#spiderman 2099 imagine

[tarjapearce]

~Imagine ~

Miguel kissing you everytime he actually does a push up.

You're underneath him, trying to keep up with his workout routine, but you're left breathless. He drags you by the ankle and hovers above as he gets in position to start his set.

You're caged underneath him, face flushed and somehow laughing at his antics, but you know he is serious when it comes to his training.

He'd kiss you as he lowered his body. And again, and again, until you trap him with your legs around his waist, and hands on his neck. To your little surprise, he lifts you without a sweat.

His lips twitch in a small smirk as you kept holding on him like a koala, until he collapses ontop of you, all air knocked out of you and that's the perfect moment he kisses you like he was intending.

Thighs on each side of his narrow slutty waist, one of his hands is enough to pin your arms above you as the other one roams the fullness of your hips, squeezing the plumpness of your ass. Tongue invading your mouth, dominating the little moist muscle effortlessly

He kisses until you squirm, begging for air, and when he breaks from you, enough to let you take deep breaths of needed air, his prongy fangs pull your bottom lip softly to then suckle at it; earning a whimper from you to then release you with a small pop

Face as stoic as usual, but eyes glinting with something you've grown to know too well. Need.

"¿Empezamos con el cardio?" (Shall we start on the cardio?)

[magnolias-make-me-happy]

warnings: dirty talk,smutty smut,miguel o'hara

just watched across the spiderverse nd now i'm feral so enjoy my lovlies <3 (also peep the titanic reference)

No thoughts just this image of slow, nasty sex with miguel o’hara, his hips rocking into yours at an agonizingly slow pace. He's got his head in your neck and his arms wrapped around the back of your head holding you as close as humanly possible to him “that’s it cariño, such a good girl” he groans in your ear, his heavy panting warming your neck as he ruts into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the heavy feeling of pleasure permeating the room. “m-miguel” you manage to get out in between pants, your hands squeezing and clawing at his back leaving red lines in their wake “fuck” he hisses and you feel his fangs graze your neck sending a shiver down your spine, you gasp and arch up into his chest “shit miggy, so good” your words seem to slur as you toss your head back into the pillow as much as you can

as your hands slide down to his lower back to push him in further, miguel pulls away just enough to lean on his elbows “mírame mi amor” he purrs. You struggle to open your eyes but when you do you’re met with what you believe is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen

miguel’s hair is stuck to the skin of his forehead, pieces sticking up in odd places from being yanked on, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth is slightly open with the most sinful grunts falling from his lips, and his body is covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. that coupled with the sight of him rocking into your body is enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Jesus he looks like a god

He fucks like one too 

Miguel’s eyes are searching your face, memorizing every gasp, every contortion of pleasure, he loves nights like this. Where all that can be heard is the sound of your little whimpers and gasps of his name, where all he can feel in his entire being is the wet, warm pull of his cock inside of you. He gives one particularly hard thrust and it jolts you slightly up the bed “jesus! fuck-mm” the breath feels like it’s being knocked out of you as you approach that feeling of complete euphoria that only miguel can give you, his hips change pace and suddenly every thrust is almost impossibly deeper than the last. His hand slides down your body until it hooks under your knee and pulls your leg around his waist, as your legs lock around his back a growl rips through his body 

“se siente demasiado bien cariño” he rushes out in a pleasure filled groan, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss. It’s wet and sloppy and feels so good as his hips continue to slam into yours, his pelvis catches your clit and you break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning “ah-por favor miguel” he hangs his head to rest it against your shoulder, he lets out the most toe curling laugh “pobre bebé” he says in a mocking tone “puedes tómalo hmm? i know you can, such a good fucking girl for papi”

His words go straight to your core and you clench around his cock as he grunts “sí papi, make me cum” you whine “un poco más mamí, then you can cum all over this big cock yeah? I know you want it, tell me” miguel picks up his pace, the wet squelching sound filling the room “mierda, hear that? this pussy loves my thick cock, practically pullin’ me back in” tears start to roll down your eyes as you feel that burning fire in your stomach begin to flood all over your body “please miguel, m’so close i can’t-” you trail off as you get lost in the drag of miguel's cock, you can feel his thrusts getting rougher and his breathing quicker and you can tell that he’s close too 

“tell me you want it, baby” he breathes from above you, “fuck! I want it miguel please, wanna cum” your body feels like jello, all thought escaping your brain until there's nothing left but miguel. “cum” he orders, your pussy contracts around him while that band finally snaps, your legs shake and your nails dig into his sides as his hips continue to snap into yours, riding out your orgasm. he moans and speeds up his unforgiving pace “coño, buena chica,tómalo, tómalo” he captures your lips in his, his moans muffled as he spills into you, warmth spreading throughout your lower body

Miguel slips onto his forearms, his muscles taut and body absolutely covered in sweat. You roam your hands over his body, soothing him. “you’re trembling” you whispered, he offers you a lazy smile “i’ll be okay” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding “so are you cariño” he says as he opens his eyes, you smile up at him. This beautiful greek sculpture of a man lying above you “yeah well that’s because i was fucked within an inch of my life so, whose fault is that” he respondes with a shake of his head and a small smile on his lips as he presses soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly slides off of you and heads to the bathroom

after a minute you can hear the water running, miguel appeared in your shared bedroom doorway “wanna take a bath with me mamí?” he holds out a hand for you to take, you beam at him before you start to make your way out of your bed only to realize something. “uh miguel?” “hmm?” 

“i can’t move my legs”

Translations:

cariño: sweetheart/dear

se siente demasiado bien: feels too good

por favor: please

pobre bebé: poor baby

puedes tomarlo: you can take it 

un poco más: just a little more

mierda: shit

coño: fuck 

buena chica: good girl 

tómalo: take it

[eternalsams]

Irresistible ➻ Miguel O'Hara

pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Black Cat (fem)!reader

warning/content: violence, so much sexual tension, swearing, actual plot, mention of nudity, no mention of y/n (gets called Kitty a couple of times), some heavy make out sess

summary: Miguel is sent in your world where there is no Spider-Hero to help him, you're the only person he knows there and good thing for him, you can help him. Bad thing for him, you won't stop taunting him.

words count: 3.7k

a/n: English isn't my first language, so please take that into your consideration

"We don't need her, Lyla." Miguel groans at her as he walks through the lobby. "No, we don't. But you do." Lyla pops up on Miguel's shoulder with a grin. "Come on, she'll be of a great help, she knows her world better than anyone else here. Better than you." The little lady has a point, he had to admit it. He only visited a couple of times but didn't stay long enough to know his way into the thousands of cities. The only problem is that you were a pain in the ass for Miguel. Even though you were doing your job pretty fine, you were always torturing him with your constent teasing and flirting. It was just in your nature to annoy him. As another door opens before him, Miguel notices Hobie lying on a wooden box, fidgeting with his guitar. "Why don't we send Hobie there? I don't wanna see her and I'm pretty sure they would make a good pair." He grumbled before tapping on a screen for the last details. Lyla pops back up in front of him and crosses her little arms on her chest. "Because, you and I both know that they would make a too good pair. You can still focus when you're around her and you can discipline her as well." She chuckles, her laugh echoing in the lobby. "Is this about your kitty cat again?" Hobie chuckles as he tilts his head back and looks at his boss upside down. "Don't call her that." Miguel growls before setting the right coordinates on his watch and opening a portal. He puts his mask on and turns to Lyla. "You coming with me?" He asks her and she steps back. "Nah, I'm good here. Have fun with her!" She wiggles her little fingers in his direction before disappearing. Miguel sighs and steps through the portal, immediately feeling the rain pouring down on him. "Great..." He sighs and closes the portal behind him before jumping off the rooftop into a dark alley. He checks if anybody saw him and retracts his mask before changing into more casual clothes. That means old sweat pants, a white t-shirt and a sweater. He pulls the hoodie to cover his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets before walking down the streets. The neon lights lighting the dark streets and leading him to the place he knew you'd be.

