#spiderman into the spiderverse x reader

[prismuffin]

May i ask for a one shot pls.

Can it be where the reader and miles is dating, but she's been acting weird and mile finds out there is a new spider man, and its really the reader.

A/n: wow It’s been a minute since I’ve written a full fic no? Pris is almost back babyyy~

Coincidence

Miles Morales x fem!spiderman!reader

( summary: being the new Spider-Man is hard, but hiding it from your boyfriend is harder )

!-!more under the cut!-!

You groaned as you walked through the hallway, stretching and rolling your shoulders to loosen the aching pain that spread across your entire body. You were sore, though after a night full of training how to swing around the city and stop crime you weren't the least bit surprised that it was so.

“Ayo Miles!”

The sound of your boyfriends name pulled you away from your mind as you turned towards the direction of the shout. There he was, Miles Morales, your boyfriend who you’ve been promptly ignoring for the past week and a half. You feel like shit for it but not too long ago you got bitten by a radioactive spider and became somewhat of a new Spider-Man, a Spider-Woman if you will. You’re still getting used to the new gig and the powers that come along with it and in your conflicted state you’ve been ignoring not only Miles but the rest of your friends as well.

You turned back around, not missing how his eyes barely caught yours right before you did and started walking towards your final class of the day.

Just one more class and then you could go....fight crime- after homework of course! Once again, you've been so swamped with this new Spider-Woman gig recently it's really had a terrible impact on your life. Your stress shot up after you scrambled to get your work completed so that you could train to help save the city that never sleeps. You never took that nickname more seriously in your life. It also sucks that your social life has dropped immensely. No more after school hangouts with friends let alone your boyfriend who you feel so bad for blowing off. Sometimes you think life would be better if you just cut everyone around you off but you don't want to lose them it just seems like the easy way out.

—TS—

You bolted out of your seat as the bell rang, dashing through the schools halls before the mass of students could begin to overwhelm them. You needed to get to Mays, do some calculus work, then suit up-

“Y/n!”

You shoes screeched against the floors as you stopped yourself from crashing into Miles, who stood in front of the main entrance, arms out ready to catch you if you tripped. You stopped in his arms and he firmly held you from falling forwards. You breathed heavily as you pulled back from him. "Why are you-" looking up, you winced as your senses skyrocketed, your "Spidey-senses" were activating as you looked at Miles, a sense of familiarity filled your mind.

"You're just like...-" Miles started, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer but you quickly remembered where you were supposed to be. "Miles! I-I gotta go-" You moved around him and dashed out the door, ignoring his calls for you to come back. With your backpack in hand you ran into the subway station, ready to head to May's house. She had found you initially after you'd been bitten, recognized the symptoms and took you in under her wing. She got you web-shooters and a suit and allowed you to train in the confines of the Spider-Lair.

Today was meant to be your debut! You were gonna go out, save a few civilians, meet the Spider-Man that had appeared after the original had died and make your name as Spider-Woman. But that's after you help May with her banana bread recipe.

Knocking on her door you smiled at the sight of the older woman as she opened it. She greeted you, beckoning you inside after introductions were done. The rest of your afternoon was spent finishing that calculus work and making banana bread.

After finishing both tasks were completed, you were ready to make your debut, but the doorbell had delayed that. You looked at May in confusion as she smirked and stood. "There's a slight change in plans," "what?" You wondered aloud as your eyes followed her across the room. "I wanted you to meet Spider-man first, get yourselves acquainted before I sent you out on patrols for the first time." She said as she closed in on the front door, grabbing the knob, she cleared her throat a bit before opening it. You could hear her greet someone, you could see the side of his suit so you knew it was the Spider-man. You turned away to calm yourself as the reality truly sunk in that you were about to meet spiderman, hero of New York!

May cleared her throat, "Y/n this is Miles, or Spiderman and Miles this is-" "Miles?" "Y/n?" You turned around quickly, noticing Spiderman's shocked expression as he stared at you. May's eyes flickered in between you both, her expression becoming increasingly more confused. "I knew it! I knew I felt something earlier- What is- You're a Spider-man too?!" Miles yelled, pulling his mask off near the end of his sentence. "Spider-Woman actually-" May corrected him and your heart sped up as you stared at the previously masked mans face. "I- I didn't- Miles? You're Spider-man!! And you never told me?!" You yelled in shock and he crossed his arms. "Technically I can be mad at you for the same thing." You shook your head, laughing in disbelief before a silence overtook you two.

"So, I'm guessing you both know each other than."

"She's my girlfriend-" May gasped, standing there for a moment before clapping her hands together. "This is great news! See, you both already know and care for each other so you're sure to have each others backs on the streets." You blinked and sighed at the enthusiasm of the older woman. "Let's go to the lair shall we?" She walked off, leaving you and Miles to follow her but you stopped him before he could.

"Can we just- talk for a second?" You asked and he sighed and nodded, leaning against the circular table in the kitchen. "Look I- I never meant to ignore you- well I did! But only until I figured all this stuff out. I was bit by some kind of spider, May found me and took me in, I've been training with her for a while and it's been really stressful." Miles eyebrows creased at the sight of your saddening expression. "Yeah I get what you mean, it took me a while to find a good balance." He scratched the side of his head, looking away from you for a moment. "We're still good right?" He asked and you immediately nodded, a small smile growing on your face. "Yeah we're still good Miles." You stepped closer to him and he followed your lead, grabbing you and bringing you into a solid hug before kissing the side of your cheek. You laughed as you pulled back, still holding each other comfortably. "I can't believe my boyfriend is Spider-man!" "I can't believe my girlfriend is Spider-woman!" He laughed along with you, the previous tension being forgotten as the humor swept it away.

"We probably shouldn't keep May waiting," you said, still giggling from the previous conversation. "Yeahhh good idea, lets go." You both started making your way to the backyard, and for the first time in almost two weeks, you held your boyfriends hand.

———

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my SLOTS & Request Info first!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[comically-callous]

"Shitty Free Pizza"

Hobie Brown x reader

Warnings: Reader gets broken up with, swearing, crying

A/n: ALRIGHT, FREAKS. I WROTE THE PART 2. Requests are open 😗✌️

"I'm going on break."

That was all you said to your four coworkers before grabbing your jacket and walking outside. You walked to the side of the building and sat on the curb.

Your boyfriend had just broken up with you. Over text. While you were at work. You didn't know what to do, how to react.

You pulled out your phone and read over the message he'd sent you. And then you read it again, and again, and again.

He'd made two typos. The asshole breaks up with you over text and he can't even be bothered to read over the message before sending it.

You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to cry over this asshole, you really didn't want to. But, despite what you wanted, tears began to roll down your cheeks; and once you started, you couldn't stop.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. You probably looked pathetic. A Domino's employee, still in uniform, sitting in the parking lot and crying. How embarrassing.

"Oi!" You lifted and turned your head. A tall man dressed in clothes that were way cooler than yours was looking at you. "You alright?" He asked.

"Obviously not." The reply came out sounding a bit more condescending than you'd intended.

The man didn't seem to mind. He chuckled. "Guess I probably could've figured that one out on my own, huh?" The man stepped closer. "What's bothering you?"

You briefly considered calling the dude nosy and telling him to fuck off, but something made you stop.

He didn't seem ill intentioned...

You looked down at the concrete. "My boyfriend just broke up with me over text."

"Really?"

You nodded.

"What a prick. Y'mind if I sit down?" He gestured to the slab of concrete next to where you were sitting. You shrugged and he took that as a yes.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees. "And he did this while you were at work too?" He asked.

You nodded again.

"That's fucked."

"I just..." You didn't know why you were talking to this guy you didn't even know. But, then again, you didn't really care at this point. "I feel stupid for crying over it."

"Why?"

"Because you're right!" You said exasperatedly. "He's a prick and what he did was fucked. And here I am, crying over this asshole. It's pathetic."

He hummed. "I get that." He tilted his head toward you. "But, once you're done crying, are you gonna try to get him back?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You weren't even gonna consider that. "No."

Are you gonna be sad about this for years to come?"

"No."

"Y'gonna give up dating altogether and insist that he left an unfillable hole in your heart?"

"Why are you asking me this shit?"

"Because if you were really pathetic, you probably would've said something other than no to those questions."

You paused, letting his words marinate. And then you chuckled. "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious!" He laughed. "There's a lot worse things to do in this situation than just crying."

"I guess you're right." You sighed. "But, still. I don't think venting to a stranger is one of the better things to do."

He chuckled. "I'm Hobie."

"I'm Y/n." You were surprised that this random guy was actually making you feel better. But, you weren't gonna complain.

"Now we're not strangers. Which hopefully means you'll tell me a little more about yourself and about this whole breakup."

You, once again, considered calling him nosey. But, for some reason, you weren't opposed to the idea of telling him more.

