#Miguel fic
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3
You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3
The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.
Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.
Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.
Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).
Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-
"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.
"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.
"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.
The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.
You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.
The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.
"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.
"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.
"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.
"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."
"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.
You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.
"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."
You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.
Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).
On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.
It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.
You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.
Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.
His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.
If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.
"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.
"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad Iâm getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.
This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."
Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.
"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.
What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.
Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.
As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-
"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.
You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, âNothing⊠thank you so much for this, itâs delicious!â
then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, âOf course, mama, but I donât think youâre being completely truthful with me, hm?â
You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well youâve been caught.
âWhatâs in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.â He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. âJust say the word, and youâll get anything you want.â
Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.
âWell⊠we never did cardio.â
Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point⊠with those big hands.
You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.
With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. âAw yes, Daddy,â you mumbled without thinking.
In fact, you couldnât think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.
âMmfuck baby, yea, say that again fâmeâ, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.
âPlease, Daddy, please!â You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.
You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.
âFuck, say it again.â He growled, getting faster now.
âMmmm, Daddyâ Daddy, pleaseeee.â
âLouder, baby, câmonââ
âUNGH DADDYYYYâ
âOh FUCK⊠you wanted cardio, baby, Iâll give you cardio⊠fuckinâ take it⊠coño.â Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.
âGonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum fâme, mami?â He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.
âMmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyesââ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.
âAh⊠carajoâŠâ his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.
Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.
He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others highâs.
âCâmonâŠfuck, câmon, mama, youâre almost thereâŠ. Aw f-fuck⊠almost thereâŠâ he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.
âDaddy Iâm gânaâ Iâm cummingimcummingimcummingââ
âAw, fuck, asiâ asi mamiâ ah, ahâŠâ Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.
You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.
After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, âFuck⊠you did so good for me, mama⊠so good.â
Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.
âYou ok, mamita?â He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.
âMhm,â you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.
âI say⊠we do cardio like this every day.â
A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmmđđđ
@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Hereâs my master list, bae!!
#Iâd never skip the gym ever again#Iâm doing cardio w him 24/7 idc#dadbod!miguel#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel oâhara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel oâhara fanfiction#spider man 2099#atsv#miguel x you#miguel x reader#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel x y/n#miguel oâhara x you#miguel atsv#miguel oâhara atsv#spider man atsv#miguel smut#miguel oâhara smut#miguel oâhara drabble#miguel o'hara blurb#miguel oâhara fan fiction#miguel oâhara fanart#miguel fanfic#miguel fic#miguel ohara#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel 2099
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Miguel taking care of reader while theyâre sick! Heâd be so worried about losing them</3
hes such a sweetie
- ,, PAIRING: soft!Miguel x reader
âÂ·Ë àŒ * CONTENTS: comfort, fluff, soft Miguel, sickness, cuddling.
*àłàŒ NOTES: im sorry if this a bit short, anyways in this story Miguel is lovelyy and tell me if yall want more of Miguel
it was a normal day of winter, when suddenly the temperature of your body got higher. You didnt know why that happened but at first you didnt mind, a few hours later you felt so tired and decide to rest a little. It didnt help much cause you got a sore throat and even a cold, you felt so vulnerable at that time as u couldnt even stand up. Your throat was aching so bad, your bed was covered with a lot of handkerchiefs, you just couldnt take it.
âbabe, can you- *sneezed* can you come over.. im feeling a little..â you couldnt even finish that phrase that ur phone fall down by your hand and you faint.
âLove?? Youre okay??â Miguel asked as the call was still up, when he didnt received an answer but just heard the phone fell down, he quickly stopped on what he was doing and he turned into spider man to do it as fast as possible, he came out of the building and started throwing cobwebs for the skyscrapers, in all it took only 2 minutes to get home.
His heart was pounding, not knowing what had happened to you, he thought of the worst. He immediately opened the door and ran to your room, until he saw you that you had fainted.
âPlease wake upâ he said as he gently put a wet cloth on your forehead and raised your legs so that the blood would spin. His look was a lot worried, you were very important to him, he didn't want to lose someone like you, he spent good times together with you, he felt comfortable by your side, you were the only person who could understand him, the only one who was there in the moment of need, now he wouldn't let you down.
Your eyes opened slowly, murmuring incomprehensible words, when Miguel had noticed it he hugged you softly, feeling how vulnerable you were at the time. He just wanted you to be okay, he didn't want anything else at that moment.
âIm here for you treasure, just tell me what you need, do you want some water?â He asked you holding your hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.
You nodded because you didn't even have the strength to talk, he immediately went to the kitchen to bring you a glass, he even brought you a medicinal in such a way as to get rid of your sore throat and a little fever.
âMiguel, what would i do without youâ you said as he mixed the medicines into the water, putting a hand in his face, he had put his hand on top of yours.
âI can't lose you, love, youre too important to meâ his voice sounded so sweet and sincere, you loved when Miguel opened up to you emotionally, without him you probably would never have been able to get up, he was always there for you, he was always available and ready to help you.
A few hours later you felt better thanks to the medicines, Miguel had stayed all that time in your room and bringing you food or drink, he had sat in the bed next to you while you were watching tv, you had laughed and joked.
âDo you feel better darling?â He asked you by looking directly into your eyes.
âYeah, i think tomorrow all this will be gone, just because of youâ you smiled softly at him.
You kept watching TV together until you fell asleep in his chest, he stroked your hair and gently kissed your forehead.
âI'll love you foreverâ he whispered as he watched you sleep and arranged the blanket better on you.
You weren't completely asleep yet, at that comment you smiled slightly and squeezed him slightly more.
#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel oâhara smut#miguel smut#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#spider man#spiderman smut#atsv x reader#miguel fluff#miguel oâhara fluff#spiderman#spiderman fluff#into the spider verse#miguel fic#miguel oâhara fic
420 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do yâall really fantasize about calling Miguel âmigâ? I'm sorry but that's such an ugly ass nickname to moan out while doing the do. Big ick.
#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#astv#astv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel oâhara x y/n#Miguel fic
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
what do we think about a spicy miguel fic? đđ€
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel OâHara ( 18+ f!reader)
ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!
College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
summary: Miguel is your roommate. And heâs hot. Thatâs it, thatâs the tweet.
warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI
a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!
edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.
wc: 6k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.Â
Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.Â
So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.Â
When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.
Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.Â
You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.Â
You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.
You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?Â
Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.Â
On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.Â
"You want it, hermosa? Tell meâŠ. such a pretty girl⊠like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that wasâŠÂ
You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .Â
The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.Â
"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"Â
~~~
He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.Â
The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.
As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.Â
It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.Â
The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.Â
Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.Â
This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.
"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.Â
You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."
"It's okay⊠I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the⊠cardio later on in the day.Â
You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.
"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think⊠yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."
Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.Â
"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.Â
"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.
You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."
A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.Â
~~~
You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.Â
After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy foodâŠ. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.Â
Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.Â
You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.Â
It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.Â
It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.Â
Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.Â
On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.Â
" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.Â
What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.Â
Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.Â
He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy⊠or maybe ass up, dildo attached to somethingâŠ? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.Â
All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.Â
" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it⊠oh God, I-"Â
He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-
" H-Harder, Miguel, please."Â
He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.Â
" Fuck, MiguelâŠ"
He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.Â
~~~
He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.
A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.Â
And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.
Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.Â
You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.Â
He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??Â
You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.
After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.Â
With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.Â
"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.Â
You wince."...F-Fine?"Â
You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"Â
You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just⊠it was fine."
Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.Â
"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.Â
Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.Â
You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.Â
" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.Â
"You look⊠wet."Â
"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.Â
"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.Â
There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.Â
Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"Â
He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.Â
" Nothing's going right for me⊠and I've got my final project on there⊠I'm barely keeping up as it isâŠ" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.Â
It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.Â
"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."
