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angelharness · 2 years ago

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Started writing this right after seeing the movie like yeah this’ll be a nice short, sweet work, 1k words maybe. Ended up being around 3k lol

Just something sweet, guy’s been through a lot and I couldn’t find much in the way of writing that was just simple and sweet with him. Reader getting some special treatment

Soft Spot / Weak Point

WARNINGS: none come to mind, no meaningful spoilers

MIGUEL O’HARA / SPIDER-MAN 2099

It’s hard work, and you pride yourself in that. It’s hard work, and also unpaid and unending. No weekends or holidays away to intersperse long days and longer weeks. Rest is brief if managed at all and never enough to work away the hours spent on duty. But it’s your work and your dedication to it is unquestioning.

Today’s share of work, which has you maneuvering and slinging through a sunny seaside cityscape saturated to overwhelming vibrancy, is particularly grueling. Two anomalies of differing origin thrust into one dimension incredibly distant from their own makes for a burdensome pain. This is a case that’s spanned days now, you believe on it’s fourth by the time you are wrapping it up, and has ranged across even more universes. Sun-cooked dessert towns, cities that rise infinitely, worlds of buildings floating above the earth on platforms, all converging at a fight on the side of a high rise lurching miles above the sea.

It’s only when it’s done and the offenders are sealed away does it all come crashing down suddenly, the force of a plunging wave hitting land crest first. The hunger from skipped meals, exhaustion from numerous hours awake in bed, the ache in your muscles that is nearly omnipresent in your life now. Although your new form, advanced beyond your entire understanding even now—some three years into your vigilantism—allows you to soldier through more damage than imaginable, it only means more pain to fill that new capacity. It’s in your new line of work that you’ve forgotten the dangers of negligence on the body. It isn’t something to cross your mind when you’re being flung into apartment complexes and having chunks of sidewalk chucked your way.

You’re heaving as Jess takes them away, lugging them by a handful of webs through glinting, crackling portals. One half of your ribs is especially tender, but you force yourself not to slouch as you watch. The thought of sinking into your mattress nearly makes you sob.

You don’t know where the weight was when you were ripping your way through endless variations of New York and splitting your knuckles on villains’ faces, but now it’s sinking fully and deep into your bones, pooling as liquid lead in your feet. The blood, rising from cuts focused on your shoulder, your calves, is temporary and will dry up and scab soon enough; you’re more worried about the damage you can’t see. Tendons and bones that pang and nerves that throb.

You’re afraid your grip will simply slip as you sling off the windows of tall office buildings, trying to find a more secluded rooftop, appropriately hidden, before taking your portal home.

Your feet hit the hot blacktop of a parking lot rooftop, a landing that burns in your ankles, shit, and pull yourself up, but you feel all lopsided. You’re mulling over what to get for dinner between the drifting black spots of sleep that pool in your vision (maybe you want to sleep for a day first) when you pull your arm up to bring your watch into view—even the motion requires a considerable deal of effort and a bit of momentum to bring your elbow up to the height of your shoulder. Now that you think about it, you believe you’ve heard something about putting in requests for days off at the society. That sounds nice right about now. A weekend in bed. A cold shower to ease the burns, flush the dirt from wounds; your suit could also go for a cycle in the wash. Nobody realizes how high maintenance such a costume is.

You think of Miguel even though your head feels like it’s being squeezed. A part of you, the softer self from earlier years in your line of work, longs for him to be proud, but the voice of reason you’ve honed is knowledgeable enough to understand recognition in an organization so densely populated is a luxury, and expecting it from Miguel is praying for rainfall in a desert.

You think of other things. Bed, sheets, cotton warm from the dryer. Steamed vegetables, fat dumplings, sandwiches and thick-cut fries and beans over rice, your mouth is watering, your everything is aching, and then you’re falling face-first into the cracked, black turf. It burns momentarily, but you’re gone before the pain can form fully.

You try to peel your eyes open but can’t manage the will. Sleep is still recent and enticing, still ebbing, running over you in streams of backwater flow. Even the colors behind your eyes, the watery yolks of browns and yellows, are fuzzy. A particularly large breath in stings your senses awake and reminds you that you’re in fact alive.

You expect the blue gradient of deep night when you do pull your eyes open, but light tells you it’s day, just now seeping into evening. Your eyes close again, reaffirmed. The deep ache in your stomach and sides has left, to which you untense in relief. The sweat along your hairline, your neck, collecting on your wrists, is gone, as is the weight from your eyes. That was a ridiculously good nap.

As your senses lag behind in waking up, folding out into each limb and prickling muscle awake, you realize you’re not in your bed. Too firm, folded at angles; when you sink into it it’s not the sweet depths of your mattress or blanket but the constructed mass of muscle. You open your eyes again, let the light bleed in, gradually, then close them again, seeking refuge in the amber of sleep.

You shift. A touch swipes across your head, fingers pushing through your hair and then draw gently along the scalp. The motion repeats, nails drawing careful lines inward. Again, again. You force tired eyes open for a longer moment, long enough for colors to sharpen into discernible shapes. Reality is delivered, served on silver platter but without flourish, abruptly. You jerk forward, finally forcing out your first sound, a questioning grunt, frazzled by sleep.

“Don’t sit up so quickly,” you’re eased back so that your head meets—thigh? “You’ll make yourself woozy.”

Miguel’s voice.

You slept in, it’s not today but tomorrow. Apologies and half-baked explanations tumble to the forefront of your tongue but unravel there as well. You crane your neck back to take in more bleary shapes, still sifting into finer images. It’s the colors of him, though, brilliant red and blue, a bit hard on the eyes when you’re just stirring from sleep.

You place a hand out to ground yourself, fingers stretching out curiously over ground, no, a woven, padded seat, then your palm rises instead to grope at the intrusion beneath your head. Warm, defined, not the flattened pillow back in the apartment of your personal New York.

Realization is the best wake up call, a dose of heavy, heavy caffeine without the thick syrup introduction from coffee. Both of you jolt, you more so, him to a degree more contained, but you do feel the tips of claws flicker out from the pads of his fingers, barely grazing your scalp. You’re in Miguel’s lap, head resting on his thigh.

A pang of silence rolls around the room, rattled like a lone coin in a silver piggy bank, silent in a way that is intrusive and impossible to ignore. The coin falls.

“How was your little nap?” Miguel asks, focused in front of him.

You wonder if it’s said in humor, but that’s not what he does, so maybe it’s a patronizing jab. You’re going to wake up with the entirety of the HQ pooled around your desk like it’s high school and you fell asleep during the lecture. The realization that it’s only you two is almost worse.

It takes a concerning deal of will power, maybe down to the last drop, not to take a quick squeeze of appreciation (the fixture of the suit prompts the eyes to wander). Even still, your fingers still linger in one spot before you can rip them off with the urgency as if you’d been scorched, looking at them with the same expectancy of warped scars, but it’s only your hand that you look back at. No singed or scalded skin.

Again you place it in front of you then slide your weight forward to prop yourself up on your forearm and elbow, sluggish and gingerly, like rising through a coat of snow, comparable to its allusions to hibernation.

“You’re fine where you are,” Miguel says again, and now you can

He holds his voice in such an authoritative grip that you’re late to realize he’s attempting to settle you and not chastise you. He must sense your anxiety, maybe something he can sense simply through touch, to hear the rapid thrumming of your pulse in your neck and ribs. The speciality of your accelerated senses vary from spider-person to spider-person, so who can say?

