#miguel o'hara drabble

[inkdrinkerworld]

idk if it’s weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel 😭😭

omg omg😭😭

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.

[silkscream]

i get mean when i’m nervous (like a bad dog)

ꨄ︎ pairing: miguel o’hara x gn!silk/spider!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you go too far in your defense of miles when you give miguel an ultimatum.

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), unprotected sex, dom!miguel, choking, dacryphilia, angst, reader is probably early to mid20s and miguel is early 30s? reader is afab

ꨄ︎ wc: 2.1k

ꨄ︎ notes: we all knew this was coming. i didnt proofread it (sorry!) anyways, thank yall so much for 4k <3

“You’re too hard on the kid.”

“He is an anomaly.”

“You said that about me, too, remember?” You look at Miguel, exasperated.

For someone so good at menacing eye contact, he knows he can’t quite one-up you (though he’d never admit it). Miguel looks past your face instead, like he’s looking through you. You hate it.

It must’ve been a fluke. A coincidence. How could it be that the damn spider bit you, too? He hates that you remind him of this every time you defend Miles.

“I’m not supposed to be here either, but I am. So why can’t he be here too, O’Hara?”

“Just fucking drop it, please,” he seethes.

“Or what?” you spit back at him.

He scans your face, brows furrowed. Miguel isn’t sure who’s the hunter and who’s the animal provoked. Your eyes are bright and livid, and your feet are rooted in the space before him. He swallows, his jugular tough and broad. Even as he towers over you, you’re firm in your cruel gaze.

“That’s enough,” he dismisses simply. He needs to cut the tension. He’s itching to do it with his claws if he has to, but you aren’t budging.

“If he goes, I go.”

“Excuse me?” His jaw clenches with an iron grip.

You don’t repeat yourself. The room is silent enough to make your heavy breaths echo. With your lips set grimly in a line, you stand your gaze with him even if it feels painful. With Miguel, it always does. You’re surprised about the lack of fear you possess in your body. There’s something else brewing in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite process.

Miguel feels it too. Fucking tenfold.

It’s a surprise to no one that the man turns primal when angry, but the air about him right now has you trembling. Ever since you joined the Spider Society, Miguel’s coldness never budged for reasons unknown to you. He was somehow the cruelest to you out of everyone when he found the opportunity to, sometimes avoiding you for days after he’d snap. And now, right in front of him, you dare to bare your teeth at his authority. How fucking stubborn and waspish you are. It makes him feel livid.

Something shifts in his eyes, a storm cloud passing through the sky.

“What, you’re giving me the silent treatment now?” he taunts. “You’re not going fucking anywhere.”

“Why does it matter to you if I’m clearly a nuisance?”

“You leaving doesn’t solve any–”

“You literally wanted me gone the moment you met me!”

“Shut up!”

It’s like a glass breaks. You gasp at the feeling of Miguel grabbing you so suddenly, the grip on your arms tight as he slightly shakes you. With a heavy exhale, he opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is something of a growl.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

He lifts his hand and for a second you think he might hit you, but he simply grasps your chin tightly, lifting your face as you feel his warm breath fan your cheeks. He looks at you and you stare back, sharp-toothed and sullen.

It’s like whiplash when his mouth meets yours in an open gasp. His other hand buries itself in your hair. You melt against his body, arms thrown around his neck as he slots a leg in between both of yours.

For once, his mind goes quiet. It’s the quietest it’s ever been. He nips at your bottom lip with his fangs until you feel a coppery taste on your tongue, but you keep going, begging for more. Everything in your body burns for him from your very core, as if something foreign has rooted itself inside your sternum that won’t stop growing. It feels much too big for your body now.

He gasps – actually gasps – at the feeling of your tongue on his neck. Long, dark eyelashes flutter as you lave over the junction between his neck and his jaw, which is already difficult to reach given Miguel’s height. He hoists you up effortlessly until your back is against the wall and your balance is kept together by his rigid body alone.

An animalistic snarl emits from his mouth when he feels your teeth, so he grabs you by the hair to meet your drunken gaze. He presses his forehead to yours with eyes closed.

“Fuckin’ anomaly. You’re a fuckin’.... rarity. Like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, voice low. “S’why you can’t leave me.”

You’re dizzy at his words. Your breaths sync until you aren’t sure where you end and he begins.

“I can’t even… tell you what you do to me. Can’t put it into words. It’s no good.”

“Say it in a different way, then,” you whisper.

He groans. You can feel how hard he is underneath you and it takes everything in you not to roll your hips against him, so he does it for you. He kisses you again with even more desperation this time, tongue and teeth swapping spit as he grips you, like he’s trying to tear you apart with his claws.

Gripping your ass, he carries you from the wall to the couch by his desk, heavy body on top of yours as he quickly discards you of your suit in record speed. You can still feel the sting of your split lip from his teeth and he tongues over it as a quiet apology, groan in his throat tapering off to a whimper.

“Please,” he mumbles against your open mouth, and you can’t tell if he’s begging for forgiveness or for permission.

All it takes is a whimper from you and he slots two fingers against your folds, collecting your wetness as he moans against your mouth. It’s strange, how Miguel’s fury melted into unbridled need just because you’d gotten him too riled up. If he wasn’t going to fight with you, he was going to take what he wanted. Being around you already tormented him in this way, and the only time he could fully admit it was now, he’d decided. The moment he kissed you, he knew.

He looks at you like he’s starved, like you’re just the prey he’s been waiting for. It feels terrifying for him, how much he wants you. How you’ve been both the bane of existence and the golden apple taunting him since the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Tell me you want it,” he says with a strained voice.

“I want it,” you murmur. “I want you.”

He’s too impatient to prep you despite how badly he wants to taste your cunt. His suit disintegrates into pixels until his tan skin is revealed, scars smoothed over your nimble fingertips. Your touch makes him shudder.

You bite back a moan when you feel the thickness of him glide into you with little effort from how wet you are. It stings in your core only slightly before he thrusts into you again with a slow pace. You keen in his touch, eyes rolling back already. It makes him want to disintegrate.

Miguel can’t think anymore. Nothing coherent, at least. His senses are swimming – drowning – in everything that is you. Your scent, your skin, your breath. The thought of all of it used to cross his mind during inopportune and inconvenient times, and the mere fact of this version of you existing in his brain made him feel disgusted in himself. You were a parasite in his mind and you didn’t even know it. He needed to get you out, like you had infected him somehow, and he thought for a brief moment before he kissed you that this would be the way out.

God, was he fucking wrong.

Because now he knows what it feels like to be inside your warm cunt and he’ll never be able to forget it. He’ll never be able to take anyone else again because of how fucking good your pussy feels. So good it almost makes him angry. Because here you are, writhing and whimpering underneath him, blissed out enough to see stars, and you don’t even know how much pain you’re bringing him as much as pleasure. To have something he’s always wanted – how lovely it should be, but how painful it is to feel once he thinks that he doesn’t deserve it. He wants to encapsulate this feeling so he can get drunk on it again and again for the rest of his fucking life.

His name falls from your lips so sweetly. It’s petals falling from a tree.

“Fuck,” he groans. He strokes your face, thumb grazing over your bottom lip.

You sound like a wounded animal when you cry out again. He’s too rough again with his teeth on your neck to the point where you know there has to be a mark at this point. His teeth move down to your breast where you feel his tongue glide over your nipple.

He hits that spot inside you, warm and gummy around him, and he has to clasp his eyes tightly shut so he can focus on not cumming. He’s breathless when he opens his eyes again, lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder as he gets deeper into you. You arch into his touch and he can’t fucking believe how pliable you are, how malleable.

“Look at me,” he says in a hushed mutter when he sees your eyelids fluttering at the pace of his thrusts. “Wan’ you to look at me when I fuck you.”

His tone is almost mean. When your eyes are wide open for him, so is your mouth. You’re so beautiful. Like nothing he’s ever seen. A fucking enigma. He can’t help but connect your lips again, all teeth and tongue as you snake your arms around his body. He surprises you by pinning both of your arms down with the same force he uses when sparring. It makes you even more feverish.

There are tears collecting at the corners of your eyes as he fucks into you even harder. With one hand pinning your wrists together, Miguel has his other hand wrapped around your throat.

“My pretty baby,” he mumbles. He surprises himself when he hears it come out of his mouth out loud. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Miguel–”

“What, it’s too much for you?” he snickers, his voice gravelly. “Thought you were my tough girl.”

He emphasizes my like it’s obvious. Your stomach churns.

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, you can take it. Fucking take it.”

You’d bark out a smartass reply if you could, but the snap of his hips only causes you to sob against his broad shoulder.

He’s animalistic when he takes you, has a hand pulling the locks of your hair as his wolf-teeth cascare down the length of your jugular, and you let him. You’d let him consume you, render you asunder, make an autopsy of your desire splayed alive. That heated, enthralling desire – it’s all there, everywhere, consuming him, too.