"I didn't⊠I didn't think we wereâŠ" You search for the right word.Â
"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"Â
"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."
"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"
"...I'd like that, to be honest."
"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."
"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."Â
~~~
You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.Â
You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.Â
There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.Â
It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.
Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.Â
What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?Â
Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.Â
So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.Â
âMiguel? Open the fuck up!"
You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.Â
All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.Â
"Yeah?"Â
"IâŠ" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"Â
"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guessâŠ"
There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair fallsâŠ
"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"Â
With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.Â
"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "
"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret�"
"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"Â
"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.
He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.Â
You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.
"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.Â
His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.Â
"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.Â
You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.
"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.Â
"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.Â
"AllâŠ" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."
His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.
"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.Â
He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"Â
"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.Â
He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.Â
"Huh. I guess they do."Â
"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-somethingâŠ"
"Katie." He hums.Â
"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.Â
You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.Â
"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."Â
Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.Â
"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"Â
"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."
Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.Â
"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.
Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?
"...and I heard you say my name."Â
"It wasâŠ. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.Â
"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"Â
He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"
A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."
"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."
He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.Â
He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.Â
It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.Â
"ÂżPaciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."
You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.Â
He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.Â
Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.Â
Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.Â
"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..Â
"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.Â
"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.
He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"
Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just⊠n-nothing really-"
He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"Â
You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."
"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"Â
It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.Â
"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.Â
You mumble something begrudgingly.
"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."
Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."Â
Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda⊠of course you do."
Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.Â
He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.
And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.Â
And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.Â
"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.Â
You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.Â
"Right there, fuck⊠"
Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.Â
You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.Â
"That wasâŠ" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.Â
"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.Â
Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.Â
"You haven't�" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."
His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."
You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.Â
"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.Â
"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."
He turns to you, lazily.Â
"I could tutor you, if you'd like."
âŠ
"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."
_
_
Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings
_
edit: the full fic xx
#i am very very close to making this a full fic#(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#kat_writesđŒ#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara headcanons#spiderman 2099 masterlist#spiderman 2099 x reader
30K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Nerdy middle-aged loser Miguel w a dad bod who teaches your genetics class.
He has a huge crush on you even though he knows he shouldnât but how tf couldnât he????
With the way you always walk in a minute or two late, making the whole class look at you as you strut in with your quiet âso sorry!â and your cute little outfits that show off the best parts of your body.
Miguelâs eyes would follow you and the way you set down your bag, whipping out your computer, ready to absorb all the knowledge that Prof. OâHara has to offer like a sponge. He usually has to stand behind his podium because watching you hang onto every single one of his words with those parted, glossy lips and curious eyes made him embarrassingly hard.
Or the way you took notes, your cute little organization of colors and annotations. Your kindness in giving notes to your peers because you wanted to see everyone succeed. Even though you may not have looked like it, you were a smarty pants, too. And he found that extremely hot.
During his lecture, heâll sometimes catch you applying lip gloss or fixing your hair in your compact mirror and think to himself how gorgeous you are and how lucky your boyfriend that you totally already have is.
Cuz thereâs no way he could pull someone like you. Those days are over for him. Plus, you were way out of his league.
But he canât help but have a sliver of hope every time you leave class with an adorable smile and small wave.
âThank you so much, Professor OâHara! Great class today!!â, your praise never ceasing to make him slightly flustered on the inside.
Before you, he totally fucked his own hand like everyday. Heâs a lonesome man. But now that you were in his life? That man goes home everyday, imagining his had is your luscious, tight cunt, replaying your cute voice in his head over and over again.
What he has no idea is that his praise has the same effect on you.
Anytime you had a question or were worried that you werenât understanding a concept, Miguel would comfort you, with the most gentle words and voice.
He was such a cute man. Itâd be so easy to praise him and baby him, telling him heâs sooo smart and such a good teacher.
His well-kept black hair w tiny hints of gray throughout, his black rimmed square glasses, his little cashmere sweater + button up combos that hugged around his broad chest, enormous biceps, and pudgy belly. He was sooo dreamy. He made it so hard to focus.
Youâd go up to his desk after class needing clarification on a topic. Heâd tell you to sit down, eager to help you with the class (or anything ever, heâd do anything for you if it meant keeping you).
His cologne would fill your nose as he bends over the table, a strand of hair falling on his forehead, pushing his glass up his nose as he towers over you as he explains what ever it was you were confused about.
It never helped because you never caught a single word. You were too busy imagining his soft stomach rubbing against your back as he bends you over the table, plowing you while saying those sweet words of encouragement into your ear.
And those veiny, hairy arms and hands wrapped around your waist as he bounces you on his fat cock, making those adorable glasses of his fog up.
âDonât worry, sweetie, youâre doing great, as always.â
âDonât be so hard on yourself, sweetheart.â
âI know, mama, Itâs a hard concept to grasp, but youâll get it. I know it.â
It made you scream on the inside. You wanted so badly to be a good student for him so that he could talk to you this way every single class.
Pt.2 here!
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Hereâs my master list, bae!!
#shout out to my random burst of creativity n slutty thoughts#yâall r real ones#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel oâhara x reader#dadbod!miguel#nerdy!miguel#loser!miguel#professor!miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel oâhara smut#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel oâhara x you#atsv#miguel smut#Miguel fic#miguel oâhara headcanon#miguel oâhara#spider man 2099#miguel ohara#miguel oâhara fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Miguel O'Hara having you bent over the kitchen counter, legs spread wide and back arched. His enormous hands on your hips, holding onto you with bruising strength while he pounds you.
You're a sobbing, moaning mess, your every sound a pathetic whine that begs for more. And he gives it to you.
He fucks you almost too hard, his thick cock pushing your velvet walls to their limits, the bulbous head bruising your cervix.
âYou're so pretty when I'm inside of you, princesa,â he grunts, an enormous hand spanking your ass. âMakes me want to take a picture of you, all full of my cock.â
You reply with more mewls and whimpers, nails digging into the counter top, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
âMiguel!â you cry out, cunt clenching as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer.
âAlready?â he taunts, laughing almost maliciously. âI've just started with you.â
You whimper, an embarrassed blush spreading over your face.
Miguel tangles his fingers in your hair, tugs on it hard, forcing your back to arch even more. âIf you come before I let you, I'm going to punish you. And it won't be pretty, princesa.â
You try to hold yourself back, but every ounce of self-restraint vanishes when his rough, calloused hand slides under you to play with your swollen, throbbing clit.
You come hard, body shaking, mouth falling open as moan after moan of ecstasy leave you.
Miguel smirks. âOh, princesa.â He clicks his tongue. âYou owe me now. You're gonna be my pretty little toy for the rest of the night,â he says, his mouth moving to your ear. âI'm going to use you over and over again until you're broken, see if you learn your lesson then, hm?â
You shudder, knowing there's no escaping this, knowing you'd never want to escape.
-----
Just a little thought that popped into my head while I was trying to fall asleep :)
-----
@yagirlheree @sukioyakio
-----
Blog masterlist
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara fic#smut drabble#x fem!reader
14K notes
·
View notes
Note
idk if itâs weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel đđ
omg omgđđ
you're laying in bed unable to fall asleep when it happens. your hand just creeps up his shirt.
miguel doesn't think much of it, you like the skin in skin contact- so does he.
it's when your hand hovers just under his pectorals that he turns to you and raises an eyebrow.
he's still working, hair tired back with one of your scrunchies and his tablet looks tiny in his massive hand. he'd been trying to hypothesise a re-calibration to his nano-bots all day.