"Well," You began. "He and I had been dating for 5 months, for the first three or four months, he was really sweet. But... I don't know. This last month he was being really distant and he was always seeming kind of disinterested in me."

"So, was there any real reason for the breakup?" He asked.

"It was sort of out of nowhere. We didn't have a big argument or anything."

"This guy really does sound like a prick." Hobie scoffed. "I've only just met you, but you seem pretty cool."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Besides who'd ever wanna break up with someone who could get them free pizza?" He smirked playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Shitty free pizza." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter if the food's shitty, long as it's free."

You opened your mouth to reply to him when someone called your name, one of your coworkers.

"It's been 20 minutes." Your coworker said, peeking their head around the corner of the building.

You sighed and got up. "I've gotta go." You told Hobie as you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"It's no problem. I enjoyed it." He said, smiling up at you.

You wanted to ask for his number, or his socials, whatever. But, you'd just gotten out of a breakup. It felt wrong asking for someone's number so soon, even if it wasn't really with romantic intentions. So instead, you just said goodbye and went back to work.

You got inside and were taking your jacket off.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" Your coworker asked.

You glanced over at them and shrugged. "A stranger."

"He was really hot."

You paused before signing. "Yeah, he was."

[t-horn-n]

— clean up crew

PAIRING: miguel o’hara x reader (gender-neutral)

GENRE: hurt/comfort

SUMMARY: he thinks that you take too many risks on missions.  you think he’s a hypocrite.

“I don’t think you’re listening to me, Miguel,” you berate.

Your anger feels like a vat of boiling water beneath your rib cage.

“No, you’re not listening to me,” Miguel retorts.  “If you were, we wouldn’t still be talking about this, thirty minutes later.”  His voice sounds pinched and low.  

It’s at times like these that you think it would be much more simple if you just hated him.  If you could take all of the things you felt about Miguel O’Hara and exchange them for that single-minded five letter word.

“You’re only listening to me enough to argue with me,” you insist.

“But how many times have we fought about this, querida?  You’re always the one to start it.”  

You stand between him and the door to his office in the Spider-Society’s headquarters, so he focuses on a holographic dot map of reported anomalies.  He never likes to sit still when you fight.  At work, he pretends to swipe through reports or analyze charts.  At home, he’ll get up to fix himself a mug of decaffeinated coffee or clean the dishes in the sink or fold the laundry you left on the kitchen table.  You’re often arguing with his back.  You try very hard not to resent that, or rather, not to resent him.

“I would drop it if you would just listen to me.”  It’s mortifying that your voice shakes when you’re angry.

He thinks that you take too many risks on missions.  You think he’s a hypocrite.

“I have,” he says, exasperated.  “But this is the third time this month that you’ve gotten injured—”

“Bruises don’t count, Miguel.”

“Let me finish,” he warns.  “You sprained your wrist two weeks ago.  The month before that you pulled a muscle in your neck.  In May you dislocated your shoulder.  Last year you were out for three months when you fractured your collarbone.  You throw yourself around like you’re unbreakable.” 

“Oh yeah?” you hiss.  “What about you?  You flung yourself into that collapsing building on Tuesday.” 

“And you notice that I am unhurt.” 

“Right.”  You roll your eyes.  “Because you’re just so perfect, boss.  The strongest.  The smartest.”

His shoulders tense. 

“I’m worried that one day you’ll break and they won’t be able to fix you,” he tells you.  “If I did what was good for you, I’d send you to the clean up crew.” 

Your face heats.  That’s mean, you both know it.  It makes you want to be meaner.

“Oh, because you always know what’s best for everyone?  Honey, don’t you think you’ve let all this power go to your head?” 

“No, I—”

“‘Clean up crew.’  Sometimes you’re such a goddamn asshole, Miguel.  Remember when that Vulture got away on Earth-1014 and totaled a neighborhood because the team was across town taking care of a bank robbery?  That was your call.  And when Hobie broke his arm?  That was thanks to your directions.  The reason why—”

As if you were doused with ice water, you stopped talking.

“Go on,” Miguel says, but it’s more tragic than heated.  When he looks at you, his eyes are glassy.

You clench your fists such that you can feel the prick of your fingernails against your palm.  

Clean up crew.  God.  

“I’m done with this conversation.”  And then you’re out the door.

He’s already at home sitting at the kitchen island when you open the door.  Something anxious has been festering beneath your skin for the past three hours and it’s still there, simmering, as you kick off your shoes, taking your time to put them on the shoe rack.  Then you grab a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and crack it open before leaning across the island towards him.  

A plate of the leftover lasagna from Olive Garden sits in front of him.  He looks at you now.  You’ve got a feeling that you appear as tired as he does.

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I was cruel.  You’re right and I’m sorry.” 

Miguel blinks at you over red sauce and ricotta cheese.

“I—” he starts.  He looks down and drags his fork through noodle.  You notice that he’s got a speck of something at the corner of his lips.  “I do regret the neighborhood on 1014.  And Hobie’s arm.  I regret it most when I’m watching you get carted off to treat another injury.” 

“I know,” you reply.  “And, God, no one blames you for 1014, and Hobie only likes to give you a hard time.  I’m sorry.” 

“I shouldn’t have said I would send you to the clean up crew.” 

“No, probably not.  But I shouldn’t have called you an asshole.” 

He nods, slowly, and your shoulders relax.  

���We’ll talk more after you eat,” says Miguel.

“Alright.”

— m. list

[zapreportsblog]

❝when I look at you I see stars❞

✭ pairing : Hobie brown x reader

✭ fandom : spiderman into the spiderverse

✭ summary : (Y/n) and Hobie have been dating for a couple of months now and Hobie decided to take her to visit the spiderverse

✭ authors note : this fic is based off of this post by @pearlsinmyhair

✭ spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist

(Y/N) stood in her room, phone pressed against her ear as she chatted away with her friend. She absentmindedly painted her nails black, carefully adding white stars and other designs to create a punk-inspired manicure. It was a typical day for her, and she was used to Hobie's unconventional entrances. He was her boyfriend, after all, and his Spider-Punk persona was just part of the package.

As she chatted away, a familiar presence made itself known in her room. Hobie, or Spiderman as he liked to call himself, had arrived through a portal created by his trusty portal transmitter watch. He snuck up behind her, giving her a sweet little head kiss, interrupting her conversation.

Startled, (Y/N) turned around to face him, still holding the phone to her ear. She smiled at him, used to his surprise appearances. "Hey, darlin. What's up?" she asked nonchalantly.

Hobie grinned, his mischievous eyes sparkling. ”Aye, babe. I've got a little adventure planned for us," he said, his voice full of excitement.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "An adventure, huh? What did you have in mind?"

Hobie's grin widened as he explained his plan. "I was thinking about taking you to the Spiderverse. You know, show you where I come from, the different versions of me. It'll be like a mini-vacation, just you and me."

(Y/N) paused, considering his proposal. She knew how much Hobie loved his rebellious antics, and the idea of exploring different dimensions did sound intriguing. However, she also knew the risks involved. Miguel, Hobie's mentor and the original Spiderman, had strict rules about not meddling with other universes. The only reason why she knew of it was because her boyfriend had a habit of ranting to her about how stuck up the man was.

Still, (Y/N) loved the thrill of adventure, and she couldn't resist the opportunity to spend time with Hobie. "Alright, darling. I’ll bite," she said with a smirk. "But you're gonna have to wait for my nails to dry and for me to change my clothes. Can't go on an adventure looking like this."

Hobie chuckled, his eyes shining with excitement. "Fair enough, my favorite girl. Take your time. I'll be right here, patiently waiting."

(Y/N) ended her call, put her phone down, and turned her attention back to Hobie. She leaned in, giving him a quick kiss before heading over to her dresser to pick out a new outfit. As she changed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within her. She knew that with Hobie, every adventure was bound to be unforgettable.

Once her nails were dry and she was ready, (Y/N) walked back to where Hobie was waiting. She took his hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, Spiderman. Lead the way. Let's see what this Spiderverse is all about."

Hobie grinned, activating his portal transmitter watch once again. With a flash of light, the portal opened before them, revealing a multitude of dimensions waiting to be explored. Hand in hand, (Y/N) and Hobie stepped through, ready to embark on their thrilling adventure together.

Hobie and (Y/n) found themselves in the intricate web of the Spider-Verse, a multiverse that held countless adventures and perils. Hobie, always prepared for the unexpected, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glowing bracelet. Its design resembled a tiny punk-rock chain, adorned with a spider emblem.

He took (Y/n)'s wrist gently, helping her place the bracelet beside her beaded ones. The moment it clicked into place, the bracelet emitted a faint, soothing glow.

Hobie explained, his voice filled with a hint of mischief, "This is a day pass bracelet, babe. It's gonna help you stop glitching in the Spider-Verse. You know how chaotic this place can get."