Wanna fucking ruin you. Wanna split you open on my cock.

“It’s too much–” you whimper, but he’s relentless.

“You can do it,” he says, gritting his teeth, more predator than man.

“I’m gonna— oh, god–”

“Gonna fuckin’ cum for me, huh?”

You don’t answer – can’t answer — because the core of you is exploding like fireworks. Your legs shake with the ghost of a tremor over and over, nails raking down the length of Miguel’s broad back as you cry out in pleasure. Convulsing, aching, twinging like a fuse blown out.

The tears running down your face makes his high peak. He feels you sigh underneath him, preening from his teeth on your flesh once again, and he revels in the sweetness of your sweat and your honeyed gaze. The violence of desire fades into a glowing heat spread between both of your bodies until he finishes with heavy breaths.

Miguel collapses on top of you as he breezes through the comedown, endorphins surging through his veins as he inhales the scent of your hair. You press a hand to his cheek and look at him with your fluttery eyes, lips apart in unspoken ecstasy.

The shame will hit him later, he thinks, because he can’t get enough of how beautiful your face looks all blissed out, especially knowing that it’s because of him. You’re so goddamn pretty underneath him, not doing anything at all except helping him catch his breath until his syncs in tandem with yours. He curls around you, arm slung over your midriff as his nose tickles underneath your jaw.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler, O’Hara.”

“Let me fuckin’ rest, man.”

You nuzzle his hairline, stroking his dark locks with your fingers.

“Does this mean you’ll be nicer to Miles?” you murmur, chuckling.

“No promises.”

[tonixe]

POV: MIGUEL FUCKS THE SHIT OUT OF YOU

n.o.t.e.s - miguel is so hawt, like i need him inside me like right now.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - perv!Miguel O'hara x fem!reader

w.c. - 540

Working for Miguel in the Spiderman HQ could be hard sometimes, with his demanding nature. Sometimes helping him with missions with villains in different dimensions.

Just his little assistant.

It was hard to fight villains with your revealing spider suit; even swinging with your webs was harder; it would hug all your curves and chest. Getting all types of stares for your suit, it is even risky to walk especially with the cut-out on your suit just exposing cleavage, too low that you almost flash people.

But you were too mindless to figure it out; I mean, Miguel made it just for you. You were really dumb to think that Miguel said the suit was supposed to help you. and you believe it.

You were even too dumb to figure out who was taking your panties.

Imagine perv!miguel just coming into his lab all angry and pent up, and just going crazy on you when he sees you in that little spider suit, and just bending you over the table, just going crazy on you. Just ripping your spidersuit off.

He's pounding into you from behind while your face presses against the table. Just drool covered across your face, as he just plunges into you, just spilling himself into you. Just painting your walls with cum and fucking you full with his cum.

Perv!miguel would hate wearing condoms when he screws you; he just loves how your wall hugs him as he fucks you. But it just makes him feel so good when you clench around him.

Perv!miguel just loves cumming inside you, and covering you with his cum, just makes gets rise out of him and make him horny.

Miguel would love skull fucking you, just using your face and shoving his cock down your throat. His hand just grabs onto your hair; if you wearing makeup, he would love to fuck it up.

Your lipstick just smeared across your cheek, your just drooling on his cock.

Perv!miguel just loves fingering you, even in public events, just under the table, just reaching over you under the table taking off your panties, and fucking you with his thick fingers.

Just you talking would be hard for you, just getting overstimulated by him, just shaking.

Perv!miguel enjoys using vibrators with you, just teasing you, turning it up on high when you're talking with other people. He loves to see you withering and whimpering around him.

He would love when your whiney is just so submissive for him.

Imagine just sleeping; you're deep asleep while Miguel is still awake and horny. Just looking at your sleeping form and he would just start touching you, just fondling your boobs.

Him just fingering you when you sleep, mewling in pleasure. Just waking up to Miguel hunching over you with his huge cock stretching you out as he thrusts into you and dragging it out.

Perv!miguel loves playing with your titties, small or big. He just loves to put his head between your boobs and play with them. Just squeeze them with his rough hands.

He loves sucking on them and tugging at them.

Perv!miguel whispers sweet nothingness into your ear, as he fucks you on his bed.

[l13]

i can’t stop thinking about miguel being obsessed with eating out his partner after that drabble 😭 could we pls have more miggy NEEDING to get drunk from it 🥹 that man is a munch and we all know it

nsfw mdni!!

i have this hc of you waiting for Miguel to come home, wearing nothing but a silky robe as you're laying across your bed

when he finally enters the room, his tired half-lidded eyes light up immediately when he spots you, and you sit up, trying hard to stop yourself from grinning, "On your knees."

Miguel walks to the edge of the bed, and drops down immediately, making quick work of taking his shirt off, already panting hard as he watches you scoot closer to the edge of the mattress, opening your pretty legs for him and giving him the perfect view of your bare pussy,

"Bad day?" you ask as he grabs the underside of your left thigh and placing it over his shoulders as he licks his lips, "Terrible."

you lace your fingers through his soft hair, and watch as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side to give the inside of your thigh an open-mouth kiss "Y'can tell me everything after you make me cum, yeah?"

and then he's groaning, "Fuck yes," nodding his head as he closes the gap between you, starting to lap at your cunt as if it's the one thing he wanted to do all day,

you brace yourself with your palm against the mattress behind you as you throw your head back, your eyes rolling when you feel him suckle on your puffy clit

he's letting out such obscene sounds as he eats you out but it only makes you wetter, and he laps up your slick, dazed eyes flicking up to you, and he's moaning against your cunt when he sees the look on your face- your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth wide open as you whimper out praises, "So good baby," "Mm like that, oh-"

Miguel is ravenous, he's suckling at your pussy messily, pulling his head back to thrust three fingers inside you, snarling when he sees your juices drip down his hand, and he bends to lick it all up from his palm,

you jump when he curls his fingers, his mouth working upwards from your opening to your clit to kiss it softly, and then he's grazing his teeth against it and fuck you're coming-

tremors run through your whole body as you shake, your eyes losing focus, and for a moment you can only hear the drum of your heartbeat in your ears as you cum, and Miguel is quick to lap at everything you give him, licking at your folds with his nose nudging your clit, nd you're whimpering "No more, no more," you say that, but at the same time you know you want to, you know you won't be satisfied with just this, and as your eyes lock with his, you can tell that he knows it too

[honestsycrets]

Miguel does the latine mom thing where they put their lips to your forehead to check if you have a fever or not

❛ sy | drabble below. yeah, he's totally not murmuring sana, sana colita de rana. mention of chronic illness, sickness.

Miguel woke from his short-lived nap with a start, his heart strumming, constricting his breath in his chest. His sheets were laden with sweat, crumpled up over his body. Not from his preferred night of your body against his, fingers laced together, his name beating off your lips.

You slept last night. Longer than you had before, longer than you usually did. He forgot-- sometimes, the delicate nature of your existence. Your tomorrow would be better.

"Miggy, her internal temp--"

Shh, cállate. Miguel hisses over his shoulder. She would wake you up. Lyla's eyes pop wide behind her love-tinted glasses. The gentle rise and drop of your chest doesn't go unnoticed. He settles his broad forearm down, minding the splay of your hair, pulling himself free. The pads of his fingers traced your cool skin, slightly sticky to the touch. The fever-- he tests, gliding his full lips over your relaxed forehead in something of a kiss. A test.

Lyla quirked her head.

"...is normal. Por fin." Miguel finishes, settling his head back on the fluffy pillow, his arm migrating to your slight waist, pulling it against his muscular chest. His eyelids finally-- finally drew to a peaceful close. He could finally sleep.

[aphroditessaturn]

u asked for smutty thoughts abt miguel o'hara? squirting. there's not enough content about him reacting to/making reader squirt and it's honestly a little tragic

oh my god. yes. please. I need this, like right now. we need more of him and squirting, it's not tragic anon...it's a crime!

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader

warnings || smug obviously, squirting, oral (f receiving), Miguel being a menace, overstimulation if you squint

note || send more, I need more of Miguel! that man is a walking sin, please comment/reblog and follow!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

Pleasure, pleasure was the only thing you could feel. Miguel lapped on your cunt like a starved man, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your hands were threaded into his brown locks, holding onto them for support. He pushed in as deep as possible, concentrating on curling his tongue against your sensitive spot which had your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You taste amazing, cariño,” he mumbled into your drenched cunt, face glistening with your juice. Miguel pressed his thumb on your bundle of nerves, drawing tight circles.

Wanting to buck your hips up against him but being quickly shut down by the hungry man between your legs, “you stay right here,” he ordered.

A tight knot formed in your body, one you couldn’t quite place as it wasn’t the usual orgasm feeling. No, it felt stranger but still like a feeling that needed relief and just as the thought of relief crossed your mind your juice spilled out against Miguel’s face.