"what do you want?" he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.
your eyes are barely even open, your face turned to face his bicep. "can't sleep," you murmur, planting your hand on his chest and squeezing.
"oye," he bats at your hand when you do it a second time. you groan when his hand removes yours from under his shirt.
"miguel," you whine, drawing the syllables of his name out long.
"amor," he mocks your exact tone. "why're you grabbing my chest?" he drops your hand and cups your face, guiding your tired eyes to rest on his face.
"'cos it's comforting," your words sludge together but miguel makes you out just fine. he cracks a smile, you narrow your barely open eyes; "it is. helps me sleep."
"yeah?" he teases, and you nod. your hand slinks back up his shirt and rests on his chest, for the most part it's just an added heat to miguel's chest. "if you don't fall asleep any faster i'm calling bullshit."
you let out a tired giggle and slobber a kiss to his bicep; miguel waits five minutes and in no time he feels your breathing change- deeper now as you fall asleep.
he can't believe it.
#miguel oâhara x you#miguelo'hara#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel oâhara#miguel oâhara x yn#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara drabble#miguel o'hara fic#miguel o'hara x black!reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara fanfiction#across the spiderverse#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o hara fanart#atsv#miguel oâhara one shot#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel spiderverse#miguel oâhara fluff#miguel oâhara imagine#miguel oâhara x black!reader
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
mĂo | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader
â pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel
â type | oneshot, explicit
â summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.
â tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.
â request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.
â sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.
Peter has it out for him.
Itâs the only logical reason why heâd do this shit to him.
Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.
âMi reina?â Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.
âÂżSĂ?â you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.Â
âHi, Miguel! Whereâs your wife?â
Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.
Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.
âI should have known.â Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. âWhy are you here?â
His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasnât his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.
âWell, you see, your wife said sheâd watch Mayday because I have a date, and I havenât had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long timeââ
âIs Peter here?â
His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldnât be bothered to care any less.
âGot it, you need this date.â Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. âÂżPor quĂ© no me dijiste?â
âÂĄMi nena! MuĂ©vete Miguel,â you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peterâs child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.
Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.
The sight of his wifeâ beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that heâd done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriellaâs soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.Â
He's so fucked.
âYou would have said no, amado mĂo.âÂ
Youâre a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. âWeâre going to a market with TĂo Miguel--âÂ
âDonât bring me into this.â
âAre you sure it's okay? Iâll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--âÂ
âÂĄVete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit arenât sexy. Look at mi Miggy,â now youâre just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. âWear something nice.âÂ
Theyâre sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Maydayâs bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peterâs clammy hands cupped Maydayâs sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--
âAdiĂłs, Peter!â You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.
He didn't need a baby, he didn't.
He blames Peter for having such a good baby.
She doesnât ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. Itâs not that he doesnât want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, itâs all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.Â
âNo biting Miguelito,â you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.Â
âShe likes it.âÂ
âYa sĂ©,â you said, âBut we donât need anyone noticing youâve grown fangs.âÂ
âTch,â he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.Â
"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- heâs sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.
You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. âSheâs not going to wait.âÂ
âGive her to me.â You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguelâs arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldnât have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, noâ you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.
âI didnât know you were so experienced with kids.âÂ
âMami had six,â you noted, plopping down with the whip by Maydayâs side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. âWhen youâre the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.â
âHow many times do you want to be pregnant?â he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. âSi quieres,âÂ
Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.Â
âAs many as will make you happy.âÂ
Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.
"I never thought about it."
"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Maydayâs small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.
The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.
âWeâll see, Miggy.âÂ
Weâll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.
A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.
âYou two are doing a great job. How old is she?âÂ
You blink, looking up into the womanâs cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesnât quite have the patience for.Â
âOh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,â you recount, perhaps thinking of Peterâs anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.Â
âAdopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count donât you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--â
A what-- Miguelâs eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitchâs suggestion that he couldnât do it-- couldnât get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. Heâd be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldnât.
âWeâre babysitting for a friend,â he blurts out. âI have--â had, âa daughter.âÂ
âOh, do you? Iâm sorry. I thought-- well, it doesnât matter what I thought, have a good day." Â
Sheâs saying that, but it comes out slanted. You donât bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. Youâre in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguelâs firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.Â
 Low sperm count his ass.Â
It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes thatâs what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his childrenâ he just knows it.Â
âI may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,â you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. âBut I made you some pollo guisado.âÂ
âHm,â he grunts into a pillow. âLater.â
Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasnât, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that momentâ to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.
âMiguel.âÂ
Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Maydayâs sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriellaâs laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. Heâs going crazy-- he has to be-- this isnât normal. This isnât Miguel.Â
âMi vida, donât pout,â you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. âMiggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.â
âIâm not sad,â he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.Â
âI know you are,â you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. âTell me why.âÂ
He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.Â
âSĂ, Miggy?âÂ
âI needâŠâ he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. âItâs nothing. Let it go.â
The issue wasâ you loved him enough to let it do so.Â
Miguel doesnât want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguelâs happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.
Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. Sheâs covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.Â
âMiggy youâre back?â you called as Maydayâs chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguelâs quick reflexes, setting her back in place.Â
âEmpanadas?â he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.Â
âIt's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"
Youâre too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. Heâs babbling something, a thank you, see you laterâ you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know. Â
âPeter! Mayday made these for you,â you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. âTake them home!â
Her first empanadasâ the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then thereâs silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.Â
âMami,â his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.
"SĂ, mi vida?"
His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isnât important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. âI want a baby.â
âÂżQuĂ©?â
âUna niña,â Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.Â
âOh, Miggy.â You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. âYou miss being a father, don't you?â
Youâre not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could waitâ watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Maydayâs longing haunt him day by day.Â
You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.Â
âMiguel. Speak to me.â
âYouâre right,â he canât lieâ canât hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is youâre thinking heâs not sure. Only that itâs been so long.
âI just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?â you nearly whisper, knowing that thereâs no one but him to hear the words. Itâs what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he canât help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.Â
âIt will.â
As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.Â
âMiguel,â youâre whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. Heâs not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. âStay with me, Miguel.âÂ
âI am,â he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "ÂżQuĂ© piensas?"
âWe can try,â you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. âIf you donât have a low sperm count,â you tease. âMaybe itâll take.âÂ
âÂĄPor dios!â He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. âYou donât actually believe that vieja.âÂ
âAy Miggy, of course not.â His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adamâs apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. Heâd be lying if he said he didnât like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguelâs fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.Â
âNot right here,â you inhale a soft breath. âSomeone could come in.âÂ
Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isnât comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguelâs chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.Â
âWho would come in?âÂ
âPeter,â you answer.Â
Itâs always Peter. He supposes that you wouldnât want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, heâs the only one you see.Â
âThe balcony, then.âÂ
âDianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?âÂ
âMaybe.âÂ
No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.
He couldnât simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesnât appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.Â
âBend over.âÂ
"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguelâs palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- heâs all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.Â
âNo panties,â he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. âItâs almost like you knew.âÂ
âI might have,â you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. âApĂșrate Miguel, youâre so slow.â Â
âCanât you be be good for once.â
You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguelâs fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.
âI never-- ah-- am,â you threw back.
Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- itâs just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.Â
âAre you ready?â Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. Heâs hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You donât need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.
âNo condom?âÂ
âNo condom,â he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. Itâs impossibly different without the bag over his dick. Itâs been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.Â
âCarajo, youâre so good,â he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.Â
âNow he says Iâm good."