You’re in Miguel’s office—but the word never felt right to tack onto the odd, grand intricacy of the bizarre auditorium he conducts the majority of his universe observation; it's a little more abstract than that word constitutes. It was always a sort of amphitheater to you, fixed around the platform of his desk and display of screens and windows, live feeds of little worlds piled over each other in adjustable tabs, screens staggered by video lag. He whisks away a clip of a world you’ve seen him linger on time and time again but never let yourself ask about.

You let yourself still, and so he resumes petting your head. All the feeds stop suddenly, paused onto snapshots of worlds of every palette.

“…did I fall asleep?” you finally say when your throat is no longer dry as coal. You did, but you’re looking for a little further elaboration. You have an idea, a very sensible reason in mind, but are lost when it comes to how you got here. Miguel gives you special attention, no doubt, a fact that’s become less and less hidden over the progression of your time together. It goes relatively unquestioned though, sparing you of a deeply uncomfortable but arguably justified confrontation. It’s likely his constant present at your side that wards off such altercations at all.

He doesn’t answer straightforwardly.

“You weren’t taking care of yourself,” is his response, but it sounds less like a reply and more like the introduction of a grim matter. No matter how close you do draw, he never entirely drops his formality, except for catastrophic events of frustration. He still isn’t chastising you, but his tone is more equipped for a serious intervention at the dinner table.

Mentally you turn your word bank this way and that, give it a few solid smacks, and hope a series of clever words will tumble out and into a quippy, lighthearted reply, the majority of your side of your guys' banter, but you only manage a guilty sounding noise of agreement, on its own a confirmation of his observation.

His hand stops and allows him a second to glance down at you impassively and then back ahead, apparently unbothered by whatever was transpiring. Now that your senses have sharpened back to working order, you can feel all your blood burn in your cheeks and warm your skin with a sudden flow of heat.

“I guess I have,” you continue, embarrassed by your lackluster response. Your tongue never works so well around him, vengeful in its drive to embarrass you in his presence.

“I mean that seriously,” Miguel says, and he surely does, since he ends that with your name, a personalization he doesn’t often bestow upon others. You never especially noticed until it took you by surprise when he addressed you directly and it hit like a crisp, open-palm slap across the back of the head. Your neck could’ve twisted with how quickly you snapped your head towards him.

There’s a million and more half-formed, undercooked explanations clanging around in your head but the words don’t fall into place, jostled by an anxiety you can’t place.

You try to lift yourself up another time by swinging your weight upwards but this time Miguel places his hand on your chest to sink you down onto your back.

“You know that’s a problem,” Miguel continues.

“Yes,” the first word you can dish out of your scrambled vocabulary.

“That’s part of your work—making sure you’re in operating condition. We need you functioning properly.”

“Yes,” you say again, blinking. Miguel keeps petting you. Is he going to address that? You’re nervous that if you mention it he’ll stop, so just let your teeth sink into your bottom lip, only enough to burn distantly.

“There’s no point in working at all if you’re not in working order.”

You watch the mask of his suit dissolve, threads of light glittering and then melting to reveal the face beneath it all. The red and blue of his second face, with slanted, fierce eyes, erodes, the color retreating into the neckline of the suit. And then it’s just him, eyes still fixed forward but without the glassy reflection of a screen lighting a kaleidoscope in the iris and whites of them.

You stare a bit too longingly and let your teeth grind further into your lip until it outright hurts and you stop.

“Entendido,” you finally respond, attempting to sound unbothered and lightsome, as much as your buzzing nerves will allow. Attempting to explain oneself never goes well with Miguel; if it doesn’t suddenly escalate things, it’s a lost cause. In one ear and out the other if it had registered in the first one at all.

He, again, looks back down at you, now with his face, his features, his heavy eyes, dark with deep lines streaked beneath them. And still uncomfortably pretty.

“You taking care of yourself too, though?” you ask. Something in his expression twitches, his lip pulling to the side. You watch his chest bob with a noiseless laugh.

“Let’s get you something to eat, a proper meal,” Miguel begins, turning his head away. Blue light runs along his profile like a torrent of vivid, colored rain, mapping the dimensions of his features, searing gray and purple on his skin.

“You too,” you snap back, laughing when he grunts dryly in response. The pain in your skull is distant, maybe gone entirely.

Carefully, you draw a hand back up to your head and let it settle gingerly on Miguel’s thigh beside your chin. He doesn’t react, so you let it rest fully on his leg and dare your eyes to flutter back closed.

He works so hard, more so than you, than perhaps anyone in the organization; he’s dedicated his entirety to this line of work, and the stress is evident and insurmountable. You can only imagine the extent of the weight on his shoulders, only a quarter of the total made visible on his face. You could turn this all around on him and it would likely be even more relevant than when directed at you. For the moment, you can only furrow your brows and hope your concern is palpable in its sincerity and depth.

You are hungry, very much so, can feel the insistent ache roll around in your empty stomach, couldn’t ignore it for the world, but your attention is drifting, stuck on the warmth of Miguel, the tightness in your chest that isn’t unpleasant but unquiet. Not entirely excitement, but something not far off from it, either. If this is his approach to you overworking yourself, you’re not sure it will be effective in dissuading you.

Suddenly, energy thrums across his arm and centers on the wrist on his watch, energy that sparks orange lighting up the screen. Lyla’s little flickering likeness sprouts up from the device, pushing her glasses back up to her eyes with a pointer finger.

“Miguel,” comes her voice, crackling through a bout of brief static. She’s seen too much of everything from every numberless span of universities to comment on your current position, even as you catch her eyes dart over to you with a crease between her brows. And maybe a cruelly amused, sharp smile.

“Spider-Man Poland wanted to get back to you on t—”

“Te escucho, I’ll see to that, mute for an hour, Lyla,” Miguel replies, collected. He hadn’t exactly jumped, but you noticed how he straightened his back, and again the momentary intrusion of the claws from his fingertips. You had assumed up until now that he had full control over its functions.

“..Mm?” Lyla closes the hand she had been gesturing with. Her eyebrows are raised so high they nearly float off her head.

“Mute for an hour.”

She blinks, again pushes her glasses back up although they’re already at the summit of the slope of her nose. Her fiddling causes them to slouch back down anyways. She tucks her arms into her sides and purses her lips before relenting, disappearing back into the watch, the screen flickering off with her departure with a begrudging, “Of course.”

Against your better judgment and knowledge of Miguel’s temperament, you risk to ask, “are you mad?”

He moves his hand to run along your shoulder instead, down to the elbow and then jumping back up, repeating. Your throat is dry again. Not in fear of his answer, but more akin to the deep thrumming of your heart.

“Disappointed,” he offers after a pause, but it isn’t said with commitment, only proposed as a response to appease your inquiry. It’s said soft enough to dispel your worries in that regard. It’s not fatigue that eases the tone of his voice but something gentler. Everything in you burns. There is another pause that leaves you reeling for words to sate the silence with, but Miguel speaks first.

“Yes,” he starts, apparently answering himself, “why don’t we get lunch? Food would do us both good.”

He turns to you, not frowning, his version of a smile. His expression is lighter, at the very least, missing the distinct, pronounced lines of a scowl or sleeplessness, muffled at least by something discernibly sweeter. With eyes fixed on his, you nod slowly. He ruffles your hair briefly and your heart does something weird, a skittish, lopsided cartwheel, in your chest.