You didn’t react, you didn’t know what had just happened, your mouth was wide open and everything that came from your mouth was a loud moan. The feeling of finally letting go overtaking you.

Miguel looked at you with pure adoration, “mierda,” he groaned, continuing working on your cunt. It was pure heaven for him, you tasted divine to him and he could never get enough.

"Making such a mess for me cariño," he said with a smirk. Your moans had turned into cries and tears streamed down your cheeks. Everything was too much, Miguel didn't stop his movements.

If anything you squirting spurred him on, "Miguel, fuck," you nearly screamed when you felt the feeling again.

Your mind was too hazy to know what you did, you only knew how good it felt. The burning sensation made you tighten your walls around Miguel's tongue. Said man knew exactly what was about to happen again.

Pulling away from your cunt he replaced his tongue with his fingers. Instead his mouth latched onto your thigh, sucking on your skin.

Your whole body twitched, back arching, hands gripping the sheets. God, you couldn't string one thought. Miguel saw it on your face, the way your eyes scrunched together, lips parting to release each cry.

He could swear it was the most beautiful sight he ever saw, but he needed you to squirt again. Needed to taste you once more.

Without hesitation he bit into your thigh, with his sharp fangs. No venom was to come from them, but oh, how you loved the pain they brought you, practically thriving in it.

"Miguel, please, I-," you were never able finish that sentence as your second orgasm washed over you. "Look at you," Miguel whispered as he watched your juice spraying from your cunt. He pushed his mouth back on your cunt, making sure to catch every last drop.

"Yes, yes, make a mess of my face cariño," you couldn't even hear him, your ears felt numb, your body filled with exhaustion, "just like that," he mused, his cock now rock hard from the sight of you.

"I need to make you squirt every time now, cariño," he told you proudly.

You mumbled something that no one could understood, too fucked out by him. However he didn't care, no he hosted you up on his lap. Your sensitive cunt hitting his cock, "god, Miguel." A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, "there is no god cariño, only me and I'm gonna have you squirting till the sun rises."

That was a promise he intended to keep…and did.

and I —

please comment/reblog and follow!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

[moonlesslights]

Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

a little lovely thing for you, loves <3

any comment about it is appreciated!

Ժ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴

After a long day dealing with all of the problems being the head of the Spider Community brings with it: catching bad guys and having to be realistic with the good ones just in order to protect them, even if the truth hurt them when he whispers it in a harsh voice after he looses all patience; Miguel found himself, looking at his reflection on the screen of one of the computers, tired.

His eyes wander to the wall next to him. 10:37pm. It is still rather early, most of the people and creatures in the building are probably still awake, and it is still three hours away from the hour he usually goes to bed too. But right now he knows he won’t make it till then, he has so much stuff to do, so much to worry about but his brain can only focus in one thing, can only tell him he needs one and only one thing right now. And it’s your fault.

He grunts when he jumps from the platform all the way to the floor, fighting with his own emotions and his desperation to get out of there. He is mad at himself for the way he’s acting, for the feeling of his body looking for yours… But he can’t do any more today, he knows what he needs and if he stays here like this he knows he won’t get anything done anyway.

Miguel walks out of his “cave”, as you used to call it, and goes on his way, swinging around a couple of times on his web and crawling some more across the diagonal pillars of the building to get where he was sure you were going to be right now. Because it wasn’t like he would often turn on the cameras on one of his holograms and played to look for you till the point of unconsciously knowing your favorite places to hang out by now. Of course not.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that when he finally hears your laugh just a few meters away, his heart skips a beat. And although his face doesn’t show any particular emotion when he walks up to you and your friends, he’s internally fighting with himself again for the whole situation. What was he doing here? Why is he acting this way? What was he thinking?

“Miguel?” You raise an eyebrow at him, he can see the confusion on your eyes but he especially takes notice of how you smile still, happy to see him. Happy to see him.

“Night.” He announces his presence, walking closer to you. The people around, which isn’t much, smile nervously at him, while some others seem unbothered by the new arrival. He looks at you for a moment and he doesn’t say a single word before taking you by the wrist and announcing again: “Night.”

“No, what? Wait… Miguel!” You look back, confused at his actions. You try to plant your feet on the ground and stop the both of you, but he easily continues to drag you across the floor and soon enough, taking you by the waist despite your insistence in questioning where were you’re going, swings you around in quick and confident movements till the noise of the whole building starts to be left behind.

You sigh and let the right side of your face rest against his shoulder. Surrendering to his actions and judgement.

He appreciated that, he liked it so much more than he wanted to admit. How you relax when you’re with him, how you trust him almost blindly, how you know, without him having to say a word, that he won’t hurt you. No matter what he did or how he acted without giving you an explanation, you trusted he would always have a plan. And even if he said to himself that he didn’t need anyone, he can’t deny —he can’t understand— how much he enjoys looking around a room after a particularly hard situation to find your eyes on him, the only ones that are never scared, the only ones that keep shining in trust… He doesn’t know what he would do if that ever changes.

If he reaches to touch you and you step back. If he calls your name and you don’t turn back. He has imagined, a couple dozen times, different scenarios, with you covered in blood, with you inside this very building, with you alongside someone else, but always the same eyes: like a rabbit staring at the fox baring his teeth, terrified, trembling. He always has to look for you after that image takes over his mind, almost convincing him it could be real. He can’t find himself at peace as he erratically opens and closes his hands, until you appear before him, smiling with so much warm that he can’t imagine, he won’t imagine, another emotion in your face than this one, where he reaches out for you and you don’t step back, where he calls your name and you turn around, where he can have you in between his arms for as long as he wants now, closing the door to all of the problems of the world outside.

You take his hand when he finally steps you down, guiding you across the dark hall to his room. You remain in silence but you can hear the thud of his heart beating inside his ribcage. You’re sure he knows you can hear it. You’re sure he can hear yours too.

As he opens the door and lets you get inside the room first, you relax almost instantly. His scent fills your lungs, making the air feel lighter at the very second your take in the first breath.

“Get comfortable.” He says in a neutral voice without even looking at you, and you know exactly what he means.

As he takes off his suit you walk to his closet. You take one of your favorite t-shirts of him to put on once you got rid of your own suit. It was fresh and it brushes your skin deliciously when you put it on, like cold water after a warm day under the sun.

You jump in the bed the moment he removes the cover, humming in content when you feel the cool blankets under you. Miguel lifts one of the corners of his mouth, his eyes are still tired but you can see that soft glimmer one can only take notice of in the dark, if you pay attention, where you can see how much he’s trying, how much hope he’s still guarding inside his own heart.

He climbs onto the bed with one knee, and lets his weigh fall onto his elbows first before finally letting himself rest on top of you with a soft grunt caused by the sore of his muscles. He buries his face on your chest, right between your breasts, closing his eyes almost immediately, easing in the feeling of your skin against his own. One of his hands lifts up, waving its fingers in the air. You laugh at his action, shaking your head.

“You could use your voice to tell me what you want.” You chuckle right above his ear, sending a pleasant shiver all across his body.

“Please?” He asks like he’s not sure of the use of that word.

You smile, lifting your hand and intertwining it with his. Only then, his brows relax, letting both of your hands fall back onto the bed, caressing your skin with his thumb running up and down in a tender swing.

“How are you?” You ask in a soft whisper.

“Better now.” He answers and you can’t not even begin to comprehend how much he means those words. He doesn’t know if he wants you to do it. One step out of the door and he looses the only thing that makes him human. “How are you?” He asks back, this time turning his head up to look at your eyes.

You chuckle. “Never better.” You tilt your head, allowing him to see that warmness in your eyes only reserved for him. His jaw clenches at the sole thought of someone else holding you like he does. He can’t allow it. He knows the implications of your having a whole life on your own universe, of someone waiting to steal you from him. He doesn’t think he could go over the fact of seeing you marry someone else… Well, now the thought of you walking down the aisle in white holding someone else’s hand has ruined his mood again. He frowns, looking down again. You laugh. “What was that face?! What is it?”

He doesn’t answer and you don’t wish to push him. He spends all the time being responsible of this whole place, having to be the voice of reason among all the others. You can’t blame him to act out all his foolishness when he’s alone with you.

After a couple of minutes with you running the fingers of your free hand along his hair, he finally drops out the words stuck on his throat:

“Choose me.” Not ‘stay’, not ‘don’t leave’, not ‘don’t go back’, but ‘choose me’. Even if you’re in another universe, even if we don’t see each other in months or years, even if we shouldn’t, choose me. “You’re free to leave, I would never ask you otherwise. But come back to me every time you do, please.”

“Miguel…”

“I know what I’m asking, but I promise I would never interfere with your duties in this organization nor anything in that matter. So choose to keep me by your side. So I… Fuck.” He buries his head even more, till the point his words are muffled by the t-shirt you’re wearing. “I might not survive. If… If you go. Y’know?” He says and you can tell how red his face probably is even without seeing it. “It won’t end well for me if you never come back from home.”