When he finally recognizes your place he walks up the couple steps of your porch and hesitates knocking on your door. He knew how much you'd tease him for coming for your help. But when he checks his watch and sees the little time before the anomaly in this world would happen, it pushes him to knock on the door. He takes a few steps back and sinks back his hand into his sweater pocket. The door opens and he immediately regrets coming to you when he sees your smirk. "Well, well, well... Spidey." You lean on your door and run a hand in your white hair before crossing your arms on your chest. He says nothing, he doesn't need to, you already know why he's here. But you still ask. "Why can i do to please you?" He visibly grimaces at your choice of words and looks away. "I need your help..." He whispers under his breath. You perfectly hear him but that wouldn't be fun for you. "What was that? I can't hear you with the rain." You say as you cup your ear and lean a bit forward. He groans and looks back at you. "I need your help." He says more distinctively. You grin and steps back into your house. "Come in, then." You wait for him to pass the door and close it behind you. "I don't have the time for your little games." He says as he inspects his surroundings, making sure you won't trap him one way or another. He was used to it by now. "I know. But I'm pretty sure I can't really fight bad guys like this." You point to yourself and he seems to finally notice how you're dressed. Or how undressed you are. You're only wearing some loose shorts and a black tank top. And he didn't need to stand closer to see you didn't wear anything underneath. He quickly looks away as you make your way to your room to change into your suit. He uses this alone time to put back on his spider-suit and when he glances over at your room, he notices you left your door slightly open. On purpose. He can see you taking off your top and revealing your toned back, he could almost see the curve of your breast if you turned slightly to your right. He quickly looks away and clears his throat, checking for the umpteenth time his watch. "We don't have much time." He calls for you and you step out of your room, your combat goggles in hand. You look at him up and down, visibly satisfied by the sight in front of you. "Wow, looking good, Spidey! Have you been working out since the last time I saw you?" You run your fingers along his broad shoulders and down his firm chest. "Not your business. Can we focus on the mission?" You let out a faux-sigh and sit down on the table, rubbing purposely your foot along his thigh. He stares at you and looks down at your foot touching him. "Yes? Am I distracting you?" You ask with that oh so annoying smirk that get on his nerves. He swats your foot away with a grunt and makes appear a screen in front of you from his watch. "Micheal Morbius from Earth-386 decided to get too close to the multiverse doors and spread chaos around him." He informs you. "Any victim yet?" You ask, now focused on the mission. "No, only calls and damages. But I've already encountered one of them. They don't wait too long before shedding blood."

"Alright, where do you think he is now? And the most important question is, why do you need me with this? If it's only Morbius, you can take care of him by yourself. Hobie told me you've dealt with him before and it went great." You frown and jumps down from the table, looking around your living room to find something to tie up your hair. "How do you know Hobie?" He frowns and turns to you. "Wouldn't you like to know, Handsome..." You glance at him and smirk, tying up your hair and maintaining eye contact with him. Miguel bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cursing and looks away. "Morbius is mostly looking to feed off someone so maybe somewhere with some crowd where he wouldn't be too suspicious. Do you have any idea?" He eventually asks you. "Oh, so that's why you need me. You're like a lost puppy here." You laugh and he stares at you, telling you silently to focus back on the mission. "I have an idea where he might be, but you won't like it." You shrug and grab your keys before dropping them in a little pocket on the inside of your suit. Miguel raise an eyebrow at the action but doesn't say anything. "As much as I like seeing you in that suit, you'll need casual clothes for where we're going. "I already have casual clothes." You look at the pile of clothes he took off a little earlier and look back at him. "My grandma could wear this, this is not casual. Wait here..." You say as you walk back to your room. Miguel sighs and checks another time his watch, seeing the anomaly would soon happen if you didn't hurry up. You come back with a pair of jeans way too big for you and toss it at him before giving him a button down shirt. "Wear this. I'll wear something similar. We won't be recognized." Just as he was about to ask you something, you grab another pair of jeans and put them on over your suit. "Won't be very comfortable but if we need to change quickly, it's better." You grab a shirt and put it on, Miguel still staring at you. "Come on, Handsome! We don't have whatever you're doing." You grin and tap gently on his chest as he puts on his pants. You hear him groan and walk to the door, Miguel on your tracks, buttoning up his shirt. "You look great, honey." You smirk at him as you straighten his collar. "Where did you get those clothes?" He asks you, readjusting himself in the tight pants. "You don't wanna know." You smile up at him and pat his cheek before he fakes a smile when he opens the door to let you out first. "If you needed an excuse to look at my ass, that's a terrible one" You chuckle and pull you fur hood over your head. "So... Where to?" Miguel asks as he closes your door behind him and walks down the steps. You wrap your arm around his and start walking down the street. "I hope you don't have sensitive ears, Spidey. 'Cause you're about to hear some loud music." You look up at him and intertwine your fingers with his.

Miguel winces at the loud music around him, and just like you said, he didn't like it. He looks at you ordering a drink and you turn to him. "I guess you didn't bring your wallet with you. You want something to drink?" You ask him, leaning to his ear so he could hear you. To be honest, he could hear you even if you were standing at the other end of the club if he wanted but you wanted to be that close to him and he hated it. He doesn't respond and just stares at you. You turn back to the bartender and smile at him. "He'll take a water. Thanks." You slide a ten dollars bill on the counter and wink at the guy before turning back to Miguel. "We're supposed to stop Morbius, not get drunk." He scolds you, grabbing you by the arm. "I know, I know. Will you please let me go, people look at us strange." You grit through your teeth, that was the only thing you didn't like about him. He had a stick up his ass. He complies and grabs the glass of water the bartender hands him. You slightly smirk when he empties the glass in one go and sets it back down on the counter before grabbing your wrist and leading you over where the people where dancing. "You wanna dance, Spidey?" You tease him with a chuckle. "No." He simply says and keeps walking to the private tables in the back of the club. You notice a security guy looking at you weird and you trip purposely, holding yourself on Miguel's shoulders and giggling. He turns back at you and frowns, you only had one drink and he made sure it wasn't that strong, there was no way you could be drunk. He grabs you by the waist and makes you straighten up, looking at you in the eyes. "What's wrong?" He asks, worry painted over his face. You smirk a bit and his concern drops immediately. "I'm great, we just have to act normal." You explain but don't let go of his shoulders, holding him even closer. "And acting drunk is normal to you?" He raises an eyebrow. "In a club? Yeah, definitely. Come on, Handsome, take a seat." You pats his cheek because you know how much he hates it and push him a bit. "Wha-" He can't ask you anything and end up sitting down on a couch arm rest, you on his lap. "What are you doing?" He asks through gritted teeth. "Fading in." You smile and brush a few locks away from his face to look into his red eyes. "Use that Spidey sense of yours and find that vamp, will ya?" He clears his throat and wraps awkwardly his arms around you, closing his eyes and trying to focus on anything but the loud music and your ass rubbing on his crotch. He quickly re-opens his eyes and grabs your hand before leading you towards a table where a single guy was accompanied by three women. You tap Miguel's chest, making him understand you got this. You approach the table and untie your hair. "Hi. Is this the party I've been hearing about?" You ask innocently and you lock eyes with the guy. He stands up and you get a proper look at him. He's got long black hair, you can't really see his eyes but can definitely notice how dark they are. He's tall and skinny, but not the attractive way. "You're at the right place, sweetie." He smiles at you and you notice how chapped his lips are. He extends his hand to you and you take it before quickly pulling on it and punching him in the face.