âShh,â Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, heâs a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.Â
I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldnât be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguelâs lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.Â
âMami,â he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. âGive me a baby.â
âSĂ papi,â you heave, âIâm trying to.â
Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.Â
âQuĂ© bella eres. Iâm going to finish, fill you and knock you up,â he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didnât cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguelâs shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.Â
It comes all at once, Miguelâs stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know heâll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesnât reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that heâs enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.Â
âI think there are better positions for baby making,â you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. âLike⊠not this.âÂ
Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.Â
âIâm open to suggestions.âÂ
He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesnât love is how Peter seems to know that youâre trying for a baby.
The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesnât even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after heâs resolved another meeting.
âHey, Miguel.âÂ
âDonât start.âÂ
Heâs crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Maydayâs curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.Â
âIâm just saying! Iâm a man, youâre a man,â he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. âIf you want a baby--âÂ
âLet me guess. She told you.âÂ
âMayday could use a spider buddy,â he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. âSooner than later?âÂ
âIâve done it before,â Miguel throws back. âI know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I donât need help.â Â
Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadnât tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldnât feel so miserable otherwise. It doesnât matter, heâd answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.Â
âAre you sure? I know--âÂ
âIâm damn sure.â Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. âIâve had enough of you. Why donât you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.âÂ
âOh,â realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadnât told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. âBut... Sheâs already pregnant?âÂ
He leers. Peter scuttles away.Â
Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.
He canât wait.
#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara oneshot#miguel x reader#miguel ohara oneshot#miguel o'hara/reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv miguel imagine#atsv imagine#atsv x you#atsv x reader#atsv imagines#across the spiderverse fic#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman imagines#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara smut#spiderman 2099 smut
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
love drunk â miguel oâhara x reader
summary â while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here
grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first âI love youâ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff
nav
implied fem!reader 1.3k words
Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.
âY/N,â he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. âCome on. Get off me.â
Youâre dead weight in his lap. He wouldnât mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only youâre in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peterâs looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.
âWhyyyyy?â You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare thatâs about as menacing as a puppy. âYouâre so mean.â
Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where theyâd been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when youâre like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.
âCâmon, get up,â he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.
To Miguelâs surprise, you donât flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.
âWhat?â He asks you, genuinely confused.
âSorry,â you say quietly, frowning to yourself. âI didnât mean that. Youâre not mean.â
Miguel blinks at you. âOh. No, thatâs not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you donât actually think Iâm mean.â
Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. âOh, okay. Can I get back on you now?â
Miguel actually laughs. Heâs very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesnât, mostly because youâre very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.
âYouâre funny, cariño,â he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much theyâre half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, âNo, you canât get back on meââ Your face falls, ââBut I can take you to bed?â
Your smile comes back so quick itâs alarming, and you nod vehemently. âYeah, please.â
Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peterâs, he canât remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. Itâs just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. Heâs discovering youâre a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really canât hold your liquor. Heâs only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though heâs pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.
He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he canât bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. Heâd be lying if he said he doesnât enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament theyâve caught their haughty boss in.
âHey, Miguel,â Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. âHey, Y/N.â She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, âEarly night?â
Itâs almost midnight. Miguel canât tell if sheâs teasing or not. She probably is. âYeah.â
âMiguelâs taking me to bed,â you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadnât meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. Heâll be sure to set the record straight once youâre safe and alone in his room.
Jess laughs loud. âRight. Well, have fun with that.â
Sheâs still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. Heâs not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.
âWhat is it, cariño?â He hums.
âCan you carry me? My feet are sore.â
Miguel indulges you. Partly because youâd asked and heâs yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because youâre slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that itâd hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.
By the time he gets you to his room youâre half asleep in his arms. Heâd let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before youâre grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.
âDonât go,â you murmur, eyes half closed.
Miguel pries your hand away gently. âIâm not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.â
You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as heâs back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you donât try anything, even when youâre completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebodyâs trying to take him away from you.
He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like youâre about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back youâve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks youâre asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.
âMiguelâŠâ you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.
âYou okay?â He asks, concerned youâre not feeling well. He hopes youâre not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he canât say heâd mind looking after you even if you were.
âIâm fine,â you say softly. Itâs dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. âThank you for looking after me ⊠I love you.â
Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water heâs holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.
He knows you probably wonât remember it in the morning, but itâs been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.
Miguel waits til heâs sure youâre asleep to say it back â vulnerabilityâs never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. âI love you too, mi amor.â
#â
mal writes!#miguel oâhara blurb#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel oâhara x you#miguel oâhara#miguel oâhara imagine#miguel oâhara fluff#miguel oâhara x fem!reader#miguel oâhara drabble#miguel oâhara fic#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara imagine#miguel ohara drabble#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel x reader#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking of miguel kneeling on the floor as he eats you out:
(18+ mdni, fem!reader)
â had this idea last night and just HAD to write about it
- filthy drabble below cut -
miguel would kneel on the ground between your thighs with his face buried in your cunt, his tongue laid flat over your pretty pussy, lapping your folds as he gazes up into your lust-filled eyes. there's no other person he'd kneel for than you, no one else he'd worship or cherish.Â
his large hands would be firm as they rested upon your hips, keeping you sturdy as he worked over you with the point of his tongue, caressing your sweet cunt in the way he knew you needed. youâd look down at him with puffy swollen lips, an eager glimmer in your eye as you watched him eat you out, studying the way his mouth moved so effortlessly over you. his gluttonous groans would hum against your folds as his hands graze down to your ass. his fingers would squeeze and knead into the soft doughy flesh of your cheeks as he pushed your cunt further into his face.Â
heâd hike your leg over his shoulder, holding your thighs and waist to balance you- keeping you stable as he laps over you, muffling into your pussy about how good you taste.
your pretty desperate little cries into the air would only egg him on more, and your grip on his roots would tighten. your breathing would grow strained and strangled, and it would all feed into his ego. he loved to make you feel good, but he loved it even more when he could see just how good he made you feel.
he'd nuzzle his face further into you, gripping your hips and thighs tighter when he felt your leg shake, holding you balanced to stop your body giving up from under you.Â
heâd barely part from you, whispering softly against your clit with a devilish look in his eye. "cum on my tongue, cariño. I want to taste you on my lips."
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
#miguel oâhara#atsv miguel#miguel oâhara smut#miguel oâhara imagine#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel oâhara fic#spiderman across the spiderverse#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel oâhara x fem!reader
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
Honey-Sweet
Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.
Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)
A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest
Youâre too fucking sweet for him. Thatâs what he tells himself. Miguel OâHara doesnât do sweet.
Youâre fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. Youâre sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. Youâd kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.
Youâre too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling⊠it does things to him.
It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.
But, because he apparently canât stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that âitâs too much, too much Miguel.â Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.
But youâre so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he canât ruin you, he canât.Â
So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when youâre near him.
He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while youâre filing post-mission paperwork. And God, itâs beautiful. Itâs fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if heâs died, gone to some heaven he doesnât deserve. Heâs determined to revel in the domesticity of this⊠thing heâs created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.
He doesnât like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.
Heâs content. Heâs happy. For the first time in so fucking long, heâs happy. And heâll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.
But.
As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like youâre starving for it. He canât help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, youâre pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.
âTake me to bed, Miguel,â you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, heâs gone.
He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.
And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that youâre sweeter than goddamn pie. Itâs in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.Â
But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that youâre not as sweet as he thinks you are.
Not at all.
Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, âGod, canât believe Iâve waited this long to have you like this. Youâre so pretty, Miguel.âÂ
Pretty. Pretty? He canât be the pretty one, no, not when youâre unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how youâre practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.
And youâre not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, youâre the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just canât anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.
You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, thereâs a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.Â
âFuck my face, baby?â you rasp, and yes, thatâs it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he canât refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.Â
Itâs not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.Â
He canât hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, âYouâre such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.â Your pussy throbs.
