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chaotic-iguana · 4 months

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hiiii!! i love your stories sm thank you for taking your time to write them<3 can you do one of a miguelxreader where he has been playing video games allllll dayy and the reader just wants a little attention so they "tempt him" if you know what i mean🤭 and he ends up getting just a littlee hissy about it. it can continue on however you like ;)

anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3

-🪷

distracted.

gamer! miguel x f! reader

a/n: anon. first of all, thank you and second of all im sending u a sloppy forehead kiss bc this is such a delicious fucking idea i was literally feral to write this.

warnings: mdni. subspace, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, cockwarming, degradation, (but they’re in love and it’s discussed, i promise), aftercare.

“mig-gy,“ you whine tearfully, a culmination of the frustration you’ve been feeling all day. it started when you woke up with a warm, sticky feeling in between your legs; a dull ache settling in your gut and tugging at the edges of your thoughts ever since. miguel’d already been out of bed, and you’d found him in the living room in front of the tv, sitting in his pyjamas with a controller in his hand, barking orders into a headset.

and while you didn’t want to disturb him on one of the very few days he had to himself, you couldn’t help but feel…antsy. you’d been trying (and failing) to get his attention all day, barely met with hms and grunts as it were. which was how you found yourself changing into a pink lace slip, unable to meet your own eye at the reflection before you. your poor, overworked brain made you think it would be a good idea to try and - ahem- tempt him, but when it came to actually doing it, the thought made your face warm. another slew of miguel’s curses at the game made you jolt, and before you knew it, you were walking outside to make sure he was okay.

and he was, because of course. you, on the other hand, were standing half-naked in the living room at three pm while your boyfriend neglected to even look your way. you stood to the side, wringing your hands and waiting for him to look at you, but after a whole minute with you getting no attention whatsoever, you gave up and cleared your throat. miguel’s eyes flicked your way - victory! - for a bare second until he rolled them and turned back to the screen. which was also how you ended up here, whining from over his shoulder for him to acknowledge you.

he doesn’t, of course, not until you’re stood next to him pouting while looking down at him with dazed doe eyes, giving you away. miguel knew exactly what you needed and within seconds a harsh order to pause was being whispered into his headset, fingers flying over the comedically-small-for-him controller as his chair finally turned your way. swallowing pitifully, you squirm under the weight of his gaze before risking a glance up at him to find his eyes twinkling with amusement, brow raised in question.

“need you, migs.” your whispered confession only raises his brow impossibly higher, ghost of a smirk curving his lips before he’s turning away from you again. you’re frowning, half-stomping to stand between him and his screen before he wears his stupid headset again. desire winning against the shame brewing in you, you reach a hand out to his chest-

and his wrist circles yours, stopping you in your tracks. you’re staring shamelessly at the slant of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the light caught in his hair, gauging his reaction until his voice rings out:

“prove it.”

and you’re confused, too lost in the reliving the feeling of the way his nose bumped against your swollen clit as he ate you out for hours last week, responding with a meek “hm?” that has him huffing. he doesn’t even clarify, just clamps a hand on your shoulder and pushes so you’re on your knees, settling you with your head at crotch-level.

“prove that you need me.”

and then he’s gone, eyes glued to the screen again. you blink up at him from the floor, content to watch the muscles of his forearms flex as his fingers move on the controller, the vein jumping in his neck as his jaw clenches, the tension in his wide shoulders. startling, you realise that his his eyes are back on yours and twinkling with a challenge. right. proving it.

shuffling between his legs, you lay your head on his thigh and peer up at him. he’s looking away now, of course. you’d be happy to drool at the sight of him semi-hard through his fitted light gray sweatpants (am i projecting? i am projecting) for hours, especially when the fabric stretches just right to give you a barely-visible outline you can’t help but trace with your fingertips. which is exactly what you do without realising until his breath hitches ever so slightly, a muscle jumping in his thigh. fueled by the vindication, you start tracing patterns on him through his trousers, palming him ever so slightly until he’s bucking his hips into your hand oh-so-slightly. you’re too enchanted by the way he twitches against your fingers to realise how teasing your touch has been until you hear a half-whimper escape his lips, sending a jolt directly between your legs. pressing your thighs together in a futile effort to relieve yourself, you trail your fingers to his waistband and tug it down, reveling in the sharp intake of breath sounding from above you.

the sight of his tip flushed red makes your mouth water and your tongue darts to catch the precum beading at his slit before you can stop yourself; the sudden warmth making him jump under you. rocking back on your heels, you fumble to pump him with both hands - he’s just so fucking big you can barely touch the tip of your thumb and forefinger with your palm around him - before ducking down to lap lightly at his balls, slick with sweat. kitten licking the underside of his cock while pumping him slowly, you hear him loose a breath slowly before you feel the weight of his hand on your head. faster than you can blink, his fingers curl into your scalp and tug your head back, gaze thunderous when his eyes find yours. his fingers tap your cheek in silent command and your lips part on instinct, and then he’s pushing your head down between your legs, jaw aching at the sudden intrusion. ignoring your choked garbling, miguel rocks his hips into your mouth until your nose is buried in his happy trail and holds you there, tears spilling over your cheeks while you struggle to adjust. the second you struggle against his grip instinctually, his tsk tsk fills the room, mic clicking off before he strokes your hair, so at odds with the fact that he was holding you down with his cock in your mouth.

“thought you needed me, honey? where’d my good girl go?” and oh fuck, it’s the tone he’s using as if he’s amused by the sight of you all ruined for him that has something cramping between your legs, breath wet and clicking in your throat as you whine around him, your fists trembling where they rested on his thighs. ‘m right here, i’m your good girl and i need you so, so badly so please please please-

but it’s like he heard your internal monologue, because his gaze softens in moments, thumb sweeping across your damp cheek.