(Y/n) eyed the bracelet curiously, then rewarded Hobie's thoughtfulness with a playful kiss on the chin. He grinned at her sweet gesture, his heart warmed by her affection.

Unable to resist the urge, Hobie leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss. It was a brief but passionate exchange, sealing their bond in the face of the unknown.

As they broke apart, Hobie took (Y/n)'s hand firmly in his own. He looked into her eyes with a determined expression. "Stay close to my side, okay?"

(Y/n) nodded, her playful smirk never leaving her face. "Yes, sir."

Hobie and (Y/n) ventured deeper into the Spider-Verse, where countless iterations of Spider-People swung through the cityscape and dimensions collided in a mesmerizing symphony of chaos and order. Hobie led the way with confidence, and (Y/n) stuck close to his side as he explained various aspects of this peculiar realm.

He gestured to a bustling building with a neon sign that read "Spider Cafe." "This is the cafeteria," he explained. "It's where all the many Spider-Men and Spider-Women meet up to refuel. There's something special about Spider Dave's donuts; he makes some of the best in the multiverse."

(Y/n)'s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she heard about Spider Dave's donuts. "Oh, I definitely want to try some of those," she exclaimed, her appetite piqued.

Hobie grinned at her enthusiasm, and they made their way into the bustling cafe. Inside, they were met with a diverse array of Spider-Folk, each from a different dimension, chatting and enjoying their meals.

The aroma of freshly baked donuts wafted through the air, enticing (Y/n) even more. Hobie led her to the counter, where a friendly, portly Spider-Man with a chef's hat greeted them.

"Hey, spiderman!" Spider Dave greeted, a warm smile on his face. "Who's your friend?"

Hobie introduced (Y/n) with a grin. "SpiderDave, this is (Y/n). She's new to the Spider-Verse, and she's dying to try your legendary donuts."

Spider Dave chuckled heartily. "Well, you've come to the right place, (Y/n)! What can I get you?"

(Y/n) peered into the glass display, her mouth watering at the sight of various donuts with spider-themed decorations. "I'll take a chocolate web-spin, please!"

Spider Dave swiftly boxed up a chocolate web-spin donut, handing it to (Y/n) with a flourish. She accepted it with a grin, her taste buds tingling in anticipation.

Hobie ordered his usual, a classic Spider-Punk blackberry donut, and soon they found a cozy corner to sit and enjoy their treats.

As (Y/n) took her first bite of the chocolate web-spin donut, her eyes widened in delight. It was everything Hobie had promised—soft, sweet, and utterly delicious.

Hobie leaned in, stealing a playful bite from her donut. "Told you it was worth it."

(Y/n) laughed, savoring the moment. As they enjoyed Spider Dave's donuts together, they knew that this adventure through the Spider-Verse was turning out to be as exhilarating and unforgettable as they had hoped.

With the taste of Spider Dave's donuts still lingering on their lips, Hobie and (Y/n) continued their tour through the bustling Spider-Verse. Hobie was an excellent tour guide, explaining the nuances of this unique realm with enthusiasm. (Y/n) couldn't help but be captivated by his passion and the vibrancy of the Spider-Verse.

As they strolled through the Spider-Verse cityscape, Hobie spotted familiar figures in the distance. Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles, his close friends and fellow Spider-People, were swinging their way toward them.

Hobie flashed a mischievous grin at (Y/n) and without warning, he scooped her up over his shoulder. She squealed in surprise, laughter bubbling out of her as they soared through the air. It was a thrilling ride that left her a giggling mess.

Upon landing gracefully, Hobie placed her down gently, and she wobbled a bit on her feet, still giddy from the experience.

Pavitr, Miles, and Gwen approached, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Hobie with a new face. Hobie, always one to keep things casual, introduced his friends to his girlfriend with a playful flair.

"Lads and gal, meet (Y/n)," he said with pride, a fond smile directed at her.

Pavitr and Miles immediately bombarded her with questions about her world and her journey into the Spider-Verse, their curiosity insatiable. Gwen, on the other hand, groaned and playfully pushed the boys away.

"Give the girl some space, you two. She's not here for an interrogation," Gwen scolded them, coming to (Y/n)'s defense.

(Y/n) couldn't help but chuckle at the camaraderie between the Spider-Friends. She introduced herself warmly, shaking hands with Gwen and sharing a knowing look, as if silently agreeing that boys could be quite the handful.

With the boys locked in their own animated conversation about various Spider-Verse shenanigans, (Y/n) and Gwen drifted off to the side, forming their own connection. As they chatted and shared stories, (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes on her.

As (Y/n) and Gwen drifted away from the boys, engaged in their own conversation, Hobie couldn't help but steal a lingering glance at his girlfriend's departing figure. His eyes were drawn to her perky and perfectly sized rear, a sight that never failed to captivate him.

However, it wasn't just her lovely form that had captured his attention this time. It was the pair of jeans she was wearing, which were new to him. They were dark blue with vibrant red stars artfully embroidered on the backside.

Hobie couldn't contain his appreciation for the stylish choice she had made. Under his breath, he mumbled, "Damn."

Pavitr, who had been observing Hobie's expression with a raised eyebrow, turned to him and asked, "What's got you muttering, mate?"

Hobie couldn't help but grin mischievously, his eyes still locked on (Y/n) as she walked away. "I'm seein' stars here, mate."

Pavitr chuckled and shook his head, understanding the sentiment entirely. After all, in the Spider-Verse, where extraordinary sights and adventures awaited at every turn, sometimes it was the little things, like the sight of stars on your girlfriend's jeans, that left the biggest impression.

As (Y/n) continued her conversation with Gwen, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone's eyes were on her. It was a peculiar sensation, as if a pair of laser-focused eyes were burning into her, tracing her every move.

Unable to resist the urge, she subtly peeked over her shoulder, trying to pinpoint the source of this mysterious gaze. Her search led her to her boyfriend, Hobie, who had been a few paces behind her. His eyes were locked on her with an intensity that left her both flattered and amused.

With a playful scolding tone, she wagged a finger at him, "Eyes up here, pal," pointing towards her face to emphasize her point.

Hobie, his gaze reluctantly breaking away from her perky rear, looked up at her face. However, his expression quickly shifted from scolded to thoroughly impressed. (Y/n) had on a black coho top adorned with red stars on the breast part of her shirt, and it was a look that suited her perfectly.

"Damn," Hobie couldn't help but mutter under his breath, captivated by her style and beauty.

(Y/n) maintained her teasing tone, "Oh, no you don’t. You better not be getting any ideas, or I'm giving both these clothing pieces away."

Hobie couldn't resist a grin as he approached her, closing the gap between them. "But, babe, I love seeing your stars," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

(Y/n) felt herself flush at his words, her playful scolding turning into bashful fluster. In the ever-chaotic and extraordinary Spider-Verse, Hobie's adoration for her was a constant source of warmth and comfort, and she couldn't help but be smitten by his charming antics.

[kairiscorner]

spider-noir fluff with a chubby reader??👉👈if its okay with u!!

AAAAAAA OFC ! chubby people are so cute and beautiful tbh, THEY ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTEST SMILES LIKE ???

spider noir x chubby!reader headcanons and blurbs

noir is shy to admit it, but the one thing he wants to do in life is to lie down on your plush lap and just pinch at and play with your thighs. he's too embarrassed to admit it, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know : D

he's always staring at your legs and curves, and he honestly can't understand how you don't find yourself attractive–no mirror nor camera in the world could ever do you justice, he wishes he could give you his eyes so you could see the beauty that is you.

(inspired by @thecoolerdor's hc) noir will not hesitate to use his languid and pretty french vocabulary to compliment you while embracing you or holding you close.

"oh, mon amour... it's a crime you don't realize how beau et charmant you and these plump curves of you are," peter whispers as he gushes about your flawlessly perfect body. you may be a bit rounder than other people, but to peter, you're just the right amount of round for him to constantly yearn to have you in his hands and embrace you in his arms.

peter doesn't mean to, but he can't help but squeeze on your curves a bit hard–he apologizes every time though, he doesn't like hurting you, he just can't get enough of you, is all.

noir never fails to find the beauty of you and your body when you're wearing all kinds of clothes–especially some showy ones that hug your body just right; wearing those kinds of clothes make him go insane with love and adoration.

noir loves it when you smile; there's just something about the way your round cheeks go up and show such a big, glamorous smile that enthralls him and tugs at his heartstrings.

peter doesn't mean to, but you caught his eyes staring at your smile a little too long��was this how he always was? how come you never noticed before? oh, was that... a slight blush on his face?

"what?" you asked him with a chuckle, feeling embarrassed at the sight of him smiling at you and just staring at you with such a soft look on his face. peter shrugged and chuckled, gently pressing his fingers on your cheek and rubbing at it gently. "you're gorgeous..." he muttered. "and your smile... oh, nothing can ever contend with it; not even the sun, moon, nor stars in the sky, my love."