The girls at the table scream and leave but you don't let go of Morbius's hand, not wanting to let him run away. Miguel is quick to join you and as he was about to yell at you for being so reckless, Morbius pulls on your hand, making you trip and you eventually drops his hand to roll on the floor and catch yourself up. You groan and take off your shirt before putting on your mask and shooting your grappling hook to the ceiling. You swing back to Morbius while Miguel make everyone leave the club. Your feet collide violently with the vampire's head and when you look back at Miguel, he's ripping off the shirt you gave him, revealing his spider-suit. He doesn't even care about his mask and stay exposed. He shoots his web to trap Morbius and struggles to keep him still. You grab a little bottle on your belt and remove the pin before jumping towards Miguel and tackling him behind one of the couch. The gas bomb you just set off explodes and you hear Morbius cough a little before he groans. "Fuck! I thought that would stop him." You grumble and roll off of Miguel before standing up. You look at your co-worker and notice his fangs. You've only seen them once and when you asked him about them, he ignored you. So you never asked again. You had your sensitive subjects and he had his. Miguel growls and jumps at Morbius before giving him a punch in the face and sliding his talons over the vampire's shoulder. You take advantage of his weakness to run behind him and wrap your arm around his neck, locking him against you. He struggles in your arms and Miguel approaches. "Move your arm." He says in a deep voice, making you comply. "He grabs Morbius by his hair, making him wince and lean over to his neck before sinking his fangs into his skin. You grimace slightly and you feel Morbius go limp in your arms. Miguel leans back and you look at him, curious. "What did you do to him? Did you kill him?" You let the vampire fall on the floor and notice his still open eyes. "Ew, dude, you're fugly." Your comment makes Miguel slightly smile before he quickly get back serious. "I paralyzed him." He simply says before tapping on his watch. A portal opens before your eyes and your lips part in awe. You knew where he came from but you've never seen where he came from. Miguel leans down and picks up the limp Morbius before throwing him over him shoulder. He was about to step into the portal before he stops and turns back to you. "You wanna come check it out?" He asks and you try to hide your excitement. "After you, I wanna check you out when you walk in front of me." You say and he chuckle, making you smile.

He steps into the portal and gets back into the lobby where Hobie is still playing with his guitar. "Don't you have something better to do?" He asks the younger man as he drops Morbius on the ground. "Oh, you're not dead. How did it go with your kitty cat?" Hobie asks, rolling down to stand up as he slides his guitar in his back. "Hello!" Your voice echoes in the lobby as you step through the portal before it closes and Hobie smirks. "I see it went well since we don't usually accept cats here." He chuckles and walks to you before shaking your hand. "Good to see you, Kitty." You smile at him and look around you, admiring the place Miguel founded all these years ago. "Welcome back!" Lyla pops up in front of Miguel and cocks her head to the side to glance at you. "I see the mission went well." She smiles at him. "It did? And ask Ben to take Morbius back to his world and make sure he stays there." He orders and Lyla nods before disappearing. Miguel turns back at you and quickly glance at Hobie. "I still don't know where you know him from and I'm not sure I wanna know." He pinches the bridge of his nose before he grabs something on a shelf and launches it at you. "Put this on or you won't feel good for long." You look down at the bracelets in your hands and put it on without asking any question. "Alright, come with me now." He leaves the lobby and steps into an elevator. You follow him and the whole way up is spent in complete silence. Neither of you dare to speak. Until you open your mouth. "We make a good team." You slightly smirk as you glance at him. "We do." He simply responds. "We should work together more often." You nudge him with your shoulder. "I don't think that's a good idea, actually." You roll your eyes out, the stick up his ass is back and went even deeper. "You're right, there's some things I do better alone." You look right in front of you and you can see from the corner of your eyes Miguel looking at you but not saying anything. "Some things?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. You hum in response and smirk at him. "Some things." You confirm. You hear him quietly chuckle and he shakes his head. "You're really something else." He murmurs under his breath. "Well, I hope I am. You spend your days with different versions of you, I do hope I'm different form you guys." Your fingers start grazing his and he looks down at your hand before looking back up at you. "Don't." You turn to him and take a step closer. "Why?" Your fingers play with the hem of his suit at his neck. You see his Adam's apple slightly bob and a smile stretches your lips. "Just don't." He repeats. You nod but don't step back.

"Kitty..." He says as a warning. "You've never called me that before." You cock your head to the side and play with his fingers. "Kitty." He says more sternly. "Spidey." You respond and that's the final stroke. He grabs you by the neck and smashes his lips on yours, taking you by surprise. You can feel his fangs nibble at your bottom lip and a mix of a grunt and a moan escapes you. He pushes you against the glass behind you and runs his hands along your body. That body that kept teasing him and he couldn't forget for years. He really did try to control himself as long as he could but you made it so hard for him to focus on the mission when you're constantly teasing him. He feels your fingers runs through his locks and tug at his hair, keeping him close to you. His tongue lick across your lips and you part them, finally tasting him after all those years. And does he taste good! One of your hands runs down his neck and holds onto his shoulder, trying to get him closer. His hands leave your face and go straight to your ass, kneading at the flesh. Your ass was just like he imagined it, you worked hard for your body to look like that and he wanted to feel every defined muscles under his eager fingers. He grabs you behind the knees and taps the back of your thighs. "Jump." He says between kisses and you comply, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back against the glass wall of the elevator and your chest flush against Miguel's. You could feel all of him against all of you and it was intoxicating. The singular ding of the elevator makes Miguel drop you back on the floor and he rests his forehead against yours, panting. His red eyes looking directly into yours. Your heart beating so fast and hard against your chest it hurts. The doors open and Miguel's body mostly hides yours, so the person stepping in knows he's not alone but can't recognize you. "Having some good company there?" Miguel recognizes Ben's voice and he can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I don't remember asking you anything." Ben's smirk drops and he clears his throat. "Lyla told me about Morbius, where is he?" He asks. "In the lobby." Miguel responds, still looking deeply into yours eyes and hiding you from the other Spider-Man in the elevator. You can't help but smile and you try to contain it by biting down on your lip. Miguel runs his tongue over his teeth to hide his smile too and drops his head on yours, his breathing finally steady. He looks back up at you and opens his mouth, looking for the right words. "We'll talk." He mouths to you and you nod, grabbing a handful of his suit and kissing him deeply before you heard another ding from the elevator. The doors open and you slip out of there, trying not to make any eye contact with Ben. "Was that that cat girl Hobie talks about?" The other Spider-Man can't help himself but ask his boss. Which earns him a glare from Miguel. "Take care of Morbius." He says before following you.

[wh1sp3rr]

an: i’m tired and depressed and am in need of a big, irish-mexican man to put me to sleep

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

miguel brushes your hair, however curly or straight it is, as you snuggle up into him, nose kissing his neck, breath fanning him comfortably, legs adding the perfect amount of weight and pressure to his hips as he click clackity clicks away, smooching your benign features lovingly. when someone barges in and you perk your head up suddenly as to not be caught in this vulnerable position, he shushes to you so sweetly, caresses your hair once more, smoothing it down, and whispers:

“it’s okay, baby. relax. go back to sleep, okay?”

he glared at whoever the disturber of his precious was and discusses anomalies galore all the while gently shifting his chair side-to-side to rock you, his love to sleep.

[kirke-is-my-name]

Miguel meeting your family is just your titas fawning over him saying how tall he is and how strong he is, how he is very gwapo(handsome). And man when dinner comes the Tito’s just filing him with BBQ or handing him a Beer and telling him to come sit down and chat with them.

100% even if he is full will eat whatever your titas place on his plate. It’s bad manners to refuse outright!

And his reaction GOD HIS FACE when you give him Puto. (In the Philippines it’s a steamed rice cake)

I can see it now you take a slice and he is like what is that? And you are just like here have some Puto! And the deadpan stare as you place this nice little rice cake on his plate 😭😭

The kids love him 100% asks him to play sports with them.

At the end of the day the two of you are leaving with enough baon for three days, and the wide approval from the family. Oh and they already ask when is the wedding

[mrs-lockley]

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k  Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore. 

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead. 

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall. 

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above. 

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you. 

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head. 

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left. 

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe. 

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him. 

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain. 

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices. 

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe. 

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort. 

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe. 

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light. 

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare. 

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting. 

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage. 

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed. 

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …” 

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern. 

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest. 

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take. 

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him. 

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you. 

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet. 

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead. 

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen. 

What he did not know was that once, you ran away. 

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms. 

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent. 

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet. 

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake. 

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time. 

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay. 

It did not take long for your heart to break. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below. 

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx. 

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air. 

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand. 

Miguel. 

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium. 

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him. 

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch. 

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair. 

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile. 

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you. 

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you. 

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him. 

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips. 