He isnât soft, isnât gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.Â
You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of âfuck me, fuck me, fuck me,â into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.Â
âHave to make sure youâre ready,â he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.Â
âNononono,â you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.
Fuck, itâs like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, âItâs so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-â
âNena,â he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, âgotta stop, âs gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-âÂ
And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say âI fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.â And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they canât decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.Â
âFuck, wanna feel you all the time,â you murmur and Miguel canât decide whether youâre actually talking to him or not. âWant you to fuck me so hard I canât breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, âm so fucking full,â you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of âfuck me, fuck me, please please please,â starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel canât help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.
He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.
The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel canât bring himself to care, not when heâs able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.
How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?
From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.
Fuck, thereâs no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that heâs sure theyâll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.
Youâre not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.
There isnât an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when heâs in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.Â
When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he canât help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.
You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, âSuch a fucking slut, canât get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?âÂ
And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, âI know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,â before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.
Miguel is positive that heâs died and gone to heaven.
Itâs not to say that youâre not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, youâre the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.
Youâre just the right kind of sweet for him.
#yeah so#i wrote this in a TRANCE#want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll#can you tell that im ovulating#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#across the spiderverse fic#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x reader
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3
Part 8
Miguel usually starts his day off by preparing a dark cup of coffee immediately after finally peeling himself out the bed. With droopy eyes and a five oâclock shadow, his husky figure stumbles into the kitchen, thirsty for caffeine. As he waits for the machine to do its magic, heâll maybe run his hand through his dark, peppered, slept-on hair or take a moment to clean his glasses with the fibers of his sweats. Once the cup is prepared, the fresh scent of grinded coffee beans in the air, heâll lean against his kitchen counter, sipping happily from his worldâs best brain mug. Heâll relax for a moment, thinking about the material heâs planned for the day. Once heâs done, heâll wash his cup, and start getting ready.
He left the suit about three years ago, taking up the job as professor of genetics and biochemistry at around the same time.
Heâs been happy with his life here. Itâs quiet. Itâs peaceful. Itâs simple. Everything he wanted. All the domesticity that was missing in his life had been rediscovered once he hung the mask. Itâs been the best decision heâs ever made.
He didnât think things could get better until you came along. This gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet person that had him wrapped around their finger. And given his stature and age, he never would have thought youâd fallen, too.
So this morning looks a little different, and every morning since heâs met you, for that matter.
Miguel gets up from bed faster now, with you on his mind. Once he makes his way into the kitchen for his fix of coffee, heâs reminded of the dream, possibly a pornographic one, he had about you. Heâs like a horny teenager all over again, with an ache between his legs that, now, only you can inflict on him, and itâs there every morning.
Miguel now uses the time that it takes for the coffee to drip to shoot you a good morning text, accompanied by multiple heart emojis. And of course, he takes a little longer to get ready in the mornings just because he wants to make sure he looks his absolute best for you.
Today, while sipping on his cafĂ©, he remembers the conversation you two had. It was when you two had gone to his office after the library. And then he remembered the things he shared with you about his past life; how amazingly you took the dump of lore. Only a higher power would know what anyone else wouldâve done or said after hearing things like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about your one and only question/response to it all:
âAre you happy?â
The response itself was all that he needed to see if his feelings for you were valid, and these feelings have become the strongest thus far. Miguel doesnât want to jinx it, but he thinks what heâs feeling is something a tad bit more serious than a simple crush, and that both excites and terrifies him.
While he gets ready for the day, he then thinks about the conversation prior to that. He meant everything he said last night about not having sex, but at the same time, he would want nothing more than to show you how much of a good man he can be to you, both in daily life and in bed. Even though heâs hard at the very thought of you, he also wants you to feel safe more than anything. Being with you is far more important than the needs of his dick.
The fact that youâre his student also sort of weighs in as well. Getting caught in a professor/student scandal on the last week of classes before you receive your masters would be disastrous. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one has been suspicious of yâall this semester.
Honestly, Miguel is just looking forward to Summer, because for him, that means he gets to take you out and enjoy you every chance he gets.
<3
For the last few days of classes, you tend to your exams and Miguel busies himself with his own work. You guys havenât really been with each other, with the exception of passing each other in the halls. It hasnât been easy on you at all, and even more so on Miguel. Letâs just say his office door has been spending more time locked than unlocked, and not to score papers. Thankfully, the walls are thick.
The day you take Miguelâs exam is the very last day of classes, and at this point, both of you are antsy to not only see but just feel each other. The tension in the air is thick, the text messages have become spicier, and on multiple occasions have the phone calls been so close to just becoming pure phone sex, but you and Miguel had to keep your distance. Just for this week, and afterward, yâall can do anything you desired. For now, you have to settle for the small touches and occasional eye contact during the exam.
That night when he dropped you off at your place, you half joked about him giving you a perfect score purely out of bias.
âI would never. I take my exams very seriously, for your information.â He responded smugly, his hairy forearm on the door of his car where the window would be. âBesides, youâre far too smart for that.â His voice softens toward the end of his sentence, that lovesick smile he always gawks at you with on his face.
âIâm serious, Mig. I want an accurate grade.â You match his volume, leaning down onto the car window, face to face with him.
âMama, I promise. Iâm sure youâll get a perfect score anyways, but on the off chance that you donât,â he leans closer to, his breath on yours, âMaybe Iâll just have to give you more private sessions during the Summer.â You chuckle against his lips once they meet yours.
âYouâre such a horndog.â The words are muffled by his lips and tongue. âOnly for you.â He mumbles, unable to keep his mouth off of yours. Miguel really was hot n bothered by you all the time, but honestly, you wouldnât have it any other way. Heâs your little loser after all.
The glances and âaccidentalâ brushing of hands had definitely occurred before and during the exam. Emotionally, it kind of took yâall back to the beginning of the semester, when the feelings were first bubbling. Alas, you had to stay focused. Compared to your peers, you practically flying through it. Even though you spent half the time mingling during them (and making out), the tutoring actually helped in the end.
When it was time to submit your exam, you gave him a knowing look. All Miguel does is give you a smile, but one that was genuine and sweet. One that reassured you in the sentiment that he was going to score you accurately.
At the end of the day, you didnât even care about what score you got, as long as Miguel nor you get in trouble. Thatâs all that mattered to you.
<3
Itâs later in the day, and youâre in your dorm. Tomorrow is your big day. The day you walk along the stage and take your masterâs in your hand; physical proof of your knowledge and hardwork. You were also thinking about Miguel and what heâs up to, but whatâs new.
You were thinking about how after your graduation, Miguel will no longer be your professor and you his student. You would just be two people who were absolutely crazy about each other, and you were looking forward to that.
You get a text from Miguel.
Missing my baby. Just thinking of you.
Aw, I miss my big teddy bear, too. What you up to?
Finished about 30% of these papers. Need to take a break, though. What if I came and picked you up?
And go where?
Home
Iâm already at home, ya goof
I mean my home, but you absolutely donât have to. We could go to the library or whatever you want.
No! Iâd love to come over.
You sure?
Of course, I wanna see what other books I can steal from you
Only in this for the books, I see. Ouch.
Donât be dramatic, you know thatâs not true
Do I?
You gonna pick me up or not?
Putting my shoes on.
He had you kicking your feet. You were unsure if it was a good idea, but that didnât stop it from being an extremely enticing one. You were just worried about someone seeing you enter his home, but otherwise, you would love to see where he lives, despite making the deal about not seeing each other until after graduation. This whole time, youâve only gotten familiar with his office, and thatâs only one small part of him. You just couldnât wait any longer to be near him, and besides, classes are technically over.