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @hearts4gabri @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @arachnoia @thee-fantastic-mrfox @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0

[serenitysheart1]

It’s worse to be nothing with you | Spiderman-Noir x Drunk!Reader

WARNINGS: Alcohilism, Suicidal Behavior (??)

──────────────────────────────

Word Count: 1,566

Context: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Gender-Not specified Reader, Reader is an alcoholic

Author’s note: fanfic title from ‘Promise’ by Laufey. In this context i wrote this as Peter being your close-friend who’s in-love with you cus ykyk slow burn

───────────────────────────────────────────────────

His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets as he wandered through New York City, met with only silence and empty streets. The faint reflections of dim lights from cars and lampposts moved around him like silent ghosts. Hours passed by without a trace of you.

“Where in the devil have they gone off to this time?” Peter let out a heavy sigh, unable to shake off the heavy feeling in his chest. Just when all hope seemed lost, a faint glimmer ahead beckoned to him invitingly - a small bar tucked away at the end of an alleyway twinkling like a beacon.

The moment he saw the place, he recognized it immediately and felt the urge to burn it down just by looking at it. Here he was, standing in front of the bar you visited frequently. Despite all the advice he had given you, it seemed you had only tossed them all to the ground.

Could you really be in there, again? He had no choice but to check.

He paused for a moment before he opened the creaky door of the bar and stepped inside. The heavy stench of alcohol hung in the air; even though he was used to the smell by now, it still made him nauseous to think about you consuming it. Empty glasses stood on the counter like sentinels as a few exhausted patrons lounged at one end of the room. A couple of others were playing pool, while two fiddlers sawed away in the corner. There you were, seated on a stool in front of the counter beneath the soft glow of a yellow light. He let out a sigh as he unbuttoned his coat and slowly made his way towards you.

The warmth of a fabric enveloped you like a comforting embrace. You didn't flinch but instead looked up to see who had kindly given you their coat. "Oh, it’s you. Haha.. Hey there, Peeeter..." You slightly giggled, swirling the leftover booze in your cup.

His gaze was firm as he met your eyes. "Please, make this easier for both of us and just come with me, doll."

"Say what now? Where? No, thank you..." You held up your cup to him, a friendly glint in your eye. "C'mon, Peter, have a seat and join me for a drink!"

After another heavy sigh from Peter, he snatched the cup away from you. "How many of those have you had already, Y/N? I told you to quit it... Look at yourself, doll, look at yourself…"

"Errr... one, two—six, or seven?" You pretended to count on your fingers.

He shook his head, “Never mind, let's get you home, darling. I’ll take care of you." He gently wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders and attempted to help you up from the barstool.

"Nooooo, c'mon… I still have one bottle left..." You pleaded desperately, stretching out your arm towards the bottle.

He firmly grasped your wrist to stop you from grabbing it, his face mere inches away from yours now. "You know, at this rate, you'll be dead before you're thirty-five."

Your voice was muffled by a mix of sorrow and annoyance as you spoke. “And so what?”

His grip on your wrist tightened.

“…Why are you doing this to yourself?” He asked, his voice quivering, "Why are you doing this to me?”

You laughed harshly, your cold response only digging a deeper hole into his heart. “It doesn’t hurt to have some fun, Peter. Don’t be such a killjoy!..”

"And what's so fun about drinking your life away?" he asks in a disappointed tone, then he shakes his head, “Forget it, let’s just get you home already. You’re drunk, Y/N.”

“Haha.. You wouldn’t get it.” You muttered under your breath, “Now pass me that bottle. I paid for it after all.”

Ignoring your words he pulls you up, his arm now wrapped around your waist. You tried to pull away from him, begging for him to let go of you so you can go back inside. No chance of that though; he kept a firm grip on you as he guided you out.

His lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line. "You can't even walk properly. Hold on for a moment, dear." He effortlessly lifted you up and held you in his arms like a bride. Despite more of your protests, you eventually gave up and just gave in. He opened the car door with one arm and carefully placed you down inside the vehicle.

"Are you kidnapping me?" He looked at you sternly, not answering and simply shutting the car door. He went around to the other side and settled in the driver's seat, sighing and shaking his head. He’s used to this already, isn’t he?

“No, I’m just taking you home..." He replied in a tired yet gentle tone. “I want you safe and sound in your bed.” He grumbled as he turned on the engines.

You laughed for a bit, then fell silent.

“Hah... I really am an idiot, aren’t I?”

Sniffle.

The sudden crying made him jolt in surprise on his seat, not liking how you suddenly broke down in tears like that. He quickly stopped the car and turned around in his seat, wrapping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a hug, trying to keep you from seeing how hurt he truly was. He could feel your body tremble and your shaky breaths.

"Hey... you’re not an idiot, darling... I know you know better than this.." he whispered in a soothing tone, his mind in turmoil. How much longer can he do this?

You buried your head into his shoulder, “Why am I like this? Why, why, why….” Sobbing even more. He gently caressed your head with his other hand. Even though this isn't his first time dealing with this situation, his heart breaks to see you like this.

“It's okay, darling. It's okay...I’m here, I’m here..." he whispered, but his words only seemed to make you cry more as you hugged his shoulder tightly.

Peter doesn’t have to deal with this yet unfortunately he does. It makes you sick. Why can’t he just leave you already? Doesn’t he have a job to do as Spiderman, not taking care of some drunk.

“No, it’s not o—okay…” Your voice cracked, “I’m a burden to everyone, I should just hurry up and die already.”

Hearing those words hurt him to his core. He pulled you closer, his voice in absolute despair. "No... no, no, no. God, please, don’t say that, sweetheart... you're not a burden to anyone, especially not to me, Y/N… I can’t just stand by and watch you throw away your life like this.. I-I can’t..." he sighed deeply, his grip around your shoulders tightening.

Knowing how damaging those habits are from his own experience, it hurt to see the person he loved and cared so much about go down that path. As if the universe was trying to torture him.

"Then why do you put up with this?" you said through the tears in your voice.

"Because, I love you… and nothing will ever change that, darling. Nothing.” He whispered, his voice sounding like he was going to break down at any moment too. But he can’t do that, especially not right now.

“If there was a version of me without you by his side, believe me, he’d be as broken as the bottle you kept drinking from this evening.” He sighed and pulled away slightly. Wiped the tears off your cheeks, as he looked into your eyes.

“So please… stop hurting yourself like this. I'm begging you.”

More tears stained across your face, as you buried your head back deeper into his shoulder. Words are too good to be true. He could be happy right now if it wasn’t for you. He could be loving someone else right now, someone who wasn’t drunk, selfish, stupid, and... and…

It made you cry even more thinking about it. As much as you wanted his love, but you knew… that, “.. I don’t deserve you.”

“Y/N…”

Eventually your sobbing stopped, and it was soon found out that you’ve passed out and fallen asleep. Peter pulled away slightly and adjusted the coat on your shoulder. He let you lay your head down on the car seat, but your head fell on his shoulder instead as he shuffled to turn on the engine back up again. He didn’t move and let you be, not wanting to wake you up, so he just drove. A painful expression on his face could be seen from the car’s rear window reflection. Taking in everything that just had happened. He was used to this. But the pain only grew each and every time. It never gets easier.

It’s been a long night. But all that matters now is that you’re still by his side, still breathing.

Once he reaches your house, he carefully carries you into your room and places you in the bed. Tucking you in. His heart feels lighter all of a sudden as he watches you sleep, but as soon as he turns to leave the room, he sees the empty bottle of booze lying on your desk.

Suddenly, his heart sinks again. It’s an endless cycle.

[agent-yolk-writes]

Friends Like You and Us - Venom!Reader - Chapter 9

I...still have a lot of catching up to do since I'm updating the main story again. Thank you for your patience!

This episode takes a step back to explore Reader and Venom's relationship, but the next chapter should bring us back.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

AO3 Version Here

NOTIFICATION: DAILY BUGLE (2) PDNY Chief on the headless, handless body discovered last night: “We will catch the person who did this. We will give this innocent victim the justice they deserve.”

Hottest Spider-Man merch and memorabilia available to purchase right now, just in time for Christmas!

~

At the end of the day, no matter how you look at it, you’re going to need help.

You’re going to need Spider-Man’s help, specifically. 

Granted, it’s going to be a little awkward since you’re going to a professional superhero with what’s essentially their ex in tow. Will you unintentionally open up old wounds? Probably. Is there a chance Spider-Man might see you as a villain rather than an innocent bystander with unnecessary baggage they want to get rid of? Most likely, but that might be the anxiety talking.