“lo sé, lo sé. mi buena niña. tómalo por mí, amor.” [i know, i know. my good girl. take it for me, my love.] and all your queasiness dissolves the second his fingers scrape over your jaw, your discomfort dissipating at the sound of his gentle murmur.

then he’s going back to his game, leaving you kneeling at his feet and gagging around him. every choke, cough or splutter is met with a quick glance at you; at your fingers curled on either side of your head to make sure you’re okay, not tapping out. you know if your eyes had even a hint of hesitancy in them he’d stop; his supposed mean demeanor melting to give way to the cuddly teddy bear he really is. but you’ve reverted entirely to a floaty, dazed headspace, where your thoughts feel blissfully hazy and just out of reach, and you can’t comprehend the thought of not being here, keeping him warm.

you don’t realise how much time has passed until miguel shifts forward, and the pins-and-needles in your legs make you whimper, gripping his thighs for support. miguel immediately cups your jaw, reaching his other hand to rip off his headphones and turn the game off entirely before pulling you off of him, wiping the drool off your lips and supporting your head as you splutter, his patience infinite when it came to taking care of you.

“háblame, princesa. ¿cómo te sientes, hm?” [talk to me, princess. how are you feeling, hm?]

still on your knees, you shift forward with tearful eyes; breath hitching at the bruises you can feel have formed already. you're barely stammering through "h-hurts, miggy" in a hoarse whisper before he's leaning down, wrapping an arm under your thigh and around your head, lifting you into his lap instantly. you tuck your face into his neck, reveling in the safety of his embrace as you catch your breath. he presses his lips to your forehead, stroking your head over and over while cooing praises to you. it takes a while, but before long you're pulling back, kissing his chin with a soft grin.

"there she is. there's my good girl. so perfect for me, aren’t you?" your shy nod makes him smile, fangs poking through in that endearing way that makes your heart hurt and the warmth blooming in your belly burn.

“can i have u now, migs?”

and oh, you sound so wrecked for him, how could he ever say no?

and if his team lost the game, well. that’s on them, isn’t it?

masterlist.

hello my loves, as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @party-hearses (hey gruv), @chiogarza, @jenispunk. message me to join my taglist. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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huicitawrites · 11 months

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The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #miguel o hara x reader #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o' hara x reader #across the spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #female reader #yandere spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader

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jayden-killer · 8 months

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can you write realistic miguel x a civilian male! reader? like how would he react when other spider people find out that he's with a guy? would he deny and try to avoid his boyfriend in front of people? what would be his thought process dating another man? how do you think they'd end up together? (I have a lot of questions haha)

It's my first time writing a male!reader and I'm scared I messed up the request😩😭I still hope you will like it, I realllyyy tried my best!🙏

Reminder that requests are open at the top of my profile!

Miguel with a civilian male!reader.

•You and Miguel both met when he worked at Alchemax. You were both colleagues. Of course, you didn't know he was Spider-man at all, you discovered it by yourself: his strange disappearing, his not-so-normal behaviour...

•And that's why one night, in a bar, sharing a beer, you said all drunk: "I know you're Spider-man, Miguel." He paused, then widened his eyes and laughed. Taking a big sip of his beer, he said: "Now you gotta keep the secret, huh?"

•But that's not the only secret you two shared. Two more beers and then you found yourself kissing in the bathroom of the bar, Miguel's hands on your waist and tongue down your throat. So, you discovered you weren't just colleagues lmaooo.

•Dates went well, incredibly well. Miguel was happy for once: he finally had to be happy, and he wasn't going to ruin another good thing in his life. He wasn't even going to hide his relationship with you. Hell, why would he?!

•He doesn't have problems dating another man. Gender laws to him are not a problem. If a person makes him happy and likes him for what he is, then he'll fall, slowly but hard.

•Miguel proudly has a photo with you in his lab, in the Spider-Society HQ. There's you, hugging him from behind, while he has his hands on yours, making you jump on his back, all happy. Whenever a Spider enters his lab, and notices the photo, he wouldn't care. Nope. Who cares what the Spiders think of him? He's happy, and that's okay with it.

•if there are any homophobic Spiders in the Society, he's going to take care of it personally. Spoiler: it won't go too well.

•He enjoys cuddling and holding hands BUT only in private. He has a high reputation, and doesn't want to be seen as cuddly and vulnerable by all the members of the Society. Though, doesn't mean he won't spoil you etc.

•He loves cooking for you, doing your laundry, and cleaning because I think his love language is acts of service.

•But, if you leave a kiss anywhere on his face In public, he'll go R E D.

"Conejito, tengo algo por ti."

Your eyes moved from the newspapers to Miguel's soft smile. What could it be? Wait...why he has his hands behind his back?

He removed his hands from his back to show a bouquet of colourful flowers, and that's when you found yourself by him, taking the gift and sniffing it. It smelled like heaven.

"What...? W-Why this? It's not our anniversary, is it?!" You panicked a bit. He chuckled, shaking his head and taking one of your hands. "No que no lo es, amor. I only wanted to make you a little gift." To Miguel, your smile was enough to be the most beautiful gift ever given.

He placed a kiss on your lips, titling his head so you could intensify it. You thought about how Miguel changed these months with you: he looked happier, healthier...

"You’re the best, Miguel."

"Because you bring out the best of me."

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valentine-writes · 7 months

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boys don't cry

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, masc coded reader (kinda. no pronouns used!! but trust y'all i'll b writing masc reader stuff soon cuz I Need It), inconsistent lengths for each character i am Filled W/ Favouritism, kisses can be platonic (spider-noir part i love this man), reader is used to bottling emotions up, the spot's part is Not That Serious, characters all love u and wanna help :> 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, jessica drew, lyla, margo kess/spider-byte, miles morales (1610 and 42), miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, (spider-man) noir, pavitr prabhakar, peter b parker, and the spot/johnathan ohnn

author's note: this song slaps╰(*°▽°*)╯ also see other songs below which influenced this <3 u can slowly see me losing the slash srsness as the character progress,,, apologies. many :(( anyways!! had this marinating in my drafts so im posting. hopefully will get time to clear my inbox and fulfill reqz! tysm for ur patience lovelies !!!!（。＾▽＾）<333

“i try to laugh about it / hiding the tears in my eyes” – the cure, boys don't cry

“i didn’t want you to hear / that shake in my voice / my pain is my own” – car seat headrest, 1937 state park

“i don’t know why i am / the way i am, not strong enough to be your man” – boygenius, not strong enough

▸ GWEN, who all too familiar with what it's like to keep up a tough act for the sake of not falling apart.

she's grown accustomed to letting emotions eat away at her until they're too big to deal with. which is why she's quick to feel empathy when she sees that you do the same thing.

she won't force you to talk about anything you don't want to– but if you need an outlet, she hands you her drum sticks.

"maybe it'll help you like it helps me." gwen explains, giving you that awkward little smile of hers that makes everything weighing on you feel a little less heavy.

always trying to help you find a way to channel your emotions. even if drumming doesn't work for you. maybe it's singing. maybe it's art. or maybe you just need to cry. no matter what it is, she doesn't mind. she just wants you to let it out in a healthy way.

▸ HOBIE is instantly aware of the fact you're the type to laugh and joke around to hold back tears.

you're trying your hardest to keep smiling, but he sees it falter as you try to speak, choking out the words while holding back a sob.

"'s okay to cry, y'know? no one 'round here but us anyways." he reassures.

you take a sharp inhale, knowing it was useless to pretend. he was always emotionally intelligent, able to read you like a book. sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind. or maybe he was just attentive with you.

he puts a hand on your back, gently rubbing as you feel the tears run down your cheeks. this turns into an arm around your shoulder as you cry, until you're fully sobbing– he decides to just pull your into his arms.

he's still holding you close, even as your cries subside into sniffles. always encourages you to be real with him. there's nothing he loves more than you being unfiltered– even if it means expressing negative emotions. to hobie, vulnerability is bravery.

▸ JESSICA DREW who's quick to notice you the minute you turn away to conceal your face.

she pulls you aside discreetly, knowing you probably didn't want attention of others. tries to meet you eye-level, asks you directly about what's wrong.

after a few seconds of silence, you finally break.

"i feel so weak." you sniffle, not meeting her eyes.

"for doing a little crying?" she sighs a little, shaking her head. "not at all. you're strong– you've been strong. but even strong people gotta cry."

she'll talk you through it or just sit beside you, offering you advice or even just a space to vent. she's very busy all the time– but she'll set aside time for you. tells you that hiding from emotions only works for so long and that tells you that you aren't any less tough in her eyes for feeling them.

you're only human after all. you deserve to live out the wholeness of the human experience.

▸ LYLA isn't really all too involved with your day-to-day life shenanigans (being the best ai assistant is hard), but she always makes a point to check up on you when she gets the chance.

besides, miguel sure isn't gonna gossip with her like you do.

"you doing good?" she'll ask, grinning.

you only respond with a weak "yeah" and the fakest chuckle she's ever heard, as you clearly attempt to blink back tears.

she doesn't know what to do. tries to wipe the tears that eventually fall with a virtual hand that phases right through your face. well. at least she had good intentions.

"hey, hey–" lyla gets you to take a deep breath. "look at me."

she says your name, regrounding you. you look up at her, and for a moment, she's certain that she's felt something akin to sympathy. she's felt something real.

lyla doesn't let that distract her from her objective– right now, she's gotta comfort you.

she repeats your name, "...it's okay. you cry if you feel like it."

▸ MARGO who sits you down, letting you be the one to speak first when your smile wavers.

"i hate fuckin' crying.." you laugh weakly, trying to make the situation better. it doesn't help control the tears. "i feel so lame for it."

"you know," she whispers, taking your hands in yours, "i still think you're pretty cool."

she gives you a grin that's so earnest– so sweet– that lets you know she's being honest.

"okay, so this might be stupid,, butttt–" encourages you two to listen to some moody music so you can get whatever you've bottled up out of you systems. it's cathartic, crying your eyes out with her as whatever the two of you have queued up blasts in the background.

doesn't judge you one bit for crying.

"only way out is through." she shrugs. "gotta feel it before you can actually let it go."

▸ MILES (1610) who had just asked an innocent question about how your doing, now watching as you struggle to respond.

after a strained moment of searching for words, you shrink away and hide your face in your hands. he scoots by your side, asking before gently taking your hands away from your face.

"what's wrong?" his voice is soft. gentle as he looks at you with the sweetest concerned expression.

"i shouldn't be crying.. it's stupid... i feel so, so stupid–"

he frowns at these words. "i don't think it's stupid."

societal expectations forcing people to put on a tough act just to conceal emotions deemed as "weakness?" not a new concept to him. he's just sad that it's impacted you so deeply.

after this, will actively check up on how you're doing emotionally. will pull you aside to have a heart-to-heart if he senses the slightest thing off. terrified of being shut out by you, will always offer for the two of you to deal with whatever you're struggling with together.

▸ MILES (42) who asks more bluntly than he had intended when he senses you're not doing okay.

you take a sharp inhale, giving him an unsteady smile which only makes him sigh. no matter how much you try to make the situation lighthearted, his expression never changes.

"nah. you're not fooling me." he walks over to you, his voice softening as he looks at you. "...what's got you upset?"

a really good listener. lets you rest your head on his shoulder as you vent and let it out.

he's not the most open himself, so of course he understands– but he doesn't want you to be like him.

you thank him for putting up with your breakdown, feeling a little awkward as you pull your cheek away from his shoulder and look at him.

you watch as he falters for a moment, gently grabbing your arm and pulling you in for a warm, slightly stiff, side-hug.

