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froggibus · 1 year ago

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Power Trip - Miguel O’Hara

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f! Reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Miguel comes to your universe seeking comfort, but gets the opposite when he sees you on a date

CW: kinda sorta maybe dubcon?, friends with benefits, dom! Miguel, sub! Reader, jealous! Miguel, possessiveness, fingering, oral (f! receiving), slight orgasm denial, begging, sub/dom dynamics, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, Miguel is kind of an asshole

ive been incredibly down bad for this man lately so here is the result of my 2am thirst writing lol <3 also idkidk I just love the idea of fwb with Miguel and him being super possessive while also being noncommittal

————

It’s late by the time Miguel is back in your universe, but you’re nowhere to be seen in your studio apartment. He knows you were here recently, he can smell it. Smell your perfume lingering in the air.

The sweet smell floods his senses and only adds to his annoyance. Where are you going this late at night, dressing up all nice and smelling so sweet? Who are you seeing?

The thought of you going on a date has the adrenaline pumping through his veins. You’re his. You should be with him.

He pulls his mask back over his face and climbs out of your window, pulling out his phone. He opens up the app he installed on your phone to track you, narrowing his eyes when he sees the red dot pulsing at a bar.

Because of course you’re at a bar.

Miguel watches you from the shadows of the rooftop across the street. You’re all dressed up, sipping on a Manhattan while some loser chats you up. He can’t help but size the guy up—he could snap him like a twig with one arm.

What the hell are you doing with a guy like that?

You can feel eyes on you, and not just from the guy in front of you talking about his crypto. No—you’re being watched. You can feel eyes burning into the back of your head, watching your every move.

The feeling makes you tense, shoulders bunching up to your ears. You finish off your drink and start pulling your coat over your shoulders.

Crypto guy looks at you in confusion. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, I just, I need some air,” you say, and before he can protest anymore, you’re shoving your way onto the cold, crowded streets.

Miguel doesn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time, silently trailing after you. He almost laughs at the way you look over your shoulder, trying to see if you’re being followed, but falling just short of seeing him. It’s adorable, really.

As if he’d ever let anything happen to you.

You set down your bag and jacket at your kitchen table, rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension. Something in the shadows catches your eye and you sigh. Of course.

“You can come out now,” you sigh.

Miguel steps out of the shadows, broad frame towering over you. His jaw is clenched and he looks unimpressed.

“What are you doing here, Miguel?”

“Who was that at the bar?”

You sigh, leaning against your counter and rubbing your temples. “We’re not together, Miguel. You shouldn’t even be here.”

He steps closer to you, fists clenched at his sides. His dark eyes narrow on you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Answer the question.”

“Jesus—just some guy, okay? Why is it any of your business?”

You’re playing a dangerous game, like running across thin ice and expecting not to fall through. You avoid looking at him—you can feel the tension in the air.

And then Miguel laughs. Really laughs. You stay perfectly still, clenching your hands on the counter. Heavy footsteps approach you until you can feel him standing behind you, hard breathing echoing in your ears.

His hands grasp your hips, sharp nails digging into your sides. He tugs you back to him, holding your hips flush against his. “It’s always my business,” he growls. “You can pretend all you want, dear, but you will always be mine.”

His words have your breath catching in your throat, heat flooding your entire body. You squirm under his touch with no real intention of getting away, body fully submitting to him just from his touch.

“See?” He rubs his hands up your sides, roughly cupping your chest and squeezing hard. “You like to play pretend and tease and run away, but you come back to me. Every. Single. Time.”

He squeezes again, hovering his lips over the base of your throat. A gasp falls from your lips. You can feel his fangs grazing your throat, sharp teeth brushing the sensitive skin. You close your eyes, bracing yourself on the counter in front of you.

He pushes his hand under your shirt, cold fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin. You shiver from his touch, throwing your head back against his chest. His other hand snakes around your throat, holding you still so he can sink his fangs into your neck.

The puncture stings as always, blood rushing to the sensitive vein he just bit into. Miguel manages to balance the pain with pleasure—rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gently rubbing and harshly tugging at them.

He moans at the taste of you, hot blood flooding his mouth. You’ve always tasted delectable, and he’s never been able to get enough. You shake in his arms, whimpering from the feeling. He can smell your arousal in the air, flooding his senses.

He releases your neck and drops his hand from his shirt, lifting you up and tossing you onto the counter. He towers over you, broad form engulfing the kitchen light. He rips off your shirt, practically shredding the flimsy fabric to pieces.

“M-miguel!”

He rolls his eyes at your antics, pulling so the edge of your thighs rest on the counter. He pulls your pants off in one, swift motion, leaving you naked and shivering on the marble countertop.

The smell of you only gets stronger, sending the blood rushing straight to his groin. You look so pretty like this, so weak. His for the taking—not that you’d ever protest.

Sharp teeth graze the plush skin of your thighs as he plants kisses up to your heat. The feeling of his breath just above where you need him most has you arching your back, pushing your hips into his face.

Miguel takes that in stride, wrapping his hands around your thighs to hold you in place and forcing you down to his mouth. The first touch of his tongue against your swollen clit has your eyes rolling back, pleas for more filling the air.

You reach down to tug on his hair, dark curls falling through your fingers like silk. The feeling of you pulling on his hair and shoving your hips into his face only makes Miguel hungrier for you. He slips a finger inside of you, working you open. His fingers are so long and so thick, they stretch you open better than when you do it yourself.

He pushes another finger inside of you, pulling his mouth away so he can watch your drooling hole open up around his knuckles. “As if any other man can make you feel like this,” he growls.

He dives back into your pussy, burying his face between your legs. The added contact has your legs shaking, muscles quivering around his face. He slips one more finger in, reaching that spot that he knows drives you crazy.

It only takes another second before you’re being thrown over the edge, crying out for more while trying to pull away from him. Miguel keeps a tight grip on your legs, holding you against his face while you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls away, a twisted grin on his face. “Look at you,” he shakes his head, tugging off his pants to reveal his hard cock.

He strokes it with one hand, using the other to trail up and down your shaking body. You’re looking at him with those needy, desperate eyes. It’s like you’re begging him to take you.

He lands a slap to your pussy, laughing at the way you whine and try to close your legs around his hand. He spreads your legs apart, positioning himself between them so all you can do is wrap your legs around his hips.

He shoves his way inside of you, your walls straining to take him after all this time. He’s so big, so much bigger than you, it’s a struggle. You close your eyes and whine, reaching desperately for his shoulders. For anything to ground yourself.

Miguel settles into a steady pace, slamming his hips into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. He’s so deep inside of you, stretching out every part of you.

With every thrust he admires the fucked out look on your face. Your whines and whimpers and pleas for him to keep going only drive him further, speeding up his pace just so he can keep hearing you whine like that.

You claw at the skin of his back, each thrust pushing you farther across the counter before Miguel tugs you back to him and thrusts again. You slide your hands from his shoulder to his arms, gripping at the muscles of his forearms.

His muscles flex with every thrust, tugging you even further against him. He watches how desperate you are, how badly you need to finish. He knows if he keeps up this pace, you won’t last long.

So he stops, leaving just the tip of his cock inside of you.

You whine in protest, opening your eyes to reveal tears starting to form. “W-why’d you stop?”

“Admit you’re mine,” he emphasizes his words with a thrust before holding still, “or you don’t get to cum again.”

“M-miguel, please,” you whine, looking up at him with those desperate eyes.

He stares at you unimpressed, trying to resist the urge to keep going so he can finish too. But he won’t. Not until you say it.

You try to thrust your hips against his but he holds you still, and he’s so much stronger than you that there’s no chance of moving.

You sigh. You didn’t want to be put in this position again, but he’s so sexy and you’re so hot and wet and all you want is to cum, and his big cock is just sitting there inside of you. You clench around him, whining.

“I-I’m all yours.” You whine, trying to pull him back to you, “only yours.”

He grins, immediately thrusting back into you. His pace is faster now, more frantic. Desperate.

He wipes a few tears from your face, “isn’t it just so much easier when you submit to me? Don’t you love it when you don’t have to think about anything other than being my slut?”

His words make you drool and clench around him, wrapping your legs around his waist to force him deeper. Miguel gets the hint, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and fucking into you even harder.

He’s so close, but he refuses to finish until you do. He leans in, leaving gentle bites up and down your neck and collarbone. The slight pain is enough to finish you off, your orgasm washing over you in intense waves.

As soon as he feels your legs shaking, your muscles relaxing, Miguel knows he can let go. He pounds into you a few more times before bottoming out and letting wave after wave of cum flood your insides.

The hot feeling has you moaning, lazily rolling your hips into his while he pumps his cum inside of you. Miguel pulls out, admiring the sight of you on the counter with his cum leaking out of you.

He pulls on his clothes and leans in to kiss you. “This is how it should be,” he says. “You better be ready for me next time, no nonsense.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smirks at your submission. “Good girl,” he says, and disappears into the night.

#spiderman #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x you #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderverse x reader #spider man 2099 smut #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #smut #x you #x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel smut

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moondirti · 1 year ago

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animalic (5)

← chapter four // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 3.4k summary: an unwelcome confrontation warnings: enemies to lovers, violence, blood and injury, mentioned death, fighting, angst, morally questionable characters, miguel o'hara is not nice notes: this chapter caused several headaches and i don't even like the end result, but i can't pick at it forever sooo. enjoy!

While you’ve never been renowned for making the most accurate of assumptions, there are certain patterns you’ve come to expect in order to have survived this long. To never have a glass of orange juice after brushing your teeth, or maintain eye contact while being threatened. That a kilogram of antimatter produces ten billion times the energy of chemical combustion upon annihilation, and that any quantity larger than that should not be contained.

Of such paradigms, you’ve noted only one to be entirely reliable. That a spider-hero would always fight crime, whatever the greater good.

“Absolutely not.”

You might’ve been mistaken.

“Those people are in danger, O’Hara.” You strain, trembling against the cough battering your chest. Your diaphragm spasms with every stride he takes, crushed against the curve of his broad shoulder, desperate to make up for lost breath.

He lets the plea hang, countenance obscured from your view. With the way he carries you now, all that meets your eye is navy – navy, and the bright red geometry stretched over the brawn of his back. The nanotech suit warps to fit every muscle, glinting as they push forward to meet the sun. And it dips, right between his shoulder blades, lining a clear contour of the anatomy he fails to hide. A dosser of intercostal sinew. Tapered laterals, cinched to curve at��

Your core broils uncomfortably, and his grip tightens around your knees, levelling up to the degree of his treatment thus far. After slinging off that rooftop, he’s made sure to keep you particularly close, like the effort could prevent your powers from manifesting. Like you could make it happen.

(Though, he doesn’t know that you can’t.)

But he’s smarter than that. If nothing else, it serves as a cautionary gesture. A reminder. You’re disarmed – quite literally – the only force between your nose and the sidewalk being the behemoth of a man whose body you’re strewn across. And, if you could control it – transcend the material at any given whim – it would be the extent and end of your efforts. Not with the neon webs binding you, nor your clear lack of skill.

The wind quivers with the distant sounds of calamity. You’re drawn back to the very real situation at hand.

“You make for a lousy excuse of a spiderman if your first instinct isn’t to save them!” You raise your voice, hoping to be heard over the sirens that blare towards the destruction. By counting them as they pass – two, four, six – you’re able to assign a severity to it. But it isn’t, won’t be, enough. You’d heard the screeches; primordial, clawing out from beyond the capabilities of an ordinary threat. You’d felt them – seeping into your bones, grating the spongy marrow – until Miguel had gathered enough obduration to reel you in the complete opposite direction.

Speaking of–

You tilt your head upwards, surveying the street down which he runs. It’s deserted, yet the presence of its civilians is slower to leave, a molasses that slinks towards locked doors. It’s thick with an apathetic acceptance, bordering on resignation – bitter and not unlike your own resting inclinations. You’ve never known an evacuation to happen this fast, especially this far out from the scene; people are stubborn like that, refusing to face what isn’t in front of them. That is to say, they might be used to it.

“You’re not even going the right way, dickhead!”

Of all things, that makes him stop.

(Of course it does.)

Your form flops uselessly as he turns to make sense of his surroundings. There’s the sign – 30 St and 7th – which should give any New Yorker an idea, but he doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he shoots a web to wrap around the railway of a fire escape, propelling the both of you onto an accompanying balcony. Swallowing the bile that swells along your throat at the sudden jump, you shoot him an incredulous look, which he chooses to ignore as he drops you to the floor.

His mask retreats, hair bouncing upon escape from its smothering embrace. For all that he tries to hide his pinched lips, you sense the scepticism emanating off him in waves.

You take a moment to stew over it, examining him while he calculates the path of your previous chase. From the convenience, to the corner, and into a nearby store lot. Perhaps he hadn’t been paying notice – which you sincerely doubt, considering the efficiency with which he treats everything else. Could he really be unfamiliar with the layout of a city his job is to protect? Or–

It occurs to you steadily, washing up on the fringes of your arrogance; a realisation in pieces.

Nueva York. 2099.

A metropolis. Likely one with no grid system.

Your cackle beckons his attention, severe stare snapping to your grin.

“We’re on Seventh.” You specify.

He cocks his head, nostrils flaring. Warning or question – you have a hard time deciphering the difference.

“The convenience was on Sixth and Third. You know, third avenue, East of Fifth?” You push it, spurred by your awareness that he, in fact, does not know.

“¡Ándale pues! What exactly is your point?”

“We continued down east until you bit me, judging by the way the sun hit the lot upon rising. But now, we’re on Seventh, on the other side of Fifth.”

His jaw clicks, pulsing in irritation. You toe the line of what you can get away with, how long you can drag this out before he decides you’re not worth the trouble.

“West. You’re heading West, and–” Wriggling, you adjust your posture into one more reflective of your current pride. “If you have any hope of finding that day pass, then you’re gonna need to go back.”

The bid translates, weighty, bubbling like the arid smoke off nuclear strife. He processes it, understands – you watch as it unfolds in that intimidatingly intelligent glare – yet the circumstance takes a while to establish itself. Even when it does, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of a full blown breakdown. No. His hands just find his hips, chin sloping to the sky.

“No puedo más, no puedo más, no–”

You probably shouldn’t rub it in any further.