“Mhm…” You hum. “I see that that talk we had about opening to your feelings wasn’t in vain. You’re really putting on on practice…”

“Oh, c’mon.” He groans, turning around and trying to get up from his position, but your arms are quicker when you wrap around him, laughing out loud at his face.

“Come here, I’m kidding.” You smile, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. Your hands start to draw figures on his back, with such tenderness he doesn’t have the strength to try to back up again. You take his chin and, after a few attempts, he finally gives in and looks at you. “This is home, Miguel.”

His eyes slightly widen at your words and his hands fight to cling to your body again, to bring your against him. Because it’s just never enough.

“Any love I have showed you, any love I show and give you from now on, is yours to keep.” You sigh. “I will not turn away, no matter how ugly things get. I will always find my way back to you.”

Miguel didn’t answered, three words were still dripping from his tongue, but what he felt for you was higher than what his voice could express, so he fell silent and took your face with his right hand and asked for permission with his eyes before kissing your smile. His lips against yours felt heavy and soft, you can feel his fear to hurt you in his careful movements, but you open your mouth, letting those three words slide in with his tongue brushing against yours like the sea crashes on the shore.

He drops his head to your neck, pushing with his thumb your jaw up, opening space for him to kiss and lick up in straight lines with his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling him press against you. You haven’t taken this step yet, your intimacy grew from long nights talking and soft brushes of skin caressing skin, from mornings waking up beside each other, from the urgency to run to each other's arms, to hear your voice, to have his arms secured around you.

Miguel refused to take it any further because he thought, months ago, watching you sleeping curled against his chest, that if he tasted you whole, there wouldn’t be no turning back. It would be his perdition.

But now he realizes that even without doing that, his life would never go back to the same as it was before you appeared in front of him for the very first time. He doesn’t want it to be like that ever again. He knows, that from the moment he saw you, maybe even before that, one part of his soul tangled around you, and has refused to let go ever since. It belongs to her now. It had belonged to her since she was born. To be hers, to be his.

Maybe, he thinks as he takes both of your wrists above your head with one hand while the other caresses deeply on your hips as his fangs tease above your skin alongside his tongue and hot breath, it is time to go all the way in.

[kissesbyliz]

miguel o'hara with a gf who crochets

your head is lazily perched upon the wide expanse of miguel's lap, the quiet hum of some nature documentary dull in your ears. your hands are occupied with your usual: a 5 millimeter hook in one and the other steady in tensioning your yarn. your project, currently consisting of a single floppy chain, hangs passively in front of your face.

above you, the love of your life attempts to engage himself in said documentary. it's one that miguel isn't particularly interested in. being the nerd that he is (though he'll never admit it), his tastes lie more in genetics and chemistry. but he knows that it makes you happy, which is why he can't seem to find it within himself to even ask if he can change the channel.

he's able to endure the sporadic squaks of birds and the chittering of monkeys long enough, before his eyes inevitably drag down to your form.

"and what are you making today, cariño?" miguel asks conversationally, hand idly stroking up and down your forearm. he knows you don't like it when he distracts you from crocheting, but he's convinced that if he sees one more insect fly into the mouth of a venus fly trap, he may actually die of boredom.

thankfully, you don't seem to mind. "a tote bag!" you answer with a smile, hands momentarily pausing their actions in favor of showing him the few rows you've created. what's displayed before him is a thin rectangle of yarn, about a foot in length. "look, do you think it's wide enough?"

miguel takes it into his hands for closer inspection. if he's being honest, he's not sure what he's looking at, but he's grateful that you value his opinion anyway.

"i don't know. how big do you want it?" he asks, releasing the piece so you can also take a look.

"um, normal sized maybe? but i don't wanna get up to reference another bag." you whine, stretching the piece out and turning it every which way to see if you're satisfied with it.

he laughs. "want me to get one of yours?" a hand grasps your hip to keep you steady as he begins sliding out from underneath you.

your head jerks up in protest, arm coming out to stop him. "no! stay here, i'll just eyeball it." you pout, eyeing your creation with scrutiny. your head shifts, pressing deeper into his thighs as if to convince him to not move again.

miguel sighs exasperatedly. evidently, you've chosen to wallow in the hell that you've created for yourself. as your hands eventually resume crocheting your piece, he takes a moment to appreciate every delicate motion of your fingers. even after inspecting you work for all the months you've been together, it's still hard for him to wrap his head around how each stitch is made.

once, after an impulsive inquiry from him, miguel's tried his own hand at the craft. under your enthusiastic guidance, he found himself able to understand how to make a chain, and not much else beyond that. his patience soon ran out after you tried to explain the concept of skipping chains to him.

"why make chains if i'm just going to skip over them?" he had asked you frustratedly, beginning to feel his hand cramp up with the unfamiliar motions.

you laughed at that, evidently amused by his struggling, and miguel thinks its one of the most lovely sounds he's ever heard. he glanced up to meet your glee filled face, and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"you're staring," you sing quietly, returning his gaze with a cheeky grin. he rolls his eyes, hand coming up to pinch your cheek in mock annoyance.

"it's hard not to." he says, his words too sweet for the tight (not tight, you're just being dramatic) squeeze he has on your cheek. he hears you whine at the touch, and he can't help but smile fondly.

how'd he get so lucky?

[lady-ashfade]

Damn

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Reader.

The reader just keeps making themselves embarrassed. Then they meet Miguel…Making themselves a fool.

Warnings: Flirting, Miguel seeming to hate it but we all know he loves it.

You had no clue how you ended up in this situation to be honest with yourself, one minute you’re fighting a villain that attacked your city. And the next, you’re in this place called “Spider society” and whole other versions of spider people? Yeah, you don’t know how to explain it. However they mentioned that you were the only one of yourself…Which was strange.

You walked with the group that had found the villain known as Spot and helped you, and brought you here. The girl beside you laughed at your shocked face and your jaw that dropped down to the floor. You cleared your throat and closed your mouth and could feel the heat coming to your cheek, glancing at the faces that looked at you with smirks. They laughed and pulled you forward and through the place where you looked at thousands of people passing by, so many of them.

It had been a few minutes until you ending up in some big room with electric tables all around and a big thing. “Weird.” You thought to yourself. You step away for them to get your own moment and looked around the room, spinning slowly in awe. “How come there aren’t more of me?” You pondered out loud for one of them to explain but when you looked back they were all gone. You panicked for a minute now being alone in some unknown place.

“Because you’re one in a billion. Literately.” A new voice spoke from behind you that made you jump.

Turning around you see a very handsome man in front of you, big build with muscles that could hold you up without any problem. You have never seen a man like him and it made you thing one thing. “Damn.” The words fell from your mouth just as soon as you thought it. You stare wide at him and not taking notice to your own actions. He blinked at you curious, “Excuse me?” He’s talking to you- Oh shit. You then heated up in your suit in frustration, you had said what you were thinking. So laughing nervously you tried to keep it cool.

“I’ve never seen someone like you before.” You cringed at yourself. “You’re just so…Big, and those teeth? What are you, a vampire?” You joked for him to laugh but he didn’t. His glaze darkened and glared at you with no hint of amusement. “Well, since I already dug myself a grave might as well keep going. So,” you cross your arms and smirk at him. “Got as Mrs. Or Mr.?” He didn’t move a single inch from where he stood, his expression still annoyed. You watched him go through his thoughts.

“Margo, send this one back home.” He talked into a bracelet on his wrist and you shrugged and groaned.

[itsfairly]

i know Miguel O'Hara seems like the kind of guy to mind his business, but you know how you get a hundred times more comfortable when you meet someone from your culture? sure, he may be reserved and intimidating when seeing him for the first time and his stoic expression doesn't exactly help either. but as soon as he listens to someone speaking spanish in nueva york, its instantly captures his attention.

thats what happened today. miguel needed some time, away from his job at alchemax and definitely a break from being spiderman, and ended up taking a quick drink at this bar. he was just mulling over this week, how long and frankly overwhelming it has been to the point where this is the first time he has spared some time in a while.

however, his thoughts were soon interrupted. it wasn't like the bar was empty, there were clients and conversations filling the silence along with the clinks and clanks of their drinks, but those weren't the sounds that made him snap out of his mind.

what did were a few words. their language specifically.

¿Viste al tipo por la barra? ¿No se te hace guapo?

honestly, people tended to tell these comments to his face, telling him compliments that instantly revealed their intentions as soon as they tried to touch his arm and flash him some flirty eyes. that usually turned miguel off, quickly shaking off any advancements in favor of his other responsibilities.

but there was something about hearing them in his language, the one he was used to hearing at home when younger (much harsher at that) or when it just slipped out of him here and there.