Then again, how were you supposed to track down your friendly neighborhood hero? Signal him with a floodlight into the sky with a spider on it? Actually, that might be a good-No...no, it wouldn’t now that you thought about it. It’ll just attract unneeded attention from everyone except the said hero. Venom mentioned that he developed something from his former host, something that detects, to a degree, the potential danger that’s nearby. If both you and Spider-Man go out on patrol tonight and sense something, it’s possible that you could ‘accidentally’ bump into each other. This is genius!

As much as you want to get the tea on him, school comes first. Besides, whoever’s behind that spider mask would love to enjoy having some normalcy in his life before some high schooler (you) barges in with their alien former host under their skin. Either way, you wouldn’t mind skipping out on club duties. It’s a good compromise, in your opinion. 

Speaking of which, school just couldn’t drag out any longer than it already is. It sucked that everyone in the hallway might be staring at you as if they knew who you had for dinner against your will last night. It wasn’t your fault. Kyle had you cornered when it was dark and-

The screech of the bell made you jump. Damn, was that bell always so loud? What time was...oh yea, it’s lunchtime. There’s no doubt in your mind that the most popular girl in school, Stacy Adams, would be looking for you. It didn’t help your case as you overheard two of her minions talking to each other about how worried their boss is since her boyfriend suddenly ghosted her. Sucks to say that’s not the only kind of ghost he is now. 

Your best bet in being undetected by Manhattan’s own Plastics is to hide in the third-floor bathroom by the physics labs. Just you, your body co-pilot, and the “hamburger” you refused to eat based on recent events in your life. Venom was more than happy to eat it, but he quickly spat it out after the first bite. Why did you bother even buying lunch today? Did you hope that some attempt at sleeping and one swig of mouthwash is going to wash away the taste of Kyle (or the robber in Koreatown, or the drunkard on Tenth Avenue, or the creep that followed you into the subway station in Harlem, or….) overnight?

With an annoyed sigh nothing better to do to occupy your thoughts, you use your free hands to take out your phone and open up Twitter.

You remembered your good friend Hannah is a very avid fan of Spider-Man. She practically knows almost everything about him. She's good with data gathering, but not the investigative logic needed to piece together the entire puzzle. Her side hustle is running a Twitter page dedicated to pinpointing Spider-Man’s exact location, kinda like Manhattan Bird Watch. And to think she’s doing this manually without a bot. If it wasn't for the five other accounts that have been established years ago dedicated to spotting him more accurately and her lackluster posting time, there’s a possibility she might’ve been verified by her hard work alone.

You, on the other hand, were indifferent to superheroes. You never really found the need to insert them into your life until one literally inserted his life into you last week (Does he count as a ‘hero’ though?). So now you have to keep an eye on Hannah's guesstimations and figure out how you can remove an alien parasite out of you with your organs still solid and intact. At the same time, you’re keeping an eye out to see if there’s any suspicious activity that would warrant the webbed hero’s intervention.    It’ll be hard to do some galaxy brain predictions while Venom’s currently biting your liver in retaliation, but it’ll work out somehow. Maybe. 

“We are not a parasite! Apologize!” Said the parasite.

“Quit chewing at my organs like a dog toy and I will.” You shot back irritated. “I can’t juggle between thinking and trying not to be eaten alive here.” You weren’t surprised when he nipped your kidney for that retort. 

After constant flicking back and forth from Twitter to the map app you made a broad assumption that he’s currently on a course heading to either Manhattan or Brooklyn. You don’t have any idea what could be lying in either location, and nothing that’s currently trending could help you outside of the latest ‘is over party’ filled with idol fancams. He’s obviously not going to drop his location on every tweet on his verified account.  

“Aaargh. Why is everything so difficult?” Your whines echo in the bathroom. “He’s either in Coney Island or Long Island, and I don’t think he’d be hanging out in his vineyard out on the forks with nothing to stick on.” A pause. “...Does he even own a vineyard?”

None that we know of.

Letting out another frustrated groan, you continue your search on the web. As you expect, it’s as misinformed as you can expect. Some even claim he’s in Japan. What kind of ‘friendly neighborhood hero’ would he be if he was on the other side of the planet? Ugh, this is so frustrating. At this rate you might as well go out...and…..find him…

If you can’t go to Spider-Man, then your only option is to bring Spider-Man to you…hold on.

You glare at the tendril. “Stop putting thoughts into my head.”

“It’s our head. We share the same thoughts.”

“Alright, then what number am I thinking of?” Hopefully, he doesn’t pick 421. 

“421.” Damn it, he’s good. 

There is a certain risk of being the problem rather than solving them. Yeah, there are villains and then there are supervillains. Yeah, Spider-man can take on villains, but it’s the supervillains that will most likely take priority over everything so the city doesn’t topple to its knees overnight. Hell, you even had to do evacuation drills for this scenario!

The shrill of the period end bell brings you back to the current day. Cursing at the outdated machine, your companion sunk back into your body as you exited the bathroom. Rather than paying attention in class, your focus went to trying to iron out how you can cross paths with the man in red and blue spandex.

~

By the end of the school day, the antsy feeling inside you was getting harder to contain. Are you nervous? Excited? It’s hard to tell at this point. The idea of seeing Spider-Man, like actually seeing him up close and having an actual conversation with him...it’s giving you the chills. You’ve never been this worked up over a superhero before. Hopefully, Hannah doesn’t bring up how much you’ve changed in the past two weeks. 

God, where do you even start? Where do you go first? There’s so much happening in the city that trying to find where Spider-Man is going to end up makes finding a needle in a haystack child’s play. 

You could use a knish right about now. Can’t track a spider down on an empty stomach. 

~

NOTIFICATION: DAILY BUGLE (2) PDNY baffled in figuring out the identity of the decapitated victim. Skeptics say this is related to attacks with similar MO in the past weeks. 

Today’s Poll: Do you believe we’re witnessing the beginning of a new villain?

~

“Excuse me, have any of you seen Spider-Man recently?” While it is a polite and straightforward conversation starter, it’s technically not the correct way to start a conversation with some obviously shady people. Well, to be fair, you did follow them into a secluded area that was clearly off-limits. Logically, they would’ve bumped into the hero you’re looking for.

Now here you are, head in your hands in a warehouse painted ceiling to floor in blood and viscera. Is it worth mentioning that the head that you’re holding in question isn’t even your own?

“God...damn it.” You sighed as you threw the body part somewhere behind you. You didn’t have the appetite to eat it now. “I didn’t think this through.” You groaned as you buried your actual head into your very bloody hands. 

“We couldn’t help it.” Venom tries to assure you. “We need the strength to find him again.”

“But-ughh.” This is what you get for being the host of a brain-eating parasite, you supposed. "We gotta find an alternate energy source."

You get flashbacks to last night’s incident. You could remember getting out of your club meeting pretty late, and being followed home by the most popular girl in your school’s boyfriend right after. Everything was a blur after that. Vague memories were practically a slideshow in your mind. You remembered running, but hit a dead end. You could recall the menacing shadow that could only belong to an athlete. Then a headless body drops to your feet, and your stomach needing an emergency exit...

Ugh. You could feel your head starting to hurt just thinking about it. The damage has already been done, and you’ll get locked up sooner or later. It’s not like you’re eating people on purpose (yeah you are). This is why you need Spider-Man’s help.

He can show you how to apply discipline, how to control your power, and maybe...fight alongside him?

“Stop it!” Your voice echoed. “We’re getting sidetracked. We need to find the damn guy first!” Oh no, are those police sirens you’re hearing? You’re starting to hate the high pitch wailing of the horns recently. Better get out of here before you get a taste of undercooked pork. 

~

NOTIFICATION: DAILY BUGLE BREAKING: Police discover a gruesome scene at warehouse with known connections to the Manfredi Crime Family. Rival families deny any involvement. 

~

After cross-referencing Twitter, it’s safe to say Spider-Man is estimated to show up somewhere nearby. Emphasis on the ‘somewhere’. Rather, it’s more of a toss-up between either East Midtown or Upper East Side. In an effort to keep your feet on the ground a little longer, you had an idea.

“Well I can’t roll up in the same space as your ex without knowing anything about him. Let’s make a quick detour, I know a place.” And so here you are at Midtown Comics.

It was the hottest spot for all things superheroes. Hannah dragged you to this place on more than one occasion. It’s super popular and it gets packed all the time. While a second store was established in an attempt to alleviate the issue, the appeal of even stepping in the flagship store as if it was a holy site attracted tourists in droves. Hell, it’s getting dark out and there’s still a sizable crowd in here. 

You couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer amount of merch for this web-slinging hero. The fact you can plaster his face on just about anything...you couldn’t help but wonder how much of a profit this guy gets on royalties alone. He has to own a vineyard with that money. 

As you looked around and flipped through some comic book pages here and there, you couldn’t help how quiet Venom got when you showed up. You would hope he would give you some kind of inside scoop, maybe a walk down memory lane when you looked at some prints, but voiceless commentary tells a lot.