“Since it’s on our way–”

"No." He snaps, voice laced with a prickling irritation that sears through his supposed indifference. The heat of it greets you, wiping the simper that had begun stretching your cheeks. “You must think this is some game, and while that might explain the shit you’ve pulled in the past, I have a responsibility. I can’t interfere with their canon.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna let them die?”

His expression lifts, brows rising expectantly, like he’s imploring you to shut up without his verbal confirmation.

Right.

It starts like a taut bowstring, straining as it verges on release.

On one end, there’s Apollo; drawing his arrow, a god amongst men. The direction with which he aims his weapon can be seen as prophetic – plague was always meant to befall the crowd at his mercy, their fates little more than a thread of mass design. Some call it righteous – epithets dedicated to his name – agreed upon by the same men who claim that rational means right. Some craft sculptures in his visage, this muse of the kouros, likening stone to flesh and deluding the observer that the two can be synonymous. Nietzsche, Bernini. You, yourself, had managed to believe that the muscle rippling below you could be anything but an Athenian tragedy.

You linger on how startlingly poetic it all is, and the string pulls tighter. You’ve never claimed to be a hero, but you have the instinct, just the same. He, on the other hand, seems entirely dismissive of the urge you assumed would wreck him too.

(Partially your fault. You know better than to expect the obvious from him – that’s his pattern.)

As the two of you veer closer to the havoc, the arrow discharges, striking the tension that’s kept you still thus far. When it snaps, it shatters, congealing to form a beset of sounds, sights, fear. Heaving sobs from a limping group of friends – the middle one rapidly losing blood from what you can tell. The pungent clog of burning debris, fed by the ash that lays suspended, mid-air. The painful creak of metal collapsing in on itself, peppered amongst the constant buzz of radio static. Miguel curbs to a stop, hidden in the notch of an alleyway, and uses the cover to reposition you in his carry. You go from slung over his shoulder to laid across his arms – not quite bridal style, but a placement similar enough that he retains a solid hold of you.

His mask comes back up, concealing the cynicism that had begun to creep up onto you both. You scoff at the unambiguity of the action, the parallel it poses to the reality at hand. He blocks himself to the obvious, the avoidable.

Glowering, you trace his line of vision to the encompassing wreckage. The street appears hauntingly familiar, thrumming with the hurried echoes of a recent memory. It lacks the colourful components – the vivid signage, the star speckled windows – yet, you recognize it all the same. The very avenue you frantically traversed only hours ago. Your companion, too, begins to grasp the truth, and you find yourself biting your cheek, a twinge of unease settling in as the revelation hits you: that perhaps you had divulged too much, far surpassing the realm of personal gain.

Yeah, the day pass is here. And you can only hope that he won’t find it.

For now, though, it appears to be the least of your worries.

A crimson creature prowls along the fringes of the decimated ruins – deliberate, relaxed, like a predator with its teeth already halfway dug in its meal – circling a man clad in a lab coat. Its size is menacing enough; standing at seven feet, with limbs as thick as pipes. Yet, what truly strikes you are the protruding bulges flanking either side of its jaw, and the white, emblematic eyes gazing out from upon its face.

“Spider-person?” You whisper, not so much looking for clarification as you were putting the possibility out there. Miguel is unwavering, dead-set on waiting the interaction out.

“Something like that.” He affirms.

“Y’know, I remember you, doc!” The creature jibes, its inflection nearing maniacal. “You sat on my jury! Yes, yes. Hard to forget a shiner like that.” Laughing, it points to the balding patch atop its victims head. He trembles, bowing in a silent cry.

“O’Hara–”

“Wraith.” He warns.

“Sixty seven years! Not even you look that old, ‘course you don’t understand how damning that sentence was! But you see, I got lucky. Some higher being must’ve taken pity on me, enough to grant me this miracle of a symbiote. Mhm, yeah–” He skips closer to his prey, considering him in the new light. “‘Cause now I can do things like…” A sharp blow echoes. The glassy spear, red as the flesh it extends from, skewers through the doctor’s chest, a spout of blood following through on the other end. “This!”

Miguel’s palm slaps over your mouth, knee supporting the portion of your body he releases whilst angling you away from the scene. You’re thankful for it, despite the overwhelming anger you bear against him. You’ve no trust in the horror that wracks you suddenly, all at once. It launches you back to that convenience, the robbery. How powerless you had been to stop the clerk from dying out, your hoodie fruitlessly wedged to her neck. You’d been spared the grief so far – the blur of the last day tamping to little more than an aching numbness. Yet you should have appreciated that it couldn’t last; guilt is far too familiar a prospect for you to have expected it to let off so soon.

(Your mistake.)

“Oops. Did that go through your heart? My bad, doc.” It howls, stuck in its own stand-up routine. “You’d been doing your… erm– civil duty, sure.” The loud squelch of gore triggers the imagery for you, regardless of your averted gaze. The limb-turned-spear being pried out from between his ribs, caked in bits of tissue.

Dead. You could’ve prevented it.

He could have.

From behind the veil of unshed tears, you watch as he ponders the risk of retracting his hand. You betray nothing, blinking back the hot dismay from your eyes, and instead meet his regard in cold defiance. Slowly, as though your apparent sensibility means anything, he removes the muzzle.

You contemplate screaming, to coax the creature from the group of people it has surrounded and make it Miguel's problem to handle.

Then, you remember your rather unsavoury predicament. How prone you are to harm with your limbs locked; you aren’t the best in combat, but you still could’ve stood a chance at survival if it wasn’t for your restraints.

Your captor reaffirms his grip, tucking you to his figure as he creeps up to a corner. His back remains glued to the brick wall, obscured in shadow. The stance is primed – far from the hesitant sidle he’d adopted before. It isn’t hard to figure out why; you see it too, buried under a pile of trash bags, on the other side of the road. Purple, luminescent.

The day pass.

As if on cue – choreographed by a sadistic deity with no favour for anyone involved – you glitch.

It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough for you to fall to the ground, erupting in a pained groan. The creature twists to lay its terror on your curled frame, shaded by a man who – despite his vast height – is dwarfed in comparison to its colossal self.

“Better start learning not to ignore my spidey sense! I’d felt you tiptoein’ over there,” It growls, neck stretching in preparation for attack.

“We’re not here for you.” Miguel urges.

“No? That hurts my feelings, and here I was thinking you wanted to be friends.” At the feral rip of its taunt, it lunges, tearing through the space separating you. The spider-man, in turn, dodges the barrelling assault, swinging in a blur of motion to a wreck not far off. You thank God for his flashy suit; the creature seems to forget you completely, pivoting to charge at him again.

You force yourself to look away, sickened at the unhinged savagery with which it thrashes. There are people still around, crippled by quickly debilitating injuries, the paramedics meant to aid them now amongst the lost. This is what you wanted – the opportunity to help – and of course you’re still hindered by the asshole who’d refused you in the first place. Desperation weighs heavy on your chest as your eyes scan the spoilage, seeking anything you could use to cut yourself free. And there, you catch it – the sharp end of a broken gutter, its jagged edge catching the afternoon sun.

Using your heels as anchors, you push yourself across the coarse pavement. It isn’t a long way, thankfully, but sweat already starts to dampen your shirt by the time you reach the potential lifeline. Angling yourself, you press the webs to the serrated metal, ready to start shoving. That is, until you remember Miguel; how he sat on your legs, his talons performing much the same feat. He made sure to hold your wrists apart, so you didn’t suffer damages he didn’t intend.

You remedy your approach, arms straining to separate, then thrust downwards. The telltale signs of your success come as pops, like elastic bands splintering. Then, it’s the easing pressure on your skin, irritated and surely marked in places where the binds come undone.

The makeshift blade catches your elbow once you’re halfway down, burying deep enough to touch bone. The world narrows to the searing intensity that blazes up your nerves, eclipsing all else. You almost forget your goal, your brain stirring signals to pull away, but the fight that rages in your peripheral is only growing more barbaric. Alarmingly, Miguel is losing.

If he dies, you’re next, and it’d all be in vain.

Biting your tongue, you stifle the pain and continue pressing. The gutter inches sideway, ripping through flesh and web like butter, the sleeves of your top mangling at its lip. Miraculously, you stay awake for the time it takes to finally get your arms loose. It’s harder to preserve that triumph when you sit up, though, dizziness distorting the plan of action you’d set for yourself.

(Get… get the people to safety. Then, your legs. No–

Free your legs, get the people to safety. And… what?

The day pass. Yeah.

But Mig–)

Your body moves with an unsettling disconnect from your own command. Unable to fully grasp the dissonance, you blanch in bewilderment as you navigate the clearest cut path through it all. A dance in a mechanical rhythm; pulling the webs off your calves, running over to the nearest civilian, and helping them up on their feet. And again. And again.

There’s a boy, young enough that you worry he doesn’t understand you’re harmless. His cherubic face is coated in a grey layer of dust, disturbed only by the tear marks that run from big eyes. His foot has been crushed, stormy blue blotching his knee. You dismiss the agony of your numerous wounds and crouch to pick him up, hugging him to your chest.

New squadrons of emergency services trickle in, careful to leave their sirens off as they round the corner. It’s an odd enough choice that it distracts you from the child’s fingers, which dig into your abrasion for purchase. An ensemble of prospects occur to you.

When you hand him off to an awaiting EMT, it clicks.

What’d the creature call itself? A symbiote?

(You haven’t always been science-oriented.

Freshman year of college, you’d joined as an undeclared major within the school of arts and architecture. ‘Course, you only had your general education requirements to fulfil at the time; useless classes that fit your self-imposed four day weekend, meant to do fuck all as your tuition went to waste. Needless to say, your ambition had been directed at more carnal pursuits.

Then, there was astronomy. It’d awakened your curiosity for the cosmos.

Astro 8, to be exact. Life in the Universe. Your post-midterm lesson had been on a recently discovered, space-faring civilization. Symbiotes – they were called – based on the initial assumption that they thrived in mutual beneficial relationships with other lifeforms. But the projection that flickered for its class of drowsy students entailed another truth entirely. Darkened bullet points in big, bold letters. Known weakness.

Fire, and sound.)

You sprint towards a nearby cop car, its door wide open and the driver's seat vacant. It’s instinctual, devoid of consideration. A singular objective dominates you, beyond the day pass – to kill that thing. Not for Miguel, who’s choked in its gnarled hand. Not for yourself, or your deep-rooted desire for heroism. No. Just for them – the boy and that group of friends, the doctor who still lays dead on the scene. For the sake of this world, and to reconcile the life you took just last night, as if such a trade-off could absolve you of the weight of your sins.

Stepping on the gas, you accelerate abruptly, gaining speed with every pothole you drive over. It looms ahead, crouched in front of a hollowed-out apartment complex, suffocating the futurist spider-man and vibrating with glee. If you can align it – aim and time it just right…

You activate the wail siren. Your hypothesis is validated when it screeches in response to the racket, throwing Miguel off to the side.

Good. He won’t be collateral.

You grab a gun from the cupholder on the dash, throwing it on the pedal to keep it down, then jump to the backseat.

The impact is seismic; a violent convergence of metal and brick and brawn that sends shockwaves rippling throughout your being. You become captive to the merciless momentum, forcefully propelled against the leather cushions. Chronic whiplash shreds upon the vulnerable muscles holding the weight of your concussed head; its talons raking through the fibres, pulling apart the once sturdy tissue. A relentless ring envelops the cacophony of noise, and silences it into one, tender hum.

You’re hauled out the window, detained in the embrace of some unspecified form, which settles above you for cover as the building comes crumbling down.

Or – not unspecified.

That mix of patchouli and musk.

Your consciousness turns to black as you're buried beneath the rubble.

chapter six →

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f4nrir · 1 year ago

Note

GAUZE PLAY WITH MIGGY!! its so overwhelming, its too much, he cant take it anymore!! just tying him up and overstimming him while he sobs n yells n squirms around, cock bright red and soaked in his own cum. poor baby gets so stupid off the pleasure, hes so sensitive and he feels like hes going crazy. making him cum so much that even once hes empty, you keep going until he squirts,, he didnt even know he could do that, and you wanna see more of it >:3

also just in case you dont know what gauze play is, its taking a piece of gauze (or sometimes something like pantyliners/hoses) and soaking it in lube before rubbing/polishing someones cock with it, typically focusing on the head. sometimes wrapping the whole piece around their cock and jerking them off like that. its sooooooooooooooooooooooooo

delicate

一 pairing ; miguel o'hara x male reader

cw: sub!miguel, (m receiving), dom!reader, (reader giving), teasing, overstimulation, gauze play, implied bondage, usage of a gag.

miguel’s cries filled the room with each touch on his cock, the wetness of the fabric sending sensations all throughout his body that was indescribable. he whimpered as you trailed the material along his pelvis and up his cock, before briefly wrapping it around his sensitive tip. “mierda! stop, no more please! can’t take it” he yelled against the gag you had him in, flinching harder than before.

“you just don’t learn, huh?” you placed your hands on his hips and pinned them down to the bed, snickering at his pathetic cries as you touched him.

miguel begged further, attempting to buck his hips into the air but you shot the opportunity down. “too overwhelmed— it hurts, i don’t like—“ he followed that with another orgasm, painting your hands with his cum.

“your body says otherwise, pup” you licked some off of your hand and absorbed the taste in your mouth, humming contently to yourself before pulling him into a kiss. miguel moaned against your lips as he tasted himself on your tongue. “you taste so good, hm? tell me you agree,” miguel hesitated for a moment before caving in, “i do. thank you, sir,” he murmured and you chuckled, rewarding him by taking your hand off of his cock. he frantically mumbled thank you under his breath as he felt some relief after a few orgasms, stimulating him the whole time without any break. that is until you placed the gauze back on his aching tip, moving it around to find his most sensitive spots.

a loud cry emitted from miguel as tears began rolling down his face, his fangs suddenly becoming prominent as they pierced through the gag he had on his mouth. “¿es demasiado para ti?” you teased as you continued to use the gauze while peppering soft kisses along the side of his shaft. [t: is this too much for you?]

you watched as miguel threw his head back into the pillow, moaning and crying into the gag as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. attempting to soothe him, you placed loving kisses on his hips and inner thighs. the sounds of his moans and cries only encouraged you to keep going as you found joy in toying with him, especially seeing him so helpless as he’s bound with restraints.

just before you thought he was done, he reached another orgasm as cum squirted from his tip. you muttered praises under your breath that were loud enough for him to hear and rubbed his thighs to soothe him. a stream of incoherent words and your name fell from his mouth as he rode his climax, his body convulsing like you’ve never seen before.

