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Being a Spiderperson had always been a complicated affair with secret identities, an arch-nemesis or two, public opinion, and being known as your city’s greatest defender. Your life became even more of a mess of connections and events after you joined the Spider Society, meeting everyone who was you but not quite you. It was nice to finally meet people who could understand your life and your struggles, but there was one Spiderman who was always a tangled knot in the middle of the web. You could only tear at the knot, hoping for one strand to unfurl to fuel your pride.
“As I said with everyone else, I think that maybe Hobie and Jessica could handle the part with you know, the villain being a literal teenager. Seeing Hobie could play on the kid’s reckless tendencies to our own advantage and Jessica has been doing well with Gwen…” You were rambling and gesturing, walking backward through the halls of HQ, your suit reflecting the beams of metallic silver that made up the public section of the building. Miguel walked forward and you could nearly hear his dark eyes roll up into his head as you spoke. Just a slight edit to his plan and maybe it would go smoother. You would even let him take all the credit, as a concession. It was a one step backward in lowering his roaring ego, but you were feeling merciful. At least, that is what you told yourself.
“No.” He interrupted your sentence with a gruff remark and continued to walk, starting to absentmindedly read some report on his “watch”. Your scoff echoed in the hallway and you let another exasperated sound escape you. This irritating, infuriating man. You may have slept-no, fucked him a few times over-but your raging vendetta against him had not diminished. If anything it had gotten worse when you came out of an argument with red lips, sore legs, and his handprint literally bruised somewhere on your body. He seemed to enjoy your mutual vendetta, venting off steam by splaying you across nearly all the surfaces of HQ. You wouldn’t say that it was a healthy system, but it was a good system for you.
“You’re not even listening to me.” He finally dragged his eyes to you, slow and uncaring despite your deadpan tone.
“No.” You threw your hands in the air and swore under your breath, wondering why you even tried with him sometimes. Wrapping your hands around his neck to choke him senseless sounded like a delightful plan at the moment but you sighed. It was not the time for violence. Your mind unconsciously weaved through the hallway as he pressed forward to wherever he had to go. He was not letting you stop him but you weren’t letting him go without getting some reaction out of him. You put your hands on your hips and made the curve of a hallway with grace. The spider reflexes came in handy when it came to annoying Miguel O’Hara, a helpful addition to your mouth that he enjoyed shutting up.
“You could try to listen. You know, a little shake of the head, a nod, an eyebrow raise, anything. Then I could at least convince myself that you gave a shit about what was I saying. Clearly, you never worked in customer service as a teenager.” You shook your head once more, pressing your thumbs across your brows as you contemplated the human enigma that was Miguel O’Hara. You missed that his steps were now longer and faster, coming closer as you muttered your disbelief to yourself.
“Maybe that’s why you’re such a raging asshole! You’ve never been humbled by an old lady wanting a box of cereal for the sale price despite the fact…” The rant died in your mouth as Miguel was suddenly paying attention with dark eyes. You felt a hard surface mere inches from your back with no place to go. Maybe that turn was not where the next hallway was, maybe he had just led you to where he wanted to. You glared back, coming to realize where this situation was going to go.
“Christ, Miguel, can I fucking help you?” Your voice was low as you raised an eyebrow at him. You pretended to not feel the tension between you as he leaned down, arm slipping past your waist. This time you felt the surprise creep across your face, eyes panicked as you scanned the hallway for other Spiderpeople who could simply wander past at any time. While you two had fucked in some risky places, it was never as public as this. You would actually kill him if someone stumbled upon the two of you.
“Mocosa…” The word came out as raspy under his breath but your new understanding of the word fuelled you to jut your chin at him. Rage clouded over the fact that Miguel had opened a door, leading into some unknown room.
“You know I did finally ask Lyla what that word means and lo and behold, it was an insult. Brat? Really, Miguel, really?” Your eyes were locked on his, silent challenge simmering there. Here you were again but you had no complaints as his broad shoulders loomed over you.