You, uh, okay there...buddy? 

What you got in response was, in your interpretation, some form of a grunt. Oh, that might be bad.

Is this too much? I knew I should’ve gone to Kino but-

Not it.

“Huh?” You voiced your confusion, causing some customers to look at you. In an attempt to save face, you covered your ear as if you were adjusting your earbud. “What do you mean ‘not it’?”

Doesn’t feel right. We don’t know why.

Well...that certainly comes at a surprise. Then again, you are looking at artistic interpretations of his ex rather than the real deal. It would make sense to feel weird, you thought. Then again, what other superhero swings around NYC in red and blue spandex? You honestly had to think about what else you could or were going to say. Although, you did note a nervous feeling in your gut despite not experiencing it personally.

Suddenly, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. Then that strange experience you had a few days ago started happening again. You only had a few seconds to brace yourself before the world started to shake. 

A loud explosion rocked your ears. Gasps and shrieks filled the store. Lights began to flicker in and out as books and other items fell off the shelves. You half processed a hardcover book hitting your head during what you can only describe as a seizure. And just as quickly as it happened, it stopped. One hand reached for the impact spot while the other used the shelves to push you back up.

Holy shit! What was that? You thought, followed by, I have to get out of here! 

That feeling in your gut came back twofold. The tingling sensation from your neck doesn’t feel like it’ll go away soon. While you were getting used to the sporadic occurrences of the earthquakes, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something’s different. Oh no! Could someone be trapped under some rubble outside?

With no time to waste, you barreled out the store and clambered up the closest wall to scout out the immediate area. There have been some things that have toppled over not to mention several cars piled up near Times Square. It looks like nobody got seriously hurt thankfully. You could hear emergency vehicles echoing throughout the city. While there isn’t anything that sticks out like a sore thumb, you still have that gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

“I wonder where Spider-Man is?” You thought aloud. According to the news, he would drop in to assess the damage before doing what he needs to do then dip. He should be here any moment but...where is he? Guess you should check Twitter. 

A barrage of notifications greeted you as you reached for your phone. As you open your lock screen, you can see messages from Hannah that sound very distressing. Incomprehensible even. It was hard to read them as they kept coming and coming. Is she okay? This isn’t like her at all. 

Unfortunately, the cause of Hannah’s distress texting decided to make itself known on your phone. While you could feel your heart drop, the rest of your body froze when a news notification emerged in the sea of texts.

NOTIFICATION: DAILY BUGLE BREAKING: New York’s Hero Spider-Man has died. His identity revealed to be grad student Peter Parker, 26.

“N-No…” Your voice was so small. Your phone slipped from your hand and dropped to your feet. “This...This can’t be…” The denial was only shot down by more and more news notifications popping up.

The next moment you could remember was staring at a TV display somewhere in the city. You watched helplessly as the reporters struggled not to cry on camera as they explained that Peter-no, you have no right to call him that after your search for him came to naught. They explained that Spider-Man succumbed to his injuries caused by the current earthquake that toppled several buildings in Brooklyn. 

You try not to acknowledge the reflection in the window. Those weren’t tears running down your face. The owner of that defeated look in their eyes isn’t you. But man, you look so tired.

“What am I going to do?” You croaked, peeling away from the display. “I couldn’t even track him down properly. How was I supposed to know he was in Brooklyn?” Worst of all, you’re starting to fear that Venom might not see any use for you after this spectacular failure. “What do you think?” Instead of a backhanded remark, you get...nothing. For a minute, at least.

“Not him.” He replied.

You couldn't have but blink. “What?”

“That’s not our Spider-Man.” A tendril emerged from your shoulder. He glanced at the TV before looking at you. “He was younger, we think. No ‘grad school’. Darker hair too.”

And that just adds the finisher to the wombo-combo series of events you still have yet to process. Your head hurts for a variety of reasons. All you want is to crawl into bed and hope all of this was a bad dream or some kind of hallucinogenic drug made by a mad scientist that's in the air. Anything that chases away the inevitable thoughts of your actions being for naught. 

You try to find your way home. The only things you could feel were the tears running down your face and the headache you’ll have by the time you get to bed.

Hopefully everything will return to normal tomorrow and you can try again. 

~

Unfortunately, it was all still very real. Even as you watched the funeral procession from a nearby rooftop, your entire body was buzzing.

A huge crowd dressed in red and blue gathered around the cathedral soaking in the eulogy given by the widow of their fallen idol. The speech itself was beautiful and inspiring. The weight crushing down on your shoulders seemed to dissipate for a moment. You were hopeful that the world was indeed counting on you, but you were quickly crushed by the reality of the situation. This isn’t helped by the tingling feeling in the back of your neck. It wasn’t too much of a concern, but it’s going off just low enough that you could ignore it if you don’t focus on it.

Somehow, someway, Spider-Man wasn't the ‘one’. Yes, it is Spider-Man that you're looking for, but the only one that exists is, well, no longer existing. 

“I’m so tired.” You said mindlessly. 

“We know.” 

You let your hands run down your face in frustration. “What am I going to do now?” 

“What are we going to do?”

“...Ugh, yeah. Fine.” 

You stood up and left your spot. This was getting too much for you. The headache from last night hasn’t gone away either. No amount of pain medication (that is quickly rejected back up by your partner) could do the trick, so you've resorted to ineffective temple rubbing. With that said and done, you picked yourself up from your ledge. As you did, the weird feeling in your neck was…pushing you. It wouldn’t reprimand you from going another direction, but it encouraged you when you did follow its guidance. Is this the famous sixth sense Spider-Man was said to have? Only one way to find out!  

And so, you found yourself standing outside Brooklyn Visions Academy the very next day. With your companion dressing up as one of the standard uniforms you saw, you enter the charter school with shaky steps as you find someone that can help you with your current predicament. 

[g0dwat3rwritings]

go follow one of my best friends!!!! @citruslullabies :))

(The tags are fandoms she writes!)

[miggyyyyohara]

AY PAPI- I MEAN DADDY please- i mEAN SIR!

Follow this artist on Instagram @ narutoss.ramen 🫶🏻🤌🏻

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe���at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[prismuffin]

Hi, I was thinking about what Miles (1610)would be like as an older brother, with a 13-year-old younger sister??🤍🤍

Hmmm lets see I think that

I think Miles would definitely be a fun and affectionate older brother. Always calling you some sort of nickname rather than your actual name. Ever since you were brought home to him as a baby he's been super affectionate with you, always wanting to hold you when you were younger. Your mom has so many pictures of child him just barely being able to hold baby you up.

He'd always take you out to the basketball court where you both would often play and hangout. The type to not necessarily get mad when his mom says he has to take you with him whenever he wants to hang out with friends. He's also pretty protective of you, if you were ever messed with he wouldn't hesitate to stand up for you. Back when you both went to the same school he told off any kid that tried to bully you so it was pretty sad when he started high school at Visions. Him having dorms meant he'd be moving out of your house and you wouldn't see him anymore. He promised to visit more often but found himself so busy trying to balance everything that he forgot. After the events of into the spiderverse you were actually the first person he talked to about feeling too stressed. You told him to come over and together you both just played videogames and for the first time in weeks he felt relaxed.

If you're ever having boy (or girl) problems do not come to him. Well you could but I can't guarantee the advice would be good. First off, he'd definitely tease you before anything. Then it'd really sink in that his little sister likes somebody and he'd try and be all stern, asking questions about the person you like to see if they'd be good for you. After you felt embarrassed enough then he'd actually start to give you advice though its most likely just him repeating things that Uncle Aaron said to him before he died.

Overall he loves his younger sister and wouldn't trade you for the world.

———

Directory

[comically-callous]

JESUS!!!! Y'all ask, I deliver I guess 😟

Rainy walks Home

Hobie brown x reader! Read part 1 here!

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of a breakup, reader gets robbed at gunpoint 💀

A/n: PART THREE HAS BEEN MADE. Didn't anticipate you guys wanting this so bad lol. But, I'm not complaining. Requests are open!

In hindsight, agreeing to close up alone was probably a bad idea.

You locked the doors to the Domino's that you worked at behind you, pulling at the door handle to make sure it was shut tight. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, it began raining.

You sighed, cursing under your breath as you pulled your hood over your head.

It had been a little over 3 weeks since your ex broke up with you and things were going... Fine. You weren't super torn up over the breakup, but you definitely weren't happy either.

The rain began to pour down, only getting worse with every step that you took. Normally, you wouldn't take shortcuts. There wasn't really a reason to since the walk from work to your apartment wasn't that long. But, today was an acception. It was dark, and cold, and pouring down rain.

So, you turned down an alleyway.

You walked through the narrow space, listening to the sound of your sneakers as they hit the wet pavement. But, something made you stop.

You strained your ears listening for something. You didn't quite know what.