“you did so good..” you coo before you wiped your hands with a towel and undid his gag, along with his restraints. he looked at you with his pretty dazed eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he weakly wrapped his arms around your waist in contentment.

#— zeppelin’s files 📁#miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 #x you #x reader #sub character #mlm smut #spider man 2099 x you

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roseluxxx · 1 year ago

Text

Domestic Bliss

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Warnings: early smut, penetration, a loving husband, throwing up (later on and not in great detail), pregnancy scare, non use of “protection”

word count: 1.1k

Before Reading: established relationship, married couple who lives together, he’s showing his love language of service and is so sweet, there is a pregnancy mention at the very end and i plan on a part 2, if you don’t like that pls don’t read <3

____________________________________________

"Mige, please,"

you grabbed onto the bed sheet next to you, gripping the soft surface tightly as you knew you were slowly becoming cock drunk on Miguel’s relentless pace inside you.

Another orgasm was building its way up, your abused clit being overstimulated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

It's the sixth round tonight and you could feel the slow dragging tiredness creep into your consciousness. You loved it, every round and ounce of attention you received from the man who towered you made your heart skip a thousand beats, but when it was this late? You needed a break.

You grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling just harder than normal as the stream of Spanish mumbling of: "tu eres mio, tu eres solo mio, te amo, te amo mucho, " finally came to a halt.

He looked up, suddenly aware of your overstimulation. He pulled out in an instant, pushing your hair out of your face, feeling your temperature and giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Fuck, mi amor, i'm sorry. Lemme go grab you some water and let's get you cleaned up ok?”

You reached up and grabbed his hand, a lazy smile drawn on your face.

"Baby just stay, please. Just for a little, okay?" He nodded and leaned back down to kiss you temple before promising he'd grab a towel and come right back.

Miguel ran from the kitchen to the bathroom, multitasking as he filled a cup with ice cold water and wet a towel while bringing another one to dry you.

He returned, somehow having pre-cut fruit in a bowl too.

You laughed to yourself; he had definitely planned this out and had that prepared earlier today.

The wet towel was dabbled along your forehead and behind your neck, he cleaned your thighs and gently allowed the cloth to freshen your intimate area as well, a loving expression never once leaving his face.

You sat up, insisting you could put your own hair up as he handed you the fruit and placed the water on the nightstand.

"Here, mami,” his shirts were always big on you, a man with the shoulders the size of a whole kid was bound to wear a few sizes up.

Setting the fruit aside you pulled him into the bed next to you, taking the water and placing it to his lips.

"Drink, baby. You always do this like you don't need to be taken care of, too." He smiled, taking a few gulps of the liquid before turning it to you to do the same.

He looked over you, admiring his plentiful red and purple love bites scattering your skin. He could never stop looking. It quite honestly might be his favorite sight in the world.

You put the glass down, watching him pull on some boxers before cuddling up to you.

"What, I don't get underwear but you do?"

He nodded, pulling your head to his chest gently as he felt sleep slowly come to claim his time.

“Mhm, baby you don't need those," a peck on your hair, “m’ can grab some of my boxers if you want. I know you like them.”

___________

Squinting as you felt the suns’ light practically harassing your eye awake, you immediately grasped the area next to you as you realized Miguel was gone.

You sat up, alarms going off in your head as you made a mental recheck of everything he had told you he was doing today; which was nothing.

Where was- the smell of bacon filled your senses as your anxiety washed away.

You flipped the covers and reluctantly climbed out of the warm cocoon that was your bed, turning to gather the dishes from the night before and finding them gone.

“Swear to the fucking spider gods this man is always two steps ahead,” you rubbed your eyes, stepping into your fluffy matching slippers and trudging to the kitchen.

You were met with a sight hand crafted by the gods.

The sizzling sound of bacon and the rejuvenating smell of freshly squeezed orange juice filled your senses. The one responsible, a complete marble sculpture of a man, stood with him back turned to you and soaking in the morning sunlight.

This is it. This is peak. If anything ever happened that changed this reality you might just have to end it all.

Miguel noticed your presence, smiling instantly and nodding towards the food cooking.

“Mi sol, ven aquí. I didn’t even notice you.”

You nodded lazily, coming behind him and resting your arms around his waist. Planting a kiss on his back before resting your head against it.

“Baby, why’re you up so early?”

He rubbed circles against the back of your hand, covering yours with his, “When the sun's up I'm up, you know?”

He turned around in your embrace, putting his arms around you as he took a second to maintain eye contact, “Did you enjoy last night?”

You hummed in agreement and he gave you a slow, deep kiss, smacking your ass before sending you to the kitchen island, promising breakfast will be done soon.

Not even having the opportunity to sit for a few minutes, a wave of nausea hit you like a truck. You held your stomach and rushed to a bathroom , barely having time to lift the lid before the little contents of what was left of last nights’ dinner were flushed down the toilet.

Miguel turned off the stove and rushed by your side, his hands holding your hair up.

“Baby? Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He fanned the back of your neck as you regained composure, somehow feeling instantly better now that your body did what it needed to.

You nodded, leaning on Miguel as you got up to go brush your teeth.

He pulled your arm, checking over you like a frantic parent as you dismissed his worries, assuring him you feel fine now and thanking him for coming to check.

“You’re not-“

“No. Mige’. We used protection and I'm on the pill.”

He leaned against the doorway, giving you space, “I mean.. we did take it off for the last few rounds.”

You gave him a burning glare, grabbing your toothbrush and applying the Spider Man themed toothpaste you both thought was hilarious when you found it in the aisle.

“Baby it doesn’t catch overnight like that,” you have him a kiss on the cheek, “ I’m sure it’s just my body having a reaction to how unusually rough we were last night.”

He hummed in agreement, giving you a quick kiss on the head and checking on the food. That explanation seemed good enough for him but truthfully you were worried.

It doesn’t take overnight. That’s the stuff of movies. Even if it, did you wouldn’t be feeling these results so soon. Your body was just in shock because of his roughing you last night.

Right?

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or see my other Spider Verse fics here!

A/N: Ugh i caved and made a fic for him sue me

😭 Also if you wanna make a request i finally finished the ones i was working on so go ahead and give me some new ideas🤞

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sp0-t · 1 year ago

Text

•.⦿ FORCED CLOSE PROXIMITY ⦿.•

MIGUEL O’HARA X gn!READER

SUMMARY ⦿.•

miguel is your close friend, you’ve been friends even before the death of his daughter. he confided in you for everything, always valuing your opinion above the rest. more recently he had put an unwanted distance between you two, although, thanks to lyla a “malfunction” occurs, forcing you and miguel in a close proximity.. which leads to more

GENRE ⦿.•

smut version

(begins after the second picture)

WARNINGS ⦿.•

smut! penetration! pet names! demanding Miguel! slight biting! unprotected sex! (be better) brief cum play? fingering! making out!

5 days ago… that’s when it first started, him avoiding you. Your stares, your voice, your scent, your presence… you. The reason was unclear to you, you thought about it over and over wondering what it could possibly be.

You couldn’t even enter his vicinity without him walking out the room. However trying to sneak up on someone in an hq full of spider-people, including Miguel, wasn’t easy. He’d always sense you, leading him to stop whatever he was doing and leave the room. Watching this always made you sad, wondering what you could’ve done to cause this, but also feeling a bit ticked off at the audacity he had to avoid you.

Day 6, you had caught up with some spider-people, specifically Hobie and Miles. You had already known Hobie, do to his longer presence at hq. Still the younger boy, miles, intrigued you. He had come far for his young age and short year being spider-man.

You three were simply talking, just chatting, however it was cut short when an alert from your watch caught your attention. You look down, gazing upon the bright light.

O’Hara: Report, now.

seen 1 min

You knew he was serious with the “now” added at the end. staring at it for a bit too long, racking in your brain why this man would now want to talk to you. after six damn days he finally wants to confront you. At least, that’s what half of you was thinking, the other half was wondering if he would finally come clean and tell you everything that had happened. What caused him to go quiet for so long.

“Everything alright there?”

Hobie looked at you with confusion in in his eyes. Finally peeling your eyes away from your wrist you look at Hobie and Miles.

“Yeah, uh I gotta go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

You walked off and waved them a goodbye, giving them a smile. You were overthinking the whole walk to Miguel’s “office”. Many things were running through your brain, so many that you hadn’t realized you were already in front of the door. Letting out a breath, you twist the handle and push the door open.

“Finally, I swear you like to waste my time.”

Of course, of course he had an attitude. Of course he didn’t know that you had been worried sick for him over the past 6 days. No, stubborn Miguel always had to act high and mighty on his platform.

“Are you serious?”

The look of confusion that Miguel gave you was almost laughable.

“What, did I say something that gave you the idea I wasn-”

“6. Days. It’s been 6 days before you’ve even given me the time of day. Now here I am, standing in front of you hoping, begging you’re finally going to tell me what’s wrong. But instead I get an insult!”

An exasperated laugh leaves your mouth, it’s almost amusing really. How you thought he would tell you something, anything, about what was keeping him quiet.

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

He crosses his arms over each other and looks to the side with a little scowl on his face. You sling your web, attaching to his platform, tossing your body onto the platform only mere inches from his own.

“You have some nerve you know that O’Hara.”

Jabbing your finger into his chest forcefully

“Last I checked you liked that about me~”

“Yeah well last I checked you weren’t avoiding me.”

“I-“

He stopped himself before he could go on.

“I have to go.”

He started to walk off the platform until his watch went off. It was blaring, so loud you had to cover your ears to try and muffle the sounds.

“What the hell is going on!”

Miguel kept smacking his watch, aggressively pressing random things to try and turn it off. Before any of you knew what was going on, a disk erupted from the watch. The force field erupted, surrounding the both of you.

“Lyla! What’s happening?!”

No reply was ever heard

“Damnit!”

He pounded his first on the force field. Trying to claw his way through it, doing anything to get out.

“You already know that’s not going to work, you’re the one who designed these things to be impenetrable. As much as you hate it, you’re stuck with me.”

He let out a heavy sigh accepting somewhat of a defeat.

“I don’t hate you, I could never.”

He looks up at you with sorrow and regret in his eyes. You could already smell the apology that wanted, so desperately, to roll off his tongue and come out between his lips.

“Then explain to me why.”

“Because… I realized something about me, something I didn’t want to admit to you or myself.”

You move forward with caution, still not sure what boundaries are okay to cross at the moment. Your hand eventually meets his shoulder, rubbing up and down with comfort. Your other hand moves towards his face which was turned to his right. Adjusting his face to look at yours.

“Miguel, I have know you for so long, and no matter what you tell me. You will always have me by your side.”

He grabbed your hand with his, holding it gently. The look in his eyes was a mix of emotions; pain, sadness, regret, longing, but most importantly… love. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him as if you would simply evaporate from his grasp at any moment.

“I love you…”

Silence. That’s all that could be heard for about 3 minutes, Miguel’s grip tightening as if you were going to push him away any second. Your arms made there way around his body, grabbing at his shirt and your face in his broad shoulder as you processed what he said. You, we’re crying, you didn’t know why or even when it happened you just knew that one moment your cheeks were wet from tears. Then you felt it, the droplet that fell onto the back of your neck, Miguel… was crying.

“Why are you crying?”

You let out a little chuckle, him pulling you even closer as he sniffled.

“I’m not, you are!”

“Yeah, I am. I finally got to hear those words.”

He took his face out of your neck, exposing his tear stained face to you. You placed your hand on his face, gently wiping away his ongoing tears. You stood up a bit to kiss his cheeks then his forehead.

“I haven’t heard you say it.”

Both of you looked deep into each others eyes, bodies still close, and your hands still on his face.

“I love you Miguel O’Hara.”

That’s all it took for his hands to softly grab your face and kiss you, those three words that could so effortlessly make Miguel O’Hara bend to your will.

(smut below)

His hands were on your waist in mere seconds, showing you just how desperate he was. However you already knew by him pulling you in flush against his front. Your groins getting the sweet friction they so desired. You pulled away slightly muttering a curse.

“Everything okay?”

He looked at you with such worry and concern, a hint of lust that had only started to grow.

“Yeah, just, been wanting that for so long.”

He placed his forehead against yours, creating an intimate atmosphere. His eyes gazed into yours as yours gazed back. Bringing one of his hands up from your hip, he placed it on your cheek. You learned into his touch finding comfort in it, in him.

“We can stop amor, we don’t have to go on.”

“No, I want this. I want you.”

He leaned forward pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I want you too.”

And with that you were both on each other. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, as he gently pushed your back against the wall of the force field. Tongues were synchronized with each other, and noses were pushing against one another. You started to pull away, Miguel following your lips still wanting more. You giggled and covered his lips before he could place them back on your own.

“can’t breathe.”

“Good, I should always leave you breathless.”

He placed a kiss on your palm that was covering his mouth

“Only me.”

He slowly dragged his hand to the back zipper of your suit. Teasingly, slowly, pulling it lower and lower. Giving small bites and kisses to each spot that would expose itself to him. Your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, and eventually your legs.

“All mine, you’re mine.”

He whispered between kisses. Miguel was on his knees now, holding onto your sides as he kept leaving kisses. His hand gravitated towards your ass, giving it a slight squeeze. Miguel stood up again standing face to face with you once again.

“I need you.”

“Then take me.”

That set off Miguel, he easily picked you up, wrapping your legs around him. His lips marking your neck, pulling quiet moans from you. Before you could think properly you saw that Miguel’s suit was off. Miguel pulled away from your neck. Holding you with one hand, the other on his cock slowly stroking it, bringing it up to your entrance.

“I’m going to put it in, is that okay, mi amor?”

You looked down at where his cock was rubbing against you, finally seeing his size scared you a bit. You could already tell you were going to be sore the next morning.

“Yes, please Miguel.”

“Of course, mi amor.”

He whispered in your ear, slowly sliding it in. You had never taken anyone his size before, however he took it slow, aware of the pain and discomfort you would fist feel. He was less than halfway when he looks up at you.

“Tell me if it’s to much, we can st-“

“No! Please, don’t! I need this, I need you!”

With that Miguel bottomed out in you, erupting a moan from both of you. He then began to slowly slide out again, only to thrust back in with a bit of force, causing you to let out a little yelp.