“Five more minutes, though,” you say, hoping the humor in your voice is more audible than the sheepishness.

“You know how busy I am.”

You do, god you do, you’re not sure how he thinks such a thing is something that could slip your mind like. His schedule, packed until it bulges at the seams, is one you are fully and extensively aware of, especially since he never usually has the time for little moments like the one you’re sharing now. Never surrounded by so many people, and so many people so alike you that share such specific beats in their history have you still been so deeply lonely.

“Two more minutes,” you suggest, instead. If not for an extended history with Miguel, you wouldn’t joke with him like you did. You sling your banter back and forth, mostly forth and at his expense, only because he has an undeniable soft spot for you that hadn’t been hardened like the rest of him, the gap between the armor. It might, soon, with your consistent pestering, but you know him, know when to stop, know or at least think he holds a tenderness for your joking, if a little touchy.

He is unamused, leaning his face on a fist, lips tight, but he doesn’t push.

“Two more minutes,” he relents, “but I hope you’re taking this all seriously.”

You are, a bit too much so, if your hammering heart is anything to go by. You’re too flustered to manage a smart response, opting again to nod wordlessly. You let your eyes close again and lean your head back against his thigh.

“Use the claws again,” you say, opening your eyes enough to stare, half-lidded, up at him. He makes a gruff noise of question. You take his hand by the wrist to guide it back to the top of your head, your fingers daring to brush up to his, linger there, too, palm to palm.

“It feels nice, use your claws,” you continue. He squints at you, maybe mistaking your request for another joke to ease the startling gentleness of the situation, and therefore the embarrassment that burns in you (and must in him too, you imagine, despite the level expression and casualness of the act). How do you muster the sincerity onto your face?

He doesn’t, just lets his hand lay stiff against yours and remain there even after you’ve withdrawn your own. You think you’ve ruined it all until he looks away and continues petting you, drawing the peaks of his angled claws lightly down your scalp. This continues in silence until it burns at him and he realizes he’s gone rigid, tension bunching his shoulders and wringing his guts through anxious, thorough hands. Soon it’s his head that’s scrambled by embarrassment, a feeling that was, before this, distantly and safely in the past. He busies himself with a screen, hoping the light of it drowns out the deepening color in his cheeks. Fuck. Acting like some schoolboy. He crashes a fist down on his desk and it rattles an assortment of things, including you.

“Sorry,” he manages, curtly, through the fingers pressed to his mouth. Shitty coffee and a weirdly damp, pre-packaged sandwich from the cafeteria would do wonders for his embarrassment right now.

#Spidermen classify as masked men right #I think its fair enough to put this here by that classification #x reader #reader insert #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse x reader

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theshadowrealmitself · 2 years ago

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Praying that as a Spidey they let Miguel O’Hara have funny moments, let him be a lil bit ridiculous, I wanna hear him make a web pun

#into the spider verse 2 #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #Spiderman #spider man #spider-man #spidermen #spiderpeople

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boonsandwhatever · 2 years ago

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Here's some spider sketches because I can't stop thinking about these spider civilians

Just a heads up, I'm gonna be busy for a while so in case anyone cares, I'll probably not be posting too much

#spider man across the spider verse #spiderverse #spiderverse fanart #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miles morales #gwen stacy #ghost spider #spider gwen #spiderman #spidermen #my art

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fellhellion · 2 years ago

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“Miguel can’t be Spiderman because Spiderman doesn’t kill❗️❗️❗️” sorry but him letting the cannibalistic Vulture splat on the pavement was funny af

#there’s like. a whole different conversation to be had about how he’s one of the first AU spidermen #and how his understanding on the spiderman mythos is skewed entirely in favour of old legends and stories #AND how the cornerstone to how he operates is ‘w great responsibility comes great guilt’ and Miguel is LITERALLY a character who’s like I’ll #bear the burden of that guilt because I can’t look away anymore at this world I’ve been pretending doesn’t #exist #but also him splatting Vulture was funny af #tunes talks 2099

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nonexistent-introvert · 2 years ago

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Bad mood

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: fluff, jealous Miguel, the getting injured trope AGAIN, swearing. hobie and the gang messing around, lyla playing matchmaker

A/N: i got carried away oops. He may be off character im sorry but i really think this man needs some fluff.

“What’s up with her?” Gwen asked, watching as you stomped through headquarters with a frown. “Everyone got their bad days,” Pavitr stated, chomping on his Spiderman 2099-themed burger. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.” Gwen watched as the other Spidermen scurried out of your way. “She could match up to Miguel's bad temper..”Peter stood with an amused smile with Mayday napping in the baby carrier he had on his front.

=========================.

You were not having it at all the entire week. You were busy enough with the missions you had and now, you still had to babysit a man-child. Now, you stood in said man-child’s office, watching his platform slowly descend while he kept his back facing towards you like he was in some cliche spy movie and was trying to hide his identity from you. You could almost picture him saying the iconic “I’ve been expecting you” and turned around. You rolled your eyes at the sight of him, your patience thinning with every passing second.

“Hey! Perfect timing!” Lyla waved frantically from her side beside Miguel. Miguel grunted and groaned, waving Lyla away. Lyla popped up in front of your face and you instinctively took two steps back at how close she was to you. “Miguel’s not getting help- again.” Lyla rolled her eyes at the last word. Lyla popped up next to Miguel again, pointing at his side and the blood that was slowly dripping down from the gash. You could hear Miguel curse in Spanish and grunt before turning away from you further in an attempt to hide his injury. You simply closed your eyes, taking a few calming breaths.

“O’Hara. Go to the med-bay.” You stated in a low voice. “I’m fine, Lyla’s exaggerating-” Miguel stopped talking when his eyes met your figure. There was a menacing aura around you, one that Miguel will not admit scared him. “O’Hara” You warned and he shuddered slightly at the mention of his last name. You only used his last name when you were mad at him or trying to annoy him and he doubted it was the latter. You slammed the files you were holding onto the floor. “Lyla, make sure he doesn’t injure himself further. I’ll be back.” You simply said before waltzing right out of his office again. “Will do!” Lyla shouted after you. “Great! You pissed her off. Way to go Lyla!” Miguel said sarcastically as he sat down on the chair while his platform was still in the midst of descending. “Don’t push the blame, Miguel. It’s you she is mad at. I can’t believe you even managed to piss her off! She used to be all smiley and stuff and now she’s acting like you with the permanent scowl on her face.” Lyla nagged.

Miguel’s jaw dropped at your request when you returned. He stared at the wheelchair that you had just pushed into his office. “I can walk perfectly fine.” He insisted, trying his best to stand as straight as possible while holding the cloth to his side. “It was already a fucking miracle you didn’t bleed out while you waited for the stupid platform to descend. You still wanna tempt fate?” You asked, staring at the white cloth that you had brought him slowly turn into a crimson-red cloth. “I don’t- can’t you bring the supplies needed to treat me here? Or?” Miguel trailed off, noticing the glare on your face.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat before he sat down begrudgingly onto the wheelchair.

=====

Miguel’s face burned in embarrassment while he sat in the wheelchair. His face was almost as red as the bloodied cloth that he was still holding to his side. Judgemental glances were passed around any of the rooms that he passed while you pushed him in the wheelchair. He did try to gauge your reaction but all he noticed was your very tight grip on his wheelchair and scowl on your face. Maybe Lyla was right, you were turning out to be a grump like him.