“Princesa, is it wrong though?” You sputtered at his question, face turning a shade of red. He was right in the cases when you really turned up the dial of “Mimic being an asshole” but did he really need to say it to your face? Your hesitation led to a small smirk on his stupid but handsome face. You avoided the question and instead whipped your head to look around the room. What the hell, was this a storage closet? You vaguely saw some cleaning supplies in the corner. It was barely lit before he quietly shut the door, but as the door closed behind his back, you were only met with the glow of his suit. He had really just shoved you in a storage closet as if you were living out a smut novel you had read ages ago. But it was hard to pay attention to any of your surroundings when one of his large hands curled a piece of hair behind your ear and then smoothed down the plane of your neck, coming to rest on your shoulder heavily. You held back a shiver at his touch but Miguel saw the subtle movement, dark intent glittering in his eyes.
“I am still pissed about you calling me a brat, O’Hara.” Your voice was quiet as you looked at him, his hand pressing a bit more on your shoulder. All he gave you in response was a rumbling laugh, clearly not phased by your anger. Your heightened eyesight allowed you to see his other hand palming his cock, clearly hard under the fabric of his suit. With narrowed eyes you stared at him, trying to ignore the heat that was spreading across your body.
“What the hell, you pull me into a closet like a cheap whore. Is that all you think of me?” There was a hint of irritation in your voice as he leaned against the door, his eyes staring intently at your lips while creating some relief for his aching dick with his hands. Want suddenly pinned you to the spot, mind catching up to what he was currently thinking about.
“Maybe I do.” His claws dug into the fabric of your suit and despite the look of disbelief on your face, you felt your knees beginning to bend. When the hell did you become so weak for this man? Any reservations regarding a sense of dignity were disappearing into thin air as your knees hit the ground, coming to eye-level with his dick as he pulled it from the suit, flushed and hard in his hand.
“If anything, you’re my whore, Mimic…” His voice was a low growl and his hand moved faster, watching as your chest heaved for air. You bristled at his possessive choice of words, torn between anger and red-hot lust that he could sense with his abilities. His other hand moved from your shoulder to your head, his fingers tangling into your hair. You blinked up at him, a scowl on your face as his glittering red eyes stared back, a lock of dark hair falling over his face.
“You call me a ‘brat’ but you’re just fucking rude--!” The sentence that was going to come from your mouth was quickly cut short as Miguel found his own way to keep you quiet.
---
Days later the bruises had faded from your knees and you were acting like the superhero that everyone else had come to know. Earth 534 had a rogue Vulture from Earth 9899, an interesting sight to see since in this world since Earth 9899 had a blue sun. What glimpses you had were of a humanoid with pale skin and a wingspan that rivaled a helicopter. This Vulture was dangerous, much more dangerous than the one that inhabited your home universe. In the briefing before the mission, Jessica had said that this Vulture had severely injured 9899’s young Spiderperson, their back broken to the point that it could take years to recover. The young Spiderperson, who you had affectionately nicknamed “Petey” for his sweet and people-pleasing personality, was barely a teenager, coming face to face with a villain far out of his league. He had warned you to be careful before you left, a sad smile on his face as he sat in his wheelchair. For that reason, Miguel had been even more critical of the strike team but you knew it was for good reason. You didn’t want to see any other Spider-people in the same condition as the young Petey.
Earth 534 was a mirror to many of the other worlds, just subtly different from your own. New York was not New York, but New Amsterdam. Its blend of cultures was a different landscape that you wished you could have enjoyed, but that was out of your mind as you crept through the rafters of an abandoned warehouse. Villains always seemed to be in these places, like rats drawn to the sewers. The team had been split in the hunt, a terrible decision with the Vulture that was at hand but you had rolled with the punches. The watch at your wrist had pinged a few minutes earlier, a hasty message from Miguel that he had found the Vulture. It would take time for the others to arrive, on the other side of the city looking at a false lead. You had been the closest and as you crawled across the tangle of beams a sense of warning sparked in your system at the state of the warehouse. It was like a tornado had blown through, clear evidence that Miguel made contact with the Vulture, broken glowing webs covering every surface. However, the warehouse was silent, too quiet considering the damage that had been done to it. You hunted for any evidence of Miguel, or even of the Vulture, your whole body reflecting the background of the scene. You were nearly invisible, just a slight shimmer as you moved, like a liquid mirror. Stealth was your strong suit when you wanted it to be.