He let out a slight chuckle at the sound you made, he pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. As soon as his lips left yours, he started to move his hips, slowly sliding his cock in and out of your entrance.

“Like that?~”

He leaned in and whispered into your ear, it sounded like more of a statement than it did a question.

“Yes, Miguel. Please, please…”

Your face was buried in his shoulder from embarrassment and desperation. Miguel’s hand made it’s way to your head, grabbing at your hair. Pulling your head back to make direct eye contact with you.

“Hey, use your words. Behave like I know you can, and tell me what you want.”

His tone is soft yet still demanding of you. The longing eye contact that he holds with you as he awaits your answer, sends shivers down your spine. Suddenly he send a thrust up into you.

“Tell me what you want from me…”

He leans into your ear

“Before I take you the way I want, and fuck you till your legs go fucking numb.”

Another thrust from him sends through you. A moan escaping the confines of your mouth.

“Y-you, I want you Miguel. I’ve always wanted you.”

Your lips reached up to his, both pressing against each other in want and bliss. Miguel started to move his hips, causing you to moan into the kiss. He continued his movements, his only mission being to please you.

As he starts to pick up his thrusts, his head falls to the crook of your neck. A trail of kisses and light bite marks are left behind. You let out whimpers as Miguel groans in your ear, both not far from total bliss.

“Miguel… I-im getting clo-“

“Can I come inside?”

The question left you a bit stunned, not expecting it.

“Yes!”

“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on fucking pulling out.”

And with a few more thrusts, you were filled with more than just his cock. His excess dripping out of you, his fingers find there way down and push his cum back into you. Your body collapsing on his

“Can you stand?”

“I-I think so.”

You try and stable yourself, wobbling a bit in the process. Miguel’s hands hovering over your body, in case you were to fall. Once he knows for sure your stable, he walks over to grab your suit off the floor. He helps you get dressed, bringing his suit back as well.

Once you both were composed he leans in for a kiss, your hands travel to his hair, welcoming the kiss. His hold on you is tight as if you would leave at any second.

“You guys done yet?”

A familiar voice causing you both to pull your lips apart.

“Gosh you guys are loud, whole damn HQ could hear you.”

You both turned to face a small Lyla hologram, a look of smugness on her face. With a snap of Lyla’s fingers the force field was down.

“You caused this?”

Miguel’s fingers were pinching at his nose bridge

“I swear, I’ll rewire you into a mindless bot.”

“Hey! I did you a favor.”

She suddenly appeared beside you

“He would never stop gushing about you, or admiring you.”

Miguel lunged forward trying to grab the hologram, it was no use, as she was gone in a second only to reappear once again.

“Nice try lover boy.”

And with that she was gone, leaving you and Miguel. You walked towards Miguel, placing your hands on his face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

You both swung off the platform, walking away in the distance.

“See,all you need is a little forced close proximity..which leads to more.”

This Fan Fiction is written, owned, and published by: @sp0-t ©️

DO NOT: Republish, Rewrite, Translate, OR, Steal My Work Without My Consent (please and thank you)

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kombuuuu · 1 year ago

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oh I have a request! Miguel x reader where he teaches you how to dance? your so bad at ballroom and Miguel was trained in it when he was younger and can't help but intervene when he sees you messing up the steps.

Hold my swaying Heart.

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

“I don’t know how to dance..” “I’ll teach you.”

i had to research how to waltz and why is it so confusing

He’s so baby 😻 (there’s bugs whispering in my ears)

To say that Miguel didn’t like a lot of people would be an understatement.

He thought most of the people he was protecting, the people he’d risked his entire life for—,

,We’re at best naïve, and worst, plain stupid. Believing that they were out of harms way because of the gift they’d been given.

You were an exception.

He didn’t see you as a burden, or an idiot. Naïve, maybe a little. But not in the way where you could get hurt physically, but more emotionally.

He rather saw you as someone he could care for, as you had done rather terribly caring for yourself.

Being dependent and trusting compared to the Spidey people he met day by day. You were sweet, loyal, and god you would not leave his head.

So when Peter had invited him to some stupid dance, and said you were coming with a sly smile on his face, he’d begrudgingly agreed.

Which is what led him to right now.

—

God you looked gorgeous. A sleek white dress complimenting your features, slit running down from your thigh. It hugged every sweet form of your body, giving him a view he was rather thankful for. Sheer white gloves covered your hands, and the pearls you wore sat nicely against your collarbone.

You looked elegant, and he couldn’t get enough.

Off dancing with Hobie, stumbling and stepping on his toes. Laughing with him while he told you how dancing was just a social construct, anyways. Though he laughed with you.

The scene was pretty, he’d admit. It was a gorgeous hall, oak wood floor expanding enough room for eight seat rounded dining tables with tea light candles on white cloth, and a dance floor. The band was set on the elevated stage at the corner of the room. Playing nice, easy classical.

Roses and fancy spoons, along with an over the top chandelier.

Everything looked rather expensive, it suited his taste.

He caught Hobies stare from across the room and the brit smirked.

Miguel glared at him.

Don’t.

He watched as Hobie leaned down to whisper in your ear, making eye contact with him the whole time. His fingers twitching in anger and jealousy.

The brunette’s back straightened, his figure hulking over most in the room. Adorned in such a restricting suit probably wasn’t helping his case. Biceps straining against the thick fabric, he wondered if something had gone wrong at the tailor, or if the woman who had done his measurements had also done this on purpose.

His attention refocused when a new song had started, a song he knew very dear to himself. Years of his childhood as a dancer paying off, his memory jerking at the familiar notes.

Waltz of the Flowers.

He watched as Hobie tried to lead you through the steps, a sort of urgency running through him. You stumbled again, further into the brit before you, and Miguel gave up trying to stop himself.

Slowly making his way over, he did nothing to stop the confident expression Hobie wore, the kid was doing this on purpose, this was bait.

And yet he can’t stop himself.

“Mind if I step in?”

You looked up at him in surprise, eyes twinkling. “No, of course not,” Hobie snickered for a second before covering it with a clear of his throat. “,Be careful with ‘is one. She needs a little teachin’.” “Hey!”

You lightly smacked Hobie’s arm, grinning all the while. And as Hobie detached himself from the both of you, he clapped a hand over Miguel’s shoulder, not having to lean to whisper to him. “Don’t fuck it up, mate.”

Before Miguel could reprimand him, he waltzed off somewhere to find Pavitr.

Turning his attention back to you, he’d realised you’d been staring at him. Getting caught leading to your eyes quickly darting to his chest, before you realised that kind of made you look like a creep and ended up just shutting them for a moment. He laughed lightly, stepping closer to you. “You ok to dance, Conejita?”

“Yes! I uhh—,” Your sentence broke for a second and you opened your eyes, clearing your throat. “,I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Okay.” Breathless, you agreed.

He hummed, settling his hands in yours and guiding your feet into position.

“You know how to Waltz?”

He looked down at you, eyelashes fluttering pretty against his cheeks as he blinked.

“Didn’t spend 17 years learning not to know.” He chuckled, a lighthearted jab, something you were both comfortable in participating.

“Hmm..—“ You giggled before you could stifle it, “,Damn.. If it took you 17 years to learn, I think I might want a new teacher.”

“Oh—,” He laughed a challenge. “Oh, you wanna go down that route, Querida?”

You hummed through your humour.

“No— No.. I’ll learn.” You looked up at him, the light of the chandelier haloing his outline.

A smile danced across your sweet face.

“Good.”

His voice dipped lower, hand squeezing yours just a little tighter, a little more possessive.

“Now pay attention.”

“I am paying attention.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah—, I’m not.”

He snorted, redirecting his focus to where you were slowly swaying to the song.

“Move your feet just like this, C’mon.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect, you’re doing good. Follow my lead, just like that.”

The praise made you shiver, you willed away the feeling to focus.

“Good, you’re a quick learner.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

He watched the fabric of your dress sway when you moved with him, tripping over your steps every now and again and muttering simple apologies to him. Which he promptly shut down.

He guided you through the waltz, telling you when to break off and when to halt in a pause. He talked you through every step, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you. By the end of it, you were a flustered mess.

The song came to a close, Miguel leading the whole way through it. When there was no more music, and the other dancers around you had started to disperse—,

Miguel dropped on of his hands from yours, letting it come to rest on hi shoulder, the other sliding to your hips.

“You’re pretty good, for a learner.”

You snorted, “Yeah?”

He hummed his affirmation.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher.”

He scoffed back, rolling his eyes and smirking.

“Think I should become a dance instructor?”

“For spider people?”

“Well, feel like they’d be a bit more clumsy.”

“Mm, it’s either that or save the multiverse so—, choice is basically already made.”

“Dance instructor.”

“Definitely.”

He smiled and laughed, avidly ignoring the relieved expressions of the small group of teens, along with Peter and Jess.

When another slow song started up again, instead of waltzing you. He’d decided just to let you slow dance with him.

Your head resting on his chest, and your deft hand in his—, something changed at that moment.

He knew you both felt it, a spark of some kind. And if five years in future “Waltz of the Flowers” was the song he chose for a wedding, it would only mean so much to you.

—

this probably SOOO ooc i have no clue how to write babydoll 😖

(pookie bear 🐻 ⬇️)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you #peter b parker #hobie my beloved #hobie brown #atsv hobie #pavitr my beloved

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unluckiestmember · 1 year ago

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yk now im curious on what would happen if Miguel saw his “daughter” in [Name]. Like she would just pop in with miles ( they’ve been friends since the first movie basically) and she is like a carbon copy of the daughter from the world he was like im when taking the place of himself. I would personally see it as a head cannon type of thing but ur choice! (bonus if platonic yandere) and if u do write this tysm for taking time out of ur day to do so❤️❤️

Coming right up!

Miguel O'Hara X "Daughter"! Reader

Characters: Miguel O'Hara, Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhaker, Gwen Stacy, Peter B. Parker and Jessica Drew

Tags: Found family trope?, yandere!Miguel, Miguel being Miguel, overprotective father figure, problematic friend group, intervention, fluff and hurt/comfort.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: Sorry this is not my best, you got me working on four hours of sleep and immediately after an eight hour shift. But I still hope you enjoy this! XD

Let’s get one thing straight; Whether he admits it or not, Miguel loved you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

You reminded him so much of Gabriella in the way you looked, the way you acted, etc.

Literally had to do a double take a few times before he realized you weren’t her.

But even then, that didn’t make him hate you.

Actually, it fueled him to get closer to you and create a bond with you.

Call it the father in him if you must.

He indulges in familial activities like sight seeing and even eating some sweet treats with you.

Spider-Society swears you are the only person to make this big guy crack a smile.

And for that, you are considered a wizard.

Jokes aside, Miguel cared about you so much as if you were his own daughter.

But maybe he cared about you too much?

When you arrived with Miles and he chose to challenge his canon event, Miguel wasted no time giving him a hard time.

Especially knowing that you two were thick as thieves.

If he was sprouting things on you about changing canon and destroying the multiverse, what else could he be putting in your head?

And don’t even get him started on the fact that the multiverse would be destroyed because of him.

You would be taken from him Everything would be taken from everyone.

Even if you have friends like Miles, Hobie, Pavitr and Gwen, don’t expect your father figure to let them in with open arms.

He becomes a literal cat hissing at your inner circle because they’re “bad influences”.

It gets to the point where Jessica, Peter B and even yourself have to remind him you are your own person.

That you are not Gabriella.

And that hurts him because he knows. But that won’t change that you’re his kid.

Just because you didn’t carry the same flesh and blood didn’t mean you meant the world to him.

Was he extreme? Yes.

Was he kind of idiotic? Absolutely.

But he would do anything for you.

He lost one daughter. He’s not going to lose another.

And if he needs to put his foot down a bit, so be it.

Spider-Verse Requests are open!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

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madlittlecriminal · 1 year ago

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YESSSS smuttober has arrived!!! I do so require a smutty smutty fic with my boy, Miguel O'hara. As long as it includes (you guessed it)

a love confession,

stretch marks,

plus sized! reader with mad insecurities (but Miguel is mad about you not finding yourself hot AF.)

You can do what you will with that! if you need a lil itty bitty plot I'll give you one lol just hmu.

One in a Million ⥓ Miguel O'Hara × Plus Sized!Female!Reader

yeeeahhhh! i might release a Steven Grant one soon, so stay tuned for that. there's also a few hobie ones that I have to release and I might release one later today since i didn't post one yesterday :')

Ne-Yo inspired the title. sue me.

Warnings: fwb to lovers, angst, insecurity, fluff, smut, unprotected p in v, riding, lots of kisses, oral (f!receiving), praise

disclaimer: im not plus-sized, but i do have stretch marks since i have thick thighs & a small booty. feel free to give me feedback to improve.

for the month of october, im only writing smut. anything that is only fluff or angst will have to wait until november. requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send me.

You ran your hand down your stretch marks and sighed. While there was nothing wrong them, you felt slightly insecure about it. Especially when your best friend was Miguel O'Hara that you occasionally had sex with. You both were friends with benefits, but of course, no matter the gender, the ethnic background or body type, they would flirt with him. It sort of hurt because you were in love with him, and he didn't know it.

You also didn't know that he was madly in love with you.

"¿Todo bien, muñequita?" (Everything alright, doll?) He asked as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, startling you a bit since you didn't hear him open the door. You relaxed and nodded as you heard him close the door behind him. "Yeah, I'm okay." He raised a brow and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Are you sure?" You looked up at him and gave him a fake smile. "Of course." He shook his head. "You're such a bad liar, you know that?" You rolled your eyes and pushed away from him. "Maybe we should just stay as friends, Miguel." He was taken aback and scoffed. "What?" You gulped and he shook his head. "No. I don't want to be just friends."

"And why not?" He walked over to you and grabbed your hips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. "If you tell me what's wrong, I'll tell you why." You glared at him, and he cocked his head to one side, waiting for you to respond. "Because I have stretch marks. I have cellulite. Plus, it's not like we're an actual relationship. I'm just asking to drop the benefits aspect." He chuckled and shook his head. "And I want to drop the benefits and make you my girl." Your eyes widened at his words, and he smiled. "You're kidding." His hands rubbed your thighs as his eyes met yours. "I'm definitely not. I love you. From your heart, your soul, every part and mark of your body. I'm not ashamed to say I fell in love with my best friend."