<3
âSo youâre half spider?â You and Miguel relax in his living room. You scour his book shelves while he makes you a drink. His place is exactly how you imagined it. Itâs a balance of sharp and cozy, like him.
âI know, not the most exciting of confessions.â Miguelâs sarcasm seeps through his speech and it makes you huff. Such a sass master.
âIâm being for real. I think thatâs amazing and all, but Iâm glad you chose to leave that life.â Your eyes are still on the spines of his books when you start to hear heavy footsteps coming your way. Heâs just as excited to be near you as you are, if not, more.
âMe, too,â Miguel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss on your head, âor else I wouldâve never met you.â
âArenât you lucky?â You playfully comment, getting on your tip toes to kiss him, his pouch rumbling against your torso from his chuckling. âDefinitely. Without you, I was starting to lead on a pretty lame life.â Miguel humored at himself. He knew that although going to teach classes, returning back home, and repeat was a pretty peaceful routine, he also knew it could be a boring one at times.
You lean your head back in exaggerated astonishment, âWhy would you say that? Youâre the coolest person I know, and not because you were spider-man,â you run your hands up and down his chest as you list off his cool factors, âYouâre a genius, youâre a family man, youâre funny, youâre also an Austen man, what more could I ask for?â
Miguel looks down at you, his muse, his angel, his everything. âThanks, mamita. Iâm proud to be your choice. Making me feel like the luckiest man in the universe.â Youâre enjoying this little romantic banter between you two, and Miguel loves it.
âHowever, that last one is a secret between us. Canât have people knowing that their exSpider-Man enjoys classic literature.â
âSpeaking of which, have you gotten to the end of pride and prejudice?â You take his hand and lead him to the couch where you both plop down and find a good cuddle position. Miguel is the perfect amount of warmth even though he wore nothing but sweats, meaning his dad build was out in all of its glory. It took everything in you not to pounce on him. Miguel wasnât much help either. When heâs sitting down and youâre sitting in between his legs and he brings you in close to him to hug you. Heâs all kissing your neck and playing with the waistband of your pants with his hand because truly he wants to eat you out so so so bad and is extremely so hard by the intimacy, but he knows tonight is not the night, and so did you.
âIâm not finished yet, but Iâm close.â He mumbles against your skin. Miguel was always a master of flipping your switch, this time using the smacking of his plump lips against your supple skin, claiming your neck, shoulders, and jaw as his.
âMm⊠yâknow what would be a great idea?â you manage to get out.
Miguel stops what heâs doing and braces himself. âOh God. What?â
âIf you read whatever you have left of the book to me.â
âYou want me to read it? Out loud?â Miguel finds this cute. You nod your head eagerly, and Miguel was absolutely cooed by the request. âLike Iâve said millions of times before, I love the sound of your voice.â
âPara ti? Claro Que si, mi vida.â And so he went and grabbed the book and his glasses, settling back into his position under you, and began reading in his soft, silky voice. You listened intently, the words falling right out of his mouth, making music to your ears. For Miguel, this was an honor. Heâll take glances down at you and see that youâre in total awe of him, latching onto every word he recites. He hadnât done something like this since, well, Gabriella.
This is the life he wanted. The life he had been living the past three years had served him well, but Miguel felt it. He felt it was time for another chapter. He was so certain. Heâs decided he wants this every night.
Miguel reads on, simultaneously rehearsing what heâll say in his head. The themes of newfound love and romance of the book was inspiring him. It made the scene all too perfect for the both of you. He then takes a long pause on a page. You can feel his belly hitch. âEverything alright?â You ask softly. âIâm okay. More than okay.â He sounds as though he might get emotional.
Miguel looks away from the book and into your eyes, putting the novel down. You two are in his home, on his couch, cuddling with a book, and the school year has come to an end. Miguel needs to say something and feels itâs time to share it. Itâs now or never.
âYou,â he began, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shining, breath steadying,
âI love you.â
The words send your heart rate to oblivion.
âW-what?â
âI love you.â Miguel says this so matter of factly, like heâs never been so sure of something in his life.
You had to make sure what you heard matched what he said and it did. Youâve wondered when he would say it. You wouldâve been fine had he done so on the first date! You only have one response to this, and tears well up in your eyes before you can say it, âI love you, too.â You attack Miguel with kisses, and both of you relish in this monumental moment in your blossoming relationship. Youâve finally found the prince to your fairytale.
âI adore youâ, âI worship youâ, âIâm so proud of you,â and more âI love youâs fall from Miguelâs lips, making the tears well up in your eyes again and your heart swell even more.
Miguel continues to read for you, savoring the special memory you both will now share for a very long time. Sometimes, heâll just stop mid paragraph just to say it to you again, that he loves you, and you say it back. Both of you are giddy little kids, telling each other how much you love the other, trying to one up each other like itâs a contest. At some point, you can feel yourself start to fall, and Miguel sees it, but he proceeds with the story. The mixture of his lulling voice and the soothing sensation of his rising and falling tummy was the perfect combo for sleep. Once youâre completely out, Miguel turns off the lights by voice command, and lays a blanket over you. He holds you tight against him, as if you could disappear at any moment, and plants a kiss lovingly on your forehead. He whispers âte amo, mi vidaâ before slumber takes him over as well.
<3
You can feel a light gently shed on your eyelids. Youâre not fully conscious yet, drifting between the states of awake and asleep.
Your fingers flicker with life, and you think you feel something rough. Your eyes crack and youâre met with a blurred figure. Your vision focuses and you make out a face, your fingers lingering on the jaw. Your lips curl at this face. The closest thing in view is a pair of dark lips, parted and inspiring deep, low snores. Taking account of their breath, you feel the inhaling and exhaling of his stomach against your front side. You lift your head slightly to get a better view of the person you currently lay on top of. Tousled black hair, dark eye lashes that ornament sleeping eyes, thick brows lacking the tension creases that would otherwise be there, and some missing glasses, which now sit on a side table. The sight was sweet enough to make the coldest heart melt. You take a moment to just observe his breathing, his relaxed state, and start leaving small, ghostly caresses on his face, absorbing each line and shape of his rugged complexion. This is the most vulnerable youâve ever seen him. You wanna stay in it forever. The outside world finally makes its presence known with a few chirps of birds, and your attention goes to a window and thatâs when it hits you: youâre still in Miguelâs place, and you both had fallen asleep on his couch. At last, you gain enough consciousness to realize that, for the entirety of the night, you had been held the same way a child holds their most beloved teddy bear by your exprofessor, now lover.
No, you two didnât have sex, just like how it had been discussed a few days ago. You were both still clothed, yet, somehow, this feels even more intimate than when yâall eat each otherâs faces.
Your attention is stolen back by the snores of the man below you, which makes you stifle laughter. You could honestly lay there watching him for hours. Your eyes glazed over every inch to ingrain the perfect mental image of this soft moment.
A few more seconds pass by before his snoring pattern comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes flutter open, landing on you. His watch goes off in a small, irritable beep. His tired eyes lift as he smiles at the view, despite the noise. This was something that heâs dreamt of waking up to every day.
âGâmorning, sleeping beauty,â you softly speak, leaning down for a kiss on his forehead, âYou sleep good?â Your voice is sweet, the moment seconds before leaving it honey-like.
âMorning,â his hands that wrapped around your waist unravel and rub your back, âMhm. like a baby. Donât think Iâve slept like that in⊠well, ever.â An early raspiness spills from his lips and its deep enough to make your insides flutter. âMe too.â You reply, gazing into each otherâs eyes before sharing one or two good morning kisses on the lips, the second one lingering a couple seconds longer.
âCan you confirm something for me?â You continue, and Miguel raises an eyebrow.