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin. 

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way. 

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky. 

He pauses, calculating his words. 

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his. 

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined. 

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice. 

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls. 

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold. 

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes. 

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath. 

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves  of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from. 

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light? 

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways. 

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay.  Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades. 

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him. 

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed. 

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home. 

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband. 

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him. 

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath. 

��You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky. 

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen. 

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain. 

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed. 

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart. 

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours. 

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom. 

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips. 

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came. 

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below. 

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Mind Yours 🤫

⚣🤫 A/N → Custom Spiderman drawing done by daviid.art on Instagram! Check out his work! Thank you! Always credit your fellow creators people. Anyway, first Miguel O'Hara fic. I think this was born out of my genuine disdain for him story-wise for trying to *spoiler bleep sound*, but also, from the fact that I'd let this man eat me like a Sunday dinner: no leftovers. Yeah...I said it. WARNINGS: Bit cringe but oh well. Flirty vibes (towards the end), Jealousy & Possessiveness, implied size kink.

⚣🤫 Summary → Okay, let's recap: Being one of the newly invited members into the Spider Society or Elite Force (what is the official name for this place anyway), there's a lot to take in. For one and probably the most pressing, why the hell is Miguel O'Hara always in Y/N's business? Does that man not have an entire Spiderman Task Force to run? And seriously, WHAT IS THE OFFICIAL TITLE OF THIS PLACE?!

⚣🤫 Words → 2.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤫

The Spider Society.

No, the Spidermen Elite Task Force.

Nah, that’s stupid too. What about the Spidey Watch Force?

Seriously?

Alright, names could be dealt with later. But, at some point, Y/N was going to have to figure out what the official name for this place was. It was enough when he was recruited by his mentor, Peter Parker B. Why he had the B on his hand, he didn’t initially understand until he came to HQ and realized just how many different versions of him there were.

Yeah, the B was necessary.

Anyway, Peter took him on as a mentor when their recruiting department, if that was the official title for it, singled him out as a candidate with high potential. He said that Y/N reminded him a lot of another one of his unofficial mentees named Miles. The recruit noted that he seemed to hear that name a lot around the place, but not always in the most positive manner. Especially from their leader, Spiderman 2099, or Miguel O’Hara officially.

Speaking of that dude, Y/N was getting more and more concerned with how much attention the guy seemed to be paying to him. He figured in the beginning, he just wanted to keep an eye on him to see how he was doing and make sure he was following protocols. It made sense, but as time went on and he continued to just always be around, that’s when the recruit started to get a bit weirded out.

Miguel was an interesting person, to say the least. Quiet and broody, a bit obsessive, and a lot irritable. but one who tended to have a flare for the dramatic. When he met the new recruit, most saw his interaction with him as typical behavior. However, those closest to him, like Lyla, Jess, and Peter, knew better.

When Peter brought Y/N to Miguel’s office to introduce the new recruit, which the Hispanic Spidey personally requested, he was his typical sarcastic and cold self. What surprised everyone was when he offered to personally mentor Y/N, saying Peter had more important things to deal with like his (at the time) pregnant wife.

Y/N appreciated the offer but chose to stick with Peter. He didn’t mention that Miguel sort of creeped him out and made him feel intimidated, figuring that would make things any better. Of course, his original mentor had to go and make it awkward anyway by gloating at how great of a mentor he had to be.

Jess, of course, disagreed with that statement.

There was no visual reaction from the Hispanic man, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wasn’t happy with Y/N’s decision. But, could you blame the guy?!

Peter made training fun. He found ways to make things seem more fun and comical than they would’ve seemed in the moment. He always had a lightheartedness to his teachings and would use the most interesting (questionable) examples when helping Y/N solve a problem.

Miguel didn’t mentor that many people from what the recruit saw, and just from those sights, he could see why. He took things way too seriously. Always looking at things from a negative or sarcastic point of view. The man was stubborn as hell, refusing to believe that you could teach and guide without being an obsessive hard-ass 24/7.

In his mind, he was only teaching discipline and responsibility. Y/N made a joke saying his teachings are probably the blueprint for what sends people to therapy. Jess, Lyla, and Peter all laughed while Miguel just scowled from afar.

But, it didn’t stop there.

The more time Y/N spent in the task force, the more he noticed how Miguel was always finding reasons or excuses to be in his business. It wasn’t just routine checkups and one-on-ones as most would expect.

Miguel was virtually finding any way he could stick his nose truly where it didn’t belong. Y/N found it annoying and a bit obsessive, while Peter, Jess, and even Hobie eventually all saw it for what it was. Typically, most Spider-people were not known for being the most discreet when it came to someone they were interested in.

It started with small stuff; Miguel constantly calling Y/N into his for the smallest of things. He didn’t like how he handled this mission, should’ve called for backup on that mission, make sure he doesn’t interfere with canon events, yada yada yada.

Then, it started with small comments about whatever Y/N was doing. Him being on his phone too much, spending too much time goofing around with Peter and the other Spiders, and taking too many trips home when he wanted to see his family.

Anything that had to do with Y/N, the big-bodied muscled Latin had something to say about it, even when he wasn’t present. He’d come across some Spiders who had been partnered with the mentee on the last few missions. He overheard one of them making a suggestive comment and it did not sit well with him for obvious reasons.

The next day, Y/N was confused as to why he was suddenly being pulled from all missions with his previous comrades. Though he never did find out exactly why, he had a strong suspicion of who more or less was responsible for it. And not just because the order came directly from them, but that added to it

It only got more interesting when Y/N got his new mission assignments from Peter, and he saw that he was “coincidentally” paired with Miguel on all of them. The mentee looked at his mentor with confusion and annoyance and only got a shrug in response and an empathetic apology.

Jess and the computer hologram also gave him sympathetic responses but gave their friend and leader suspicious and not-impressed ones when they met with him later that day. Of course, Miguel played innocent and oblivious, acting as if he was only doing this to help improve Y/N’s abilities and skills out in the field since he observed some specific areas where he was lacking.

“Oh, you’re observing all right…” Peter mumbled under his breath to which Jess and Lyla both giggled.

Miguel was not tickled.

The missions, as expected, were a lot. On multiple occasions, Y/N felt like he was ready to either strangle Miguel or himself. Whichever came first was completely out of his hands.

Miguel was on him for every single thing he did, but the gag was that he wasn’t even doing much since the control freak would always push Y/N behind him, taking on whatever enemy or threat himself. He’d usually just end up doing things like crowd control, getting civilians and innocents out of danger, and jumping in whenever his leader got overwhelmed.

Yet, that wasn’t even the worst part.

During these “intimate” times together (if you could even call it that), Miguel would take it upon himself to start asking innocent little questions. Of course, only if you define ‘innocent’ as very invasive in Y/N’s personal business. In that case, Miguel was an angel sent from heaven.

There were many kinds of questions, but they mostly were focused on Y/N’s personal life, specifically his relationships whether platonic or non-platonic. If, by this point, it hasn’t occurred that Miguel doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body, especially when it comes to keeping his “possessive” nature under control, then let it be known now.

Miguel’s jealousy was obvious as shit.

Yet, the only one who was oblivious to it was Y/N, who was getting more and more irritated and frustrated with every question in his life about why he was talking to this one person, and why didn’t he accept Miguel as a mentor. Physically incapable of letting shit go.

That topic made frequent appearances in their conversations where Miguel would go into one of his sarcastic and moody rants about Peter not being a fit mentor and how he would do so much better. The man was petty and could hold a grudge, and this seemed to be one he would not let go of for a long time.

At some point, Y/N had enough and went radio silent. Not completely, though. He told Peter that he was taking some time off and gonna stay in his dimension for a bit, to give himself a break from Miguel.

When he returned home, he left his watch buried in his desk and turned whatever communications or alerts he could off. As you can imagine, this did not sit well with Miguel, who probably was the only one who was consistently trying to contact Y/N, demanding to know why he wasn’t reporting in for their meetings or missions.

He would’ve gone to Peter and demanded he tell him what was going on, but he didn’t trust that soon-to-be father would give him the answer he wanted. So, he took matters into his own hands and made his way to Earth–6998.

Imagine Y/N’s surprise when he came home to a tall, buff-ass, brooding vampire Spiderman waiting in his bedroom with his watch in hand.

“Oh my god! Are you serious? You followed me home, broke into my house, and went through my drawer? And you’re sitting on my bed with outside clothes on?!” Y/N snapped.

That last one was just plain rude.

Miguel moved himself off the bed, his mask still on hiding his mildly guilty and awkward face.

“Why haven’t you reported to HQ? You missed three assignments, and I had to fix and fight a bunch of anomalies on my own.” Miguel demanded in his usual gruff manner.

“Because I’m taking a vacation, that’s why. And said vacation starts with me now washing my sheets and you leaving.” Y/N huffed before bumping past the taller man. He roughly pulled his sheets and pillowcases off his bed, gathering them in his arms before stomping towards the door, heading for his in-unit washer and dryer.

Miguel was hot on his trail, though, not planning on following the smaller Spiderman’s order in the slightest.

He was the boss last time he checked.

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’ve been ignoring me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes while grabbing the detergent and fabric softener off the shelves from above, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. You may be in charge when it comes to your little Spider Society or Task Force or whatever you freaking call it, but when it comes to my life and my personal business, I answer to me, myself, and I only.”

After setting the washer and turning it on, he closed the lid before turning around, being met with a towering and bulky frame standing over him, not giving him much room to move past considering the tight space.

“I’d appreciate it if you would move out my way,” Y/N irritably asked, though his tone indicated that it was definitely not an ‘ask’ and more like a ‘get the fuck out my way.’

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting like a brat and ignoring me.” Miguel retorted.

“Ignoring you? IGNORING you?! How could I possibly ignore you when you constantly force your way into my life every single day? I can’t do anything or go anywhere without you two steps behind me or constantly asking me something that is, quite frankly, none of your concern! So, again, I am going to ask as politely as I can that you remove yourself from my home and learn how to mind yours. And, just so there’s no confusion, I 100% mean sticking your nose out of my business!”

Y/N went to bump past the stronger Spidey before he felt a large and tight grip on his upper arm, his whole body being pulled back before being shoved against the adjacent wall to the washing machine. Miguel crowded him against the surface, his body dwarfing him in size and leaving any possible room for him to move or try to escape.

Miguel leaned down into the young Spider’s face, his mask dematerializing over his face, showing the smug and flirty expression that was hiding under.

“You are my business, and I’ll continue doing as I please until you get it through your oblivious, tiny brain. Now, I’ll finish your sheets while you go get suited up, put your watch back on, and bring your ass back to HQ. We have a mission tonight, and then, we’re going to have a nice, long talk after.”

“And, just exactly how are you planning to make me do that?” Y/N pushed back, even if a small part of him wanted to give in, considering how so not hot he was finding this.

He had a thing for aggressive and dominant guys; sue him.

“Well, for starters, I can easily just say forget the sheets, toss you over my shoulder, and drag you back to HQ, whether you like it or not. But, I’d figured it’d be more considerate if I allowed you to return on your own choice.”

There was a silent pause between the two males, Miguel’s red eyes staring deep into Y/N’s who held a defiant glint in his own irises. A silent challenge was being waged between the two, seeing who would cave first, and considering the position he was already in, it was safe to say the smaller Spidey wouldn’t be winning this one, no matter how many webs or one-liners he shot out.

“Didn’t think the word considerate was in your vocabulary. Fine. But, I’m just doing the mission, and then I’m leaving.” Y/N caved, still somewhat in a defiant mood. Really, he was pushing the waters to see how far he could go.

Miguel raised an amused eyebrow before leaning up, giving the smaller Spider room to move. Just as Y/N moved out of his grasp, he felt a hot sting on his rear end. His hands went to cover his throbbing tushie while turning to see a cocky look on his face, the guilty gloved hand with the claws extended caught in the act.

“Remember who’s in charge here. Mind yours, Y/N, and I’ll mind mine.”

☀️ | Miguel O'Hara/Spiderman-2099 | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[im-a-writer-sometimes]

Thank You, Doctor (Miguel O’Hara - Part 2/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: language, miguel being a bit of a jealous prick

🕷

“I told you it was a good idea.”

Miguel woke up to the sight of a tiny golden figure hovering above him, hands clasped behind her back, lips pursed in victory. He turned his face into the pillow.

“You’re an AI, not an alarm,” he said.

“I’m both,” replied Lyla. “And right now, I’m right.”

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

“About Doctor Y/l/n,” she said, her smile sharpening.

“Leave me in peace,” he said, groaning into his pillow. “Just once.”

“I thought perhaps we could discuss expanding the operation,” she said. “Letting more anomalies integrate into spider society. So long as they wear their wristbands like Y/n, they’d pose no threat.”

“Except that Y/n is an exception,” he said, finally sitting up, biting back a groan at the stabbing pain in his gut. “Most of the other anomalies here are criminals, Lyla.”

Lyla kicked her feet together, shrugging. “Just something to consider.” And then she winked out, leaving Miguel in his supposedly cheerless room. He glanced around; maybe he did need to get a hobby.

The rest of his day was spent in his control room, standing—and then after insistence from Lyla—sitting in the midst of his endless yellow screens. The rest of his week went as such, and by the end, he realized Lyla had been going back and forth between him and Y/n, reporting on his progress. It had been Y/n demanding that he sit and take a break to eat and drink water and change his dressings; her demands had simply come from Lyla’s mouth.

At the end of the week, as planned, he returned to the med bay to have his stitches removed. A part of him realized that in any other circumstance, he would’ve just ripped them out himself and blown off whatever overbearing doctor insisted to do it for him. But he squashed that part of himself deep, deep down inside, plopping himself down on a bed in front of your station. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked, lining up your tools on a tray beside the bed. “I know you’re too tough to feel pain, but has it subsided at all?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m just a bit sore.”

You nodded, and then you just stared at each other—you sitting on a stool beside the bed, him propped up on the mattress. You cleared your throat after a minute.

“Usually, I need access to the wounds in order to pull out the stitches,” you said, eyebrows raising as your eyes dropped to his suit.

He didn’t respond, but his face went a little red as he worked himself out of the top of his suit, leaving it pushed down to his waist. And then, very suddenly, he wasn’t the only one blushing. You were a doctor in training, you’d seen plenty of bodies. Bodies meant nothing to you. But they meant—something, when he was unquestionably ripped and blushing like a schoolboy. 

You smiled as you began to pull back the bandaging, nodding to yourself as you began to cut off the stitches.

“Think I’ll live?” he asked, and your smile widened.

“He’s a proper comedian now,” you said, pulling out the last stitch on his abdomen, standing up and coming around to his back to begin pulling out those. 

“General cheer and joy,” he said. “Doctor’s orders.”

You were glad you were tucked out of his line of vision, your cheeks growing warmer. “We’ve been over this,” you said. “I’m not a doctor.”

You had to climb halfway onto the bed to reach his wound, and it didn’t escape your notice the way his shoulders tensed at the slight dip of the mattress under your knee. “What did you do?” you asked. “Before all this?”

He went silent, the only sound between you the occasional snip of your medical scissors. “I had a family,” he said, the weight of the words hunching his back as you worked. “A daughter.”

“What’s her name?”

More silence.

Eventually, he said, “Lyla’s convinced me to start allowing more anomalies into spider society.”

“That’s long,” you replied. “Did she have a nickname?”

You couldn’t see the soft smile that curled his lips, but you could physically feel the tightness ease from his muscles. “Gabi,” he said.

“Cute,” you replied. “And do you mean that? About the anomalies?”

He nodded.

“Good,” you said.

“There’s a man from Earth-55403 who was a doctor in his own universe. We picked him up after he’d jumped unknowingly,” he said. “He starts next week.”

“It’ll be nice to have an actual doctor around here,” you said, and he didn’t reply.

After you’d finished, you climbed off the bed and came around to face him once more, peeling off your gloves. “You know your body and its limits. I have a feeling if I told you to wait another week, you’d just ignore me.”

