do. I definitely do."
Your eyed him sympathetically, understanding his meaning. This was the whole point of your research together - the reason you met. Miguel didn't want to be part vampire spider anymore, and he never wanted to need to drink blood again. He'd spent most of his life vexed by his very existence.
"I didn't mean for this to happen to you, mi amor - you have to believe that."
"I know," you sniffled. "But what about me? Are you...friends with another me - somewhere out there? You and me - are we just carbon copies of - "
"No." Miguel's scarlet eyes swirled with uncertainty as his dark eyebrows arched pleadingly. "There is no one else like you. There never could be."
Seeing your hesitation and sensing your distress, he pushed off his barstool where you were seated at the kitchen island. Brushing his knuckles across your cheek, he struggled to find the right words as slivers of fear began to wind around his heart - a dread that somehow, he could lose you. "Corazon..."
"You're sure you haven't met a bunch of other me's?" You softly questioned, blinking up at him.
"Mi vida," he breathed, touching his forehead to yours as he stood between your legs - his hands spreading across your thighs.
With little effort, he lifted you off your barstool and set you on the counter top, easing closer until his body pressed against yours. Pulling your thighs around his waist, he shifted his hips before pressing his waiting mouth to yours.
You hummed against his lips, slipping your fingers around his neck to wind through his dark locks. He tasted you slowly, pushing his hands back up your spread thighs to grip your hips. Thrusting against you temptingly, he licked hotly into your mouth, but it didn't last long.
Touching his forehead to yours, the warmth of his breath enticed you closer, but he shook his head, murmuring your name. Miguel so often spoke through his body. Some of your wildest nights together stemmed from his anger and desperation.
One memory in particular came to mind - one Saturday in your apartment, when he admitted to you that his daughter had passed away. He tried to tell you more about it that day, but instead, he had pulled you against his body and kissed you so tenderly. You had taken him to your bed and that was the first time he was so sweet and deliberate with you.
Whispering his name, you brushed an errant lock of hair from his ruby gaze.
Shaking his head slightly, he inhaled, as if ready to speak, but somehow couldn't...stammering, instead, leaning into your touch. "I can't..."
"What," you murmured, twirling your fingers through the hair behind his ears.
"Lose you," he choked out, his gaze dropping to your lap.
Dragging your fingertips down his jawline, you lifted his face back up to yours. But you didn't answer - instead, sealing your mouth to his once more, pulling him closer still, and squeezing his torso with your thighs.
He responded hungrily, lifting you up to carry you to the nearest flat surface, which was the living room couch - his tongue tangling with yours urgently.
The two of you tumbled down, bodies pressed eagerly together as you rolled all the way down to the floor, grinding together for the friction you so desperately craved. So often, you searched for the connection needed through communication with your bodies.
It happened quickly - with both of you craving the intensity of your shared bond when your bodies joined. With only a few deliberate yanks of clothing off or aside, he pushed his way snugly inside you, the two of you a hopeless tangle of limbs and clothing.
But you wanted him closer stil. "Tear these," you pouted, pulling at your shoved-aside panties...
...but they ripped with the strength of your finger.
Before you could react, he obeyed your command, shredding the other annoying articles of clothing, easing down onto his back as your joined bodies continued a tantric rhythm.
He groaned as you worked your naked body over his cock, your tits bouncing, granting him his favorite view in all the universes he'd ever laid eyes on, or even imagined.
"Even if I met...another version of you somehow...it still wouldn't be you," he panted, running his hands all over your beautiful body.
Miguel had needed reassurance that he wouldn't lose you, but it was you doubting your uniqueness, and for the first time, you understood, even if only in part, why Miguel might feel like a freak or a monster.
A radioactive spider bite had altered your DNA and your body was a mystery to you now. You didn't know your own strength and the whole spiderweb thing really sent you...
But the biggest fear driving the vigorous use of his body beneath you was that he might discover another you somewhere.
"Tell me again," you whined, twisting your body down into his with brutal ferocity. "Tell me I'm the only one."
"F-fuck," he stuttered out - your newfound strength making his huge frame buck like a rag doll.
Wishing he could sit up and hold you while you came - to reassure you that you belonged to him, and that no one else ever could, Miguel instead found himself coming hard and instantly because he could not move - your strength rendering him incapable of lifting off the floor.
"Miguel, please," you gasped, digging your nails so hard into his chest that you drew blood, so close to your release but feeling that he'd already come inside you.
You kept on riding him even as he went soft, expecting his superhuman stamina to have him hard and ready for you soon, but you forgot one small factor:
He had to keep up with you now.
Your frustration and desperation came to a head and you finally stilled your movements, opening your eyes to find bloody streaks scraped into your boyfriend's massive chest.
Before you could even react or worry, Miguel trapped your wrists in his hands. "Está bien, cariño."
You gasped out his name, horrified, still unaware that you were literally pinning him down.
"I'm okay, it's okay," he assured you, pulling at your wrists. "Let me up."