âWas I dreaming or did you say the L-word to me last night?â A giggle leaves Miguelâs mouth. âYeah, I did, and Iâll say it again.â He says in his low voice. You grin ear to ear, bodies glued together as if they were merging into one. His hands come up to your face tenderly, and with pride, he confesses again,
âI love you.â
A/n: Iâm back girlies, did u miss me?
<3Taggies<3
@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow
@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu
@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#atsv#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel x you#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel x reader#miguel oâhara smut#miguel oâhara fluff#dad bod!miguel#professor!miguel#soft!miguel#miguel oâhara#miguel oâhara atsv#miguel oâhara imagine#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x y/n#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel oâhara x you#miguel fic#miguel imagine#miguel smut#miguel 2099#miguel fanfic#miguel ohara#astv miguel#miguel atsv#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman
402 notes
·
View notes
Text
CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara
â premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.
â pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader
â warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing
â a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."
"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.
"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."
"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.
"Miguel!"
And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called himâonly to find that it was you.
His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.
Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.
He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.
"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.
Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.
You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.
"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"
Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.
"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."
"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."
You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."
Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."
"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.
"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."
He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.
"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."
Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."
With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.
But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.
#ËÊâĄÉË doll's fics#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#spider-man#spiderman#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse spoilers#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman x reader#spider-man x reader#spiderman 2099#spider-man 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider-man 2099 x reader#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x reader
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
âșâ§âË àœàœČââ±âàœàŸ Ëââ§âș dark!fic recs
CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.
@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.
"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.
"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.
"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.
"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.
"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.
"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.
"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.
"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.
"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.
i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.
@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.
âriseâ - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series iâve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her âthe day the world endedâ universe and it completely blew me away. i couldnât believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.
âwhen the bough breaksâ - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smutâŠmakes up for it. yes yes.
âi burnâ - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.
âone way or anotherâ - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. thatâs it.
âsomething wicked this way comesâ - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.
"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.
@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.
"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.
"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."
"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"
@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"
"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.
@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.
"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.
@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.
@perlelune
"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.
"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone
"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(
@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.
"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.
"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure
"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.
"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.
"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.
"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)
@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3
#lari's fic recs#dark!rafe x reader#dark!rafe cameron#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve rogers x reader#dark!peter parker#dark!peter parker x reader#dark!jj maybank#dark!jj maybank x reader#dark!ethan landry#dark!ethan landry x reader#dark!ransom drysdale#dark!random drysdale x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#rafe x reader#jj x reader#rafe cameron x reader#jj maybank x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)
Sequel to Web of Secrets
Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+
Part I Part II Part III Part IV
You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. Youâre nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.
Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.
âWHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?â he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.
You're taken aback. âWhat do you mean?â
âThat reckless behavior! You could have been killed!â he roars. âWhy didnât you retreat when you were injured?!â
âBecause there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!â you shout back.
âYou think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?â Miguelâs face is red, his voice strained.
âDonât you dare! Donât you dare question my dedication!â you yell, your own anger now matching his.
The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.
Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that youâd ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didnât know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that wouldâve made a sloth proud.
And then there was this mission â your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.
So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.
As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.
You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.
Miguel yelled, âWhat the hell are you doing?! Fall back!â
But you didnât, you kept pushing forward.
He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.
âESTĂPIDA! So damn stupid. I wonât fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!â Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.
âOh, please. Whatâs it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!â you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. âAll this time, youâve treated me like Iâm dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I donât need you to approve them!â
âDonât!â Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, thereâs a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. âI cannot do this anymore with you, Âżme entiendes?â he yells.
The room falls silent. Everyoneâs gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwenâs worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.
You take a deep breath, tears welling up. âI can't do this anymore either,â you whisper.
âWhat?â Miguel's voice is barely audible.
âI can't keep fighting for a team where Iâm not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,â you say, your voice steadier now.
âYou donât know what you are saying,â Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.
You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. âI do, I quitâ you say, your voice breaking.
You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.
You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.
"Take it. We donât need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.
Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.
As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguelâs face, contorted in pain, but he doesnât move, he doesnât speak and he doesn't stop you.
Your heart is breaking, but you canât stay here. Not when itâs this painful.
You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you donât stop.
In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.
His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.
"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.
"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I donât regret it, not a moment.â
He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. âNeither do I,â he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.
"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."
He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.
"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that â it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didnât know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."
"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands â so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right."Â He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.
You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"
He lets out a dry chuckle. âSometimes it feels like there's no other option. Itâs my fate."
âWhat scares you the most, Miguel?â you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates. âTo lose myself⊠to forget what it means to care for someone,â he finally confesses.
âYou wonât,â you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. âNot if you donât let yourself.â
âÂży tĂș?â His voice is husky. âWhatâs your biggest fear?â
âTo be forgotten,â you whisper.
He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. âImposible,â he breathes. âYouâre the sun. No one forgets the sun.â Â He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.
Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "OâHara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.
Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - heâs lost you forever.
He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates.Â
Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.
 But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"Â Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. âNo,â he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.
But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."
"I know," he replies curtly.
Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've beenâ"
âI KNOW!â Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "ÂĄYa lo sĂ©, Lyla! ÂĄBasta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.
There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.
Lyla, for once, remains silent.
3 months laterâŠ
Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.
 For once, itâs pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. Itâs like the city hit the pause button and honestly, itâs kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like theyâre keeping you company.
The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.
The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.
"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.
He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.
Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.
In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.
As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.
His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.
âYes, Jess?â Miguelâs voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.
âWeâve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,â Jess's voice came through the hologram.
âHave you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?â Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.
âYeah, but it didnât work. The rift is actually growing,â Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. âWhat do you think we should do?â
âAlright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,â Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. Youâre close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and youâre now fighting to suppress your screams.
Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, âMiguel, âm close."
"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.
âMiguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrongâŠâ Jess hesitates.
âIâm sure, Jess.â Thrust. âDo.â Another hard thrust. âit.â Miguelâs voice turns forceful.
âOkay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,â Jess's suspicion returns.
âOh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. Itâs a bit stuffy in here,â Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.
The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.
You donât know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. âGwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?â
She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."
You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, thereâs a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.
"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, thatâs from Hobie." Of course it is.
Youâre moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.
"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.
"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.
You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet itâs a boy."
You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."
Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."
You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.
"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"
Gwenâs expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.
"Strange how?" you prod.
"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.
"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.
"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "Heâs even more closed off than before. His temperâs shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguelâs basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. Thereâs this... I donât know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?â
Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.
âHe doesnât talk about it, but I think he misses you,â Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.
You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.
Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwenâs words sinking in. âDonât be silly. I was never his sunshine.â
4 months laterâŠ
Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.
âMake way! The party has arrived!â Peter B. exclaims loudly.
âI donât believe in parties.â Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.
Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.
âUh, who are you?â the midwife asks, slightly agitated.
âWeâre friends of hers,â Peter gestures towards you, âis it a good time?â
You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.
âBlimey, I didnât think itâd be like somethinâ outta Alien! You alright there, love?â Hobieâs eyes go wide, as he enters the room.
You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."
Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, âHey, youâre doing great. Is there anything we can do?â
âYou could get Hobie out of here,â you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.
âYou got this, luv!â Hobie shouts. âJust imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! Youâre about to release the raddest album in history!â
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.
âCongratulations, it's a boy!â the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.
You canât help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. âTold you, itâs a boy. Heâs absolutely beautiful,â she whispers.
Hobie chimes in. âAlright, letâs get a proper look at the little bloke!â He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?â No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguelâs little boy.
As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him.Â
âI canât thank you guys enough for being here,â you say, wiping away a tear.
Peterâs mask is off and heâs beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"
Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didnât."
âWeâre family,â Peter says firmly. âAcross universes and timelines. Weâre always here for each other.â
With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.