“Probably,” he said. 

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you here again soon after you’ve reopened your wounds on a mission.”

“Probably.”

“And I have a feeling that if I gave you ointment to prevent any scarring, you’d just say, scars make me look cool, and not use it.”

“That’s not what I sound like,” he said. “And probably.”

You laughed, and turned towards the sink to wash your hands. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you the next time you’re on the brink of death, Miguel.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said as he stood, and by the time you turned around to face him again, he was gone.

🕷

You hated him. You hated him and his stupid face that refused to ever flee your mind. You hated the hitch in your breath every time someone stepped into the med bay, and the sinking of your shoulders every time it wasn’t him. Which was every time. You weren’t some blushing schoolgirl. You were an adult. An almost doctor. You shouldn’t have been fawning over a man you’d had a handful of conversations with, but there was some sort of easy charm, the kind you lulled yourself into, whenever his stone facade gave way.

You’d made other friends—several accident prone spiders who came in often. One such spider was Peter Parker from a universe that sounded stranger and stranger every time he described it to you. But he was funny and awkwardly pleasant—like nearly every spider person that came through. Save for one.

“You know, when Miguel told me we’d be catching multiversal anomalies, I expected giant goo monsters and half-human nutcases,” he said, watching me with his mask off as I bandaged a cut on his arm. “Not smart, pretty girls with extensive medical knowledge.”

“How do you know I’m not secretly a half-human goo monster nutcase?” I asked, taping off the bandage and sitting up straight to look at him.

“That would make you even more mysterious and alluring,” he said.

“You’ve got a concerning taste in women, Peter.”

It was then that a person—just a person, seemingly not a spider—you hadn’t seen before stepped into the med bay, looking about with Lyla perched on his shoulder. 

“Who’s that guy?” asked Peter.

“Another secret half-human goo monster,” you said, before patting his shoulder and standing to greet the newcomer.

“Dr. Eddard,” said Lyla, floating between you two. “This is Dr. Y/l/n.”

“Just Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Not quite a doctor.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” said Dr. Eddard. “You can call me Sam.”

Sam was nice. Quiet, diligent worker. Lyla had him shadow you that first day just to get acclimated to the space, but after that, you only saw each other when your shift was over and his had begun. After a little while, he started bringing you dinner when he came to relieve you, and a little while after that, you greeted him each morning with breakfast in hand. After a week of your new routine with Sam, and over a week since you’d seen Miguel, the spider reappeared. 

He stepped into the med bay while you were patching up another spider, standing awkwardly by the door as he waited for you to finish. You noticed he wasn’t in his suit as usual, but in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked—domestic, almost.

“Rip open your wounds?” you asked as soon as the other spider had left, and he crossed the room, standing stiffly before your station.

“No,” he said. “I came by to check that everything with the new doctor is going well.”

You nodded. “No complaints from me. How are you healing?”

His response was to lift up his shirt and put his new, gnarly-looking scars on display. You smiled.

“They do look kinda cool,” you said.

He dropped his shirt back down, clasping his hands behind his back. “That’s not all,” he said. “It’s been explained to you that your father is a multiversal criminal.”

“Um, yes,” you said, sitting down on your stool as he continued.

“We’d lost his trail for a long time, but I believe we’ve found it again.”

You just blinked. “Okay.”

“He’s put countless universes at risk. Collapsed some, nearly collapsed your own.”

“Are you asking my permission to catch him?” you asked.

“No,” he said. “I just—wanted to let you know.”

You shrugged. “I’ve never met the guy, I’ve got no objections.”

He watched you as you turned towards your station, reorganizing lines of already perfectly organized medical supplies. You knew he didn’t quite believe you—you didn’t quite believe you—but you didn’t want his pity. 

“I’m jumping to his last known universe tomorrow,” he said. “I can keep you updated if you like.”

You shook your head. “No need.”

At that moment, Sam arrived with a take-out box, and you lifted your eyes to the clock. Your shift was already over. Sam sidestepped Miguel with a nervous smile at the man before offering the food to you. “I got you that turkey sandwich you like,” he said, and you thanked him, feeling Miguel’s eyes on you the entire time.

“Uh, Dr. Eddard, this is Miguel,” you said. You left out the fact that he was in charge, not sure exactly how Sam was feeling about the whole multiversal anomaly thing.

“I’m Sam,” he said, extending a hand out to Miguel. Miguel simply glanced down at it before lifting his eyes back to Sam’s face with an unimpressed twitch of his brow. Sam cleared his throat and dropped his hand.

“Thanks for checking in, Miguel,” you said, offering him one more smile before turning towards Sam, laughing at something as you opened up your takeout box, jokes already being exchanged between the two of you.

Miguel stood there for a beat longer than acceptable before slipping out, oblivious to your eyes following him out the door.

🕷

“Are they—close?”

Lyla simply blinked at Miguel, once again going against her programming by not giving him an immediate answer. Well, she was giving him an answer in her wide, judgy eyes, but not the one he wanted.

“They’ve known each other for a week,” she eventually said.

“I know that, but they seem well-acquainted,” said Miguel.

Lyla’s mouth slowly curved into a smile. “You’re jealous.”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “I am simply in charge of the anomalies here, and I want to be sure I haven’t put Dr. Y/l/n in danger. Dr. Eddard was a minor criminal, but a criminal nonetheless.”

“Well then sure,” said Lyla. “They’re close.”

“How do you know?”

“They are each the person the other has seen most since they left their own universes,” she said. “I believe they call it trauma-bonding.”

Miguel stared at her for a moment, before grunting and turning away. “¿Porqué me importa?³” he mumbled to himself, to which Lyla rolled her eyes.

“You care because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in years,” she said.

Miguel crossed his arms. “I’m sorry? I don’t remember programming you to give hookup advice.”

“It’s not advice,” she countered. “Just an observation. Everyone else here is essentially you in another form, but Dr. Y/l/n is a fresh, pretty face, who also happens to be smart and funny and kind, and it’s got your dick in a knot.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” he said, head whipping in the direction of the doors as they burst open, and the last person he wanted to see in that moment stepped through.

“I really don’t want to know what sort of conversation I was interrupting,” you said, breathless. “But something has happened.”

Miguel followed you as you started speed walking out of the room, and you explained that Sam had accidentally cut off his wristband while helping someone, and he’d started glitching nonstop. 

“No one else knew where the wristbands were kept—” you started, but he simply placed a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

You watched him wrap a new band around Sam’s wrist as soon as you got to the med bay, placing a steadying hand on the doctor’s back as he settled back into his body.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Sam said, half to Miguel, half to you, as he leaned back against the nearest bed. “I don’t know how I could have been so careless.”

“How did it happen?” asked Miguel, eyeing the only spider in the med bay—the one Sam must have been helping. The man had an ice pack on his knee. No wounds. No stitches. Nothing that required anything sharp.

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “My scalpel must’ve slipped.”

“I was just coming in for my shift, and I found him like this,” you said, and Miguel stalked over to the bed where the only spider was siting, watching the scene before him with wide eyes. Miguel picked up the severed wristband from the floor, turning it over between his fingers.

“You understand that you will continue glitching and eventually disintegrate without this?” he said, eyeing the man.

“Yes, yes, I was just careless. My apologies.”

He stared at the man for a moment longer, before glancing back at Y/n.

“Perhaps he should stay under your observation for the day,” said Miguel, and you nodded.

“Right, of course,” you said, and he lingered until your breath had evened out and the panicked look in your eyes had eased.

--

Part 3

(3) “Why do I care?”

[marlboroenjoyer]

cat got your tongue

the way miguel o'hara sunk his claws into my heart and i can't shake him. he makes me REDACTED and REDACTED like... anyway- this is a part 1; its just kind of 'world building', im working on the shameless smut that will be uploaded later today most likely. i didnt beta read cause i dont believe in that shit im sorry. WILL LINK SECOND PART HERE

summary - miguel doesnt understand how to properly convey the emotion commonly known as "concern". he instead criticizes you until youve had enough and finally rendered this explosive man silent.