He nuzzled his nose against yours, making your cheeks warm up before he planted a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you too..." Miguel beamed before placing you on your bed and began kissing you again. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm actually quite pissed that you don't think you're beautiful, you know that?" He whispered against your lips. "What?" He looked down at your dress and looked back at you. "You don't need this, do you?" You raised a brow before shaking your head. He gave you a curt nod before ripping the dress off of you. "Let's get one thing straight, muñequita: you are fucking stunning, alright?"

"You think so?" He smirked before pressing a kiss on your neck, then going down to the top of your breasts that were still covered in your bra. "No tienes idea, mi cosita bella." (You have no idea, my beautiful thing.) He took of your bra with ease before running his tongue across your nipples. You moaned, your fingers running through his hair. "Fuck, Miguel." He looked up at you with a smile before going down to shower your torso in kisses. "I really don't see how you don't think you're beautiful. You're sexy." He kissed your stomach and the stretch marks that decorated it, his eyes never leaving yours. He continued his journey down as he began to kiss your inner thighs before bringing them up and kissing the bottom of them, kissing each stretch mark along with your cellulite, humming in pleasure.

"I love every inch of your body. You are a damn goddess in my eyes, baby girl. Never forget that." You hid your face with your hands, but he quickly removed them. "Let me see that pretty face." Your eyes met his and he smiled. "There she is." Miguel plants a kiss on your clothed cunt, causing you to moan. He took them off of you in one swift motion before licking your cunt, your fingers gripping his hair. His mouth closed around your clit as he moaned from the tugs you gave his hair. The vibrations from said moan, made you cry out in pleasure, making him chuckle. You swore he was trying to make you cum right then and there because the vibrations were too much. "Miguel!" He smirked before he continued to eat you out as if he was a starved man.

"Oh my god!" You pressed his face closer to your pussy, making him slide his tongue inside you. He fucked you with your tongue until you couldn't hold back anymore, coming on his mouth and tongue. "Always so delicious." You felt the warmth from your cheeks, but you weren't sure if it was from his words or from the orgasm. Either way, you weren't complaining. Miguel quickly undressed and sat on the bed. "Ride me." You bit your lip before climbing on top of him and aligning yourself on his cock before slowly sinking down on it. "Ay, mi amor. No sabes que rico se siente estar adentro de ti." (Oh, my love. You don't know how good this feels to be inside of you.)

You moaned in response as you began to bounce on his cock. His hands rest on your hips as you grip his shoulders, his lips meeting yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers. When you went back down, you began moving your hips back and forth on Miguel, making him break the kiss and throw his head back. "Asi mi corazón. You make me feel so good, you know that? Such a beautiful woman. All mine." You nodded as your brows furrowed while you moaned softly. "All yours, Miggy." His lips met yours once more while his hands traveled up and down your body. "Good girl," he mumbled against your lips, making you clench around him. He groaned with a smirk before his hand went back down to your hips and pulled away from the kiss. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," Miguel nodded before lifting you up and down his cock, groaning and moaning. You ran your fingers through his hair as your eyes became hooded along with his from the pleasure. He then kept you steady before he began thrusting his hips up, pounding into you. "Oh fuck, baby! Yes!" You moan, wrapping an arm around his neck as he kissed your shoulder while fucking into your pussy. "Play with that pretty clit of yours while I fuck you, baby." He whispered. You reach down with your free hand and began playing with your clit. "That's a good girl. My beautiful good girl." You clench around him again, feeling yourself reach closer to your orgasm. "Cum for me, my goddess. Cum all over my cock."

With a cry of pleasure, you cum on his cock. Miguel continues thrusting until he holds you close to him as he comes inside of you. "Fuck!" You stood there for a bit before getting off of him and laying on the bed. Miguel smiled as he caught his breath, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. He got off the bed and grabbed a pack of wipes that were on your bedside table and cleaned you up before cleaning himself. He plopped down next to you before pulling you closer to him and resting your leg on his hip. "I love you so damn much, my love." You smiled and kissed his chin. "I love you too, Miggy." He rubs your back softly. "I hope you know every inch of you just makes you more beautiful in my eyes. The others don't matter to me when I have you. You're all I want and all I need. You're one in a million, my love."

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Hii! I love your Miguel fics sm 😭 he’s so bbg

Can I request one of Miguel x a fem and plus size character please 🫶

Cinnamon

Miguel was a soft lover, his big and warm hands the grounding pillars of your world. You love how easily he melted when you cooed in his ears, carefully rubbing the ache and loneliness away from his muscles, tightly-wound and tense. He was strung left and right with his business, pushed and drowned under mountains of responsibility to the multiverse he never wanted to discover. It was a curse, yet a blessing.

With it’s cons, dimension-ripping anomalies, dangers of canon-divergences and leading other Spiders, it came with it’s pros, brothers-in-arms, people who could emphasize and prideful successors. All things came with another, one could not live without light and dark. It was a world to marvel at, the wide expanse of the multiverse and its unlimited possibilities. One could not fathom the need to explore it, to seek and to know of it’s mysteries.

Yet he came home every night, into the arms of the woman he loved and cherished over all. You, the reason he still fought and led the society. Your safety was his top priority. Your soft body and warm heat.

He always came home to hold you, his palms kneading the rolls of your stomach, pushing and pulling at your rounded stomach and thighs. His rough and calloused fingers softening at the warmth of your skin, he would groan and slouch against you, as if you burned higher than most, your body absorbing and trapping the heat of your humid atmosphere.

While others cried at the loss, envy staining their eyes when they called you fat and ugly, Miguel cooed at you, giving you his heart as he told you how pretty and delectable you were. Where others saw a flaw, excessive fat (in their eyes) and ugly rolls, he saw beauty, graceful roundness and strong limbs. Whereas him, you didn’t melt, you grew and blossomed, unravelling like a flower in the cool air of spring. Pink and Blue petals turning purple and red, yellows leaves fading to a bright, lively green.

He was the healthy soil you depended on and you were the flower he was cultivating, the ring he was meant to watch and protect, to love and care. His entire being was created for you solely, in all your round glory and warm softness.

“Oh, mi alma,” he whispered. ”Te amo, te amo tanto.”

@yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Intoxicating (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Breeding Kink, Feral!Miguel O'Hara, Pheromones, Use of Petnames, Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Mating Press, Baby Talk, SPOILER FOR ATSV Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: Based on a prompt by @imslightlycreative. Literally cannot get enough of this man, istg. 😩🥴 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rough. If I got anything wrong feel free to correct me. Translations are at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

Original Prompt: "Reader is ovulating. Miguel finds out that his heightened senses can also pick up on pheromones".

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Miguel crept through the bedroom door. His hard heart softened when he saw you tucked beneath the comforter. You sighed and shifted slightly, your breathing steady as you slept soundly. He hovered next to you, his hand brushing some messy hair out of your face. Just as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, a bolt shot down his spine. His nostrils flared as he picked up on a scent: it was potent and sweet like rose water, yet intoxicating like wine. His talons suddenly drew out on their own as his pupils began to dilate.

"¿Qué carajo?" he muttered as his skin crawled, heat stirring inside his chest. The hair on his arms stood on end as he suddenly released a quiet grunt. Your eyes fluttered open as he clamped his hands over his mouth.

“¿Miguel?,” you blinked. Miguel’s hands shook as his carnal desires began to devour every inch of his body. He parted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs.

“Sí, bebé. I’m home,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. He swallowed thickly as you shifted yourself up, revealing your naked breasts from beneath the covers. His head spun as you slid your hand into his, your touch sending ripples down his spine and straight to his cock.

“Are you feeling okay, hermoso? You’re breathing pretty heavily,” you frowned as you stretched your arms out to cup his face. Miguel released a shaky sigh as you laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up,” you said. Miguel nodded and licked his dry lips, his words swirling around in his clouded mind like a torrent.

“J-Just some leftover adrenaline from the the mission,” he explained shakily, his eyes raking down your luscious body. You tilted your head.

“Are you-” You gasped when Miguel’s large shadow suddenly cast over yours. He caged you in between his muscular thighs as he bared his teeth over your pulse. A deep hunger rose from the pit of his belly and spilled into every corner of his mind. His nostrils flared as he battled with the part of him that desperately wanted to rut into you.

“M-Miguel,” you sighed as you swallowed. Your mouth opened as he stuck his nose where your shoulder and neck met, inhaling your scent.

“What perfume are you wearing, cariño?” he purred. You whined as he scraped his teeth over your soft flesh. You arched your back and gasped when his hips bucked forward into your bare pussy.

“I-I’m not wearing perfume,” you said with a shaky breath. Miguel’s eyes snapped open as his lips danced over your collar bone.

You weren’t wearing perfume? Then, that scent…

Miguel’s gaze went back to your breasts. Curiously, he cupped them in his palms before giving them a light squeeze. You moaned, your mouth falling open into a wide “O”.

“Ah-Mig,” you cried out. Miguel's lips fell into a straight line. Your whole face turned a deep shade of crimson as his lips trailed down your torso. The smell became stronger as he came closer to your dripping cunt. Miguel’s chest heaved as his hands slid down from your tender breasts and spread your thighs apart.

His hot breath fanned over your pussy before he gently lashed his tongue across your folds. His body felt like it was on fire as he lapped your sweet arousal into his mouth. The last shred of his willpower snapped with the taste of you on his tongue. Miguel released an animalistic snarl as he lunged forward and completely pinned you to the bed. Your eyes widened with shock as he grinded his hips against yours, his cock rock-hard and ready to burst.

"Cariño, te necesito," he practically whined as he drove his clothed cock against your naked pussy. You keened as wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Arruíname,” you keened with drunk, half-lidded eyes. His crimson eyes rolled into the back of his head as he cut a slit in his pants with his talons. His dick sprang out and bounced on your stomach. Your eyes glistened at the sight of his swollen, flushed cock leaking with precum.

“Mi hermosa,” Miguel snarled. He brought his hands beneath your thighs before sheathing his cock inside your wet heat in one eager thrust. He couldn’t get enough of the small moans and cries that tumbled from your lips as he eagerly pounded into you. Your tight cunt greedily sucked him in as his dick slid along your plush walls. “Tan apretada,” Miguel gasped as your pussy fluttered around him. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin. He bared his fangs as his heavy balls smacked against your puffy, wet folds.

“M-Miguel,” you drooled when the tip of his cock reached into your cervix. It felt softer and more open as he relentlessly stroked against it. "Feel so good, Papi-please go faster!" you begged. You released a silent scream as Miguel pressed your legs up to your shoulders. Your slick splashed against him each time he buried himself to the hilt inside you. He leaned down to your ear.

“¿Quieres a mi bebe?” he rasped. You mewled at his words, your hands scraping down his taut forearms.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you whined. The creases of your knees were held in his palms as his cock somehow struck even deeper within you. His lips crashed into yours as he nearly folded you in half, your slick dribbling down across the bulge that poked out of your lower stomach.

“Want me to put a baby in you, hm? Want me to fill you up again and again until you can’t walk?” he husked. You released a moan loud enough to shake the bedroom walls.

“Yes-yes I want your baby! Please fill up my pussy, Papi!” you begged. Miguel smirked as he slid his tongue along your jawline and pistoned into you at a brutal pace.

“Buena chica,” he purred. His balls began to feel tight as your walls restricted around his boiling shaft. Miguel had to admit that he loved seeing you like this: folded and ready to take his seed. “Vamos, puedes hacerlo,” the man groaned as he saw your eyes squeeze shut and brows pinch together. Your breasts rose and fell as your breathing became ragged.

“MIG!” you screamed as your hands raked down his back. He grunted as your cunt clamped down and spasmed around his thick cock.

“Tan buena, tan buena para mi,” Miguel strained as he tried to push through the way your pussy squeezed his cock. The way your face twisted in ecstasy brought him closer to the edge. The back of your thighs jiggled against the front of his thighs. His thrusts became sloppy as you whined below him.

“Fill me, fill me,” you begged incessantly, your lips parted as drool slid down your face. Miguel could feel the red-hot eruption boiling in his cock as he heard your pussy squelch around his length.

“Mierda,” he grunted. You gazed into his darkened eyes, hot tears rolling down your glowing cheeks.

“Papi,” you cooed. The simple word finally pushed Miguel over the edge. He yelled and slammed his hips down. His mind was drowning in waves of pleasure as his body stiffened. Miguel’s cock throbbed as he squirted rope after rope of his thick cum into your stretched hole.

He panted as he felt the tension in his body begin to unravel-feeling at how his cum bubbled and spilled out where your sexes were joined. His dick twitched as it released the last stream of his spend, stuffing you completely full of his seed. Miguel’s eyelids drooped as he caught his breath. You gazed up at him, tear stains still trailing down your face.

He cooed as he leaned down, hushing you with a gentle kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he lay on top of you, his cock still plugged in your weeping cunt. He felt your hot breath fan over his shoulder as you played with his raven hair.

“Did you know I was ovulating?” you asked. His eyes snapped open.

“It was just a hunch,” he mumbled, his mind still somewhat drunk from your cunt squeezing him so tightly. You giggled and kissed his temple. His body began to relax as he listened to your heartbeat steady.

“So, how many are we going to have?” you whispered. Miguel’s throat tightened as he looked at you with a soft gaze.

“You mean-you really want to have…” his voice trailed off as images of his variant daughter flashed through his mind. You beamed and cupped his cheek, kissing the tip of his nose while nodding. Joy spread from the cracks in his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. A wide smile stretched across his face as he kissed you over and over again, his hand trailing down your side.

“Gracias, mi vida,” he whispered, his eyes misty as he swallowed a lump in his throat. You sighed, then gasped when he rolled both of you over.

“Miggy!” you giggled as he nipped at your ear. You mewled as he pressed his chest against your back and shallowly pumped his cock into you. His cum sloshed around inside you as he whispered into your ear.

“We might as well get a head start, since my cock is already stuffed inside your tight cunt”.

___

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Qué carajo? - What the fuck?

Papi - Daddy

Sí, bebé - Yes, baby

Hermoso/Hermosa - Handsome/Gorgeous

Te necesito, cariño - I need you, honey

Arruíname- Ruin me

Tan apretada - So tight

¿Quieres a mi bebe? - Do you want my baby?