Nothing.

You continued walking, only taking a few steps before stopping again.

You heard it this time.

Someone else's footsteps.

You turned around to face whoever was behind you, but before you could fully face them, you were grabbed.

Instinctively, you screamed and began to thrash around in the person's grasp, but they were bigger than you.

"Empty your pockets." The deep voice of a man said into your ear. You tried kicking at the man and he didn't even react. "EMPTY YOUR FUCKING POCKETS." He screamed. You reached into your pockets and threw your belongings on to the ground. Your keys and your earbuds.

The man briefly looked at the items before throwing you to the ground. Before you could even think to get up and run, he was holding a gun, pouting it at you.

You screamed and shrunk into yourself, holding your hands over your face.

"Give me your bag."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were shrugging away your bag, ready to hand over whatever this dude asked for when you heard a sort of "thwip!" sound.

You lifted your head and all you saw was a flash of red and blue full force swinging into the man who was robbing you.

You watched in awe as THE actual fucking Spiderman beat down the man who'd tried to rob you. In a manner of seconds, Spiderman had knocked the man out and tied him up in webs.

You were in shock and couldn't do anything but stare with your jaw agape. Spiderman turned to you and crouched down to your level.

"Y'alright, mate?" He asked.

You blinked. "Fucking no!"

"Yeah, fair enough." He shrugged. "Let's get you up then." He held his hand out to you and, after a short pause, you took it. He pulled you up from the ground with what seemed to be zero effort and dusted off your shoulders.

"Cops will probably show up to take care of this one sooner or later." He crossed his arms and inspected you for a moment.

You became aware of the fact that you hadn't thanked him yet. "Thank you." You said, finally calmed down from the whole ordeal.

"Nah, don't mention it." He brushed you off. "Just doing what's right."

You silently picked your things up from the ground, trying to ignore the thief that was knocked out a few feet away from you.

"Want me to walk you home?" He asked.

You paused, letting his words sink in for a moment. Spiderman was offering to walk you home.

...

Why?

"You probably have better things to do." You said, shaking your head.

"Not really. People are less likely to go around committing crime when it's pouring down rain." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't put the offer out there."

You thought over it for a moment. You would undoubtedly feel safer if Spiderman was walking you home.

"Okay." You agreed.

You were walking down the streets with Spiderman. You were with Spiderman. Walking to your apartment. Cool. Yup. This was fine. Totally normal situation.

"Sucks that this all happened in the rain, huh?"

You broke out of your own thoughts and managed a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

"I would offer you an umbrella, but," He motioned down to himself. "Spiderman doesn't carry around umbrellas."

"It's okay." You went quiet again, getting lost in your thoughts. He seemed to notice the trance-like state you were in and tilted his head.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

You took a moment before answering. For some reason, you sort of wanted to be honest with him, really tell him what was on your mind. Maybe because you knew you'd probably never talk to him again; and you knew Spiderman wasn't gonna go swinging around, telling everyone your business. So, you spoke.

"I got broken up with a couple weeks ago."

"You're still hung up about it?!" He asked. The way he said it was strange. It was like he was expecting you to be over your break up, despite the fact that the two of you had never spoken before, so he shouldn't have any reason to expect better from you.

"I mean, I'm sort of over it. But..." You sighed. "When it first happened I was upset, obviously. He broke up with me over text while I was at work and I went on break to cry in the parking lot." He nodded along. "And then this... Guy showed up." This was the main thing that had been on your mind. "And I didn't know him, but he like... Comforted me. Just sort of made me feel better about the whole thing. He was super cool, and genuine, and like, really hot; and I regret not asking for his number or anything."

There it was. You had just spilled your guts to fucking Spiderman. God, you needed to go back to therapy.

You waited for him to say something in reply, and for a moment he was silent.

"Well, uh..." He trailed off. Oh god, you'd overstepped. He probably thinks you're weird. "That's what you were thinking about?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's weird, I know."

"Nah, nah. I'm sure he's been thinking about you too."

"Definitely not." You chuckled.

"You never know." He said. "You seem cool, so..."

You stopped walking, finally arriving to your apartment building. You decided to be a little more weird by asking for advice.

"So, what should I do? Like, should I look for him somewhere? Should I just move on like a normal person?"

He paused. "When's your next shift?" He asked.

"Wednesday." You answered.

"I'd say just... Go into work. Y'know, like any other day. He might show up."

You chuckled. "That's wishful thinking."

"Not from me, it's not. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Cause I've got Spidey senses." He said. The eyes on his mask narrowed and you could tell that underneath, he was smiling.

You shook your head, smiling as well. "Guess it'd be dumb to not take Spiderman's advice."

"Exactly. So, you'll do what I said?"

"Yeah." You shrugged. "I guess I will."

"Great." He began to walk backwards away from you, not yet breaking eye contact. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows in slight confusion. "I mean, probably not."

"Y'never know." Webs shot out from his wrist and he swung away without another word.

You walked into your apartment building, and somehow you were glad you'd taken that shortcut.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[zapreportsblog]

Hello. Yandere Miguel O'Hara and female reader. The reader catches Miguel's eye after she joins the spider community. After a while, Miguel realizes that he wants to find the reader waiting for him to come home from work at the house where they will live together. And with at least five children.

❝a new spider in my web❞

✭ pairing : yandere miguel o’hara x reader

✭ fandom : spiderman into the spiderverse

✭ summary : the moment Miguel laid his eyes on here he knew she was it for him, he didn’t care if they couldn’t be together, he’d make something work. He always did

✭ authors note : none of these are my art just a heads up I found them on Pinterest

✭ spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist

In the bustling heart of the Spider-Verse community, where spider-folk from countless dimensions converged, a new arrival was about to catch the attention of one particular spider.

Miguel O'Hara, known in his dimension as Spider-Man 2099, stood atop a towering skyscraper, his sharp eyes scanning the sprawling metropolis below. His costume, a sleek blue and white suit, shimmered in the city's neon glow as he maintained his vigilant watch over the Spider-Verse.

It was an ordinary day in this extraordinary place, or so it seemed until Gwen Stacy, the Spider-Woman of her dimension, swung by with effortless grace through a portal and landed beside Miguel. Her white and black suit glistened like moonlight against the darkened skyline. Gwen had been one of the few to join the Spider-Verse community, and she had seen her fair share of newcomers.

"Hey, Miguel," she greeted him with a friendly nod. "Got a moment?"

Miguel raised a brow at her but nodded, curious. Gwen had a way of making even the most routine days interesting or troublesome in his eyes. "What is it, Gwen?"

Gwen smiled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of excitement. "Well I know you’ve been trusting me more and more for the mission we’ve had so far and so I brought someone new to the community today, and I think you'll want to meet her."

Miguel arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Another spider-person? What makes this one special and why wasn’t I alerted of this beforehand? You know you can’t just bring someone random without going over it with me first.”

Gwen's grin widened just slightly, “She's different, I swear! In her universe, she's their Spider-Woman, obviously but when she got bitten, look just check her out miguel. What’s the harm in it, plus she's... pretty unique."

As Gwen spoke, the night air suddenly crackled with a strange energy. Moments later, a figure swung into view, suspended by clear glistening webbing. Miguel's eyes widened as he saw her for the first time.

Her form bathed in the eerie glow of the main room labs lights, descended gracefully from her webline. She was a striking sight, like something out of a dream and a nightmare all at once. Her lower half was a delicate, iridescent exoskeleton, resembling that of a spider, while her upper body remained unmistakably human. Her costume blended seamlessly with her arachnid lower half, creating an otherworldly fusion.

Miguel couldn't tear his eyes away. This newcomer was unlike any spider-person he had ever encountered. Her presence exuded an air of mystery and power that was impossible to ignore.

Gwen chuckled at Miguel's reaction. "See what I mean? She's going to be a game-changer around here."

Miguel finally found his voice. "You brought her to here to the spiderverse already? Since you didn’t bother telling me of her arrival does Jess at least know.”

Gwen nodded. "Yes, and I think she's going to be a valuable addition to our team. (Y/N) is her name, by the way."

As (Y/N) touched down gracefully on the rooftop, her multifaceted eyes met Miguel's. There was a brief, electric connection between them, an unspoken understanding of the extraordinary circumstances they had both found themselves in.

Miguel extended a hand, a smile playing on his lips. "Welcome to the Spider-Verse, I would say I’ve heard good things about you but I didn’t know of your existence until now.”

That earnt him a laugh from the woman, “It’s all cool, I’ve come to notice that Gwen tends to do her own thing at times. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, I am (y/n).”

“(Y/n) huh…nice name. I’m Miguel, the spiderman of this universe and creator of the spiderverse.”

With that simple gesture, a new chapter in (Y/N)'s journey as an extraordinary spider-being began, and Miguel couldn't help but wonder what incredible adventures lay ahead in this web of endless possibilities.