Sí, ya sabes que a mi me gusta cuando tienen el cabelllo largo. Hasta tiene unos rulos por su nuca, son tiernos.

Oh, claro, vele esos brazotes, ¿tú crees que no los veo?

Ay, no sé. Yo sé que estoy hablando de más, ¡pero velo! Esta muy guapo.

and more and more words you were probably oblivious to the fact that he was not only listening in but also understanding perfectly. it was an honest confidence boost if he was being honest. Someone gushing over him at a bar? In Spanish no less? It was new, almost innocent if it weren't for how explicit you were being about how attractive you found him, but endearing nonetheless.

listening in wouldn't do much harm, Miguel thought to himself, slightly adjusting himself in his seat to get a glimpse of you, immediately feeling that giddiness from seeing you talk your friend's ear off over some stranger.

it was that after a few minutes, he heard some laughter from your table.

No, absolutamente no. ¿Lo viste? Esta fuera de mi alcanze ese hombre, no voy a ir a hacer el ridiculo.

and suddenly, he didn't want to keep pretending like all your gushing was falling on deaf ears.

taking a last sip of his beer after paying the bartender, Miguel stood up from his seat, heading over to the table that had him so intrigued today. he had to admit, it felt a little silly to act all tough and confident when he rarely sets time apart for stuff like this. but when your eyes meet his and he sees that hint of red in your cheeks, he didn't felt so alone in his silliness as he remembers your words.

if you werent going to make a move out of fear of feeling stupid, then he wouldn't be stupid to let either of you walk away from a chance.

miguel clears his throat, interrupting the conversation between you and your friend as he slips a napkin your way, nodding at both you and your friend before leaving.

as he heads to the door, he hears your friend start laughing, making him turn his head back to see you shaking your head over your hands, hiding your face. though he could the hint of red had reached your ears. your friend tells you to look up once more, meeting miguel's eyes once more, prompting him to smile at you and hint back at the napkin.

you looked down at the napkin, feeling your heart race once more, not believing the fool you made of yourself regardless. while yes, he did leave his name and number written down for you, it wasn't enough to let you know he had heard your interest in him. no, he had to let you know he was just as much a Spanish speaker as you.

Miguel, (xxx) xxx-xxxx Por sí quieres que este a tu alcanze.

safe to say that you two eventually got the chance to go on a date once your embarrassment passed. after all, it wasn't that common to find someone who spoke the same language as you in nueva york and miguel wouldn't let that chance slip away, especially after you sounded so pretty gushing over him.

[inkdrinkerworld]

no one can tell me that miguel isn’t the biggest gentleman ever!! He will carry your bags, open doors and all that like his life depends on it (all of it obviously with his constant frown but deep inside he couldn’t be happier)

100000% i hope you don't mind i went with miguel and civilian!reader

you've been dragging miguel around all day. it's his consequence for being gone for a couple weeks with no notice.

"miguel, what do you think about these?" you're modelling a new skirt, short enough that miguel's cheeks flush when you turn around.

"they're pretty," his lips don't form a smile, but his tone carries all the adoration his face doesn't.

you pick one in three different colours and miguel grabs the bag before you can. "where else did you want to go?" he asks and you smile like a madwoman.

miguel thinks it's adorable how you get excited to spend time with him. you're bouncing on your feet as think about wehre to go next.

"maybe the bookstore? i saw there was some new books that were supposed to be released yesterday," you take a look at his face and then think better. "or maybe we can go for ice cream? i don't want to keep you too long."

miguel tsks. "you're not keeping me anywhere," his free hand grabs yours, "where do you actually want to go?" miguel knows the answer.

"bookstore," you say it shyly and it pulls a real smile from him.

"c'mon then." miguel leads you across the street, hand swinging in yours as you cross. he fights another smile then.

"you can't pay for everything this time, miguelito." he groans at the nickname. "i'm serious, it's always a lot."

miguel shakes his head, "don't care, i need to get something on cellular reconstruction and something on organic chemistry." he doesn't actually need those books. he’d much rather use a peer reviewed study, but a little white lie to actually have to be at the till when you place your books on the counter doesn’t seem a big sacrifice.

[ddejavvu]

I love your writing so much and I’ve literally read every single thing you’ve written on this blog so far (I swear I’m not exaggerating)

I saw that you finally watched ATSV and your Miguel requests were open!! I was thinking, what about Miguel with a spiderwoman reader who is such a soft dom. It doesn’t even have to be sexual (but that’s completely up to you 😉) but him just being casually dominant in their every day relationship!!

You're so sweet and I'm glad you like my writing so much!! I'm happy to share it with you and I'm happy I can write for Miguel now <3

--

A hand grasps your elbow, and when it gently tugs you a foot away from the ledge of the building you're perched on, you lose a part of your view of the city's skyline. You look down at it pointedly, then up at the man it's attached to, who's avoiding your eye as he too surveys the city in ruins.

"You were too close to the edge," He offers with an attempt at being casual, still not looking at you, but his hand stays curled around your arm.

"Did you think I was going to fall?" You laugh, shuffling forwards again, but Miguel's hand tightens, muscles easily wrestling you back away from the ledge.

"Miguel," You scoff, fighting against his strength to no avail, "You did think I was going to fall! My feet stick to the walls, let me go."

He heaves a sigh, a put-upon one like you've shorn a hole in the multiverse bare-handed instead of asking not to be wrangled like cattle. Nevertheless he lets your elbow go, and you take a confident step out onto the ledge of the skyscraper.

A large hand twists itself into the fabric of your spider suit, bunching it up in the back and effectively holding you in place. But it doesn't pull, so you let it be.

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

no one man should have all that power

miguel o'hara x reader

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, NONCON!, RAPE!, size difference (canon, miguel just big as hell), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dark!miguel, p in v sex, threats, mentions of anal, cleaning lady!reader, attempted rape by not miguel/attempted mugging

your focus is half on your phone playing the local news through your headphones, and half on scrubbing down the sink in front of you. 

you don't move on until it's spotless. perfectly clean. you're willing to use every tool in your arsenal considering this is your pickiest client.

you are about to spray down the shower and allow the chemicals to soak and do part of the work for you, when the news anchor shifts the conversation.

“and to discuss the issue of spiderman, please welcome nypd captain charleston and queens resident andrea roberts.”

your attention shifts fully to your phone. andrea begins, a sweet looking older lady who explains that spiderman saved her from being mugged. you feel your heart beat faster when they flash images of him on screen, his wide shoulders, dark black and red suit hugging his body and abs.

“and what happens when spiderman begins to ask for something in return? he saves you from being mugged, but then demands a payment. what happens when he starts to use his powers for evil instead of good? we must focus on unmasking him and stopping his crusade of the city. no one man should have all that power.”

you have to reach quickly to shut your phone off, powering down the screen and turning off the captains words as your client enters the bathroom.

“almost done?” she asks, a frown on her overfilled lips, shining with a lipgloss to distract from the fact that her skin is almost painfully stretched.

“yes ma’am.” you nod. “just the shower is left.”

“hmm…” you wait for her to find a critique, even the tiniest speck of dust that you missed, but she's unable to as she sighs dramatically. “i have a party to get to. see yourself out, the door will lock behind you.”

“and payment?” you hate having to ask just from the way her eyes turn dark, clearly annoyed with your questions, and while she may be one of your worst clients, she's also one of your best paying. 

“on the kitchen counter.” she says before turning on her bright red heels and stomping away.

you sigh and turn your phone back on, frowning when you realize the spiderman coverage is already over before turning your attention to the shower.

--

you're whistling to yourself as you head home, needing the music to keep you from deciding to just pass out on the nearest bench, and you don't dare put your headphones in after the sun has set.

a full day of cleaning apartments from the elite of the city, and now you have to head back to your tiny one.

you clutch your tote bag further into your side, knowing there's cash from the few clients who refuse to prepay with a credit card until they see the work you've done, despite never leaving a client unsatisfied.

“hey pretty lady.” you're used to the cat calls, so you just keep walking past the man, not acknowledging him even when you hear him push off the wall and follow you, footsteps heavy and far too close for your liking.

“i said hey!” he shouts, voice turning aggressive. you look around, but there's no one else on the empty street but a few distant cars. “bitch, you gonna be nice and say hello back?”

the man grips your shoulder and forces your feet to stop. your eyes widen as you come face to face with him, his eyes furious and breath smelling of alcohol.

“hello.” you whisper out, hoping that's all it will take for him to leave you alone, but of course it's not as he shoves you into the dark alley between two apartment buildings.

“since you wanna be a bitch, you can get on your knees and suck my dick.” he's too strong as he shoves you down onto your knees, roughly hitting the pavement as you cry out, hoping someone hears you.

“and you can give me all your money too, whore.”

“now that's not a way to talk to a woman.” 

the voice makes both of you jump as you turn to see spiderman emerge out of the shadows, even taller than you pictured him.

the drunk man scatters before spiderman can get any closer.