“Everyone saw that right?” Pavitr’s choked on the fries he was eating, as he watched you push an injured Miguel on a wheelchair. “I- I don’t think I can take him seriously again.” Gwen found it hilarious to see Miguel in a wheelchair acting like a pouty child that had just been scolded but it was also combined with the shock and disbelief of seeing the usual stoic leader sitting in a wheelchair. “Heh, I knew he was scared of her,” Peter remarked. Pavitr and Gwen turned to look at Peter, “Hey, when she’s angry, she’s a force to be reckoned with.” He spoke in experience although Peter will never tell anyone what he did to piss you off. For now, he could only pray that Miguel doesn’t get burned in the flames of your anger. “I’ll help!” A medic immediately came forward when you entered the med bay. Miguel stared intently at you, you sighed, he had only came on one condition. That you were the one to patch him up, you couldn’t even wash your hands off Miguel O’Hara if you wanted to. “No.” You simply said before pushing him off to a private ward.

“Lie down.” You instructed. Miguel did as you told, turning his head so he can watch you put on the gloves and your usual white lab coat you wore when you helped out in the med-bay.

“Dizziness, anything yet?” You asked, the anger in your tone has simmered but is not fully gone. He recognized the tone, it was a professional tone of a doctor. “Um no-?” He frowned, “I already told you- I’m fine-” Miguel stopped again when you took the bloodied cloth from him and his suit immediately covered his skin back up. “Remove the fucking projection O’hara.” You cursed, taking the resources you needed. “You know I’m-” “Just the top.” You answered, pinching the bridge of your nose. Miguel’s suit slowly revealed his skin to you and you had to take a breath. You always forgot that he literally had muscles that seemed to be sculpted by a skilled clay artist.

You heartlessly sprayed the alcohol into his wound to sanitize it. Miguel’s muscles tightened as he groaned, arching his back ever so slightly at the burn. “You weren’t gonna give me a heads up?” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “I thought you would prefer to get it over with.” You stated plainly, hiding the intention that you wanted to get back at him for acting like a child.”Can’t you be more gentle?” He complained when you did your work. You gave him an annoyed look, “I could knock you out.” You suggested. “That may help.” He looked over to you, trying his best to hold back his pained grunts. “I will actually knock you out with my hands to get a few moments of silence.” Miguel remained silent as his fists clenched by his side.

Your fingers traced against one of his old injuries, staring at the abomination of messily done stitches you were sure Miguel stubbornly did on himself. “Fucking hell.” You cursed out loud. “I ran out of drugs” He replied sheepishly, the drug he relied on to help him close the wound instead of stitching a would hold traditionally. “You didn’t think to- I don’t know, visit the Med-bay? In the very headquarters, you set up?” You asked sarcastically.

“It turned out fine,” Miguel argued. “Yeah? And you’re already on the verge of ripping the stitches out yourself.” You snarked. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to angle yourself to stitch this up” Your head pounded with a headache while you redid his stitches.

Miguel O’Hara was a constant headache you couldn’t get rid of.

========

When Miguel finally got back to the comfort of his office. He sighed in relief having argued with you about resting in his office instead of the Medbay. “Lyla!” You called out, Miguel still in the wheelchair in front of you. “Yes!” She appeared before you, chuckling at the sight of Miguel. “No missions for two weeks. And make sure he’s in bed by 10pm” you instructed. Miguel clicked his tongue in annoyance as he climbed back into his office chair while Lyla reassured you that she will keep a close eye on Miguel and will inform you if he misbehaved.

When you turned to leave, he held onto your wrist. His grip was firm but not tight enough to hurt you. He suddenly soothed the crease in between your eyebrows when you frowned. You looked at him in disbelief. What the hell is he up to now? “You look prettier without the frown.” He simply said with a soft look. “Are the drugs kicking in?” You asked, still taken aback at his sudden actions. Miguel cursed internally at himself, did he just attempt to flirt? He was way too rusty when it came to this.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked with a soft tone. You closed your eyes, “Just-rest, and leave me alone.” You sighed. “Are you mad at me?” He repeated again, this time with the usual authority in his voice. The tone he used with the other Spidermen. You looked up at him, he didn’t scare you anymore.

“Are you blushing?” You pointed out the pink tint on his cheeks. His eyes widened, “Vasodilation is common when you’re injured no?” He made up an excuse. Miguel smirked lightly when he saw the ends of your lips quirk up slightly. “Sure…” you said, not pushing him further. Even if he wished you did.

“Big boss!” Miguel groaned at Hobie’s voice.

You naturally smiled at Hobie as you returned the two-finger sauté he gave to you in greeting. Miguel noticed it of course, how easily your frown went away when you saw Hobie. “Oh, you left your jumper at my place dear.” Hobie reminded while you walked out. “Shit man, I’ll swing around soon for it. It’s my favorite.” You laughed. Hobie grinned, “I know it is. Even took the liberty to wash it for ya.”

When you left, let’s just say Hobie got the brunt of Miguel’s temper.

======

“Miguel!” You called out to him upon entering his office. “Yes, I am not moving around Lyla,” Miguel replied mindlessly. You laughed, in a much better mood than last week. “I’m glad to hear that Miguel!” Miguel’s head turned at record speed, his eyes widening at the sight of you, and how the usual smile you always had seemed to have made its way back onto your face, replacing the frown that you wore last week.

Miguel, he missed hearing his name fall from your lips. Miguel turned in his seat, “Are you feeling better?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He chuckled lightly, pressing on the screens before him. “I’m fine. Like I have always told you.” He replied, his eyes scanning your frame.

Miguel noticed the jumper you wore over your spider suit. He also knew that it was the jumper you always wore, and it may just be the jumper that Hobie mentioned last week. “Why the long face?Mad that you’re stuck indoors?” You asked with a teasing grin. Miguel let out a huff, “You need to focus on the missions.” He stated sternly. “Am I not?” You frowned, you were pretty sure you were on track on your missions. Miguel simply shot you a glance over his broad shoulders, “I don’t think any of the missions require you to go to Hobie’s dimension does it?” He questioned with his eyebrows raised in suspicion. “What I do in between missions is none of your business Miguel.” You folded your arms over your chest in defense. Miguel tried his best to pretend that those words didn’t bruise him by busying himself with the orange screens in front of him.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” Lyla popped out of thin air, teasing Miguel.

“There’s no rule stating that a Spiderman aren’t allowed to go over to other spidermen dimensions right?”

“I thought it was an unspoken rule,” Miguel replied, he knew about how many of the spidermen tend to travel to other dimensions for the fun of it. He understood that his headquarters served as a place of social hangout for the Spidermen and that many of them have formed friendships with each other, meaning that they spent time together in different dimensions outside of missions. He couldn’t bring himself to make it a strict rule that traveling to different dimensions was prohibited. However, it was known to be heavily discouraged and that spidermen would take responsibility for any consequences.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, pushing yourself off the wall you were leaning on. Miguel closed his eyes, trying to erase the guilt he felt upon seeing the look on your face. You approached him upon seeing that his platform has finally descended. A smirk tugged on your lips as you pulled the wheelchair that was on the platform in front of his chair.

“I made sure he will only move around in that wheelchair and that was enough to keep him in here.” Lyla proudly announced. You bit back a smile at the pink tint across Miguel's cheeks. “I don’t think they will ever get over it.” You laughed, the cafeteria still buzzed with the news upon seeing their boss in a wheelchair.