After a few minutes of searching, you finally came to the middle of the building where the true escalation of the fight had occurred. What were shelving units had been knocked to the ground and the concrete floor had been cracked. Your eyes widened as you saw Miguel. His mask had been ripped from his head, and blood dripped from his mouth in a steady flow. There were several slashes across his suit, revealing the skin beneath that bloomed with fast-forming bruises. He was on his knees, his hands bound behind him with some type of chain that matched the armor of the Vulture. It also stretched across his shoulders and stomach, bracing against his strength. Jessica had said they had some type of armor that was unlike anyone had seen, tougher than any material your homeworld knew. Despite his injuries, Miguel was enraged, the near-demonic glow of his eyes bathing his face in red. His fangs scrapped over his bottom lip, dripping a mix of blood and venom. His shoulders pulled against the chains, the metal creaking despite what you had heard previously and he snarled in frustration. If unleashed, he would become a monster.
9899’s Vulture stood a distance away, watching their prey as they peered over some type of datapad, mumbling under their breath. They had not heard or seen you yet, padding silently across the beams to look directly down upon them. A plan was forming in your mind, despite the fact that it was reckless and if it did not go just right you would end up right next to Miguel. You could hear his critiques in your head as you rose to your feet. But you were not him, and nor were you the Spiderman that lacked a taste of brutal takedowns. In fact, you enjoyed them. As you pondered that thought, you made a noose with your webs, using your foot to kick a piece of debris to the floor below.
As the Vulture snapped their head towards the sound, you struck, jumping from the beam to slam down onto their shoulders. Despite a moment of struggle, the noose slipped over their head and you moved quicker than they could. With one hand attached to the web of the noose, you propelled yourself upwards with another shot of the web. You leaped from the ceiling beam to one of the few shelving units standing, digging your feet into the edge as the Vulture was pulled up into the air by their throat. Their sharp wings were unable to reach up high enough to slice the web. With the web wrapped around your forearm, you pulled, supernatural strength aiding to silence the struggling Vulture. As they swung in the air, Miguel’s eyes went wide, his body struggling once more against his restraints. For a moment you were not sure if this was going to work. Either it would work too well and accidentally kill the humanoid or not work at all so they would come catapulting towards you. But as your muscles tensed and sweat dripped from your forehead, the Vulture slowly stilled and the moment they did, they fell to the floor. You were quick to follow, wrapping their body in layers of webs so they had no chance of getting out when they woke up.
With a strained huff, the Vulture was dragged to the back of a column a distance away. You webbed them to the column for good measure, thinking of Petey’s terrible injuries as you did so. It was your form of justice for him.
A few minutes later you walked back towards Miguel, cracking your neck as you stepped back into the space. In the darkness, your mimicry was hard to spot but he knew it was you by the translucent webs used on the Vulture. Despite the obvious next course of action, you circled his restrained form, taking note of every injury and patch of skin. Adrenaline filled your veins and you paced around him feeling like a wild animal locked in a cage. You needed a few minutes to catch your breath and send a message to the team that the job was done before moving to your next task. You punched a message out as quickly as possible.
“Mimic…” Miguel’s voice was rough as he spoke, not able to identify where you were but he called out nonetheless. Blood dripped from his mouth and you came to stand in front of him, his eyes catching on the mirror of your suit. You looked him up and down, pupils blown wide as you stared at his face. With a swallow, your powers faded away so that he could fully see you.