"Oh god," you croaked, finally releasing him and staring at the angry red marks and trickles of blood. "I-I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize."
"Hey..." he caressed your cheek, readjusting as your bodies pulled apart. "Felt so good. I'm okay."
"But you're bleeding," you argued. "Look what I did..." You trailed off as he nodded, understanding, better than anyone, exactly how you were feeling right now. You hurt him - drew blood, surprising and horrifying yourself, only to have him come faster than ever, telling you how good it was.
Okay, so the tables had turned.
Miguel suggested the two of you go upstairs to clean up and get more comfortable, promising to clean up the Mexican feast tomorrow.
You were quiet - perplexed, mostly, but the tiny slivers of fear slipped back into Miguel's mind over what his lack of candor might ultimately mean for your relationship.
"Mi amor," he started again, just the way he had right after dinner. The two of you had showered and changed into pajamas even though it was hardly bedtime.
Gripping you by the arms, he ducked down closer to your height. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this."
"It's not your fault," you reasoned, resting your palms against his chest. "How could it be?"
He simply shrugged, pulling you close to his chest for a hug. "I promise there's no one else like you," he whispered against your temple. "There are other Parkers, and other spiders, but no one else is like you."
Easing back, he took your face in his hands. "Every single person I've met - other Peters and other Gwens - none of them are exactly alike - they're all unique."
Pressing a soft kiss to your mouth, he rested his forehead against yours. "You can't honestly believe I could love anyone else."
He kissed you again, slotting his mouth against yours as his strong arms wound around your back. Then he took you to his bed and made you believe it.
Six weeks later...
Miguel turned out to be quite the capable coach - helping you understand your powers and practicing using them. He even encouraged the use of your spiderwebs outside the lab, reasoning that you needed to get used to them domestically.
A few pillows lost their stuffing and you shattered a teapot and a margarita glass, but, with practice, you adjusted.
This was an absolute must before working in the lab. Flying spiderwebs did not mix with delicate test tubes and beakers.
Your favorite part of training was when Miguel insisted you use his body for practice - testing your strength, agility and your webs while he taught you how to fight. It took you weeks to unleash your full strength on him. Your kick knocked him across a rooftop.
But when it came right down to it, he actually was bigger and stronger. Not by much. Your advantage came from your more powerful webs and your precognitive spider-sense.
Work had completely changed for the two of you, since you started focusing your time less on a cure for Miguel, and more on the needs of the Spider Society.
Miguel started to feel like maybe being a spider wasn't so bad. He used to feel alone, despite all the other spiders in the society - constantly wracked with guilt over the blood he took from others simply to sustain his life.
Then you came along - brilliant, beautiful and so full of life - challenging him at every turn - in the lab, in the bedroom. You knew what you wanted out of a career and you definitely knew what you wanted from a lover.
What started out as a wild bit of coworkers-with-benefits gave way to a twisted relationship of sorts - he used your body for pleasure and for feeding and -miracle of miracles - you loved it.
Craving the dark things he did to your body - the scratches of his talons, the puncture marks from his fangs, the weakness from blood loss and paralyzation - all while he used your body for his pleasure - it was a mirror to him of how much of a monster he really was.
But you showed him that person deserved love as much as anyone else. Miguel finally accepted your acceptance. He allowed you to love him and heal his heart. He still wasn't comfortable with hurting you, however, and remained determined to find a cure for his condition.
At least until a couple weeks ago.
The two of you were sparring and Miguel was pushing you pretty hard. He was still superior at hand-to-hand combat, simply from years of experience.
Sparring with an absolute tank of a delicious boyfriend like Miguel taught you a lot, but it also made you feral. He usually insisted the two of you calm down and cool off - keeping your training separate from your personal life.
But this particular night, you were having none of it.
Miguel had you pinned on the ground between his thick, gorgeous thighs.
"Ready for a break?" He nonchalantly and almost smugly questioned.
"No way," you huffed, firing webs to bind his ankles together.
You could feel a slightly condescending chuckle rumble through his body, so you fired another web right at his mouth, silencing him.
Your face was right next to his crotch and, as you ordered him to stop fighting you, his cock started getting hard.
Certainly not the first time that happened.
He reached for your hands to try to stop all your spiderweb nonsense, but you stuck his hand to the floor with another web.
He only squeezed his thighs together harder, keeping you trapped.
"Have it your way," you purred, mouthing him through the thin cotton of his joggers.
He mumbled out a protest, through the web covering his mouth, reaching for you with his other hand. While teasing his cock with your lips, you managed to stick his other hand to the floor and start to wiggle free.
Miguel really was stronger than you, but lost his concentration just enough to forget to keep clamping down with his thighs.
You rolled away, laughing victoriously, but knowing he wouldn't stay trapped for long. So you straddled his waist, enjoying your few moments with him bound and silenced, rolling your hips over his length, grinding down temptingly.