Miguel couldn't deny his fascination with (Y/N), and as the days passed, he took every opportunity to get to know her abilities, her strengths, and her vulnerabilities. Gwen's intuition had been right; (Y/N) was unique, not just in her appearance but in her spider-powers as well.

Their missions together became a testing ground, and Miguel found himself in the dual role of mentor and admirer. (Y/N) had an uncanny ability to adapt to any situation. Her agility and dexterity were unmatched, her spider-silk threads stronger and more versatile than any he'd seen before.

As they swung through the city, tracking down threats and facing down villains, Miguel couldn't help but watch (Y/N) in action. Her movements were like a mesmerizing dance, fluid and graceful. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of human warmth and arachnid determination, held a fierce focus that drew him in.

Yet, his captivation came at a cost. There were moments when his preoccupation with her put him in harm's way. A misplaced web-swing, a delayed reaction, or an enemy's surprise attack—it seemed like Miguel's attention was often divided.

One fateful night, in the midst of a heated battle with a formidable foe, Miguel found himself momentarily caught off guard. Before he could react, an energy blast was hurtling towards him. In that split second, (Y/N) moved with lightning speed, positioning herself between Miguel and the danger. Her spider-silk shield absorbed the brunt of the blast, saving Miguel from serious injury.

As the dust settled, Miguel's heart raced, and he couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) had shielded him not just out of duty but out of a deeper connection. It was a thought that haunted him, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their partnership than met the eye.

In the aftermath of the battle, as they regrouped with Gwen, Miles, and Hobie, Miguel's thoughts were a tumultuous whirlwind. He kept his inner musings to himself, not daring to voice the growing obsession that whispered in the recesses of his mind.

Hobie, ever perceptive, gave Miguel a knowing look “Dontcha think you’ve been watching the new girl a bit too hard there mate?”

Miguel blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What? No, I—"

Gwen chimed in with a playful grin. "It's okay, Miguel. We all see how you look at her. Told you she was something special.”

Miles nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean sure there’s a T-Rex that’s a Spiderman? Spider-Rex? But like a whole half humanoid spider? That’s pretty wicked too.”

Miguel couldn't deny it any longer, not that he’d voice it. His feelings for (Y/N) had grown into something more than just admiration. He cared for her deeply, and the thought that she might feel the same way both thrilled and terrified him.

“You three know nothing. I don’t have feelings for (y/n) im simply assessing her skills. Nothing more, now leave me be.” Miguel says turning his back to the three youngsters.

He couldn't risk their partnership by letting his emotions get the best of him. So, like always, he kept his feelings locked away, buried beneath his stoic exterior, all while secretly cherishing every moment he spent with (Y/N), the extraordinary spider-woman who had captured his heart.

Miguel had been waiting for the right moment to talk to (Y/N) about the upcoming mission. He knew it was crucial, and he needed to ensure her full attention and commitment. As he walked down the corridor towards her quarters, his mind was filled with thoughts of the mission's details, but also of his deep affection for (Y/N). He couldn't help but smile as he thought about their future together.

However, as he approached her door, his smile faded. He saw Riley, a fellow agent, standing in front of (Y/N). Riley was flexing his muscles and engaging in conversation with her. A wave of jealousy and possessiveness washed over Miguel. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger. (Y/N) was his; he couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone like Riley.

Miguel hesitated for a moment, debating whether to confront them. Instead, he turned on his heels and walked away. He couldn't bear to see (Y/N) with someone else, not when he loved her so deeply.

Retreating to his office, Miguel locked the door behind him. He needed to clear his mind and focus on something other than his jealousy. He sat down at his desk and began reviewing clips and videos he had taken of (Y/N) in action. Each time he paused a video, it was at the moment her face was on display. He couldn't help himself, his obsession with her consuming his every thought.

Miguel started to mumble to himself, reassuring himself that (Y/N) was his and that she loved him, even if she was too shy to say it. He envisioned a future together, a family they would build. He wondered if their children would inherit his or her looks, or perhaps a perfect blend of both. He imagined their first born would be a girl, their very own daughter, a mommy's girl just like him, adoring (Y/N) as much as he did.

He envisioned her carrying more of their children, would they be eggs or would she carry them like a regular mother did in pregnancy?

In his isolated office, Miguel was lost in his fantasies. He couldn't wait for the day when (Y/N) would truly be his, and he was determined to make that future a reality.

As Miguel continued to grapple with the complexities of his relationship with (Y/N), he couldn't help but think about the obstacles they faced. The idea of two Spider-People together raised concerns of potential conflicts or even the risk of creating a catastrophic event in their world. Society had its expectations, its rules, and its fears, but Miguel knew deep down that he couldn't simply let (Y/N) slip away.

Each time he pictured (Y/N) with someone else, whether it was their own MJ or Gwen, or even a complete stranger, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. It was as if the universe itself was protesting against any scenario where they weren't together. It was in these moments of doubt and insecurity that Miguel realized their unique connection.

He whispered to himself in the solitude of his office, "No one else would accept our flaws." He understood that they were perfect for each other precisely because they could see past each other's imperfections and still love each other deeply.

Miguel knew the risks, the potential consequences of their love, but as he thought about a world falling apart, it didn't matter to him. In his heart, he knew that having (Y/N) in his arms was worth any sacrifice, even if it meant the world crumbling around them. Their love was a force that defied the ordinary, and he was willing to defy the world if it meant they could be together.

[kairiscorner]

if its okay with you! make out session with noir?👀

SURE THING ANON q(≧▽≦q) oK WAIT THIS ALSO REMINDED ME OF MY OTHER NOIR BOT PROMPT......... fuck it i'm gonna write about it bc why not ✍️(◔◡◔)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

giving your hero a kiss.

before you knew it, you were snatched out of the villain's clutches, and soon in the arms of none other that spider man. you will never forget the first words you exchanged with him: "please don't vomit on the turtleneck, i ran out of detergent today." nothing could've been more reassuring than that, you were sure you thought with sarcasm and slight fear and anxiousness creeping up your mind. spider man set you down gently away from the fight, and in a few moments... the villain that threatened to kill you was on the ground, unconscious, with spider man walking away unscathed towards you.

he crouched down to level with you as he looked into your eyes. "you good?" he asked you as you heaved, trying to process what just happened. he was getting a bit worried since your breathing sounded a little erratic, but he placed his hand on your shoulder and tried to sound as comforting as possible. "hey, you're okay now, i promise..." he told you as you panted and heaved; the adrenaline rushed through your veins like crazy as you tried to digest just what the hell happened.

spider man... he saved you. he saved you, he cared about you.

"it's okay... you're okay, i promise." he repeated as he took off his mask and looked at you. when you gazed back up at him... you were blown away by who you just saw. that dark, slicked back yet tousled hair from the mask, that sharp nose, those thin yet very red lips of his, and those eyes... those gray and brown eyes of his that just allured you ever since you saw him, when he was recognizable, when he was average like you--oh, no way.

"...parker?" you asked aloud as peter looked at you with a slight, crooked smile. he nodded and lapped a little at his lips that were going dry. "yeah, it's me." he said with an equally dry chuckle as you brought yourself forward a little, leaning towards him as his gaze attracted you even more. he doesn't find himself pulling away, but rather, he brings himself even closer to you. his breath felt hot against your lips, and soon... you touched his lips with your own, and you didn't hesitate a single second to let him know you were grateful for his help.

peter was astounded by how quickly this whole situation was unfurling, but he did not complain a single bit. instead, he moved his hand from your shoulder to your arm as he locked his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. he couldn't deny your lips were so wonderful to feel against his; the way you made his world stop turning for a few seconds as he realized you kissed him, it made him wish this feeling would last forever, if he could revisit that fight over and over and over again just so he could kiss you for the first time all over again... he'd do it, no questions asked, and in a heartbeat.

as you pulled away from peter, who was now extremely flustered; blushing from the top of his forehead down to his collarbone, he smiled at you widely and looked directly into your eyes. "is... this what i get for being a hero?" he asked you with a tone of disbelief at the fact you kissed him. you smiled shyly at him, still not believing what just happened either, but hey, it did happen--and you loved it. "it's what you get for being my hero." you told him as you pecked his cheek with a kiss, which sent sparks flying in his heart as he leaned against you a little--weak at your flurry of kisses. "i'll take that, i'm kinda glad i finally told you this way... i get a free kiss from the one person who makes me feel like an absolute love struck idiot and some closure between us two." he said as he smiled up at you and brought you in for an embrace.

you can expect him to take his job as spider man a whole lot more seriously now, not just because you know his secret identity now... but because he also gets to taste a kiss from you as a reward.

a/n: i just realized this was super similar to my miles one, so i'm really sorry if i seem like i'm repeating ideas really 😭😭😭

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy