#spiderman99

“What?” He taunted, punctuating the question with an exceptionally deep thrust, one that had you squeezing your eyes shut. You could feel the way your body was straining to take all of him, despite the way his hips were grinding against your ass. “You’re fuckin’ creamin’ for me.”

Your stomach tightened at his words, brows furrowing. Fuck, it felt good, too good. Your arms were quivering from the pressure of having to hold yourself up during the merciless pace your boyfriend had set, back arched painfully, muscles quivering. He’d tucked his thick, muscled thighs inside of your own, forcing your legs apart as he ground into you.

Miguel’s hand was suddenly planted beside yours, and you swallowed as he leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he moved to whisper in your ear. You damn near winced, over stimulated and far too fucking full as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“F-fuck-” You managed to squeak out, lower lip trembling. A shiver ripped through your body, goose bumps rippling across your flushed skin.

“Too much carino?” He teased, and you moaned lowly when his tongue slid across your ear.

You were silent, save for the soft pants escaping you in time with his slowing thrusts as Miguel grinned against your cheek.

“How ‘bout I breed you, hm?”

Your eyes widened, flicking to the side where your boyfriend’s face was. “Miguel-” You started to warn, acutely aware of the conversation the two of you had had not thirty minutes prior. The only reason you were even in this mess is because you’d strewn yourself across your boyfriend’s lap and begged him to fuck you, whining and griping about how you were ovulating and needed him.

He grinned, all teeth and filthy promises before he shifted his weight, slowly unravelling his fingers from your throat. You gulped in air, head dropping to your chest as you struggled to regain any semblance of self control. Your thighs were trembling as he shifted back onto his knees, straightening, warm hands sliding down over the slender curve of your hips and ass before he gently pulled you back onto his length.

“Tell you what,” He started, claws gently trailing down over your tailbone. “If you can tell me why I shouldn’t, I won’t.”

You frowned, glossy, swollen lips parting in confusion as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were hooded, thick hair pushed back, dark curls damp with sweat. You felt your pussy clench around his length at the sight. Good fucking god, he was so damn hot.

Miguel’s lip curled into a near snarl as your body tightened around him. “Deal?”

You raised a brow, the corner of your lip tugging into a smirk. “What’s the catch?” You rocked back onto him, revelling in the low hiss that escaped him. Knowing Miguel O’Hara was reduced to…this, had you preening. Your attraction to him only grew as your time together continued to stretch on.

He shrugged, feigning innocence before his hand trailed lower and he squeezed your ass.

You studied him for a few moments, apprehension giving way to curiosity. “…Deal.”

His dark brown eyes flicked to yours, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the way he watched you through his lashes. This may have been a terrible mistake-

Your stomach tightened at the implication.

Miguel leaned forward, large frame caging you in as he pressed his chest against your back. You watched with bated breath as he slowly placed his hands on either side of yours, effectively caging you in. He let his face press against the side of yours, affectionately nosing against your jaw.

“Gonna put my fuckin’ baby in you,” He breathed and you preened, pussy clenching, eyes squeezing shut. “Unless you tell me not to.”

You startled when Miguel suddenly touched his fingers against your lips before he pressed them past your teeth. You gasped, eyes widening as you struggled, and failed, to rear back and away from him as he continued to press forward until he was knuckle deep and forcing your tongue flat.

“Go ahead,” He said, voice so low you realized he was barely containing himself. “Tell me why I shouldn’t breed you.”

It was uncomfortable, damn near forcing you to gag as you realized what your boyfriend was doing. He laughed, a low wicked sound then when a small noise escaped you.

“Go ahead,” He urged, and fuck you could hear the grin that was splitting his face. “Beg.”

Heat bloomed in your chest, desire pooling low, wet and hot in your lower belly as Miguel taunted you. He had caged you in, forced your thighs apart and now his fingers were pressing down on your tongue, silencing you as he made you beg.

If soulmates were real you sure as fuck knew he was yours.

You tried to speak despite his ministrations, knowing full and well your efforts were futile, but choosing to indulge in them despite this because of the way it had your pussy aching. He only pushed his fingers deeper when you tried, knuckles grazing your teeth. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you forced your mouth wider, trying not to gag.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He teased, voice low as he gave a few tantalizingly slow rocks. You tried to speak again in vain, brows furrowing as you gave into the show he so clearly craved from you. The noises that you managed were pitiful, more whines than anything else. Miguel tsk’d in your ear, fangs grazing your jaw.

“Pathetic,” He finally murmured, before he suddenly rocked into you, setting a brutal pace. You squealed around his fingers, drool gathering around the corners of your lips before it lolled onto your chin. The slick, wet sounds escaping the space where your bodies connected was fucking sinful and it only made the thick, white ring around your boyfriend’s cock grow larger as he continued to force himself into your warm, wet heat. You’d already cum three fucking times tonight, the sticky evidence of it coating your thighs and making itself known as your pathetic cries continued to ring out. You were overstimulated, far too fucking full, and god, if he kept ramming into your cervix you were going to fucking cream again-

“S’gonna feel so good when I fill you,” Miguel panted, face pressed into your hair. “Fill that pretty fucking pussy and make you beg for more.”

You moaned, long and low at his words, eyes rolling back, your jaw slack. You panted around his long fingers, arousal only furthering when you breathed deeply and realized you could taste the remnants of your own cum on Miguel’s fingers.

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.