1 year later...
One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.
At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that youâre keeping the streets and your little boy safe.
Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 19-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.
Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;
Meanwhile, in the Spider Societyâs HQ in Nueva York, Lylaâs holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.
âThereâs a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,â Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.
Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. âAssemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... letâs bring in the newbie, Miles.â
Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly â a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.
Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain â The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.
âNot tonight, Shocker,â you quip as you dodge a blast. âIâve got a bedtime story to read!â
You're agile and sharp, but you canât wait to get back home to Gabriel.
In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He canât help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.
âThis is the target?â Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.
âYes, proceed,â responds Miguel firmly.
Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. âSorry, little guy,â he whispers and slips out.
Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.
âThat was⊠too easy,â Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.
Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.
Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.
Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.
Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.
Pavitr looks conflicted, âWe have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.â
Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."
Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. âIt doesnât matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. Thatâs the rule.â he says sternly.
"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."
Miguelâs gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. âLyla? Whats the status?âÂ
Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."
Miles' eyes widen. âWait, you meanâŠ?â he canât bring himself to finish the sentence.
Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. âWe canât just... There must be another way.â
Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity youâve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
"Where is he? Whereâs Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.
Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.
You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.
"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.
âI... I didnât see anyone. I swear!â Melissa's voice shakes.
Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.
Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.â
Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.â
Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.
As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.
The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.
Pavitr can't help it, âHe seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.â
Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. âSee? Even this innocent soul can sense thereâs still good in you.â
Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.
Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at armâs length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguelâs chest.
Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.
The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.
âLook at him, Miguel. Please. You canât tell me that this doesnât affect you in any way.â
Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like itâs waiting for something to shatter.
âWe do what needs to be done, no exceptions.â
Part III "Web of Shadow and Light"
a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.
Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, donât forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM
@ieatmunson @buggiecrawls @strawberriesareprettycool @lux-thebimbo @hk-4ever @invaderzim13 @hannah-goulll @arivh @alwayslegendarymoon @deputy-videogamer @560ria @myconglomerateromance @mateihavenoidea @alwayslegendarymoon @shibble @pagesfalling @kurooyy @regretfulmoth @crazysandwichlady2p04 @ poet-dae @rev-hellfyr @suya-x-syx @daimiyu @lazy-idate @jenniferdixon05207 @lostprince @amplsblog @eternalsams @cubinhodegelo @ prvttystvr @dabi-hawksbrainrot @noxiousfeline @maeplayscello @everyoneluvsvane @vinskyspuff @snazzajazz @yuuuumii @loreleis-world @fuckub @shugrcrush @fandomsinthegalaxies @vladersira @greatstudentbird @avengersinitiative2012 @therealnekomari @xiangping-28 @tanchosanke @tulipsc @tonystank1011 @la--figue @pingpongfingfong @ash-tronomicall @spardaenjoyer @venuswash3re @sofi786 @ranpuwo @sayonaratoyou @fuckthatfeeling @k7a4 @mxjss @rizahawkeye1380 @sinnamongirl @soosheee @cheezit-luv3rr @ransbatonowo @azurerose010 @azestar12334 @muertethekid @jay-joy @staronus0buttercup @mashiromochi @iseizeyourmom @salty-sister @aryjai @surhii @sinning-fae @gel0517 @hinata7346 @princessfuckyou @danyisawesomedontdenyit @typicalife-101 @arabell13 @thekinghazzastyles @sockears @perfectprofessorloverapricot
 @mkissad @spiritndrain @melovetitties @ihateuguys @honeycriess @pinkbearddragon @yrlocalsimp @savagemickey03 @beiroviski @vanilla-sweets @autismsupermusicalassassin @itsjstz @wifeofnatasharomanoff @alleo-i @jxsoook @saint-chlorine @novausstuff @canary58143 @amal31 @belle643 @ellahlour @akyino @give-me-cats-or-give-me-death @daemonlover @jiminling @forever1kay @chixkencxrry @nessrin @noelsilly @crispmarshmallow @rfvuhhvbin @johfaam @cenkisabibl @rosseyblog @pixiepaintt @pissboyazzy @couchpotato2006 @youcantseem3
@chuckle-nuts @trashybebe @cowabummwerdude @fresa-luna @fjordg @perkip3nguin @randomficlover @skylarlyn823 @prettysbliss @sajova @xxtipherethxx @yeahnotf @pendeja4bts @shoxji @mysingularitybts @moon-alexys00 @szaplsdropthealbum @kibo-ichiro @ace-mothman
@burningfishkidlamp @hellsingalucard18 @mimooyi @riverflowsanywherebuthere @desmanchaprazeres @dorck26 @seasaltjackal @cupcakeandkisses @lost-in-thevoids @starlightaura @stained-tea-cup @yarri0 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @rizzie-lovee127 @shirasakai @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @hiptobesquare13 @iloveplayboicarti @cosmoscoffeee @spaceemeeatt2 @bblouifford @aisyakirmann @xdarkcreaturex @lotustv @fenrysashryver @bri-loves-sunflowers @azrealbanerstark @lostaudfound @ithechipmonk @bby-lupin @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @hxlytrin @laennetargaryenskywalker @angi531 @namjooningera @stevenknightmarc @vr00m-vr00m @itsmadamehydra @blep-23 @alastorhazbin @bluevenus19 @bxdbxtxh15 @mrs-ohara09 @strangetrashblog @embersfae @animez96 @thekidscallmebosss @missdragon-1 @navyyoo @harmonics0537 @1206kju @chiharuundead @ahleeyuh @amyg1509 @kiruoris @rvnd0m-th1ngs @vallaufeyson @roses-and-grasses @enalofi @janeety @ash-aragami @peachycreamysmut @saltyllamakidwombat @3zae-zae3 @soupinacan444 @thepassionatereader @lukasdreamland @miracleangel19 @blackqueengold @yosistairl @adv3rs1ty @walkingtravesty97 @girlbloggingisamentalillness @rocketstyx @joined2023lol @whatdudtheysay @thatshouldgoonahat @eileen201804 @nuhteyam @panassbitch @ahoeformyself @abyemayiamay @stevenandmarcslove @froginmygarden @yunamaii @polireader @st0rmyt @delusional505 @enesitamor @groovycass @teamowolverine @blueoorchid @ausara23 @cyberv0dka @danika1994 @rawegggohan @mysteriousmeaning @defiance749 @rinx35 @tamales78 @saucypeanuttt @mitskistannn @shinydragoneagle @rorytrusov @shoyosdoll @sleepycow21 @urdads-gf @okgenic @nim360
@shadowdaddysposts @emmytheinsecurepinata @darksunemiku @inafantasyworld10 @kyezofficial @beanstock7 @awesome-animenerd @levermilion @elliellielliesgirl @ thesimpybitch @jasontoddsfavoritechair @athena-portgas @redhoodedtoad @strawnanamilk @bijuu-naginata @chaimantis @ef4iryone @1-800-call-a-milf @idcalol @eddiesb3dstainss @rootintootincowboi@6billionyearsold @xiaolanternn @etherealkistar @mitzukichan18 @quackimilktea @my-goverment-is-a-dictator @bxbyyyjocelyn @teramjna @morilemochi @chompwoman @vanillacoffeeology @calicoootalks @shine101 @mental-illness-is-my-friend @myhomethesea @janedah0e @st4rrlighttt @imnotyourbcbe @1lyyff @marsbars09 @migueloharaapologist2
#miguel o hara#spider man x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x you#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#atsv fic#atsv fanfiction#miguel o hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara imagine#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac#spider man#spiderman#comics#spiderman fanfiction#miguel ohara x you#spiderman 2099 x you#atsv
9K notes
·
View notes