Miguel was wearing a black t-shirt instead of his usual suit. Miguel naturally lifted up his black shirt for you. “It looks good.” You simply commented, trying your best to not blush at the sight of his body. “It better be.” Miguel snarled. “Then I guess I’m off work early today!” You celebrated, grinning as you pulled his shirt down, your fingertips gracing his muscles ever so slightly.

A look of disappointment flashed across Miguel’s face. You didn’t notice but Lyla did. “Just ask her already.” Lyla rolled her eyes. “Ask me what?” You immediately asked, A curious glint in your eye. Miguel waved his hands frantically trying to shoo Lyla away. “Nothing.” He says.

Lyla groans as she appears on the other side of Miguel. “He’s been dying to find out “ Miguel swatted her hologram away, “Are you and Hobie a thing?” Lyla finally forced out. Miguel’s shoulders slumped in defeat while silence filled the office.

The silence only filled the office for a few moments that lasted way too long in Miguel’s opinion before you burst into laughter. “Me and Hobie?-” Miguel has never felt more embarrassed than now as you kept on laughing at the fact that Miguel thought that Hobie and you were dating. “It’s none of my business.” Miguel cleared his throat. “Why did you even think that?” You questioned, trying your best to hold back your laughter. “Well, he makes you smile and laugh.”

“Miguel, I laugh and smile at anything.” You deadpanned. “He just seems to be able to make you happy even when you’re down,” Miguel stated plainly. “You know? Because you smiled at Hobie despite being grumpy the whole of last week?” Lyla reminded, getting impatient with the pace of the conversation. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you realised what Miguel meant. “Oh, that’s because I was mad at you and not him.” You said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I was right, you were mad at me.” You nodded. “Can I finally know why?” Miguel’s eyes were boring into yours. You leaned back against the wheelchair, turning your head as you sighed.

“Because I was fucking worried Miguel.” You rubbed your nose with your knuckles. It was a nervous habit of yours. “You were getting injured left and right and then you work non-stop to finish up on the reports. To make matters worse, you even head out for more missions afterward and refuse to let anyone help you. You’re not a fucking machine Miguel, you need the rest.” Miguel’s eyes widened, he never knew that his unhealthy work habits were noticed by you. He kept quiet until you finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry cariño.” Miguel muttered, “I didn’t mean to make you worried.” He says while his hand gently caresses your knee.

A mischievous glint lit up in his eyes. “No, no. I don’t know what you’re thinking but no.” You immediately recognized that look in his eyes. He chuckled lightly, glancing over to Lyla for moral support. Lyla jumped with poms-poms in her hands, egging him on like a cheerleader. “I’ll rest even better and for a longer period of time. Under one condition.” He proposed. You raised your eyebrows at him in question.

“You go out on a date with me.” There, he finally asked you out.

Your eyes widened and your hand immediately went to cover your face in an attempt to hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. The wheelchair you were sitting on slowly rolled backward in your shock. Miguel chuckled, stopping the wheelchair right before it rolls away from him. “You can’t leave me hanging like this cariño.”

“Stop with the cariño, I can’t think properly when you call me that.” You answered flusteredly. Miguel smirked, “And why is that?” You wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face so badly.

“Fine, Ok! I’ll go out with you!” You shouted, standing up abruptly from the wheelchair. Your ears were turning red from how flustered you were. The sound of fireworks filled the office thanks to Lyla while you walked out. Miguel trying his best to not laugh at how flustered you were. “See you at 8pm this evening!” He shouted after you just as you walked out in utter embarrassment.

----

Bonus: "Miguel will kill you." Gwen stated. The group was gathered around a picture that Hobie was holding, a picture of Miguel O'hara himself pouting while sitting in a wheelchair. "He won't" Hobie shrugged confidently. "Not when the photo is taken by" Hobie gestures to you, bouncing on your feet nervously while you waited for your coffee to be served. "They went on a date?" Peter exclaimed in surprise, Hobie gave him a confirming nod.

"Who on earth started this," Miguel sighed, getting more and more irritated by the second while staring at the noticeboard that was in the cafeteria. You simply laughed at the title. "What is big boss up to this week?" Below it was pictures of Miguel in a wheelchair, him sitting in his office in comfortable clothes and the last picture was a picture of him in a formal western suit with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The same bouquet that was in a flower pot in your house now.

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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deviantdaffodil · 2 years ago

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lust

miguel o’hara x reader smut

im actually genuinely obsessed and deeply worried about my mental health . the grip spiderman 2099 has on me is unwavering and im afraid i will never get to escape

contains: breeding, marking/biting, office sex, spontaneous sex, stress relief sex fr, clawing, size difference, slightly jealous miguel, very dominating miguel, im obsessed with miguel, a more in character miguel this time i hope

A deep sigh escapes your throat. You really did not have to deal with O’hara right now; it’s been a long day. Sure, you were thankful he allowed you to stay in the spider society occasionally, despite just being a normal civilian, but god did he aggravate you. Often. He called you to his office for god knows what reason. You were anxious as you entered the office. Anyone in their right mind would be.

He gazes down at you, his stare is cold and his face is stoic. “Glad you could make it,” his tone is hard to read. He didn’t sound upset. But he also didn’t sound glad to see you. You keep quiet, deciding to just let him speak. His eyes are piercing through the dimly lit room; the sun was setting so the sky didn’t do much in terms of lighting the room up. Miguel continues to glare down at you, silent and judgmental. Instead of just allowing his platform to slowly make its way down to you, Miguel simply lunges down to you. He stands before you, still towering over you. His lack of communication was making you anxious as he would usually tear someone in here a new one if need be. He silently slips his arm around your waist and shoots a web up, bringing you both up to where his desk is located.

After being set down you recompose yourself with a chuckle. “I’m- I’m never gonna get used to that..” You pause for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. Heat radiated off your body and Miguel��s too. He still had his arm around you and you were too locked in place by a mix of fear and shock to move. “What is it that you wanted to see me about?” You look up at him.

He exhaled. He felt like he needed that. “This- This isn’t easy.. to admit,” Miguel mumbles. The claws of his suit had a grip on your waist, but you were still too paralyzed by shock to do anything. “I.. I want you all to myself. If I could keep you up here all to myself without seeming insane, I would, in a heartbeat.” He looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

This was absolutely news to you. You yourself had a thing for Miguel for the longest time. But you had no idea he wanted you this bad. Your mouth sat agape as he spoke to you. The Miguel O’hara.. wants you? All to himself? You would hang out with him while he worked sometimes, but you definitely didn’t see this kind of thing coming, especially not from someone as professional as him.

He turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. His gaze was fiery and he dug his claws into your shoulders. “You’re just.. such a relaxer to me. When you’re around, I don’t worry about all of.. this,” he motions to his desk. “But you.. you. You make it all better.” A growl rumbles in this throat. “I have a request- a-a suggestion maybe.”

Your jaw still hangs open. You shut your jaw and blink repeatedly. “What.. do you have in mind?”

A flash of excitement streaks across his face. “Sex,” he blatantly stated. He didn’t try to sugar coat it or anything. He wanted to fuck you more than anything. Even now, seeing you look up at him like that, in utter shock as he grips your shoulders has his cock aching. “I’m so.. so tired of seeing you with other spidermen. I need you.”

You paused, completely baffled. “Y-Yes!” You cried out, a little too eager for your liking. You hated to admit it, but you absolutely wanted him. “I-I mean, yes. Yes I’m okay with that.” Miguel did not hesitate. His claws immediately ripped open your clothes, exposing your chest. Miguel’s claws retracted and he immediately attacked your chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples, the other being massaged by his hand. “O-Oh my god!” Your impulse cry of ecstasy caused Miguel to groan.

He peppered kisses up your neck, his big, calloused hands massaging your breasts. “I’m going to make you mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, his voice is low and husky. “Can I bite you?” You nodded, lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your nipples. He groans as he drags his fangs across your skin before burying them into the crook of your neck. You let out a moan. His fangs sunk deep into your flesh, he was very careful not to release any venom though. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of what he was about to do to you. The stinging sensation of the bite slowly faded to pleasure. He keeps his mouth latched onto your neck, sliding his hand down your body and letting his hand rest on your ass, squeezing gently. He pulls his fangs out of you, blood dripping from them now. You look into his eyes and bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered breathlessly as you grab his face in your hands, slamming your lips together. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, he gently bites your lower lip and tangles his hands in your hair. “Miguel,” your voice was high pitched and whiny, more so than you wanted. Miguel didn’t mind and in fact reveled in the fact he was able to do this to you. He continues peppering your skin with kisses, sliding your shorts and underwear down your body. He then rips his own suit off his skin, instantly cooling his body and setting his cock free.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and bends you over his desk, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt. “I need you,” his chest is pressed against your back and he slowly thrusts his cock in between your thighs. “So plump and warm,” he moaned in your ear, sliding his hands under your chest pinching your nipples.

“Oh, Miguel,” you moan, your face pressed against the wood of his desk. “Fuck me, please,” you cried, your lip quivering in anticipation.

Miguel slid his hands down to your hips, lightly raking his claws down your flesh, small beads of blood forming at the scratches left behind. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing his tip in your wet folds. You whimper in anticipation, then Miguel stuffed the tip of his cock in your hole. He was so big it felt like he was ripping you in half. He was griping your hips and digging his claws into them for better leverage. “So little,” he muttered as he pounded into you, “so.. tight..” His thrusts were shallow, working his way up to filling you completely. “Can you take it all? Do you think you can handle all of my big cock?” He was babbling while he thrusted, drunk on your pussy already.

“Please Miguel,” your small frame whimpered for him. “More please..”

Miguel pulled out almost all of the way, a whimper escaped you when due to feeling empty. He spat on his cock and slowly pushed his throbbing, swollen cock into your quivering pussy. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the two of you moaned at the new feeling. Miguel began thrusting wildly, pounding hard in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Wh-Where?” he asked, in reference to where you wanted him to cum.

You turned back to face him as best as you could. Looking into his eyes you say, “Inside.” This sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding deep into you at animalistic speeds. You were sure if you were on your back you’d have a bulge from his swollen head protruding out. He latches his fangs onto your other shoulder as he growls, completely feral, and cums inside of you. You cry out as he bites you again, your walls clenching around his cock as you cum. He continues thrusting sloppily, letting your tight cunt milk all of his seed. He retracts his claws and holds himself up over you, hands at either side of your head. He pulls out of you and you can feel sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Miguel.. You ruined my clothes.”

“Mierda.. Yeah I did.”

#xreader #smut #fanfic #female reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman

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elorday · 2 years ago

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— ✪ valerie's may fic recs

thank you so much for all of these writers for making me smiling with a lots of butterflies in my stomach, making my mouth hanging agape, or crying so hard and sweating hot. i really can't thank you enough<3

some fics contain nsfw (✦)

𖥔. SCREAM—

⭒ — ETHAN LANDRY

✦ title taken : @astermath

20/20 vision : @echnated

slyther-in to my heart?! : @ghostfacd

✦ “it's okay, i'll show you.” : @messylustt

sleepy : @corpsebasil

bejeweled : @xyzstar

𖥔. ENOLA HOLMES—

⭒ — SHERLOCK HOLMES

we'll be alright : @love-strawberry

✦ exactly what you need : @delicate-moon-princess

bewitched : @cinebration

what happens after death : @hannibals-favourite-meal

𖥔. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON—

⭒ — AEMOND TARGARYEN

would you love me if i were a worm? : @chiss-and-crackers

valentine's day : @vhagarlovebot

you belong with me : @mybeautifuldelirium

⭒ — CREGAN STARK

among dragons and wolves : @fairysluna

✦ dissolve : @vermithorn

the snow fairy : @wackapedia

⭒ — HARWIN STRONG

✦ i am his and he is mine : @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

keep you save : @auroraborealyss

✦ princess : @faith-forgxtten-land

𖥔. BRIDGERTON—

⭒ — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

drunk sketches : @delehosies

little things : @inpraizeof

⭒ — ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

✦ right in front of me : @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

✦ melt away : @healmydesires

𖥔. F1—

⭒ — DANIEL RICCIARDO

meet me at midnight : @fleetwooods

don't wipe away my love : @avisgrace

memories hold me hostage : @libraryofloveletters

it's okay, i'm here : @norrisleclercf1

still into you : @starkwlkr

⭒ — CHARLES LECLERC

when you're missing me : @silverstonesainz

name(s) of love : @kiwisa

𖥔. SPIDERMEN—

⭒ — TASM!PETER PARKER

lean in, lean out : @literaila

i know : @vivwritesfics

✦ hold you here, my loveliest friend : @p3mybeloved

clingy : @bruisedboys

⭒ — MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDERMAN 2099

i need you to stay : @intoxicated-chan

mid night : @eyelessfaces

⭒ — PAVITR PRABHAKAR

dance with you tonight : @foreverwiththeunknown

⭒ — MILES MORALES

cheesecake : @ichorai

first kiss : @moralesie

𖥔. DC—

⭒ — ADRIAN CHASE / VIGILANTE

five times vigilante definitely does not have feelings (and the one time he does) : @tropes-and-tales

now or never : @whirlybirbs

⭒ — BRUCE WAYNE / BATMAN

talk : @ichorai

𖥔. JOHN WICK—

⭒ — JOHN WICK

one-sided love : @desoolate

remember me : @arece

⭒ — MARQUIS VINCENT DE GRAMONT

stay : @unreliablesnake

✦ something wrong with me and you : @fonteyn

𖥔. LOCKWOOD AND CO.—

⭒ — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

the language of longing looks and stolen glances : @fleetingvow

just another love song : @tangledinlove

public displays : @vi-trying-to-survive

ain't a life many splendored thing? : @wellgoslowly

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tonberry-yoda · 2 years ago

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Menace - Hobie Brown (Spiderpunk)

notes - here's the hobie fic for the poll that ended today!!! This is just a cute little drabble that was overall just really fun to write! I hope all of my Hobie simps enjoy it as much as I do! God, I literally love him though like Jesus he should not be allowed to be THIS FINE. Anyways, stay hydrated, loves <3 word count - 817

"Hobie, I don't think I'm exactly allowed in here," you whispered, following behind your boyfriend who was decked out in his spidersuit. It wasn't the fact that he was spiderman right now that bothered you, but the fact that there were hundreds of other spidermen and women surrounding the two of you.

"Aw, who cares?" he whispered back. "I don't follow their rules anyway."

"Yeah, but-"

"Hey Hobie!" you heard a cheery voice say. You quickly hid behind your boyfriend and heard him - in overenthusiastic British slang - greet a boy named 'Pavitr.'

The conversation seemed to play out just fine until you heard the boy say, "Huh? Hobie, who's that?"

You froze. You were dead for sure.

"Oh, this?" Hobie pulled you out from behind him and your face flushed red from embarrassment. "This is my partner."

"Oh my goodness!" Pavitr put his hands together and slipped off his spider-mask, smiling at you brightly. "Well aren't you two cute together? I'm Pavitr! Nice to meet you..."

"y/n," you muttered out, taking his hand.

"Nice to meet you, y/n! Wait, how did you get in here?" He grabbed his chin and thought about it, but in the middle of that thought process, Hobie patted him on the back and led you away from him before things god messy.

You played with the day pass on your wrist that Hobie stole for you. "We're gonna get caught by someone who cares." you said.

"So what? I don't care. He didn't care. No one cares. Plus, we won't be here long, love, I just wanted to show you the cafe."

He led you into a giant room with tables on the walls, ceiling, and floor, hundreds of spider-people just chatting and eating away at their food.

As you were in awe of the room, you didn't even notice that Hobie had left your side and went to the counter. When you did notice, you ran over to him.

"Why'd you leave me?"

"You found your way, right?" He winked at you and leaned on the ordering counter. "Could I get two spiderman 2099 patties and uhm... two orders of chips please?"

The person behind the counter nodded at him and Hobie led you to a table that was luckily more hidden from the rest of them.

"Did you want a drink?" he asked.

"Yes please."

"Be right back."

When Hobie left, you were left in astonishment at this place. It wasn't like anything you'd seen in real life, so this had to be a dream. You thought one spiderman was crazy, especially when the one in your city was your boyfriend, but to see thousands of different types from different dimensions all in one area was somehow even crazier.

"Mystery drink." Hobie laughed, sliding you over a cup.

You took a sip out of it and were pleasantly surprised.

"So," Hobie said, playing with the wrapper of his straw. "Whaddya think?"

"It's a lot," you admitted.

"You think so? You told me that I was a lot."

"Yeah, but this is a lot a lot." you laughed.

He simply nodded at you and took a sip of his drink as someone served your food to you. The design on the burger made you laugh, but you took a bite anyway.

"By the way, babe," he said, taking a bite of his fries. "If you see someone who looks like the design of that patty, run."

"Okay?"

"I'm serious," he said, which frightened you, because he never was. "If you're scared of one of these guys finding you out, you don't even wanna know how he would react."

"Can do." You saluted to Hobie, who just leaned over the table and pressed his lips to your cheek.

"Stawp, Hobie," you chuckled.

"Let's get home then, before he actually does show up. Sometimes he'll just appear out of no where. Scares the crap out of me, that bloke." He opened a portal next to your table and you scooped up your food and walked through, Hobie right behind you.

The two of you ended up in an empty parking lot not far from home and you sat right on one of the parking lines, taking a deep breath. There was so much the world didn't know about... how cool.

"You're really pretty tonight, love."

You turned to Hobie and laughed. "Aren't I always pretty?"

He just rolled his eyes at you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Yes, but especially tonight."

You faced Hobie and smiled, pressing your lips to his before leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for showing me around spidey HQ," you giggled.

"And not getting us caught."

"We were close."

"But we didn't get caught!"

"Fine, fine. You're right."

Hobie rubbed your shoulder and you leaned closer to him while you finished your food.