"I wonder if I could make you come before you get free," you taunted, firing more webs to trap his entire arms - from shoulders to wrists - to the floor. You used more webbing to secure his legs as well, loosening his ankles just long enough to secure his legs all the way down, spread apart, just like his arms.
He didn't fight you.
Instead, his ruby irises flashed with lust as you pulled your sports bra over your head. He was already shirtless, so it felt incredible when you removed the web silencing him. You laid down, your breasts mashed against his muscular chest, grinding your core against his length as you kissed him hard.
You felt him shift and strain against the webs - he no doubt wanted to run his hands over your skin, but you nipped at his lips, tutting condescendingly.
"Be good for me," you teased, ripping his pants open with no effort. He groaned as you roughly pushed your own pants down and kicked them off, leaving you naked as you draped yourself back over him, rubbing your bare wet cunt up and down his stiff cock.
"Baby, please..." he panted as you undulated - your tits bouncing as you found the friction you sought for your clit, but left him desperate to push his way inside you.
You eased down again, lying on top of him, rolling your hips teasingly as your slid your tongue inside his mouth, purposely dragging it across his sharp fang.
Miguel moaned as the taste of your blood filled his mouth, sucking your tongue, drinking your sweet nectar as you kissed him and teased him endlessly.
You sat back up after a moment, licking your lips clean of blood as your tongue healed itself almost instantly. Bracing yourself with your palms on your boyfriend's huge chest, you locked eyes with him, smirking slightly as you continued rocking your hips just enough to rub your clit pleasurably but to leave him wanting.
"Fuck me," he panted, running his blood-covered tongue over his lips - his muscles straining against your webs.
Biting your lip coyly, you paused the movement of your hips. "Make me." And you continued the drag of your clit over his tip, panting as pleasure sparked up and down your spine.
You wanted his cock inside you as badly as he did, but it was just too fun to see him squirm. Back and forth you went, faster and faster, working yourself close to your release.
"I'm so close," you moaned, concentrating on your own pleasure and loving the flex of Miguel's muscles as he struggled. Soon enough, his warm laser webs, convenient talons and sheer strength freed his arms just enough to knock you off balance.
A bit of sparring ensued - the two of you hard and wet and naked - fighting for control and desperate to fuck.
You attempted to ensnare your boyfriend in your webs again, but he dodged you, rolling away and firing his own, which bound your ankles and made you trip. Before you could hit the ground, however, you ripped your ankles free and rolled to a stop...
...but Miguel was ready, firing his laser webbing to bind your hands. He grabbed you from behind, pushing you down to the floor and pinning you there with all his weight, pushing your bound hands up over your head.
You squirmed but he was pressing down on you with all his might.
"You're going to be still, little spider, while I fuck you."
"Doubt that - " You started, but weren't surprised at all as Miguel's webs covered your mouth. You wriggled against him, but were secretly thrilled that he was using his strength on you. He had shown some hesitancy bringing his powers and his full strength into the bedroom, aside from the way he would regularly drink blood from your tongue when you purposely sliced it on his fang.
Two strong hands gripped your hips, shifting you up just enough for him to thrust his thick cock into your dripping channel. Memories of him bending you over his desk flooded your mind - times when you would cry from how good he would fuck you.
And now, as he pounded into you, with all the power and speed in his beautiful body, you felt pressure but no pain. And he felt release with no guilt.
The webbing across your mouth muffled your screams of ecstasy as he shifted his hips to hit that spot so perfect.
"My beautiful girl," he breathed on the back of your neck. "You were made for me."
His fangs tore into your flesh and he fed - the feeling of his fangs inside your skin made you come instantly - your body convulsing with the wildest, hardest orgasm of your life.
Miguel's paralytic venom could no longer incapacitate you - it merely slowed you down for a minute or two, giving him just enough time to drink his fill, feel your body submit and give out, as he pumped his seed into you.
The two of you collapsed together on the floor, panting and spent. Miguel freed you from his webs, rolled you over to face him and pulled you against the warmth of his chest.
You melted against him, satisfied, accepting his lust-filled kiss.
He pulled back a moment later, amazed as the angry wounds in your throat closed and vanished as your body healed itself.
After two weeks of feeding on your new blood, and dozens of tests to make sure your blood wouldn't somehow hurt him, Miguel put to rest the idea of looking for a cure for his condition.
"I told you - you're perfect just like you are," you whispered one night, lying on top of his chest.
"Maybe I was just waiting on my cure," he murmured back, running his hands down the curve of your bare back. "You fixed me. You healed me."
"You fixed me too. I had no idea what I was missing before super powered sex," you teased him.
He playfully swatted your ass. "We're going to break everything in this house if we keep going like this, corazón."
You smiled to yourself. "I don't know. I think we're going to have to take it easy for a while."
"Why...did I hurt you?"
"No." You pressed a quick kiss right over his heart. "I'm pregnant."
END
Thank you for taking this wild ride with me! It was fun to explore unhinged, blood-drinking Miguel. xoxo - Ivy