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

there are few instances in which a sentence dies on miguel o’hara’s tongue; his vocal cords ricocheting against each other like live wires. his voice kicking up white hot sparks of thought, that sizzled against the unfortunate soul caught in “conversation” with him.

now, one of those instances had dropped itself right into miguel’s lap. he was reprimanding you for putting yourself into harm's way again. you two were dealing with a particularly difficult anomaly, with jess and gwen on the sidelines making sure to grab any pedestrians in danger. a strike of electricity surged through your spine, making you look over your shoulder to find miguel pinned down. a large slab of the building you all were in had landed on top of miguel's right arm, pinning him down to the concrete floor beneath him. the anomaly was charging him, ready to seemingly rip his head clean off his shoulders by the way he was positioned. 

your body was sent into overdrive, sprinting forward, you attached two webs from each of your wrists to the ground in front of you. the webs slingshotting yourself forward towards this monster; your foot landing square on the side of its head, successfully shifting its attention towards you. you heard miguel shout out in the distance behind you as you lead this thing away from the others; for you or the others you couldn’t recognize. 

everything was going according to your half haphazardly calculated plan, until you slipped up, fucked up your web placement and your focus just shattered. you were smacked down to the cement far beneath you due to a hunk of debris being slung your way. you dodged to main concern but you lost all footing you had and began to plummet. a shrill shriek ripped itself from your vocal cords as you fell, desperately reaching outwards with your wrists pointed towards the sky; praying that one of your webs would connect to something stable and allow you to swing away. 

your left shoulder slammed against a ledge that was jutting out from the wall, you tumbled some more until a buzzing neon red tendril enveloped your torso and caught hold of you. all the air you had desperately been gulping down to calm yourself was sucker punched out of your body, your whole being snapping in the opposite direction of which you were falling. you were borderline lifeless as the web quickly pulled you up to safety and your other two teammates took over the fight. two strong arms held you to a rock hard chest, albeit heaving sporadically, sucking down oxygen in gulps. your head was supported against a strong shoulder, a tender hand grazing your more than dislocated shoulder. you grunted in pain from moving it and you heard a whispered apology above you.

hands kept grabbing onto the painful joint, shushing your groans of pain and ignoring your weak hand; you could hear a voice telling you that it needed to be popped back into place. you didn’t really know what he was talking about. everything was spinning and you were in so much pain. tears were slipping down your cheeks; but you didn’t even notice until gentle thumbs soothed them away. just as quickly though, those same gentle hands were distorted into iron fists; they latched onto your injured shoulder and twisted the joint back into the socket with a stomach turning pop and CRACK. you let out a yell that died into a low growl of agony. it was only a moment or two later when you felt a sharp pain in the meat of your trapezius muscle; and the relief of numbness spread through your whole body. you realized you had lost movement in all of your limbs but you were too out of it to care. you passed out only a few minutes later. 

after a few painful weeks in the medical wind of the spider-society hq, your accelerated healing made it a fairly easy process; you found yourself in this little argument with miguel. he called you into his office, via lyla, claiming he needed to speak with you about the latest mission. you hadn’t seen miguel since the mission; which pissed you off to a cartain degree. you always made sure to check up on him when he got injured more than usual on missions. 

it was downhill from the moment you stepped foot into that dark intimidating office. the only light that ever shone in that space was the dim orange light from his many screens. he was in your face the second the door closed behind you; immediately going on about how impulsive you are and how you jeopardized the mission. and it went on like this for about five minutes. every word that flung out of his mouth, every humiliating criticism of your actions, tore away at your resolve. you liked to think you had gotten used to miguel’s hot headed, hair trigger temper. this “conversation”, however, was very quickly making that sentiment false. eventually, you had to retaliate against the onslaught of ridicule.

“have you ever thought for a second, in that thick ass skull of yours, to thank me for saving your fucking life?! after everything i had to endure for your ass, to make sure you were okay.” your sudden interruption of miguel's unforgiving words, struck him into silence. you pinched your nose bridge, trying to get a hold of yourself, it was a habit you had picked up from him. miguel opened his mouth to argue back, despite something in the back of his mind screaming at him to shut up. stop fucking talking, you’re going to regret where this goes. thankfully before he could get his sentence out, you once again silenced him.

“the first things you speak to me after the mission are criticisms. that’s what you brought me to your office for.” you run your hands over your face, exasperated by the scenario playing out before you right now. you’ve never found yourself speaking to miguel like this before. “you have your head so far up your own ass you can’t comprehend that this is cruel. either fucking appreciate my help or don’t bother me; cause clearly speaking about the gorey details doesn’t effect you but it certainly exhausts me. i’m not gonna entertain this shit.” your voice was wavering as you rambled on. all of your pent up frustration with this man finally spilling over and out into the universe.

“you didn’t even visit me.” it was barely above a whisper, but it rang in miguel’s ears louder than anything he’s ever heard. you didn’t wait for him to respond when you left the room, the doors swung open for you automatically. with a swift exit of speed walking with assistance from your webs, miguel was left alone in his office.

[morbid-mary]

Imagine

Dancing the bachata with Miguel in his “office”…

[tarjapearce]

What is Mama an Miguel’s fave sex position?

Jsksj omg nonny. NSFW undercut

Miguel absolutely LOVES Doggy style. Specially when he presses your head further into the mattress, muffling your cries and your ass is displayed before him in all it's glory.

He loves watching his fat cock slide in into your weeping pussy, stretching to his girth cause you feel so perfectly warm and tight for him, and he loves watching his cum rolling down your clit.

Missionary is another one of his favorite. Specially when he's feeling particularly romantic and want to enjoy you thoroughly. It's one of his favorites cause he gets to see all of your expressions while he's inside you.

He loves loves so badly when you're cupping his cheeks, mumbling how much you love eachother within blown breaths and pants as he wraps your legs around his waist. Eye contact is a MUST. He'll kiss you nonstop until you look at him in the eyes. And he can cradle you as you come undone underneath him.

He relishes into feeling your despair for him. That consuming need only he sates, leaving you both begging for air, disheveled and his front strands colliding against your forehead. It's so intimate. And you calling him Mi amor in that sweet moaning voice during?

He really means it when he tells that you have no idea the things you do with his mind.

The Spider. C'mon. What a better position to have him underneath you just for him to see how well you take him? And when you're extra needy, he'd lean back and enjoy the show, looking how well you fuck yourself to him and talking you through it. Controlling the pace.

Reverse Cowgirl cause, yeah, it morphs into doggy style. Plus he just lose it as soon as he sees your ass jumping and bouncing ontop of him, taking him like a champ. He loves watching the size of his hands groping and squeezing your ass.

When he's extra needy and kinky, He'd slap any surface he can reach while plumbing your insides, specially when you beg him to not be gentle.

As for Mama, needless to say, Mama loves it rough, but also enjoys a good vanilla from time to time.

Mating press is on the top list cause you love feeling the teasing stretch of Miguel inch by inch as he delves inside. His 6'9" caging you completely in his strong frame makes your orgasm mind shattering. Some even have you laughing like a total fool while he renewes your walls white.

The Prone Bone, works wonders, specially if you're tired but in need of your beefy man to rearrange your guts, specially after a stressful day on both ends. He loves when you're biting either the pillow or sheets

Flatiron is your own version of the missionary. Having such a fine man as your husband to talk both the sweetest things and pure filth in your ear while he smothers you with his body, specially when he cradled and embraces you to then bite your earlobe, and sets the pace for a slow and torturing tempo.

You live for his whimpers and wanton moans as you squeeze him, making your walls to snug him in a Pompoir choke. He can feel everything, and so do you.

Hearing him a moaning and grunting mess above you makes your imagination and senses to soar in delight.

The L, is perfect to have your insides well plowed and milked while Miguel kisses your ankle and thigh. Plus, it grants you a good clit massage from your husband.

You're somehow flexible, given Miguel's size, your muscles have accustomed to his manhandling and melding.

Against the wall? Of course. Having no room to breath properly while he fucks the daylights out of you is simply delicious and oh so kinky if you're doing it in the laundry room, mouth covered and hoping that Gabi doesn't knock on.