“I see that this time you did not have it handled.” You took a few steps forward, looking down at him as you leaned back on one heel. You did not hide your gaze as you looked down at him, enjoying the sense of superiority that flooded your veins. He growled at your words and his fangs snapped on instinct. This was not the time to test his limits but with victory clouding your senses, you did not care. Plus, there was no more danger and the team was not going to get to the warehouse anytime soon. You could enjoy this for a little while. You thought that you had the right to even the playing field for the number of times that he had caught you compromised.
“Are--are you going to get me out of this?” His chest heaved after his question and you cocked your head, eyes sweeping over his shoulders.
“Why should I do that, O’Hara? Can’t I enjoy you at my mercy for a few minutes?” He snarled once more, clearly annoyed with your playful tone and the smirk that decorated your face under the mask. As he cursed under his breath, you came to crouch inches away from him. His hot breath washed over your suit and you could see the sweat that was beading on his forehead. He was pretty like this, looking desperate and angry. You didn’t hide your heavy gaze as it settled on his bloodied lips, a hand coming forward to swipe some of it off with your thumb. His voice was hard as he spoke once more.
“Fuck you, Mimic.” His heart thundered as your hand stroked down his chest and stomach. Whatever adrenaline you had post-fight was quickly becoming something else. You watched as his breaths became faster with every touch, an angry flush settling on the olive tone of his skin.
“You know, you seem to enjoy doing that to me but why can’t I enjoy fucking you this time around?” The voice that came out of you was sickly sweet just for him, a twisted sense of pride poisoning your thoughts as you pressed your hand lower and lower. With one swipe of his fangs or the right words he could have stopped you but he didn’t. The silent confirmation made your blood sing. With a light palm, you pressed against his stiffening dick, laughing under your breath as his body shuddered. Who knew that Miguel O’Hara would enjoy being in such a position? You loosely palmed him through the material of the suit, relishing in your power as he panted near your ear. He was still angry, but the pleasure from the friction was beginning to dull his senses. A smile twisted itself across your face as he grunted at your touch, lips still curved in a snarl toward you.
With a gentle movement, you slipped your hand beneath his suit, wrapping your fingers over his lengthy dick. Miguel bit back a low moan at the movement, his cock becoming harder by the second at your ministrations. He hated that you had him like this but at the same time could not deny the pleasure that rocketed through his veins from being at your mercy, especially after you had taken down a dangerous opponent. You began to fully move your hand, thumb slipping over the stickiness on the head of his cock. As his eyelids fluttered, he pulled against the restraints towards your rough touch, pleasure sinking into his flesh. But as the feeling rose you pulled your hand away, delighting in the violent noise that came from the back of his throat. Bringing your hand to your face, you lifted the lower part of your mask to taste him with your tongue, a low moan forming as you took your time to clean off your hand.
Miguel looked like a man crazed, bloodied, and restrained, with a fully hard cock that begged for attention. His head bowed forward, but his red eyes were latched on you. His gaze was hot as he watched your lips and tongue slide over your fingers.
“I’ll tell you what…” You released your finger with a pop! and pulled the mask back over your face, hand slowly sliding down towards him again.
“If you cum all over my fingers, I’ll help you get out of those chains. But that is only if you make a fucking mess of yourself.” Muffled desperate noises came from his mouth as your words met his ears. You began to touch his cock once more, hands slick from your saliva and the pre-cum steadily leaking from him. His thighs trembled and a series of strangled moans escaped his mouth, a mix of needy growls and foul language. If you kept at this pace for too much longer he would get his wish but you cruelly pulled your hand away again. A strangled moan left his lips and you couldn’t stop a wicked laugh from escaping you. Your body was red-hot, the low heat between your legs had become a throb. But you carefully leaned forward to whisper into his ear, watching as he pulled against the chains with bulging muscles.
“But you’ll have to beg." His fangs snapped only a breath from the flesh of your neck, his anger spiking at your taunt.