"don't thank me for that– it's just what you deserve." though his quick to dismissal of what you'd said seems to be the end of his sentence– you watch as he unclenches his jaw, hesitating before he says something else.

"anytime. i mean it."

▸ MIGUEL who is jus like u for reals doesn't quite know how to cope with emotions either. that doesn't give him an excuse to not try with you.

he can't find the right words, but you see the empathy in his eyes. he offers quiet comfort– places a hand on your back, rubbing it as you lean into his side

"don't hide your face from me." he mutters to you. "it's just me."

your hands fall from your face into your lap, shoulders slumping. he feels you tremble softly, as you to reply.

"this should be for me to deal with. i should be strong enough." your words echo in his mind.

maybe because he's told himself the same thing too many times before as well. it's painful, the way that this moment with you reflects a mirror image of himself.

will crumble his own walls if it means you'll do the same. tries to be open to encourage you. you'll learn together.

▸ NOIR who is a gentleman through and through. always. tells you that he'll give you anything you need.

"i don't know what nitwit told you it wasn't okay for you to cry," his choice of words makes you crack a slight genuine smile, "but you don't have to believe them one second."

as your facade slowly crumbles, his gloved hands cup your face as you cry. he dries your cheeks, patiently nodding as he listened to you ramble on about everything you've been holding back.

when you've calmed down, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

to ache like this and still be concerned over burdening others– he's now finds little ways to remind you how precious you are to him. that he'll always care.

▸ PAVITR, who approaches you as delicately as possible. he tries not to do anything that will make you feel backed into a corner.

he knows that feeling scared can lead to lashing out. tries to be casual about it to ensure you're as comfortable as possible.

you crack an obviously forced joke and he glances at you questioningly.

"you're not telling me something, aren't you?" he asks. pavitr's secretly hoping he was good at playing this careful– but you had picked up that he wanted to talk to you about it for a while now.

you're both obvious.

your grin fades as you chuckle dryly. "i don't... i don't want to– it's embarrassing."

"what's embarrassing is that i didn't notice earlier. don't be shy. we can figure it out together, okay?"

offers all the help he can. even (secretly) messages gayatri for "advice for a friend" you!!! you are friend!!!!! he doesn't name drop tho. privacy king.

▸ PETER B(E MY WIFE) PARKER. the one who drags you outside to chat about it and cracks a stupid joke himself. it alleviates no tension at all.

"..ahh,, no, nevermind that kid. you okay?"

a shake of your head and his smile fades a bit. he grips your shoulder, shaking you gently.

"been there plenty of times. trust me– better to get it out now."

and for a while, it's just a conversation. you're both sitting outside, the night air bringing a chill to your skin. he offers his jacket– and then proceeds to pull you into it while he still wears it, your back pressed to his chest.

it goes unspoken, but he knew you had been struggling for a while now. he's relieved to finally get a moment with you.

he'll always be looking out for you. even if you don't realize.

▸ THE SPOT/JOHNATHAN OHNN panics ever so slightly. this is the first time you've ever cried in front of him. so he does what he does best– and just asks questions.

"you've been bottling it up this whole time?"

"mhm..."

"for how long?..." your response causes him to pause, blinking several times before parting his lips to speak again. "...oh. oh wow– yikes–" he means well i swear.

will scour the multiverse in search of a quiet place for you to lay this all to rest.

you admit, you're certain you don't need all this– but he seems happy to put in the effort and lead you into a portal into a nice area to relax.

"are we breaking and entering into someone's house?!"

"uh– don't worry about it for now."

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v4leoftears · 10 months

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Late night struggles.

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x SpiderReader.

Summary: Being a spidey doesn’t come as easily for you as it does for others, and so you find yourself struggling one night over the spider society headquarters, only to be an absolute wreck in front of the very capable Miguel O’Hara.

CW: 18+ Blood, injuries, anxiety, some naked content.

A/n: 2k words, non beta read, I don’t know if there are any major errors, (No use of Y/N) anyway enjoy!

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It’s been a long day in your home world, crime and anomalies have been a little bit out of hand lately and it’s been causing you to push your limits every time. You try to recall the origin of the current mayhem around you without any luck as you swing back to your apartment, ready to grab some clean clothes and head to the ‘fancy’ headquarters showers and medical bay.

You do not want to be in your home world for the night, as being alone in your apartment only makes you feel more incapable and insufficient to handle all the things around you, and unlike your other fellow spiders you’ve always have trouble focusing on tasks, your attention span limited, your movements rather clumsy to say the least compared to others, and as a result you have your fair share of bruises and scrapes sustained on every battle you encounter, so you start to wonder why in the first place were you ever ‘blessed’ with such responsibility of being a spider.

One thing’s for sure though, due to the lack of what you may call ‘talents’ besides being slightly stronger than others variants, your spidey-sense is the one helping you out with miraculous escapes from more unfortunate battles.

Tonight was no exception, you’ve managed to survive by sheer sense a medium threat that scraped the hell out of your inner thigh with it’s sharp knife talons, it’s still bleeding so you are pretty sure you need stitches as soon as you reach the medical care facility, you have your duffle bag at hand and with a loud sigh you step into the portal to the headquarters.

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Upon arrival you do your best to fake a smile as you greet some of your fellow spideys, trying to hide the ache of your bones and the bleeding cut that’s burning under your suit. The medical bay is only a few steps away but you hesitate to head in one more time, you are always wandering there, always in for an exam or recovering after fighting whatever threat you just encountered. Your mind starts running, building insecurity in the pit of your stomach, you think to yourself that you don’t want to be seen around always at the med bay, always injured, always unfit to call yourself a spider, and so you opt to just take care of your aching body alone this time, and so you plant your feet and head back to the showers instead.

The turning around makes your body heavy, you are so tired but you are still pushing yourself, you want to report your battle to Lyla and grab something to eat after healing and cleaning yourself. Another sigh falls from your lips, arriving finally at the good looking showers, you are greeted by a familiar gaze that sends shivers down your spine, you adjust your eyes to the light of the room and you find Miguel standing there in front of a locker room.