Your boyfriend was a menace, but he was your menace.

~~~~~

into the spiderverse masterlist | pinned post 2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

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⚣ Mind Yours 🤫

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

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

⚣🤫 Words → 2.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤫

The Spider Society.

No, the Spidermen Elite Task Force.

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

Seriously?

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

Yeah, the B was necessary.

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

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

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

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

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

Jess, of course, disagreed with that statement.

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

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

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

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

But, it didn’t stop there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel was not tickled.

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

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

Yet, that wasn’t even the worst part.

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

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

Miguel’s jealousy was obvious as shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That last one was just plain rude.

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

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

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

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

He was the boss last time he checked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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gowonminajxx · 2 years ago

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⎯ fanged jealousy﹑

﹔a miguel o'hara + gn!reader fic :: a 2 part fic

﹔requested by a friend of mine on discord ^_^ for their direct request: ﹑"miguel is jealous bc the reader was talking to another spider person (punishment type shit)" . . .

﹔pre a/n :: ahhh the miguel brain rot continues! i hope you all enjoyed my last fic (which im coming out w a part 2 sooner or later.. this is just a feast for in between). thank u to my discord bff for requesting this cuz this is kinda like a toe curling concept sooo ily !!

﹔CWs :: swearing, physical action, miguel whining cuz he’s jelly ☠️

for the past year or so, you have been your world's one and only spider-person. thwipping webs all around the city, you would save lives on a daily -- that is, until you got caught up with work at the spider society headquarters on earth-928.

miguel o'hara, formerly known as spiderman 2099, would assign you the shortest missions ever, making you get bored every second you punched a villain's guts out on some random universe you never thought existed.

miguel and you weren't that close. you could call each other friends, but never the type to say that you could trust each other. the only thing you knew about him was that he was some sort of leader of this whole society. he didn't think anything of you at first, and never showed any care or praise about you, until now.

you had just finished your mission on one of the earths, and he had asked you to help out margo, formerly known as spider-byte to everyone else, with some research thing. you weren't quite paying attention, and your eyes practically drifted off to the screens behind him, showcasing some child crawling all over him.

on the way over to spider-byte's 'lair' — which you called it that, considering she's there all the time, as if it's a dungeon — you seemed to bump into one of the spidermen passing by. tall, built, slightly thin. his mask covered his face, but he seemed to unmask himself just for you, to speak to you face to face.

the two of you spoke for about ten minutes in the middle of the hallway, talking about miguel, missions, how strict he is, and other things that involved your jobs. you found yourself bonding with him a lot more than you expected.

after the conversation, you said your formal goodbyes to each other and walked out without another word. he gave you a soft smile every now and then, which made you smile back a little. no idea who he was, but he was a little cuter than you thought he'd be. you were on your way to spider-byte's lair now.

the day was practically almost over, and just as you were about to go back to your dimension to check up on some things, your watch beeped, a holographic image of miguel showing up. he had his mask off, and he looked rather angry as he spoke, trying to keep his tone under calm management.

"y/n. you went to go see spider-byte, right?" he facepalmed, sounding a little tired — yet annoyed -- as his words were low and felt rusty. you nodded, letting out a little 'yeah' as his head lifted up.

"could you see me in my office for just a moment?" his voice strained on the last bit, emphasizing as his teeth gritted. you flinched a little, your agreeable smile turning into a fearful frown. you shakily nodded your head before heading over.

as you arrived, he was still at his screens, working like the usual workaholic he was. he looked a little tired, bags underneath his eyes — which there usually was dark circles, but not this bad. he was exhausted. exhausted from something.

your eyebrow rose as his triangular shaped platform lowered, his stance straightening as he turned around to look at you. he wiped his face, scowling.

"miguel, you wanted to see me s-"

before you could even finish a complete sentence to him, miguel threw a nearby metal table at you, causing you to dodge it once your senses started tingling, the hairs on the back of your neck raising. you gawked at his sudden violence, before he started stomping towards you, a low grunt escaping his mouth.

"you got all distracted by some kid in the hallway, huh?" he groaned into his words, towering over you as your feet instantly stepped back as a natural reaction. you cowered beneath him, before trying to maintain your posture against the superhero.

"no.. i was just talking to him for a couple minutes. how do you.. how do you know this?" you tried to keep your words steady, but kept trembling, as your hands shook, ready to defend yourself. he stared at you angrily, frowning.

miguel let out an exaggerated sigh. "i had called spider-byte, and she told me that she heard you and some man in the hallway having a chatter fest." miguel strengthened, pointing an accusatory finger at you while you stepped further back. "didn't tell me what you two were talking about.. which is not to my surprise.." he quickly added, his voice trailing off.

"sir, it was just a quick conversation, no harm was intended." your chest was just a little over your knees as you nervously smiled at him, trying to make light of the situation — the tense one. miguel let out a low chuckle in response, mockingly.

"a quick conversation." he smiled, rubbing his temples. "i'll have a quick conversation. but a quick conversation before something important i've assigned you?" he held up his arms beside him, his arm muscles shining in the blue light behind him, while the rest of his body looked and felt like a tall silhouette. his head leaned into yours, like some sort of angry chicken.

you bursted. "why do you care? are you jealous or something?" your strained voice yelling audibly at him, echoing throughout the whole room.

— shit.

he stood there in silence, his eyes drifting off to the side almost as if he was thinking of something. miguel's head nodded at his own perverted and aggressive ideas, almost physical ideas. thousands of thoughts ran through your head all at once, your body freezing as there was traffic in your head. a feeling of regret surged through you as he just stood there in silence.

miguel suddenly opened his mouth to speak lowly. "jealous." he blurted.

"jealous of what?" he let out a sinister chuckle, backing you up into the wall slowly. he looked absolutely crazy in the moment, his hair a little ruffed up, dark eye circles, it all came together just to make you tremble underneath him. his hands gripped onto your shoulders before speaking again.

"what would i be jealous of, y/n?" his low voice sent chills down your spine. fear creeped up your covered back as his head towered over yours, getting closer and closer to your neck every second, his fangs revealing. miguel's hot breath tingled against your skin as he got closer, and you could feel the long fangs he had out, his hunger overrunning any thoughts in his head.

you did this to yourself.

a/n :: IM SO SORRY BUT THIS WAS JS TOO GOOD OF A CLIFFHANGER. i hate to leave yall sad like this but it was the perfect moment for the cliffhanger i promise i'll get to work on a part 2 😭 THIS IS MY LAST CLIFFHANGER PIECE I SWEAR. ITS JS TEW GOOD TO WRITE CLIFFHANGERS.

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

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ariasdistress · 2 years ago

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caged.

pairing: dark!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings: semi dark — blood fetish, sadism, dub-con, caging, hostage?, fingering - female oral, all around nsfw

part 1 .

“miguel.. let’s just talk about this.” you struggled in the tightly controlled metal cuffs as they slowly bruised up your wrists.

you were a runaway, yet ironically in this situation your actions caught up to you. another disruption of a canon event got you thrown into a laser cell — cage by no one other than miguel o’hara, spiderman 2099. a broad shouldered, towering male who’s eyes developed a glint whenever you begged to leave. known as an amateur rebel from earth 3033, you infiltrated HQ to disrupt canon events to save your own father, alongside others. with a strange stroke of luck it worked which naturally garnered the attention of miguel, who saw to it personally that you suffered for your actions.

he kept you as his prisoner, publicly - right in the middle of his section in HQ where everyone could see you. his excuse was he wanted to keep an eye on you at all times. you were now a spectacle, this is what would happen to mindless spidermen who decided to go against his word which was as good as gospel.

weeks went by, each time someone would ask why you were still there miguel responded with pure intimidation. “do you want to question my actions again? or do you want to end up like her?” his eyes darkened, showcasing a shade of crimson that instilled instant fear upon anybody. many spider-people rumoured miguel was a sadist, with all that unjust reasoning to be violent or to torture.. surely he must find some fun in it right? but he would never admit it.

for him, seeing you over time, losing your strength to fight back and instead be utterly broken, obedient to his every word made something snap inside. he was forming a sort of attachment to your state - weak and fragile, just how he liked you. as time went on, during the day miguel’s public hostage was feared as the pinnacle of consequences. during the night he would let you out of the laser cage and command that you run. though you would try, knowing he was faster and stronger, like always he would catch up.

this night, he had you hunched over, breathing shakily as he constricted your arms behind your back. you writhed in discomfort for it to be ignored. the taller brunette toyed with your limits by pushing your flexibility, almost breaking your arms as he started bending your spine under him with his upper body “what’s wrong mija? where’s your fight gone?” his voice was loud and stern - as if he wanted people outside to hear. your form fitting suit was stretched to its maximum ability as miguel held you against the wall, your ass was unknowingly grinding against his hips. miguel groaned as he felt his dick getting rock hard and his suit getting tighter.

a chill ran down your smaller frame and your cheeks turned hot, you felt how big he was against your ass - your ass that was only covered by a thin pink suit. “ah- coño.. don’t fucking move” miguel hummed lowly, taking a hand off your wrists to use his talons to cut your lower suit in half. immediately, you yelled out in protest “mi- god stop. what the fu…” you could feel his sharp claws ghosting over your inner thigh. “be quiet, you don’t want me to cut something vital hm?” he whispered almost, to distract the way he was drawing a little blood - dragging his talon from your thigh to your ass. you winced in pain, refusing to speak since you knew your objections would be ignored.

miguel snickered, “you’re much prettier when you’re quiet” as you jolted at the feeling of miguel’s tongue licking the blood off your wound. it stung but his lips cushioned the pain, it was like he was sucking with desperation. his kisses quickly rode up your ass, trailing down to your pussy - your body trembled in anticipation.. he wouldn’t.. right? he gave a last kiss to your thigh and to your surprise you could feel him smiling. a sudden pain streamed up your spine as the realisation hit that he cut you once again. just as you were about to yell - pleasure overcame your body, targeting your legs. miguel licked a stripe over your slit before kissing sloppily around your entrance. you tried closing your legs just to be met with him squeezing your wrists together firmer and using his free hand to pull your thigh closer to him as he’d been crouched behind you shamelessly.

he felt you getting embarrassingly wetter while he used his tongue to circle around your clit, he wanted to let your arms go but the risk of you running away was far too likely. his desire to have his way with you was becoming insatiable, miguel retracted his claws to push two of his large rough fingers inside you. the way it filled you up made your eyes water as you squeaked when he mercilessly pushed it in once again. “miguel- fuck. please, it feels so weird” you cried out “i’ve never done this before. please..” hoping he would listen yet he replied

“even better cariño, i won’t promise that i’ll be gentle.”

·˚ ༉‧ ⋆ ♱｡˚ ♰ . ˚✧ .

author’s notes: ahaaha decided to end on a little cliff hanger.. (setting up for p2) and you’ll notice this is a LOT more vanilla than my usual shit. also, first time using a little spanish but i’m not a native speaker by any means it’s just like two words but if you have some suggestions for more words i can incorporate lmk <3 will post second part if this does well, love u all and i’ll try to post more - my love for miguel rlly made me do this in 2 nights tho

— my suggestion box is always open please use it!

thank you for reading! aria. ᥫ᭡

#ariasdistress #ariasfics #dark fic #dark!fanfiction #dark fanfiction #dark!fic #fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel x y/n

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