Buena chica - Good girl

Vamos, puedes hacerlo - Come on, you can do it

Tan buena, tan buena para mi - So good, so good for me

Mierda - Shit

Gracias, mi vida - Thank you, my life

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man 2099 x you #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 x y/n #spider man smut #marvel smut #fem reader #female reader

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flowerpotmage · 1 year ago

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Tight Grip, Broken Dam (3)

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: ambiguous relationship, slow burn, big sibling dynamic with gwen stacy

Word Count: 3,106

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

A/n: For the one full Spanish sentence I used spanishdict upon recommendation from more fluent speakers, as my own Spanish barely qualifies as basic (but I am actively studying! hooray). If you are interested in being a language beta/translator, let me know!

“I miss Miles sometimes,” Gwen admits, pushing around a few stray beans on her dish.

You look at her, softening in understanding. “Peter talks about him sometimes. He sounds like a good kid.”

Gwen sighs. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” you say after a moment, leaning across the table a bit. “I don’t blame you. If I had a friend like that, after what you’ve been through? I’d miss him too.” You shrug nonchalantly as images of you holding Miguel, of Miguel holding you, zip through your mind.

She lifts her eyes, looking into yours. “Yeah?”

You nod. “I think they’re too hard on you about it. It’s not like friendship falls into the laps of people like us.”

“Yeah,” she lets out a small puff of air that would barely even qualify as a chuckle if it weren’t for the lopsided, somewhat forced smile on her face.

You let the silence linger, and then; “That’s a lot of half-hearted ‘Yeahs,’ kid. You wanna go get a treat and web up some idiots?”

Gwen laughs. Success.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

And so you do. The two of you suit up and leave for the afternoon to do your spidery duties, swinging and helping and stopping people where needed. You make good on your promise to get treats when the sun begins to set, the two of you walking into a charming ice-cream parlor in full Spider-Person get-up and leaving with milkshakes (“Your world uses printed ceramic for takeout containers?” “Yeah? What do you use?” “We mostly use plastic.” “Dude. That’s so bad for the environment.”) and fresh stamp cards.

You find a place to perch and drink them, somewhere up high where you can take your masks off and relax. Your legs dangle over the ledge and the city is spread out before you, the glass windows of the buildings glittering under the low angle of the sun like a mess of craft store glitter someone tried, and failed, to clean up.

“How do you do it?” Gwen asks, lifting the soft blanket of silence.

You finish your sip, turning to look at her. “Do what?”

“The two lives thing,” she says, looking down at the ceramic takeout cup she holds in her lap.

You look out over the city, blowing air through your lips. “Honestly? I was never great at multitasking.” You pause, watching a crow soar by. “I probably ruined a lot of relationships by prioritizing being the Spider.” She’s lifted her gaze now, staring at you with big round eyes. “And…” you shrug. “I think some things that happened, some choices I made, cost me some people in my life. And… not just socially.”

“Your aunt,” Gwen says softly.

You nod slowly. “I think if she had known, if I hadn’t been so afraid to tell her… I think there’s a chance things could have gone differently.”

Gwen looks at you for a long, long moment.

“But,” you say, voice lighter. “There’s no changing the past. We just gotta do our best with what we have in the present.” You nudge her shoulder. “Even if there’s some things we can’t change, we can still make the most of the rest. Y’know?”

She gives you a small, sad smile, before turning to look at the city. “Yeah. That’s probably a good way of looking at it.”

You swing your legs in the open air over the building’s edge, thumping softly against the brick in slow rhythm as you return to sucking down your shake. You put the cup back down, only dregs left, and look at her again.

She sighs, looking at you once more. “Stop that.”

“Wh-!” You do an exaggerated double take, throwing your hands in the air. “Stop what? I’m not doing anything!”

“The whole ‘sad, sympathetic older-sibling’ look you’re giving me,” she kicks her dangling foot towards your swinging ones, and the two of you get into a mini foot fight that dissolves into easy laughter.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” you raise your hands again, this time in surrender. “Teens, man, so touchy about normal human emotions and bonding,” you push her shoulder and stand, pulling on your mask. “C’mon then. Finish up your shake and we’ll go web up some more doofuses.” With that you web your empty drink into one hand, and with the other you shoot a web to swing off back into the depths of the city.

Gwen shakes her head with a little smile, takes one last sip, and follows on her own rope of web.

“Ready to go? Got all your stuff?”

“Yup!” Gwen replies, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

You lift your wrist, tapping the golden-yellow screen, and your living room turns to molten gold as the portal opens up.

“Alright, get through quick. There’s no way this is good for the houseplants,” you usher Gwen past you into the portal, glancing around the room as she steps through, and then follow close behind.

The portal spits you out at the entrance to the lobby where numerous other Spider-People mingle and wave, greeting you as you make your way through, a chorus of hellos followed by Gwen’s name and your own.

“Spider-Teacher’s in today, yeah?” You ask one particularly young Peter Parker as the two of you cross paths.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he nods rapidly. “I just left his office.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder.

“Great. Good to see ya,” you wave as you pass and continue further into HQ. When you and Gwen come to a crossroads, you stop. “I’ll leave you to it,” you say. “I'm gonna see if Peter’s around with Mayday.”

“He’s probably with Miguel,” Gwen says, ever so slightly emphasizing his name and dragging out the L.

“Uh-huh,” you say, pretending not to notice her pointed look and teasing smirk. “Maybe.”

Gwen gives a little wave and then she’s off, swinging through the walkway beams towards where Spider-Teacher’s office is.

You move to the side, out of the way of foot-traffic to stand on a wall, and call Peter B. on your watch.

His head and shoulders appear, floating above the screen.

“Garden Spider!” His enthusiastic voice greets you, and you chuckle at the nickname. “How are you? I sure hope this is a social call or I’ll be suuuper bummed out.”

His smile is contagious, so you laugh. “Yeah, yeah it's a social call. Are you at HQ? I have some time to kill and figured I could say hi to you and the baby.”

“Absolutely! You know, I was just showing Miguel some pictures, she had her first apricot last week, and–” Peter’s cut off by something, and he glances over his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, just a sec.” He looks back to you and lowers his voice. “I’m in Miguel’s lab, you wanna come by? He’s a little cranky today, though, so you might wanna bring a peace offering from the caf.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Great! See ya soon.”

“See ya.”

The holo call ends and you swing off to the cafeteria, figuring you might as well get lunch for all three of you, and maybe a snack for Gwen too for when she's done. So you order her a burrito, Miguel the usual empanadas and–

Your eye catches on a new menu item.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way,” a random Spider-Man next to you in line replies, seeing what you’re looking at. “And they’re actually pretty good.”

You grin, turning to the cashier. “Two of the special, please.”

Peter greets you by name and wide open arms when you reach the lab. You return it with one arm, your other holding the food you’ve brought from the cafeteria.

“Hey Peter,” you pat his back companionably. “I didn't know if you were hungry or not so I brought some food for you too, just in case.”

“Excellent,” he releases you and rubs his hands together in a show of exaggerated excitement. When he glances over his shoulder into the main lab behind him like an unplugged bouncy castle.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s been overworking the last few days. Probably not getting enough sleep again, too,” he says quietly as the two of you begin to walk down the hall.

Guilt wraps its hands around your ribs, pulling them tight to squeeze around your lungs.

“Oh,” you manage to say. “Well, maybe we can get him to take a break for long enough to eat with us.”

Peter pats your shoulder, and then the hallway gives way to Miguel’s lab. You’ve been here enough times in a professional capacity that you should be used to the dim light, and your eyes are at least, but it still strikes you as rather Draculaic.

You’re sure if you mentioned that, he’d go on another one of his ‘I don’t understand why everyone continues to compare me to a vampire, they all know the fangs are a spider mutation and I don’t drink blood-’ rants.

The first thing you note is that his working platform is already lowered, his back to the hallway as he works, a gloved hand moving through the air across the yellow holo screens. The second thing you notice is the sleeping, redheaded, chubby baby cradled in his arm and drooling on his suit.

Something new rattles against the inside of your ribcage, elbowing the guilt aside.

“Miguel!” Peter calls. “Garden Spider brought lunch, take a break and eat with us!”

Miguel turns, his eyes land on Peter and then immediately flick to you.

“You are overdue for lunch,” Lyla says by his shoulder.

“Hey,” you smile and lift the bag of food. “I brought you two of those empanadas that Jess always gives you grief about.”

His eyes flick to the bag, then back to your face. The ghost of a frown tugs the corners of his mouth down. “They’re good empanadas.”

“You don't gotta defend ‘em to us man,” Peter says. “Now are you gonna get down from there and eat with us, or what?”

Miguel jumps down from the platform, using his free hand to keep May secure against his chest. She sleeps through the drop, something you’d find surprising with any other kid, but with what she and Peter get up to…

As Miguel walks to Peter to hand May back to him, you move to perch on one of the clear level surfaces and set the food down, taking the containers out from the to-go bag. Peter and Miguel join you after May is securely back in the baby carrier perpetually strapped to her father’s chest.

“Empanadas for you,” you pass Miguel the first takeout box, offering a small smile. He accepts, pausing minutely when your eyes meet, before looking away and taking one of his gloves off with his teeth. “A burger for Peter,” you say when you manage to pull your eyes away, and hand him the next box. “Aaand one for me.”

“Oh, I can’t wait. You know I love burgers. You know, when I first met—Woah. Oh my god,” he bursts into laughter. “What is this?”

“What is what?” Miguel asks dryly, opening his food with his now ungloved hand.

“Dude, they made you into a burger!” Peter places a hand on Miguel’s shoulder, holding out his open food container of burger and fries.

Miguel turns his head to look. He wrinkles his nose, eyes snapping to Peter who doesn’t even flinch. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s the Spidey Special,” you say with as best of a straight face as you can muster, opening your own box.

Miguel looks at you, eyes flicking down to your own open container and back to your face before he looks up into the air exasperatedly. “Dios mío, me convirtieron en una hamburguesa… You’re killing me here.”

“I take it you had no idea?” A bit of your smile escapes your efforts to contain it.

Miguel rolls his head to look at you. “Do you really think I would have allowed it if I did?”

You smile fully. “Fair enough.” You look towards Peter, who’s already started to eat, and ask; “How is it?”

“‘S d’lish’ss.”

“Wonderful.” Miguel remarks, voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes a bite of his empanada.

“C’mon,” Peter says, holding the burger out towards Miguel. “Try yourself! You taste great.”

You nearly choke on your first bite of your own burger, Miguel turning his head to look at you with a slightly furrowed brow. You wave him off. “”M fine, ‘m fine,” you say, patting your chest.”

“C’mon,” Peter says again, waving the burger towards Miguel again, who can barely repress his wrinkled nose.

Knowing Peter won’t give up, you interrupt.

“You can always have a bite of mine if you don’t want Peter’s half-eaten mess,” you say, nerves suddenly dancing in your chest when Miguel looks you directly in the eye.

“Oy!” Peter says.

Miguel looks at the box you offer to him, your burger sitting neatly inside with only a single bite taken out. His eyes sweep back up to yours, and he sets his takeout box aside. When he accepts your food his fingers brush over your knuckles with all the gentleness and warmth of a sleepy cat’s tail.

The gaze is finally broken when he turns forward to take the burger out of the box, and something high in your chest jumps and heats like a firework smoke-bomb on a chilly summer night as his mouth closes over where your own single bite had been. His eyes return to yours, flicking down and back up so quickly that if you didn’t have your radioactive spider induced super-senses you’d think you were mistaken.

“‘S fine,” he says, swallows, and places the burger back into the box. He passes it back to you, lowering his gaze.

Peter scoffs and mumbles: “Uh-huh. No taste.”

Miguel eats, occasionally watching while you and Peter catch up. You show him pictures of your largest plant’s newest leaf and he shows you pictures of May, who wakes up part way through the meal and climbs into your arms.

“Hi sweet l’il Mayday,” you coo, bouncing her in your arms, sending her into a fit of giggles while Peter takes pictures.

“I should get back to work,” Miguel says, abruptly standing from his seat.

You, Peter, and even May both stop and look at him.

“Oh, um–”

“Thank you for the meal.” Miguel leaps back up to his platform.

Your stomach sinks.

“I… should probably get Mayday home,” Peter says, making meaningful eye contact with you and gently taking a once again giggling May from your arms and sliding her into the carrier. He nods his head towards Miguel, widening his eyes pointedly at you. “I’ll see ya later boss!”

Miguel doesn't reply as his platform starts to move back upwards, so Peter slips out, leaving the two of you alone.

“Miguel?” You ask from your seat by the empty food boxes.

He doesn't reply, the acknowledging tilt of his head is the only indication he’s heard you.

You pick under your nails and glance around the room before standing to brush off any crumbs that might have landed on your suit. You take a breath to beat back the hands once again grabbing and squeezing your ribs, and shoot a web that swings you up to his platform. His shoulders tense at the sounds of your feet landing on the metal.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Are you-?” you reach out a hand to touch his back, the muscles that cover his shoulder blade, too short to reach his shoulder-proper without encroaching much too close into his space.

Your watch beeps, Gwen’s holo appears out of the screen, and you pull your hand back before it reaches home.

“Shit,” you mumble, then at a normal volume; “Hey Gwen!”

“Hey,” she smiles. “I just finished up with teacher Spidey, where are you?”

“Oh, I just finished lunch with Peter and Miguel–”

Even in miniature holo form you can see the suppressed smirk and raised eyebrows.

“Cool, cool,” she says with pretended nonchalance. “Do you want to just meet me back at your place?”

“I, uh–” you glance at Miguel’s tense, slumped shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll see you in just a bit.”

“No rush!” She says with a cheeky grin.

You open your mouth to reply, but her holo is already gone.

“...Cheeky.”

Your eyes snap to Miguel, who's quirking an eyebrow over his shoulder at you. Your face warms. He turns back to his screens, and you cross your arms, wrapping them around your middle in an approximation of a hug. You rock back and forth a few times on the balls of your feet. “Sooo… Peter said you've been working a lot.”

Miguel’s hand pauses in its path through the air from one screen to the next before it continues. “I always work a lot. It's kind of my whole thing.”

You sigh through your nose. “Yeah.”

Silence sits like a fat cat uncomfortably kneading on one's kidneys until he speaks again.

“How is your work going? Your day job, I mean. At the paper.”

You blink. “Oh, uh it's fine. I'm ahead of schedule so I'm taking a day or two between stories.”

He nods. “Good. That’s uh, good.”

Silence, again.

“Do you… Do you want some company while you work?”

Miguel turns to look at you, something soft and vulnerable in his eyes. This Miguel you recognize all too well. So you offer a small smile, tilting your head to the side.

“Yeah. Alright.”

You perk up. “Can I help at all, then?”

He quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his slight smile. “Leave it to me and Lyla for now.”

You chuckle slightly, leaning against one of the consoles carefully so as to not press any buttons. “Yeah… Probably better if I don’t.”

He frowns. “Don’t do that.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do what?”

He gestures his hand vaguely, crossing his arms in a reflection of your own. “Say that all… self deprecatingly.”

“Oh, I didn’t–”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” you lift your hands in surrender, laughing lightly. “Point taken.”

“Good,” he smiles, turning back to his own console. “Lyla.”

“Hiii,” the virtual personal assistant pops into existence in the space by his right shoulder. “And hiiii to you too!” She says in a singsong voice, wiggling her fingers at you in greeting.

“Hi Lyla,” you give a little smile and wave back, and then settle in to observe while Miguel works.

This time the silence sits like it usually does with you two: gently, like a warm blanket.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #spiderverse x reader #x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you #gender neutral reader

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gowonminajxx · 1 year ago

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MAKE ONE FOR MIGUEL PLEASE

heres a fun little one-shot kinda drabble for u. im currently working on part 1 of a new jealous miguel fic and the part 2 of my already made one of babysitter f!reader :))) !!!! sorry if u had a more specific req but i'll just let u feast on this for now

CWs for this :: biting, extreme blood, smallest plot ever, idk, enjoy

you were a spider-person at the hq. miguel would often assign you the simplest missions, until one day he was looking for something else other than anomaly-hunting. a blood thirsty vampire, who didn't get his injections yet.

you walked into his office, the triangle shaped window always blinding you with that amount of light compared to the rest of his dark little cave where he'd look at images and videos -- otherwise, research. as soon as you walked in, he stepped off his triangular shaped platform, stomping towards you like you were a prey.

you spoke, but before you could ask why he brought you here, he tugged onto your arm, pushing you into a corner while his mouth moved quicker to your covered neck. he pulled down the bit of the spideysuit that covered your neck, immediately sinking in his long fangs without any hesitation.

to this, you let out a muffled scream, and the only reason it was muffled is because he expected this kind of reaction. his hand instantly went up to cup your mouth, muting the scream a little. you whimpered into his hand as he bit further and further, his sharpness sinking into your bare neck.

blood seeped out of the small bite marks he left, and he licked at it eagerly, before sucking on the same spot, causing you to groan in pain. his eyes opened while he sucked, a small smile growing as he heard your desperate and vulnerable sounds escape those lips of yours.

his hands grasped onto your back, his tongue doing all the work, licking every last piece of your blood on your skin, as he left hickeys closer to your jaw. despite how careful it sounded, you let out soft cries, that were once again, muffled underneath his thick hand, and shook underneath him as he pressed you against him.

miguel chuckled lowly before gracing his thumb over your jaw gently, grinning at you so smugly. he let those common two words escape his blood covered lips.

"que linda."

#miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #2099 #spider man 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv smut #miguel o'hara drabble #miumiulicious

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thiccpettybitch · 1 year ago

Text

Bitter Sweet - Ch. 2 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Ao3 Part 3

Friday went by rather quickly, with not too many difficult classes. However, the weekend proved to be more challenging as you received a barrage of texts from Peter, eagerly sharing his excitement about his upcoming first date with M.J. He asked if you could swing by and give him some fashion tips, but for once, you decided to trust your instincts and simply responded that you didn't have much of a fashion sense. He persisted, suggesting you come over to help him with cologne, but you politely declined, mentioning that you had to help your aunt with something, and ended the conversation.

The rest of the weekend was filled with spending time with your aunt and uncle, doing some cleaning, helping with dinner, and listening to music while working on your homework. No matter how much you tried to keep yourself busy however, your mind wouldn't let you forget the pain. It was as if your brain was punishing you for not speaking to Peter sooner. What could you have done? Risked a friendship you had cherished since childhood? The emotional pain was unbearable, unlike a bruise on your arm or a cut on your leg. It lingered, sneaking up on you when you least expected it. It was always there, waiting to strike whenever you closed your eyes or tried to focus on something else. You were tired of it.

After finishing your homework, which wasn't too challenging, you reached for your phone. Deciding to text Gwen, asking her when she would be back. She responded after a few minutes, letting you know she would be back tomorrow, and you couldn't help but feel excited, telling her how much you missed her. In response, she sent you a cute GIF of a movie scene where two best friends hugged. You smiled and decided to call it a night.

You woke up the next day and got ready for school quickly. You had breakfast where you got to spend some quality time with your uncle, and he even offered to drop you off at school, which you appreciated. You were happy to be back at school. Sure, school was still... well, school. But it was a lot better than restless days where it didn't matter how much you tried not to think about what had happened, you always found yourself trapped with your own negative thoughts. Besides, Gwen was back today, and you were excited!

As you entered your art classroom, Gwen was there and immediately waved you over. You sat down next to her and embraced her in a half-sided hug. You had missed her so freaking bad. While half-listening to your art teacher going on and on about how shapes and shadows dance for the intellectual minds and how "Only those who possess a heightened understanding of artistic nuance can truly appreciate the profound depth and complex symbolism in this piece." She was holding a bowl of plastic fruit mixed with some rotten real ones. You liked Miss Octavius as your art teacher but the woman was pretentious as hell.

"Wait... He's dating M.J.? But I thought..." Gwen questioned, folding some of her hair behind her ear.

"I know, I know. I was going to tell him, Gwen. I was right there! But you should have seen his face. I mean, how could I mess things up for him like that?" Staring at the empty canvas sitting in front of you, you grabbed a pencil and began drawing different shapes and symbols that came to mind.

Gwen clicked her tongue and continued painting her piece. "True, but still. What are you supposed to do, just be miserable?" You sighed, "What is there to do? That's what you do in situations like this, just move on. Be miserable and hope that one day it'll just be some awkward fleeting memory."

It was Gwen's turn to sigh. "Sure, but it's not like you were be doing anything wrong. It's not like he was just some guy. He was your childhood crush! You guys spent so much time together, practically everyone thought you two would end up together!"

"Gotta be honest, Gwen, you're not really helping right now," you smirked as she looked over at you bashfully, flashing an apologetic smile.

"Sorry... Did you hear that some more teachers quit? After the big fight downtown between Spider-Man and the Vulture. With the explosions that went off, at least a hundred people ended up losing their homes. I heard rumours that we're gonna end up having classes together with some seniors."

"Huh... That already happened in Spanish class, but I didn't realize it was that bad." Gwen flipped her hair to the side, leaning in to focus on her piece. "And that's why I chose French, although I heard Hobie is taking Spanish, so I might swap."

You turned to look at her, surprised. "You know Hobie?" She shrugged, not looking up. "Kind of, we've... hung out during the summer." You looked at her sceptically, and she simply rolled her eyes.

"He's just cool. Nice. You know, new." You couldn't help but smirk, "Uh-huh! Just new." Gwen stuck her tongue out at you, and you both laughed. The rest of the class was nice, with a lot of talking, vibing, and each student being allowed to listen to music. You and Gwen ended up sharing earbuds. Time ended up flying by, and you made your way towards your final classes, hoping they would go by quickly. At the end of the day, all students received their new schedule, and you realized you would have two Spanish lessons every week, plus two more classes where you might end up in the same classroom as a certain grumpy jerk.

"Great," you thought to yourself sarcastically.

You were walking side by side with Gwen. Unfortunately, the two of you lived pretty much on opposite sides of the city, but it was fine. You could hang out at the train station before parting ways. Sometimes you would end up having such a fun time that you would miss a train or two just to spend more time together.

"Oi, oi, ladies! Hold up a minute!" You both turned around to be met with a jogging Hobie. He joined both of you, placing his arms on your shoulders and pulling you tight for a half and awkward group hug. "What are you two sayin'?" Hobie questioned with a raised brow.

"Uh, what?" you questioned, and Gwen laughed. "He's saying what's up." Hobie gave you a crooked smile and nodded. "Oh wait, I know you! We got Spanish together, innit?" You laughed and nodded. Something about his voice was so... nice?

Hobie moved his arms from your shoulders and placed them in his pockets. He ended up walking with the two of you to the train station. "Gwen, you forgot your jumper at my place, by the way." Your eyes practically bulged out of your head, and she glared at you. You snickered hard enough that it made your shoulders shake, but you left it at that.

"It's not like that! I was just hanging out at his place." Hobie glanced between the two of you and decided to look at you. "It's calm, innit? Tell you what; you come around my place, you can leave one behind as well. It's real fashionable, you know? I end up saving money on clothing." All of you laughed.

You ended up missing two trains, having too good of a time just laughing and joking and getting to know Hobie. Although the circumstances were a bit suspicious, you believed Gwen, and it wasn't difficult to see why she enjoyed hanging out with him. He even ended up giving you one of his pins; it was green and had two slices of bread on it. He had told you it was a joke about British food, and you decided to just take his word for it. Eventually, however, you split ways. Gwen and him on one train and you on the opposite one. They waved you off as your train took off.

You decided to lean against the wall of the train by the door. Grabbing onto the pin attached to your bag, you inspected it closer and smiled to yourself. The train was a bit more crowded as you had ended up in rush hour. You pulled your phone out to seem busy and noticed your aunt had sent you a text asking you to please pick up some groceries on your way back. You let out a small sigh but sent off a quick text letting her know you would pick them up on your way home.

As more people piled in, you ended up being pushed backward until your back was pressed up against the opposite train door. You didn't mind too much as you still had a few stops to go. However, as you looked up, you realized who you were standing behind. Miguel stood in front of you, his arm raised above his head, holding onto the railing on the ceiling of the train. He had his backpack casually hanging off one shoulder, and under his other hand was a basketball pressed against his hip. You wondered if he played it for fun or if he was part of a team. Cursing under your breath, you realized this was your stop. You awkwardly tried to squeeze past him, but the gap between him and the wall was too tight. Swallowing down some nervousness, you politely reached forward to tap him on the arm, only for the train to stop, and him to walk out. You stumbled forward as he moved but caught yourself and scurried out of the train.

You watched as he walked away and couldn't help but notice the way his ass looked in those basketball shorts. God damn, he had a whole cake factory back there. You snorted at your own joke, gaining you a few strange stares. You pulled your earbuds out and picked a song, deciding to listen to some Post Malone on your way to the store. Today had been a pretty nice day.

Wednesday rolled around, and you were back in Spanish class. To your disappointment, Gwen was not there, nor was Hobie. You figured that instead of her swapping classes, maybe he had? It sucked, and for a moment, you were tempted to do the same, but ultimately, there was no point. You would be back at square one when it came to learning a new language, and if you were going to be honest with yourself, you weren't sure you would do very well in French.

You sat down at a window desk and let out a sigh as you glanced out the window. Suddenly, you could feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You went to reach for it when you sensed something behind you. Almost as if you could sense danger, you glanced back and were met with Miguel towering over you. He was frowning down at you. "You're in my spot. Move."

You glanced around at the available seats and frowned. Your class didn't have assigned seats, so there was no reason for him to complain. If you were being honest with yourself, you did get it, but you just wanted to sit at the window today. Besides, you were here first. "Maybe you could--"

"No."

"What if I said pretty please?"

"Then it's absolutely a no."

You sighed, feeling a twinge of annoyance. "That's too bad. My seat now, amigo."

You knew it came out sounding strange, as you didn't have much of an accent yet, but you didn't care. You could hear him scoff, and thinking that was that, you let out a yelp as suddenly he had his hands under your legs and his other hand supporting your back. He easily lifted you up and placed you in the seat next to the one you were in. All the while, you had a hand covering your mouth, cheeks red, and your eyes wide. He sat down in his seat and hung his bag off the chair you were sitting in, pulling out a notebook and carelessly dropping it on the shared desk. You glanced around and realized only a few people had noticed, and only a few of them were laughing at you. Mr. Torres walked past you, greeting everyone in Spanish, and then continued the teacher mantra of calling attendance.

Glancing to your left, you watched as Miguel once again sat there, staring out the window with a bored expression, his chin resting on his hand. Gritting your teeth, you quietly hissed at him, "Why are you such a jerk?!" You swallowed hard as you noticed him watching you in the reflection of the glass. He calmly looked at you, but you were unable to make out what he was thinking or if he was trying to pull a face. Instead, he slowly turned his head to look down at you. You couldn't move, couldn't speak. All you could do was sit there and look at him. He suddenly scoffed with a snarky smile, shook his head, and turned back to the window.

You pried your eyes away from him, feeling self-conscious. If he felt comfortable joking and insulting your intellect or capability of common thinking, it wasn't far-fetched to believe that he would insult your appearance too. You had had enough. Glancing around the room for another seat, you got ready to get up when you saw him move in the corner of your eye. Miguel opened your backpack, and you opened your mouth, about to protest, as he placed your notes in front of you.

"If I am forced to tutor you, the least you can do is take notes during class, lentita!" he hissed. You scowled and hissed back at him, "I'm swapping desks, don't worry." It ended up coming out harsher than you intended. However, if he noticed, he didn't seem to care. "Why? Class has started, and you are going to end up here anyway."

"I don't want to make the mistake of being too close to your seat. You might decide to throw me out the window next time," you bitterly joked. Miguel leaned down so that he was ear level with you. "No te preocupes, as long as you keep your ass out of my chair, you are safe with me," he whispered against your ear. His voice sounded husky, and the way his Spanish came out when he spoke sent a tingle down between your legs. You peeked up at him, and he met your eyes with a small smirk. His eyes fell on your cheek, and you realized how pink they must have been by now. He looked puzzled, and you turned away from him, realizing he hadn't even tried to flirt with you. That's just how he sounded.

The rest of the lesson went by agonizingly slowly, and when the bell rang, you were halfway out of the chair when Mr. Torres pointed down at your seat, signaling for you to sit back down. You cursed under your breath, which Miguel found very amusing, enough that you actually caught him smiling. Of course, it was at your expense, though. The two of you went over some of the words you had learned during class, and as you got two of them wrong in a row, he flicked your forehead harshly. You grumbled at him and elbowed him in the side, which just caused him to scoff at you with a small smile. It was... kind of nice. Mr. Torres dismissed both of you, and you bent over to grab your bag. As you looked up, you caught Miguel stretching, his shirt lifting, and you were eye to eye with his waistline. You swallowed hard as you watched his tan skin move underneath his shirt. You could see a light trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his underwear. You stood up quickly, scrambled to grab your books and bag, and waved at Mr. Torres before running out of the classroom.