-”Hello Mr. O’Hara, such a peaceful night today isn’t it?” you say cheerfully in an attempt to hide your exhaustion.

-”You are bleeding” Miguel says in a disinterested tone without really meeting your eyes, or body for that matter.

-”I guess I am. it’s just a scratch, I'll just... stitch it right away” You reply with a little tremor on your voice.

-”Shouldn’t you be checking it out with Julie at the med bay?... you know, so you recover faster?” He adds taking the last things out of his locker ready to get in for a shower.

-”I don’t feel like visiting her for the night, besides the shot that she always gives me It's causing me to heal slower than it used to” You said truthfully.

-”Hmm.” He pauses and thinks for a second as he searches for something inside the locker. “Perhaps you are growing immune to the healing serum, I’ll make sure to run a study with others and see if they have also encountered issues with it, in the meantime you can take one of mine.” He extends his hand with a couple of shots on sight so you can come grab them, and with little hesitation you approach him and take them.

-”A warning though” He advises, meeting your eyes this time, “these are stronger than the ones Julie hand out at the med bay, so be sure to use them whenever you are getting some rest.” You move your head in agreement as you go sit yourself on the nearest bench to start working on your still bleeding wound and Miguel finally heads to the corner shower stall.

The moment you start checking yourself you realize your suit is sticking all over your open wound, you cannot simply take it off yourself so you reach out to the pair of scissors you brought on your bag and start cutting it out, just enough to finally make the injury breath as you start disinfecting and stitching, all the while clenching your jaw tightly in an attempt to not be a whimpering mess in front of Miguel’s senses, and once you are done with the whole ordeal you prepare yourself to hop on to the shower.

Inside the stall there’s a mirror, a wooden smaller bench to place your items and a hanging hook for your towel. Looking at your reflection in the mirror you realize your body is more bruised than you anticipated as you find more nasty scrapes and scratches that paint your body in a carnival of red and purple. The realization of all this makes your mind wander back once again at the unfit feelings you’ve been experiencing, and in an attempt to quiet the voices you reach for one of the shots Miguel gave you without hesitation, “healing faster shall do” you think to yourself, keeping a steady hand and squeezing every last drop of the tube on your forearm until it’s all gone and you are ready to get in the shower.

The hot water runs through your body, and you grow more and more exhausted by the minute, it’s making you way too sleepy so you reach to the handle to temper the water to a cold state in an attempt to keep your body alert and steady, however the temperature change only shocks you, sending an aching shiver all over your body making your larger wound clench by the sudden drop in temperature and with a loud thump you crash to the ground.

It takes you a couple of minutes to realize you are still laying there, shivering and unable to get yourself up, cold water running through your aching body as a coppery odor starts to numb your senses. Your stitches must have gotten ruined in your effort to not hit your head against the wall in the last second, you overextended yourself way past breaking point tonight and it might just be the last time you’ll be able to do so. Your heart starts pumping faster, the anxiety rushing through your body, you need to calm yourself or you’ll bleed out and cause more damage to whatever is going on in your body. A soft whimper and salty tears break free as you manage to wiggle your arms around, trying to hold onto something so you can stop the cold water. A couple more futile attempts happen before you begrudgingly stop yourself, your anxiety turns into anger and a small curse runs out of your lips, this time you cannot get up on your own, but you are still stubborn, as tired and sleepy as you might be getting you give your body another go to just try to slip out of the shower, and slowly but steady you find yourself half way out of the coldness, head laying on the steamy floor as your eyes start to shut down.

You don’t know how much time passed with you laying on the floor when your ears start ringing, someone is talking but your brain can’t formulate words at this point. There’s someone at the door, you can see the dim shadow steps pace left to right, the numbness on your mind prevents you from articulating properly so with coarse voice you let out a soft “can’t”, within a couple of seconds of the spoken word you see a figure standing in front of you, at this point you couldn’t care less about your state, you are just glad someone had actually came to your aid. The tall figure wraps yourself in the towel and takes you out of the stall to gently sit you again on the previous bench.

-”¡Mírame!” you catch a glimpse of fingers snapping in front of you. “Hey! keep your eyes open!” you feel a large hand cupping your face gently as you slowly start to come to your senses, heart still beating a mile per hour, body still shivering from the cold water. In an attempt to gain a little body heat you lazily move closer to the figure that seems to be holding your back in place ever since they got you to sit down. A feeling of comfort runs through you as you lose track of the time you’ve been sitting next to the figure holding you, realization then strikes you as your mind finally recognizes who has been holding you this entire time.

You pull back with a little too much force, causing Miguel to grab your wrists so you don’t fall back.

-”¡CALMATE! listen, it’s alright, you need to calm down” he says as he places your hands on your legs. Embarrassment starts to take over you and you can’t help but shed a couple tears, a lonely “I’m sorry” slips off your lips as you adjust your towel for a little decorum.

-”What did I tell you about using the shots?” His voice was coated with anger, he could sense your body overworking with the healing serum you used early.

-”I warned you! ¡Te lo dije! There's a reason why I take my time explaining you all everything! so things like this won’t happen, and some of you just decide to go your way and ignore my warnings” He stands up the bench and grabs his forehead in an annoyed state, placing his tired gaze back to you.

-”Why would you not listen?? ¡carajo!” he adds as he lets out an exhausted breath.

Mumbling under your breath you keep apologizing, you didn’t want to upset Miguel, hell, If you knew how your body would react to the shot you wouldn’t have used it until you were back home, but something about your reflection tonight made you act on impulse and stupidity.