“Fuck you. I swear that I will ruin you, little Mimic. I will tear you apart.” His threat was serious but you giggled, watching his hips rock against nothing, his angry cock throbbing even more. His eyes blazed with fury but you soaked it all in, rubbing your thighs together at the sight of him like this, begging and wanting. At the sound of your saccharine laughter, he lunged forward with madness in his eyes. The laughter died in your throat as your own anger exploded, snarling and wrenching his head back by his disheveled hair before he could get closer. His throat bobbed as you held him there, blood dripping down his neck as his red eyes stared up at you.
“I said, beg, mocoso. ” He growled at the sentence, especially at you turning his word against him, dick twitching as you yanked on his hair once more. A pained hiss left his lips but you smoothed a hand across his cheekbone, clicking your tongue as you did so. He pulled and pulled to no avail, refusing to beg for your touch.
“I could leave you here for everyone to find. Dick hard, bloodied, and begging. I am sure you do not want that, Miguel. Beg and I’ll give you everything you want.” Your voice was low as he stared back at you, his expression cracking by the second. You had him right where you wanted him. His lip twitched as he debated his options, pupils blown wide as you loomed over him for once.
“Fine.” The word was strained as it left his lips and your hand immediately shot downward.
“Mm, what was that? I am sure you could do better than that…” You knew you were toeing the line, but fuck, you didn’t care as you watched him, cock straining and blood pumping. His fangs were caught on his lip and with his head bowed between his shoulders he spoke.
“Please …” The word was all you needed for you to stroke his cock again, his body crumbling in relief as you did so. Your touch was light, but the sensation was better than nothing. But he wanted more, he wanted to cum.
“Please, make me…make me cum.” A devilish smile covered your face as you fully wrapped his hand around his dick, watching it steadily leak over your fingertips. Despite your rough strokes, his high was rising quickly, the edging and desperation getting the better of him. Low grunts and moans came from him, mixed with broken Spanish and rumbles of your name. At each movement, his hips moved faster, fucking himself on your hand until he came with a broken roar. Ropes of his release covered your hand and dripped onto the concrete floor as you moaned with him. The two of you knelt there for a few moments, breathing heavily before looking at each other. Miguel’s eyes were still angry, a hard gaze focused on you. You let him watch once more as you cleaned your hand off with your tongue, swallowing him down with a low sound in the back of your throat.
After you cleaned his mess off of your hand you stood, beginning to remove the chains from his arms and torso. His body twitched at your nonintentional touch and while you knew that you were surely going to get it after your little act, you didn’t care. Watching him beg filled a deep hole in your pride that you didn’t know you had. Plus, watching him cum from your touch made a mess between your legs. After a few minutes time, he was free from the chains. As you tossed them to the ground in front of him, he lunged forward. With a gasp, he pinned you to the column nearby, kissing the air from your lungs. With one clawed hand pressing at your throat, and the other ripping off your mask, his tongue devoured your mouth, tasting his cum on your lips. You surrendered to his hungry kiss with a moan, arching to meet his touch as your own lust made you desperate. Just as his other hand began to move down the front of your body a ping echoed from both of your watches.
“We’ll be there in five!” Jessica’s voice chirped through the device and you shook your head with a smile, using a gentle hand to shove Miguel away from you. Clearly irritated, the man huffed back a curse and pulled his own mask over his head, tucking his half-hard cock back into his suit. You slipped under his arm and began to walk towards the entrance to meet Jessica, smoothing your hair down before covering your face once more before being stopped in your tracks
“I’m not done with you, princesa .” Miguel’s voice was low in your ear as he was suddenly behind you, a possessive hand clawing at one of your hips. With another laugh, you twisted from his loose grasp to walk onward again. You turned to him, a saunter to your hips as you spoke.
“Oh, I know, I look forward to it.” You heard a muffled curse and you turned away with a smile, going to meet Jessica and the team like nothing had ever happened.