“th-thank you, spiderman.” you know you must sound pathetic right now, voice breathy and still on your knees as he steps closer.

when his hand reaches down, you don't hesitate to place your hand in his and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“are you alright?” his voice is soft and smooth like butter and it makes you swoon even more.

“thanks to you.” you know you're blushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand still clasped in his.

“and what about thanks?” spiderman leans down. “would you give me a kiss to thank me?”

“i-yes.” you don't think about what it means as the area around his mouth and chin disintegrates, showing off his strong jaw and plump lips.

despite him being almost bent over, you still have to raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

the kiss that you meant to be soft and sweet is quickly intensified as he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you to hold you effortlessly in the air as his mouth devours yours.

“wait!” you pull away, eyes widening when you realize that at some point the rest of the disguise covering his face has also been pulled away.

he's even more handsome than you could have imagined. perfect cheekbones leading to a strong nose, his eyes big and brown, showing all the intensity behind them.

“what?” he huffs out, annoyed that the kiss ended so soon.

“i-i don't even know your name.” you admit shyly. while you're alright with giving spiderman a soft kiss as a thank you, you're not sure how you feel about the hot and heavy make out session.

“im spiderman, isn't that enough?” he frowns at you, wishing you would just shut up so he can do as he pleases.

“i-”

spiderman leans back in, attacking your lips with his. you don't know what to do, your feet are so far off the ground, and his arms are holding you so tight to his defined chest.

you relax and just allow it to happen, allow his mouth to press kiss after kiss against yours.

you let out a gasp when spidermans hand grips your chest, shifting your weight to one arm around your waist.

the open mouth allows his tongue to push inside, dominating the kiss in a whole new way as his palm rubs against your boobs.

“i-” you try to pull away, but to no avail as he's not willing to let you out of the kiss. 

spiderman moves until your back is pressed against the brick wall, his other hand dropping to your ass, holding you up that way instead.

his hand is so big, fingers stretching so far that he only has to press a bit more between your thighs to be against your pussy.

“how else are you gonna thank me, pretty?” he asks, finally letting you take a deep breath, his hand still squeezing your tits over your shirt.

“i don't want to do this anymore!” you squeal out now that you're able to talk.

“what?” his voice turns dark. “i saved you and you don't want to thank me?”

“i just want to go home!” you plead. you know there's no point in screaming or trying to run.

“not until you give me a proper thank you.” he growls out. “but since im feeling nice tonight, ill let you choose. should i fuck you or settle just for you sucking me off?”

“you can't do this!” you try to wiggle out of his hold, but he's too strong. 

“i can. who is gonna stop me?” the chuckle that escapes his mouth sounds like pure evil.

“i know what you look like! ill tell everyone. ill go to the news, to the police-”

“you think they'll believe you? im spiderman. i rule this city.” he shakes his head like he's disappointed in you for even mentioning it.

“but-” he continues on. “since you've taken so long to answer, ill just have to fuck you.”

you manage to get out one yell, one shout, one plead for no before spidermans mouth is back on yours.

his hand does move to cup your pussy, thick fingers sliding against your core. you feel your pussy wetten from the movements, traitorous and betraying your true intentions.

you whimper against his lips as your pants are ripped away along with your underwear, literally tearing them easily off your body.

he must have disintegrated or called back part of his suit, you have no idea how the technology works, and you certainly have no interest in figuring it out now as you feel his cock slide through your folds.

spiderman has to pull away to slide you lower, your back moving down the brick wall as his strong hands guide your hips until his cock is against your entrance, poking in.

“you're- you're too big.” you try again to plead with him. “you'll tear me in half.”

he just shrugs, a smirk even twitching at the corner of his lips as he pushes you down, hips rising up to sink you down onto his cock.

you cry out, head falling back as he continues to move, feeling like it's never ending as he continues to split your insides to make room for him.

“shit!” spiderman shouts out. “you're so tight.”

you want to say it's because you're not turned on, that you don't truly want this, but you don't want to anger him even more as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

you cry out, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. it's not as painful after a minute, your pussy adjusting to his length and girth as he fucks you without abandon.

spiderman steps away from the wall and switches so his back is pressed against it as he begins to move you up and down, using you as he would a toy to pleasure himself, but instead of thrusting into plastic, he's pushing repeatedly into your cunt.

you lean forward, hands balancing against his defined chest, needing the stability as your body is forced into taking his cock.

“please!” you cry out.

“quit crying or it'll get worse.” you're not sure how it could get worse until the hand on his hip moves, moving between your ass cheeks and pressing a finger against your other hole.

“im sorry.” you quickly say, looking up in fear that just spews spiderman faster, pumping you up and down without even breaking a sweat.

“so warm and wet.” he smiles down. “are you sure you don't want this?”

you stay silent, hoping the experience ends soon as you feel his cock swelling inside of you, pushing against your walls.

“you gonna cum with me?” he asks, other hand reaching to swirl around your clit. you wish his rough fingertip didn't feel so good against your sensitive bud.

“i don't want to.” you whimper out, entire body slumping forward as you struggle to remain in control, feeling your hips begin to shake and the way your cunt clenches around his length.

“you're gonna. come on.” the bouncing, the movement of your body up and down and the way you're practically speared onto his cock is all too much as you let out a squeal, cumming hard just as spiderman does as well, shooting his seed inside of you, feeling like it's right into your womb from how deep it is.

“oh, fuck.” he moans out. “now that was a good thank you.”

he pulls you off his cock and places you back onto the ground where your legs instantly crumple, landing in a heap against the concrete.

“don't forget your bag.” spiderman kicks your tote bag that had fallen off your shoulder towards you, spewing the cash all over the ground.

you look up at him, fear no longer in your eyes, replaced with anger and disgust. you know nothing will happen to him, but from this moment on, taking down spiderman will be your only goal.

no one man should have all that power.

[jellybeans2099]

Cam Person Drabble

Paring: Miguel O'Hara x Spiderperson!Reader

Part 2 Here

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, obsessive behaviors, masturbation, breeding kink, size difference (if you squint), s-x work is real work

Word Count: 0.5k

A/N: I used they/them pronouns for the reader so insert whichever ones you use. No real descriptions of what the reader has going on to keep this neutral. This idea has been swimming in my head for DAYS and I need to just get it out. Let me know if you want a longer version of this! (also loosely based on @oharahive's Frustration series, I just love the idea of frustrated Miguel and oblivious reader so I took my own spin on it)

He wondered how pathetic he looked staring at his computer screen with such an intensity. The object of all his late night longing was right in front of him and yet he knew they were so much farther away than he could ever get to them. How silly was it to get attached to  the person behind the screen. And yet here he is every single stream, cock in hand. It started out as an accident. An honest to god accident. He didn't want to know what you did in your spare time and how you supported yourself when you weren't at HQ but he saw your username handle while doing a routine check in on new recruits. You only met him once and had never even made a point to see him again. Only exchanging a hello out of curtesy or a brief recap after a mission.  You didn't go out your way to see him, just another person here in the spider society. He shouldn't have looked it up and found you streaming in your down time. The moment he laid eyes on your half dressed form, moaning and pleading with someone in stream controlling your toy he was transfixed. He found himself dick in hand pumping hard and fast in tempo with you. He was absolutly obsessed. He felt a desire bubble up he had never felt before. How much he would give to see his cum leaking out your pretty little hole, moaning his name as he fucks it all back into you. Watching himself go deep inside you, into places no toy could ever reach. By the time he came to he had a large load of cum covering his  t-shirt and sweats dripping on the floor underneath his desk.

Now here he was almost 6 months later and he couldn't stop himself. Every night you were streaming there he was in front of his desk waiting for you to go live. He paced himself now, not cumming until you finished the stream as a reward for being so patient. Sometimes a stream was quick, just 20 minutes before you were abruptly interrupted by "nosy neighbors" which was always something going down at HQ that needed your urgent attention. Those days are particularly hard to pull himself back together to face you as your assigned a mission for a new anomaly. Some days he made sure that HQ had a backup for you just incase you wanted to be live a little longer. Those streams sometimes went on for up to 3 hours and he savored them to the last second. At HQ he could hardly face you without getting an immediate hard on, often meeting you only when his back was turned, You hardly seemed to mind, you kept your distance as much as you could. He once overheard a conversation you had with Peter B. saying you found him intimidating and that you were keeping your distance. Oh how little you know about the beast you've awakened in him.

[fauustic]

don't cry, my treasure.

soft miguel o'hara x gender-neutral reader drabble

had to write this and get it out of my brain before i post my miguel series..

summary: you accidentally stir miguel awake while you're dealing with insomnia, he decides to take care of you. fluff. comfort.

warnings: brief mentions of previous injuries (fighting crime is serious business!!), just miguel being a silly little thing.. i love sleepy miguel sm.

words: 3k

Sleep came in waves, pushing against the lid of your eyes and taking you away in its current just to spit you back out into reality.