-”I’m sorry alright” You reply with a stronger voice now. “I truly am, I know this might have inconvenienced your night and I truly thank that you were around to help me out” you hold your breath for a second before adding “Really I… Don’t really know what came over me tonight, it’s just… hard for me sometimes…" you stop your mouth from spilling longer, you take a deep breath and focus back to not make things worse, you are in no state to talk about your feelings anyway and it's not like Miguel would care either. "Just forget it” you wave your hand off as a gesture to just erase everything that happened tonight.

Miguel gives you another look, as if understanding the layers of thoughts that flooded your mind at the moment, he takes a couple steps out of the shared space you just had and asks.

-”Can you stand?” pointing out at your nearly healed thigh injury.

-”Uh, yeah I can try” you reply while trying to stand up with a pained expression.

-”No, stay still, I’ll be right back” He says as he walks back to the shower stall you were in, grabbing your forgotten bag with your clothes and the last of the healing shot.

-”Change yourself” he commands, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to take you to your home world. You’ll get a week off responsibilities so you heal properly” he paces himself to the exit as he asks Lyla to monitor you while he is gone.

You are just sitting there, half naked, feeling just as stupid as you could be. You pushed yourself to the limit and now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your boss and probably drowned your opportunities to take on higher responsibilities in the future.

You grunt to yourself as you put on your clothes while Lyla keeps your vitals monitored, as annoyed that you are to yourself there’s a feeling that you can’t quite point out, there’s something weird creeping inside of you that you can’t shake off, you feel like it’s the anxiety still lingering in you body after all the madness tonight, but truth is, the lingering feeling that you are having is attraction, and as if you couldn’t feel more stupid you get caught on your own thoughts wondering if Miguel was just perhaps being a little too caring tonight.

-”Time to go” Miguel’s voice creeps beside you and you can’t help but let out a little yelp at your surprise, Miguel just stares at you unamused.

-”Uh sure, I’m ready” You say, clearing your throat, shoving whatever thoughts you were having mere seconds before his arrival. The portal opens up and he gestures you to hang on his shoulders so you don’t press on your healing leg. In a matter of seconds you are back home and Miguel is gone.

Tonight was an absolute mess to say the least, and now you have found a new thing to worry and overthink over as if your daily struggles weren't enough. Your head hurts at the thought of the weeks to come at hq, being normal around Miguel was going to be a difficult task.

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Let me know what you think! and if you all might want a second part! <3

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o' hara fanfic #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o' hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader fanfic #miguel 0'hara fanfiction #atsv fanfiction

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spideywriter · 10 months

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Coming Soon - EYES FOR YOU (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

PREVIEW:

(Y/N) (L/N) has been Spider-woman since she was thirteen. Now an adult, she is recruited to join the Spider Society, and meets the leader Miguel O’Hara.

“You should rest, cariño,” he told her.

“What does cariño mean?”

“Nothing important.”

He’s been watching her, and doesn’t intend on stopping.

THINGS TO KNOW:

- Reader is a year younger than Miguel, and AFAB. - Warnings will be included before each chapter. - Chapters will be posted on Tumblr, A03, and Wattpad. - Miles is a part of Spider Society. - Masterlist is in the works.

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migueloharasbabe · 10 months

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Sex Pollen

A/N: This is my first time writing in a while. Miguel O’ Hara brought my writing back from the dead (so did Oscar Isaac, let’s be honest). I’m so excited to share this fic with you guys! Also yes I know the sex pollen trope is so overdone but... I had to.

Content: Miguel x gn! reader (this is my first time writing for a gender neutral reader, I hope I did well). Smut, 18+.

Words: 1.7k

You had been working in the Spider Society for almost a year now. Although it was a bit scary when you first joined, all of the different Spiders had warmed up to you immediately, Jess taking you under her wing to show you all the ropes of just exactly what they did. Lyla helped you learn the ropes of how the technical side of things worked, and that’s what you fell in love with doing. You ended up working with Spider-Byte, both of you helping run things smoothly with getting anomalies back to their actual universe. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming.

Everyone except Miguel O’ Hara.

You had worked hard in the Spider Society and impressed everyone. Everyone except him. He always had a snide comment to say, or was quick to snap at you if you interrupted him in the middle of his observation of the other universes. He made your blood boil and you tried to avoid him the best you could. After countless attempts to show Miguel different ideas that you had come up with-to which he dismissed quickly, you decided to just keep your head down when you found yourself around the hothead.

“(Y/N), how is that report coming along on that anomaly?” Miguel asked you, his head raised slightly as he looked down at you to await your answer.

Your hands were working fast on the keyboard and you kept your eyes glued to the screen, refusing to meet his eyes. “Almost done with it,” you said simply. You looked up after a few seconds when you saw Miguel was still there, his head cocked to the side with an eyebrow raised.

“Why the avoidance, (Y/N)? It’s almost like you’re… annoyed. Are you annoyed at me?” Miguel asks, his voice hinting at a tone of amusement.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek and bit back a smart retort, before focusing back on the task at hand. “I’m not annoyed. Just trying to avoid small talk, you get mad anyway.” You said, voice curt. Before anything else could be said, Lyla popped into the room, interrupting Miguel as he opened his mouth.

“Miguel, we have an anomaly spotted.” Lyla said, pulling up a screen to show Miguel what universe it was in. You started to sit down to help gain more information on this anomaly but Miguel shook his head.

“You can go ahead and head home, (Y/N). You’ve done enough work today,” He said, his voice low.

‘But-.” You started and Miguel just looked down at you, his eyes narrowed.

“I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with my anger,” He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Before you could say anything else, he was gone through the portal and you cursed under your breath. You waved at Spider-Byte before leaving, finding yourself back in your apartment in your universe. You tried to ignore the bite of Miguel’s words as you changed into a soft pair of PJ’s, deciding not to let the asshole get to you. You fell back against the bed, your body instantly relaxing against the pillows. You started to close your eyes, but heard the familiar sound of the portal and lifted your head, seeing Miguel step through. He looked frustrated, but what was new?