You made your way to the train platform, ready to catch your train. Opening your bag and placing your books inside, you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't your bag. A loud groan escaped your lips as you dropped down onto the benches behind you, letting your head fall back and closing your eyes. The bag rested in your lap as you took a moment to enjoy the breeze.

Suddenly, the weight of the bag disappeared, and your eyes shot open as you sat back up. Standing in front of you was Miguel, heaving with his hands on his hips and the bag in his hand. A deep scowl was etched on his face. "Hard of hearing, slow, and a thief?!" he exclaimed.

Confused, you asked, "What?"

"I called out for you, but you just kept running. I don't know what you found in my bag, but it's-"

"I'm not a thief! I wasn't trying to take anything. I thought it was mine!" you snapped.

"Yeah, well... it's not," he replied, his arms dropping from his hips. He turned his back to you and glanced inside his backpack, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Wait... where is my bag?" He glanced back at you and casually shrugged. "Y- you didn't bring it with you?!"

He spun around quickly, raising both hands in frustration. "I look like a damn porter to you?" Your chest felt heavy as you swallowed hard. "No. You're just the same as always, Miguel." With that, you got up and started walking back towards your school, feeling terrible.

"Ay, coño!" you heard behind you before something yanked on your hoodie, pulling you backwards and causing you to land back on the bench. Letting out a huff, you looked up in confusion as Miguel walked off. You watched, bewildered, as he walked away from you and the train station, grumbling in Spanish as if he was having an argument with himself. Blinking a few times, you turned your attention to the passing trains.

After a while, you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye. You turned towards him and stood up, but paused when you saw your backpack in his hand. He walked over to you and dropped your bag on the bench. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved your things and dropped next to your bag.

You stared up at him as he glared at you, his fingers pointing straight at your face. "You take my shit again, and I'll dump yours on the other side of the tracks. ¿Entendido?" Trying to process what had just happened, you simply nodded your head. He walked away from you as the train arrived.

Turning away from him, you picked up your books and bag, placing your notebook inside just in time to see him staring at you once again, as if you were an idiot. "Muévete el culo! The train. Come on!" You slung your bag over your shoulder and jogged inside, with Miguel following you onto the train. Choosing a spot against the wall, you watched as he walked past you and continued further away from you before choosing a seat and sitting down casually. He pulled out a pair of headphones and slid them on.

A warm feeling spread through your chest as you smiled to yourself. Maybe Miguel wasn't so bad after all?

___________________________________________________________

Miguel was the worst, you thought, as you rubbed your forehead. He had flicked you so many times that your forehead was covered in red marks. "Not Ella - eya. How many times do I have to tell you? Double LL is pronounced as a Y," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Frustrated, you let out a groan and replied, "That is what I am saying!" Miguel looked around and then back at you. "To whom? Because it's not to me!"

"Ella fue al baño," you repeated, slower this time, cringing at how different it sounded coming from your mouth. "¡Ay, por Dios!" he groaned, grabbing onto your nose and holding it. You swatted at his hands, but he kept his fingers tightly around your nose. "Eya - say EH-YAH. More nasally."

"Eyuh ah!" you exclaimed. He let go of your nose and leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. Rubbing your nose, you glanced up at him with a small scowl.

"Let's just stop for today. Sit here in silence instead. After listening to you pronounce the same word wrong fourteen times in a row, I need some silence," you sighed, pulling out your phone. As you checked your phone, you saw several new messages from Peter. Frowning, you opened his chat and felt your stomach turn.

Picture after picture of him and M.J. on dates and at home, at his place with his aunt and at her place with her family. They looked so happy together. In one picture, they stood together with his arm around her and her head resting on his shoulder, looking at each other lovingly. You started feeling sick, so you turned your phone off and dropped it on the table. You weren't mad; you just felt hurt. You didn't hate either one of them, and the few times you had met M.J, she had been so sweet. You actually really liked her. But it hurt so bad watching them that you had to turn your phone off.

Miguel was checking his own phone, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression. You felt so awful, wanting to just pack your stuff and leave. Mr. Torres had left earlier due to an emergency and had asked that you lock up behind yourselves. By now, it had been over an hour, and none of you had moved. You looked up at Miguel and asked, "Why are you still here?"

He glanced up from his phone and shrugged. "What do you mean?" You shrugged back. "Mr. Torres isn't here. You could have just left," you mumbled. Miguel watched you for a moment and replied, "Yeah, well, sitting here with you, listening to you struggle with basic Spanish, is still better than two hours of detention by myself. At least I have something to laugh at." He rolled his neck from side to side and let out a yawn.

You let out a dry laugh, grabbed your phone, and slid it into your pocket. Then you stood up and gathered your things. Miguel glanced up at you, watching you. "What's funny?" he asked, with a hint of curiosity.

"Nothing," you said, and before you could think it through, you dryly added, "Just hate how happy hearing you say that made me." You flung your backpack over your shoulder, mumbled a goodbye, and turned around to leave. It was raining outside, but you didn't care. You weren't going anywhere, so it's not like your hair getting messy bothered you. Besides, it kind of felt good, calming even. You checked your phone again and, seeing no new messages, you shoved it and your hands into your pockets, making your way home. As you climbed the stairs and reached the platform, you felt your hood being pulled over your head. Turning to your side, you saw Miguel standing next to you, hoodie up and hands in his pockets. He didn't look at you, just silently stared ahead as he made his way up the stairs before you. How the hell was a guy that big so sneaky?

You stood side by side, waiting for the train. It was silent, except for the distant sound of civilization, the rain hitting the metal roof above you, and the occasional announcer. Speaking of which, your train was delayed, so you both turned around and headed over to a bench. Miguel sat back, with one leg resting on top of his thigh, and both hands spread out over the backrest of the bench. He glanced over at you, but you silently stared ahead, with too many negative thoughts floating around in your head to care.

Finally, he let out a groan, making you flinch and turn to him. "I cannot believe I am about to say this, but..." he sighed loudly, "Talkative you, even if it is in broken Spanish, is better than whatever this gloomy shit is." He motioned over to you. Miguel leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, as he looked around before sighing in defeat, as if he had lost an argument with himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Your eyes met, and for the first time, there was no annoyance, no boredom, and no scowl. He looked at you almost as if he was... worried? No, it was more like he was genuinely interested in your well-being, not because he had to or was told to by a teacher, but because he just seemed to care. Tears threatened to spill, so you looked away quietly clearing your throat.

"Hey, look at me."

You didn't move.

"Oye! Look at me, y/n."

You froze, your stomach flipping, but not in a bad way. Your shoulders began shaking as you quietly let out a soft laughter. You turned to him and smiled; your eyes watery. Miguel furrowed his eyebrows, seeing your face, but he remained silent.

"That's the first time you've said my name," you remarked with a smile. Miguel looked at you with a puzzling expression and then let out one of his trademark sighs. "Is that why you look like you're about to cry? Because I said your name?" You shook your head, and he shrugged in confusion. "Then what?"

"I..." you thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. Should you even say anything? It's not like Miguel is your friend. But then again, he did ask, and at least he seems to care. "I got rejected by someone without even getting the chance to confess how I felt. It was someone I have liked for a very long time but never said anything to. Now that I'm saying it out loud, it sounds kind of stupid." You dryly scoffed.

"Yeah, it does," Miguel deadpanned. You turned to him, but he surprised you by reaching forward and grabbing your wrist. He looked over your friendship bracelet, his thumb running over the letters. His hands were warm and surprisingly soft. "Did he give you this?" he asked, glancing up at you. You nodded. He rolled his eyes as if you had just annoyed him again. You flinched, expecting to get flicked, but instead, he wiped away a tear that had escaped and wad slowly sliding down your cheek, using his thumb. Swallowing hard, you tried to ignore how good his hand felt against your cheek. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, attempting to calm your racing heart. Miguel silently watched you for a moment before retracting his hand.

"How do you feel about a school trip?" you opened your eyes and looked at him, confused. "What?" you asked.

"Tutor trip, class trip, whatever you want to call it," he explained with a shrug, standing up and walking towards the incoming train. "Forget it if you're not interested-"

"NO!" you interrupted, surprising him with your sudden outburst. Awkwardly smiling, you mumbled a sorry. "I mean, no, I'd like that. When?" He nodded his head towards the train, and you got up, walking over to him. "Tomorrow after class."

"Which class?" Miguel sighed and flicked your head. "After your final class, meet me here." "Okay. See you then!" Miguel had already walked off, ignoring you.

You couldn't help but smile as the warm feeling in your chest spread to your cheeks.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

· No te preocupes - Don't worry

· Latosa - Meaning "bothersome" or "irritating," it's a nickname that suggests someone can be a bit of a nuisance, but with an underlying tone of affection and playfulness.

· Lentita – slowpoke/ slow one.

· ¿Entendido? - Understood?

· Ay, coño – ah fuck/ ah cunt! (Spanish expression that can be translated as an exclamation of surprise, frustration, or annoyance. It is considered a mild profanity and is typically used to convey strong emotions. Fun fact: during the scene where Miguel is calling out for everyone to look for miles in HQ his voice actor Oscar isaac actually says it lol! Love it)

· Muévete el culo! - Move your ass!

· ella fue al baño - she went to the bathroom

· Ella – She

· Ay, por Dios - '"Oh my God!"

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #angst #gwen stacy #miles morales #hobie brown #atsv #miguel ohara fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse

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sp0-t · 1 year ago

Text

•.⦿ FORCED CLOSE PROXIMITY ⦿.•

MIGUEL O’HARA X gn!READER

SUMMARY ⦿.•

GENRE ⦿.•

fluff w/ bit of angst

WARNINGS ⦿.•

none!

(this is a non-smut version)

Day 6, you had caught up with some spider-people, specifically Hobie and Miles. You had already known Hobie, due to his longer presence at hq. Still the younger boy, miles, intrigued you. He had come far for his young age, and short year being spider-man.

You three were simply talking, just chatting, however it was cut short when an alert from your watch caught your attention. You look down, gazing upon the bright light.

O’Hara: Report, now.

seen 1 min

You knew he was serious with the “now” added at the end. Staring at it for a bit too long, racking in your brain why this man would now want to talk to you. After six damn days he finally wants to confront you. At least, that’s what half of you was thinking, the other half was wondering if he would finally tell you everything. What had caused him to go quiet for so long.

“Everything alright there?”

Hobie looked at you with confusion in in his eyes. Finally peeling your eyes away from your wrist, you look at Hobie and Miles.

“Yeah, uh I gotta go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

You walked off and waved them a goodbye, giving them a smile. You were overthinking the whole walk to Miguel’s “office”. Many things were running through your mind, so many, that you hadn’t realized you were already in front of the door. Letting out a breath, you twist the handle and push the door open.

“Finally, I swear you like to waste my time.”

Of course, of course he had an attitude. Of course he didn’t know that you had been worried sick for him over the past 6 days. No, stubborn Miguel, always had to act high and mighty on his platform.

“Are you serious?”

The look of confusion that Miguel gave you was almost laughable.

“What, did I say something that gave you the idea I wasn-”

“6. Days. It’s been 6 days before you’ve even acknowledged me. Now here I am, standing in front of you hoping, begging you’re finally going to tell me what’s wrong. But instead I get an insult!”

An exasperated laugh leaves your mouth, it’s almost amusing really. How you thought he would tell you something, anything, about what was keeping him quiet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He crosses his arms over the other and looks to the side with a little scowl on his face. You sling your web, attaching to his platform, tossing your body onto the platform only mere inches from his own.

“You have some nerve you know that O’Hara.”

Jabbing your finger into his chest forcefully

“Last I checked you liked that about me~”

“Yeah, well last I checked you weren’t avoiding me.”

“I-”

He stopped himself before he could finish.

“-have to go.”

He started to walk off the platform until his watch went off. It was blaring, so loud you had to cover your ears to try and muffle the sounds.

“What the hell is going on!”

“Lyla! What’s happening?!”

No reply was ever heard.

“Damnit!”

He pounded his first on the force field. Trying to claw his way through it, doing anything to get out.

“You already know that’s not going to work, you’re the one who designed these things to be impenetrable. As much as you hate it, you’re stuck with me.”

He let out a heavy sigh accepting somewhat of a defeat.

“I don’t hate you, I could never.”

He looks up at you with sorrow and regret in his eyes. You could already smell the apology that wanted, so desperately, to roll off his tongue and come out between his lips.

“Then explain to me why.”

“Because… I realized something about me, something I didn’t want to admit to you or myself.”

“Miguel, I have know you for so long, and no matter what you tell me. You will always have me by your side.”

“I love you…”

“Why are you crying?”

You let out a little chuckle, him pulling you even closer as he sniffled.

“I’m not, you are!”

“Yeah, I finally got to hear those words.”

“I haven’t heard you say it.”

Both of you looked deep into each others eyes, bodies still close, and your hands still on his face.

“I love you Miguel O’Hara.”

That’s all it took for his hands to softly grab your face and kiss you, those three words that could so effortlessly make Miguel O’Hara bend to your will.

“Ugh Finally!”

A voice came from out of nowhere, you pulled away, much to Miguel’s dismay. A slight pout forming on his features when you did. You both looked around to find a small Lyla hologram.

“Took you slow pokes long enough.”

With a snap of Lyla’s fingers the force field was down

“You did this?”

You looked at her a bit puzzled

“Well, we might have had a little “malfunction”

Miguel’s fingers were pinching at his nose bridge

“I swear, I’ll rewire you into a mindless bot.”

“Hey! I did you a favor.”

You thanked Lyla, and grabbed Miguel’s hand.

“See, at least someone appreciates my hard work!”

He scowled looking at Lyla, but when he turned his attention towards you, he was soft, gentle, and so in love.

“Come on, we have some talking to do.”

You drag him away from Lyla, both of you swinging away.

“See, all you need is a little forced close proximity.”

Fan Fiction is written, owned, and published by: @sp0-t

DO NOT: Republish, Rewrite, Or STEAL My Work Without My Consent (please and thank you)

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