You were always tired, you've realized as you stretched your aching bones and rubbed your swollen cheek– spider suit catching your eye as it was thrown haphazardly on your bedside chair like an afterthought. 

And nightmares, nightmares kept you up like a stalker always two steps behind– waiting, preying on your frazzled mind like a parasite constantly leeching off your sanity. So here you were, grasping at the sleeveless sleep-shirt as it clamped onto your sweat-sleek stomach like a second skin.

Shallow breaths escaped from your trembling lips like you were just dumped into a pool of ice-cold water, spider senses lit aflame with the abrupt, irrational fear stabbed through your heart.

You tried to stay quiet, you didn't want to be any more of a burden when you knew how much your lover struggled through insomniac nights as well– he had just gotten back from countless hours stove away in his dim and dark lab after a few days of power naps and caffeine. Miguel was downright exhausted, snores meeting your ears whenever you'd wake up from a dark turn in the dreams you do have.

But this time was different, as you shied away from his back that you were latched onto like a koala. Your skin peeled off his, and if you were with anyone else you would have thought it was gross. But Miguel loves closeness, the affection you just can't help but give and he takes and takes like a starved man. His muscles on his shoulders rolled and neck cracked as Miguel stirred, a breathy little groan hissing past the fangs he unknowingly had on full display when he shifted on his back– scarlet gaze screwed shut as his hands reached towards your usual spot on your shared bed. The pads of his fingers melted into your hip, little claws kissing the unveiled flesh from the lack of control he had over himself from still ebbing away the sleep hazing his mind.

Your name rolled off his tongue like a blessing, raspy and a bit puzzled; "Everythin' alright?" Miguel slurred, face barely leaving the pillow as his tied-back hair came askew; the little tendrils, that usually would never see the lines on his forehead, brushing against his eyebrow and curling ever so slightly. Call you love-struck, but you swear the curl shaped a little heart. "Miss you so close already," he huffed into the domestic atmosphere, thumb swirling imaginary shapes into the canvas of your skin.

With every month passing by, the intimacy came easier; Miguel's thoughts came and went in the bubble of security you brought him. The clinginess you never would have expected from the man who has the Spider Society at his beck and call rivalled the mimicry of a grizzly bear secretly being a very soft teddy bear. And with you, he was nothing less than a man who acted as if every drop of love you had for him was his last.

It took a long time for him to open up his heart for you to create space for yourself, but as you leaned back into his space to cup your palm into the angle of his jaw– everything felt worth it. Like you belonged here.

"Bad dream." Was all you said, kissing the ridge of his nose like Miguel was the most fragile thing in the world. And he practically became putty in your hands, eyes fluttering open accompanying a subtle frown. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharp canine peeking through the plush of his lips. Though he looked like he had just woken from hibernation, his features glazed with gentle understanding.

"That's no good," He murmured into your touch like a prayer, sitting up until the duvet pooled in his lap. Miguel hogged most of the bed unintentionally with his almost seven-foot self, the height that had many opposed to him on their knees in angst, but when he sat up and leaned towards your form like a magnet– Miguel was nothing more than a man who worshipped you. "Déjame cuidarte, ¿de acuerdo? (Let me take care of you, okay?)"

Before you even had the mind to protest, he pulled forward until his lips met the damp hair curled against the back of your neck. "Migs, you need rest–" you began but to no avail, he was already adjusting his boxers and shuffling towards your bathroom with a slumped posture. It had your stomach churn with butterflies even after all these months, the sweetness he's learned all over again despite the trauma he's endured leaking into your daily life and becoming something you absolutely adored about him.

Silence enveloped the apartment amidst the sleepy fumbling from within the washroom, flashes of vibrancy peering into the curtains you had against the windows that took up the wall closest to the busiest flow of air traffic. A memory was brought to mind as you peeked through the fabric, met with the city of stars and man-made comets passing by the skyscraper your home is within.

Funnily enough, you had wanted to live in the underground district of Nueva York, finding yourself more enraptured by the architecture that hid machinery and structures that kept the top afloat. But that was before you met Miguel and was thrown into the ring of being a part of the Spider Society– so you just made Miguel come along with your weekly trips to the landmarks hidden away.

"C'mere, muñeco." The fallen angel on your mind interrupted the delicate quiet of your home, calling through the cracked door after a moment of the water running, warmth seeping into the bedroom and tickling the flesh peeking out from your loose-sleepwear. 

When you pushed through the threshold and granted with the presence of Miguel bent over the tub and testing the temperature of the water mumbling to himself, you were already in the process of ripping off your shirt– but you couldn't help but stutter to a halt in a flustered mess when he turned his attention to you– glasses framing his sleepy eyes like a weapon within itself. Breath hitched and sweat coating your palms in lovesick anxiety, you fumbled into the dim light of the washroom.

Clumsily, you bumped your hip into the counter as your shirt finally came off, an uncharacteristic yelp coming from you and surely you expected to meet the cold tile floor until a pair of hands settled on the curves of your hips– claws indenting on the skin barely above his boxers holding into your figure for dear life. 

"Easy now, mi sirenita." Miguel practically cooed into your ear, kissing the shell of it before trailing down the column of your neck– nibbling into the blemished canvas of your clavicle. A faint bite mark etched your skin like oil paint, muddied with purple and red hues. Just as it was fading away, Miguel's lips grazed the dent with admiration before settling his blunt canines into the desired point and biting down. You gasped breathily, heat pooling your cheeks and your knees threatening to give out.

The unspoken desire of his want to care for you was written in your hips when Miguel caressed into where you had hurt yourself from your clumsiness, yet his lack of self restraint was symbolized through the bite just below your neck– very rarely absent without the pierce-marks of fangs. But he wanted to be delicate with you tonight, treat you as one of his most prized possessions when he truly just loved you a little too much. 

Pushing him away with the palm of your hand on his chest, a gentle scold resting on your tired expression like an empty threat. "Ew, Migs. That's too cheesy." You whined, allowing him to slip the briefs from your body before taking your hand in his and leading you to the tub. You sunk down into the sudsy, bubbling water with a splash that had him sighly fondly. Drips of bubbles coated his frames and before he had the chance to wipe them off, your hands wrapped around his neck just to tug him closer to the edge of the tub.

Miguel furrowed his brows at your antics as you kissed his cheek, his hands finding purchase on the edge so he didn't take the risk of slipping into the bubbly water. The thought makes you giggle as his fingers cup the angle of your jaw, calculated and a bit sorrowful. Miguel hated seeing you hurt, so knowing that your miscalculations in a mission with him had a right hook land on your 'good side,' he felt as if he had failed you. Didn't change the fact he pummelled the pesky little anomaly in your honor – but you didn’t miss the misty eyes he held so sadly for you as he patched up your bleeding nose. 

And here he was, kissing the corner of your lips with so much delicacy that you could almost cry.

A faint whimper left his lips as they grazed the sudden wetness dripping down your cheeks, the sleepy look in his eye blanketed with haste concern as he checked your body for any other sores inflicted from the bad feud– and as Miguel’s kisses were met with bubbles and blemished skin, he whispered against your flesh like a saint worshipping their holiness. “No llores, tesoro, por favor no llores.. (Don’t cry, treasure, please don’t cry) Hate seeing that look on your face, can’t stand it.” He breathed into your neck, any care about getting wet was out the window of your apartment when a strangled choke erupted from your throat like a hiccup.

“Just missed you,” You admitted as you shifted into the water that submerged your legs, leaning into his warmth as close as you could. A sniffle had Miguel folding into your damp hair, his own tied-back curls kissing your forehead.

Miguel shuddered, the stoicism he was able to keep up in your presence throughout the daylight behind black sunglasses and a subtle pout in the rare moments where he leaves his lab crumbled the moment he heard you express your craving for him. “I.. missed you too. Shock, I missed you too–” Miguel breathed into your lips, his face angled towards you in a way that ruined everyone else for you. His lashes drooped addictively as you let out a stifled giggle at his lingo he’s never been able to shake. 

“Come join me,” you murmur as you escape his space and instead sink lower into the bathtub. You swear he practically whined, his fang peeking just slightly into your view as Miguel’s face scrunched into displeasure. His bottom lip rolled against the pointy canine, something he was always a bit self-conscious of– but with you it was like he never needed to think that he was anything different.

“You know last time– I could barely even fit in the damn thing,” He complained yet he still stripped off his loose sweatpants nonetheless, shameless as his free hand, middle finger specifically, pushed his frames up with a steadiness that proved alone he was the leader of such a "pretentious" society. Had you mentioned the thought aloud, Miguel's signature frown and deadpan stare would have replaced that sweet look in his eye in an instant. So you just smiled and opened your arms in a warm welcome.

Miguel grunted in response, faux annoyance coating his tone when you could depict the subtle curl of his lips– he was always more than content with himself whenever he was able to get as close to you as possible. You scooted forward to allow some kind of space for him, and soon enough his chest was used as a pillow for the back of your head and your hims were encompassed by his legs, feet dangling from the tub because he was right; Miguel’s stature was never fit any anything deemed for the average person. And Miguel was anything but normal, and he hated himself for that.

You could hear the mumbles of curses that slipped from his tongue when he slipped further into the bubbly water, shoulders hunched and arms resting on the cusp of the tub. It was a tight fit, your back nestled into the heat of his abdomen as his chin rested on the top of your head– and by the way Miguel shifted and oozed with insecurity you could tell your wishes he so easily obliged was backfiring from his poisoned trauma. From the mirror in the washroom, you could see the scrunch of his nose as he laid his glasses aside, atop the lid of the toilet just beside where you two sat intertwined.

Reaching back, you found his hands and clutched onto them as if he was a fading star, gentleness contrasting the explosion rumbling in his throat as his thoughts laced with venom swarmed his very being. It reminded you of the first glances you got of him when you first was recruited to the society, a downcast stare always miles underneath the horizon and a frown that never left his face. But as your fingers found comfort within his bruised knuckles, washing away the tainted sin the moment you brought the bruises to your lips and left fluttering touches– Miguel melted into your bared soul like a stray desperate for love and affection.

To you, you were his food. He feasted on what you gave, that warm feeling that curled into his ribcage and soothed his aching heart and whatever else is rotted in that dark imprisonment. Miguel took and took and took, nestled into your physicality as you ceaselessly gave and gave and gave.

But for you, all you needed to see his eyes blink into reality, grounded by what he was so depraved of growing up. Miguel’s tension left his cheeks, softening as you intertwined your hand into his and the other brushing against the fat of his thigh– squeezing reassuringly. Like a switch was turned on, Miguel devolved into a puddle around you as a huff of relief caressed the shell of your ear.

Miguel’s shins kicked up water, splashing your nose and drenching your nostrils with the scent of bubblegum. And you laughed heartily as his chin met your shoulder– nibbling so softly as if he was chewing the stress from his mind. His arms that once rested on the edge wrapped around the underneath of your arms, cupping your waist before he finally settled his hands on the core of your stomach. His deep breaths filled the silence of the bathroom, and you could practically hear snores before you broke the sweet quietness.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured into his cheek when you turned towards the chin digging into your shoulder and then you feathered your lips onto the bone of his cheek, “such a pretty thing. My sweet thing.” Praise rolled off that sleepy ooze of warmth inside your heart, and when you felt Miguel shift and his mouth that once formed an “o” contort into an upside down close-lipped smile, you knew you hit gold.

He shook his head in disbelief, breath meeting the nestle of your neck when his cheeks lit aflame and sputtered in broken Spanish. A whimper rumbled against your bare skin, and soon enough purring vibrated your back like a cat knowing it’s being spoken to. “Sabes, eres... eres increíble. Too much, you’re too much. Christ.”

Bubbles popped around the two of you, the lights set on the lowest option so Miguel didn’t develop on one those terrible migraines that pounced the moment he was at his most vulnerable: a rare dinner date he had reserved, making out in the luminescence of his lab’s technological panels, the first time you had spent the night at his own apartment before you had moved in together.

You hummed as he begrudgingly separated his hands from you, only to lather the shampoo you love in between his fingers and starting on your scalp. He was too tender with you tonight, but you needed this treatment more than anything. Your love for him leaked from your pores and intermingled with his muscles, relaxing the both of you without even needing to say anything. But you felt the urge to tell him, to tell him everything on your mind that very moment. Yet, sleep was a fickle thing and you were exhausted, so you only huffed out a whisper before submitting to the skilled massage on your muscles.

“Love you, honey.” You breathed into the domesticity of it all, his claws peeking from the pads of his fingers just the way Miguel knew you liked against your scalp. The purring in his chest only increased tenfold, scooting closer to your back if that was even possible. The both of you hold these memories close to your intertwined hearts, knowing you only had so much time together outside of your shared second lives. You haven’t been able to reassure your feelings for him in quite a few days, and despite not needing to really say your affections aloud– Miguel preferred physicality anyways, you still caught on that vocalizing your feelings for the other had you running laps around his mind every minute and every hour of the day.

He only kissed the back of your head, just upon the mole you didn’t know you had. Without a word, the sudsy kisses trailed further down until it met where your spine began, and he bit down just faintly. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” He murmured into the soap pooling down your shoulders, soft but echoing around in the walls of the bathroom like a promise, a truth that will forever hold its meaning. Within this city of stars, the only celestial he had eyes on were you.

“Te amo, mi tesoro. Te amo mucho, cuidaré de ti para siempre (I will take care of you forever).”

[spdrwdw]

I saw your request open and I was wondering if you could do a Lego date with Miguel❤️ lol just imagining him being so focused on the Lego flower sets he's making for his girl and he looks so adorable omfg🤭🫶

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Anyways I love your AI Bots and fics I'm obsessed 😭🫶

Aww, thank you so much!! 😊 I do appreciate it! This one came out as a drabble but, I do hope you enjoy it!

Art by momosfroggies

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff. No use of y/n

Summary: You and Miguel go out on a date and decide to make Lego sets together.

word count: 755

Masterlist

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You and Miguel walked hand-in-hand as you entered the Lego store. The two of you were on a much needed date night after months of endless work and Miguel being busy at HQ. He needed to spoil his girl. 

“Pick out anything you want, muñeca. Don’t worry about the price,” he assured you, letting go of your hand so you could browse. Of course, Miguel could afford practically anything you requested, but that didn’t mean to always go with the most expensive item. You tried to go somewhere in the middle. If you grab the cheapest thing he would lightly scold you and tell you to pick something better. If you picked a more expensive item, you’d feel guilty. 

“Okay,” you smiled as you went along, looking at the sets that grabbed your attention. From Disney to Marvel and Star Wars and to Harry Potter, the options were endless. You just didn’t know what to pick!

Eventually, you decided on a Disney piece. It was pretty decent price wise, and it was honestly really nice. You knew you’d be working on it for hours. 

“Okay! I picked mine out,” you said as you skipped back over to Miguel, showing him what you picked out. 

“Cute!” Miguel grinned over at you, noticing the excitement on your face. 

Miguel picked out one of the flower sets. The grandest and most expensive one they had. 

“What? You’re going to do that one, cariño?” You questioned, raising a brow. You were sure he’d pick out a Star Wars set like the Millennium Falcon. Something really time consuming. Perhaps you could get it for him for his birthday or anniversary? 

“Yeah! I think it would be a nice piece to put somewhere,” he shrugged. Taking both of your items, Miguel made his way to the register to pay. 

After mingling around for a bit, you both returned home, immediately starting to assemble your new Legos. 

You and Miguel both sat on the living room floor, spread out. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Miguel, noticing just how focused he was with his new little project. They way his brows furrowed together, his nose scrunched, and had his tongue poking out just slightly. 

Absolutely adorable. 

“Miguel?” You then called out softly after a moment, trying to get his attention. Nothing. 

You called out his name again. Still no response. He was just too engrossed with his work. 

One thing about Miguel was when he started on something, anything, he would not stop until it was completed. Like that one time he renovated the bathroom. Dude did not eat or sleep until everything was finished and ready. 

Or when he built the Spiders’ HQ. You were worried to the bone about him during those months when he was away. If you didn’t go to him with food or force him home to get some rest and a shower, he would’ve gone without. The man is simply too dedicated. 

Of course, it is pretty beneficial when you two are in bed. He’s got a sex drive that would put an incubus to shame. Would not finish until he is completely spent to the point he ends up passing out on top of you. 

“Miggy?” You tried once more, finally earning a ‘hmm’ from him. Scooting closer to him, you rested your head against his shoulder, noticing how quickly he progressed with his bouquet. 

“It looks lovely,” you commented, turning your head slightly to press your lips to his shoulder. You could see his lips twitching up into a smile. 

“Not as lovely as you, mi alma,” he then said, looking over at you with a twinkle in his eye. He lifted his head up slightly and gave you a kiss to the forehead before pecking you on the lips. 

“How’s yours going?” He then asked, turning slightly to see how much you progressed with your Lego set. 

“Eh, not as far as you. I may need some help,” you replied meekly, hiding your embarrassment by hiding your face against his shoulder. Miguel simply chuckled and kissed the top of your head. 

“Okay, let me finish this one and I’ll help you with yours,” he told you, going back to his bouquet. 

“Thank you, baby,” you smiled, watching him as he refocused on his work. 

Miguel was such a protectionist that it was absolutely adorable at times, yet also a bit concerning. Still, you loved him for it. And you also couldn’t ask for a better date with your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

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