The thrill of being absolutely quiet to the point of your pussy and it's continuous 'zrup-ing' noises were heard every time he slid in, was matchless.

His neck was full of bites and his chest adorned with little hickeys. His back with delicious scratches, he wore proudly underneath his button shirt.

Whenever you used sweaters or pants, meant that he had left your inner thighs marked with either his own share of lovebites and fangs grazing. Only to remove your clothes at night to admire his handiwork and look for new places to put them in.

[magnolias-make-me-happy]

the days are hard (miguel o'hara x reader)

dad!miguel, fluff, heart wrenching sweetness fr <3

don’t mind me, just thinking about patching Miguel up after a particularly bad anomaly and your daughter wakes up to see you and Miguel at the kitchen table. It's the middle of the night and she’s rubbing the sleep from her eyes, dragging her favorite stuffed animal behind her that funnily enough ‘Uncle’ Hobie had given to her despite how much Miguel had groaned to you about it. You hadn’t even sensed she had gotten up, too focused on the injury after injury you kept finding on your husband's body.

you were cleaning a cut on Miguel’s eyebrow when you noticed his eyes shift to the doorway to the kitchen “mija? go back to bed baby” he rumbles out, voice soft. He winces as you finish dabbing the blood away from his forehead, quickly putting the cloth down on the table next to you as you turn to look at the little girl in front of you. “what are you doing up bug?” you say as you brush the hair back from her still sleepy face

“sensed papá come home” she mumbles out, Miguel reaches out and touches her face, his large hand covering the entire side of it “m'sorry i woke you up” he whispers. she climbs into his lap, her hands going to cup his cheeks for a moment before throwing her arms around his neck “it’s gonna be okay papá” your heart squeezes in your chest at the softness in her voice, you see Miguel's eyes go wide before they water.

his eyes squeeze shut and he wraps his large arms around her tiny frame, you blink your eyes to will away the tears before she reaches her little hand behind her towards you “mamá come” her voice comes out muffled from being smushed against Miguel's shoulder, you smile and drop your body down on the bench beside them, one of Miguel's arms wraps around your waist and tugs you into his side pressing a kiss to your temple. 

one of your daughters hands comes up to grab your hand, you press a kiss on it and lean your head on Miguel's free shoulder “love you” she mumbles to the both of you, miguel kisses the side of her head “we love you too mi vida” he whispers into her hair before he turns to you and presses his lips to yours, it’s a soft kiss full of all the love in his heart that could only be for his two girls. You break apart and rest your forehead against his, and you think that in this moment wrapped in your husband and daughters arms that everything just might be okay. 

[eternalsams]

Spoilers ATSV

But please imagine being Miguel's partner, you're married or not, idc... You can be a Spider-Hero or not, idc... You're from his universe and he asks you to come with him to be with his daughter, you live the perfect family trope together, all three of you. Until the anomaly happens and you lose Gabriella, it's very hard for the both of you but even more for Miguel because he never thought he could find happiness until he found you and then Gabriella and now that he lost her he's terrified he could lose you too... But that's not the point I had in mind... Imagine you're back in Nueva York and don't really go out, you two stay at home, grieving the best you can the loss of your daughter. And one night, as you're having some intimate moment, it's slow, sweet and desperate for physical touch... You start to get a tiny bit loud, not that much, you've been louder before but this time Miguel shushes you and says: "Not too loud, you're gonna wake up Gab'." And you're like "But Miguel-" And you can't even finish your sentence that he places his finger across your lips to stop you. "You gotta be quiet, you're gonna wake her." And his voice is trembling, his whole body is shaking, his eyes are closed. And you understand that he's not doing well, he's not grieving the way you are, he's stuck in memories he keeps re-playing in his mind to find some comfort.

I just had this thought the other night and I had to share it, I didn't want to write it because I don't think I could express exactly what I had in mind but I wouldn't care if writers took that idea as long as they give me credits.

[wordswithloveee]

It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

[kirke-is-my-name]

As a certified sleepy boy Miguel doesn’t sleep for days and then crashes and no one can find him for a day. I offer up the idea of the reader also having a totally shit sleep schedule as well so their dates are during the odd hours of the night or morning. And they wouldn’t have it any less. But the moment one of them goes down to sleep the other will follow.

So really it’s a game of chicken to see who goes to sleep first. They both tell each other you should go to be you just yawned, followed by I’m not tired mind you they both look like shit and need sleep.

[hardlystrictlystarwars]

“Answer the damn question Miguel,” | Miguel O'hara

Miguel O'hara x F!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for ATSV, mentions of alcohol consumption, arguing, angst, strong language, not beta-read or proof-read, implied mother of Gabriella

Word Count: 700

A/N: This is kinda a test to see if my tags are working. But also a midnight burst of creativity that kinda went off the rails. Anyways hope you like it!

Likes, re-blogs and comments are appreciated!

“You look so much like him you know,” You said as he walked into your home. 

A bottle of red on the table with a half empty glass. He had come to learn you didn’t like wine as much in this universe. Half an empty glass translated to about an hour of waiting at the table. Waiting for him to come home. 

“What are you talking about?” He said in the doorway, not having even put down his keys yet. He knew something was up. That little arch in your brow gave it away. 

“It’s silly really,” You breathed out, swirling your glass, “I never thought you would be Spider-man in another universe,” 

“Babe, are you okay?” He asked, walking over to you.

You immediately stood up from where you were, backing yourself up away from him. 

“Babe, what’s going on?” He asked, slowing his pace, reaching his hand out for you, “Just talk to me here,”

“Our first apartment, why did we want to move out of it?” You quizzed him, grabbing a steak knife for protection. 

“What is this all about?”

“Answer the damn question Miguel,” You threatened. Your breath was getting heavier as you started to pant.

“Woah- cálmate, Gabriella is going to hear you,” He tried calming you.

“Gabriella is at a friend’s house,” You replied, “Now answer the fucking question,” 

Miguel gawked at your sudden change. You had been perfectly fine since he left for work, making him a piece of toast with peanut butter on it right as he went out the door. A year into living in this universe and it was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. At least until now. 

“Why is this so important to you babe?” He asked, still trying to reach out to you, “Did something happen at the lab? I know you’ve been stressed about the collider not-”

“Answer the question!” You warned him, “I won’t ask again Miguel,”

“Mold infestation,” He simply replied.

You stared at him for a second before he decided to continue, “They found mold in one of the neighboring units, and made everyone clear out. We stayed the night with your friends for a week and then found a new place right before Gabriella was born,”

You took a deep breath and glanced away from him, the kitchen knife now at your hip.

“I said why did we want to move out Miguel, not why did we have to move out,” You replied in a low voice. 

“What’s the difference? We still ended up moving, the boxes weren’t any lighter that weekend,” He chuckled, but you remained stoic.

“You don’t remember Miguel?” You shook your head clearing becoming more frustrated, you sat down in a seat again, only this time at the seat furthest away from him. You were looking around the room, everywhere but him, “We had been looking for a new apartment for months, does that not ring a bell? We were looking because of you! Because of those god-damn peanut trees!”

Miguel remembered looking up your old apartment building when he first came. The building was gross and dingy, and probably had a million code violations. Mold just happened to be the only one the inspector caught that day.  Your apartment was not really any better than your neighbor’s. There was never any hot water for the first year and you were sandwiched between that family that liked to watch MTV on full blast and an aspiring DJ. 

“Babe, they were just peanut trees,” He said taking a seat on the other side of the table, “Hardly as bad as mold,”

“Miguel, anyone in the last ten years could have looked the building report in a public health database to see that there was mold,” You said as your fingers furiously tapping on the surface of the table and your lips pursed for a moment, “But only my husband would’ve known that we were looking to move because he was mildly allergic to the peanut that grew nearby,” 

And then it clicked for Miguel. You had given him a piece of peanut butter toast this morning. And nothing had happened. He took a bite, kissed you on the lips and walked out the door. He was completely unaware that you were testing him. And he had failed. 

“Who are you Miguel?” You asked, eyes glaring at him, “Because you’re not my damn husband,”