You pulled your covers towards you, covering up when you realized you had sheer pj’s on, heart pounding in your chest. “M-Miguel?” You ask, your voice almost a whisper.

Miguel pulled his mask off and you noticed that he was panting, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. You started to come towards him, but Miguel put a hand out, and you noticed his claws were out.

“Don’t. Just… stay right there.” Miguel growled and you froze. “The anomaly led me out into a field. Lots of different flowers around, and one species happened to produce sex pollen.”

“Oh,” was all that managed to come out of your mouth. Your heart started to thud against your chest even harder, almost able to feel the tension in the air.

“Yeah, I don't really know why I brought myself here, but….” Miguel trailed off, slumping down against the wall, his head falling back with a small thud.

“Does it hurt?” You ask softly, still on the bed. You were scared to move, not because of Miguel, but because you knew what would happen if you got close to him. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of Miguel in that way-he was an attractive man, but you guys hated each other. Or you thought you did. The heat in your stomach was saying otherwise at the way that he was looking at you, eyes dark with need and lust.

“Not terribly. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Miguel said with a small smirk. “Mierda,” He growled, his hands digging into the carpet, tearing shreds into the fabric. You tried your best not to imagine him moaning, his hand gripping the headboard as his other ripped at your sheets. You tried not to imagine his tongue in your mouth, how it would feel to have his cock inside you. The room suddenly felt unbearably hot and you moved to open a window, covers be damned. You felt Miguel’s eyes on you, and it made you warmer.

“If you’re trying to tempt me, it’s working.” Miguel says, motioning to your pj’s and you quickly cover up again.

“You’re the one who showed up here unannounced.” You bit back, trying to ignore the guilt clouding your annoyance.

“Mhmm, that I did.” Miguel said almost matter-of-factly. “If it’s an annoyance though, I can leave,” Miguel said, starting to get up and open a portal. Before you knew it, you were across the room and had a hand on his wrist. You found yourself on the bed as soon as your hand touched his skin. Your breath hitched in your throat as Miguel hovered above you, his black hair falling forward slightly, his mouth slightly parted.

“I told you not to get close to me, (Y/N). You have a bad habit of not listening, you know that?” Miguel quipped, one of his hands coming up to touch your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I listen plenty. It’s you who doesn’t listen. You act like you can’t stand me,” you admit, biting your lip in regret as there’s a slight flash of hurt in Miguel’s eyes.

“Can’t stand you? You’re one of the most brilliant people we have on the team,” Miguel says, his voice soft.

“Then why do you shut down all of my ideas?” You ask, confusion lacing your tone.

“Because most of your ideas involve you putting yourself in risky situations,” Miguel says and you can tell that he’s being sincere. He winces slightly and you frown.

“I thought you said the pollen doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t. For a bit, but… if I don’t do anything about it soon, It can.” Miguel explained. “I don’t want to pressure you though, and I’m pretty sure this is already pressuring you enough,” He said, almost through a groan as he tried to get up, but you pulled him back down to you.

“No, I’m not pressured. I promise,” you say, your voice sincere. Miguel lets out a small growl, his lips landing on yours. His tongue slips inside your mouth, your hands finding his hair and you hear a moan escape his mouth. His lips meet yours in need, his hands going to grip at your hips. You start to slowly move your hips against Miguel’s, his lips falling open in a groan.

“Fuck,” he growls out, his cock throbbing against you. You feel as one of Miguel’s hands come up to your pj’s, a gasp escaping your mouth as his claws rip it off of you.

“Miguel-,” you start to protest but are cut off by Miguel’s lips against your neck, his tongue licking against your skin.

“I’ll buy you another one, promise,” he mutters against your neck. A moan escapes your mouth when Miguel’s hand travels down to your dripping core, a breathy chuckle muffled against your neck. “You’re so wet for me already, cariño.”

“Miguel, please,” you plead, suddenly hating how needy you sound right now.

“Please what?” Miguel teases, lifting his head up to look into your eyes.

“Please fuck me,” you beg and Miguel smirks. His lips meet yours passionately, his tongue slipping into your mouth again as he lines himself up with your entrance. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance and you gasp as he slowly bottoms out inside you, your hands gripping his shoulders. Miguel lets out a groan, his face burying into your neck as he slowly starts to move his hips.

Your fingers move to rest in his hair, tugging slightly as you move your hips in time with Miguel’s. The sound of skin slapping against skin and moans fill the room, a melody that is like music to both you and Miguel’s ears. His lips trail kisses up your neck to your ear before he whispers:

“You’re taking me so well, mi tesoro.”

A surge of warmth rushes through your body at Miguel’s words and you let out a whimper. His hips start to pick up the pace and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. You feel as a familiar warmth courses through your body, your orgasm right on the horizon as Miguel continues to fuck you.

“Miguel, I’m-.” You cut off with a moan.

“I know, baby, I know.” Miguel says softly, his lips covering yours in a passionate kiss as you finally reach your orgasm, body twitching slightly as it comes in waves. Miguel continues to rock his hips against yours, a growl low in his throat as his free hand comes up to rest on the pillow, claws tearing gashes into it. His hips start to stutter as he chases his own high, finally reaching his peak when he lets out a low groan against your lips, the pillow now almost shredded to ribbons.

Miguel pulled you close to him, breathing now slowing as he looked down at you. He touched your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently against the skin.

“Thank you for the help, (Y/N).” Miguel says softly, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And as for your ideas… I’ll hear them out again. As long as I can protect you if there’s trouble,”

“I can handle myself, but how can I say no to that?” You tease, a smile forming on your face as Miguel rolls his eyes playfully.

“Cállate.” He says back, hitting you softly with a non-ruined pillow.

#oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o' hara x reader #miguel o' hara x you #spider-man #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider-man x reader #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #spider-man 2099 x reader

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virgosvoid · 10 months

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the hold this man has on me 🫦

#miguel o’hara #miguel o' hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #spiderverse

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miraclecherryblossomsblog · 9 months

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What if spider reader found a universe that mirrored their own, like all their friends and family are there but they just never existed?

Or maybe they pull a Miguel and replace their double?

Food for thought...

OOFF starting strong ey...

I feel like they would have complex emotions...for one they are able to see their loved ones again but for other is that they have no memory of them, reader is basically a stranger to them

I don't think they would stay in there due to their fear of losing them like reader's past friends that had an unfortunate ending, sometimes betrayal

For the miguel one, they wouldn't intrude in like that with him, reader would try to avoid meeting him if I'm being honest. But if they met reader would imediately explain to him that reader isnt who he thinks they are

(They already knoe what Miguel (spider 99) did when he replaced his death self and honestly reader on one part understood why he did...but its still kinda messed up if u think about it.)

Hurtful truth but its better than to let him live a lie

So angsty omg

#spider reader #cherry answer #hiagainyou #bee #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel o' hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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miggyyyyohara · 10 months

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

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

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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

Note

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

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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chaotic-iguana · 5 months

Text

lovers’ spat, part i

miggy is an oblivious overworking idiot and fails to see you’ve had a bad day. he eventually makes up for it, though. (there will be a smut follow-up)

warnings: no smut (yet). just some nice angst (the girls are fightinggggg hehehe)

it starts with a missed alarm. then a sip of too-hot coffee burning your tongue. being late to work, getting yelled at by your boss, then by a client and finally by some randomon the fucking street when you’re walking home and he’s catcalling you and you refuse to look his way.

so yeah. it’s been a shit day.

but you’ve opened a portal to nueva york, you’re close to hq and you know migs will be inside and ready to take care of you. so all hope is not lost. yet. you burst through the double doors, half-sprinting to the elevator to reach his…lair? office is too mild for it, really. (eh, miguel’s a moody guy. it fits his vibe.)

you’re just about to walk in but you’re stopped by the call of your name paired with a babbling baby behind you. twisting to see the top of mayday’s head disappear behind him, you watch as peter b walks towards you with a grimace on his face and purple blooming under his eyes.

“are you…alright? you look a bit rough.” it sounds funny as you say it - take one look in the fucking mirror and you’d be saying it to yourself - but you can’t stop yourself from asking. he does look tired. and upset. which is entirely unlike him, but they do say parenthood is an adjustment. plus, it can’t be easy balancing being a spider and a dad and a journalist all at the same time. an offer to babysit bubbles in your mouth but stops at him shaking his head with a wry grin.

“today’s been rough. to be honest, i doubt miguel’s gonna be able to see you right now - we just caught an anomaly who stopped a canon event. he’s dealing with the fallout.” he’s speaking slowly, like he’s placating a child or dog. your frown must be obvious, because he starts chuckling nervously and follows up with a “but i’m sure he can work it out! goodnight!” before he’s swinging away - typical of a man who loves setting fires but never knows quite what to do with the ashes.

so now you’re stomping into miguel’s office, tearing through the tranquility of silence as you scowl at the raised platform and squint through the frankly shitty lighting. the sound of his fingers on the keyboard halts, and you think you hear him take a deep breath before his voice rings out.

“‘m busy, cariño. be home late tonight. don’t wait up.”

and it’s the way he says it, the irritation and annoyance glinting in his monotone words that has you seeing red, until your fingers are clenched in fists and your teeth are bared in the direction of his stupid, stupid platform. (you’d rip it apart with your bare hands if you could. why can’t he just work on the floor like a normal person? fucking medieval villain much? why don’t you just menacingly twiddle your thumbs and mwahaha while coming down then. idiot.)

you’re barely thinking straight, fury sparking in your veins and thrumming in your blood as you rip off a sandal and chuck it in the vague direction of the stupid thing. it’s not like you can tell, because your migraine and miguel’s shitty decor seem to have teamed up to fucking impair your vision and why in the fuck did he have to blow you off tonight of all nights-

your heel clunks against the metal, clattering to the ground with a pathetic thud. a sharp intake of his breath through his nose - loud enough to let you know he’s pissed - and therecomes the creaking of the dumb thing being lowered, inch by inch. you wait as the top of his head appears, hair standing in all directions and you just know he’s been doing that thing he does absentmindedly where he runs his hands through it over and over when he’s focused. and normally it’s cute but right now you just want to scream at him or walk away and you’re not quite sure which one to lean towards. and then he comes into view, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, hands stiff by his sides while he…frowns at you? lunging off the platform, he crouches to pick up your shoe before stalking over in your direction, glaring down at you.

“por qué joder harías eso?” he’s snarling now, jaw tensing with the effort it takes for him to spit the words at you. it makes you flinch, the forceful weight of his words and his tone and the way he’s towering over you like you’re one of those anomalies he hunts and something in your chest just cracks at the sight. straightening your spine, you curl your fingers around his to snatch back your shoe before slipping it on.

“qué esperabas? what did you expect, miguel? that i come here after a long day to find out again, for the billionth fucking time that my husband is too busy fighting something new-because there is always something new-to so much as look at me when he basically tells me to fuck off.”

eyes wild, your chest heaves as you meet his fierce look with one of your own. you can see him processing what you said, guilt flashing in his eyes for a split second before it’s replaced by concern. you can see him softening, reaching out - but you don’t want it right now. don’t quite know what to do with the sudden care in his eyes just moments after he was being so dismissive towards you. and if you’re honest - after the day you’ve had, it’s easier to cling to the venom coating your next words than it is to give into however the fuck he’s planning on fixing the situation.

“vete a la mierda, miguel. don’t come home tonight.”

and with that, you walk out.

you make it three steps before lyla pops up, wincing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. you’re scrambling for your watch, fumbling your way through portalling home to curl up in bed. you can distantly tell she’s cooing something at you, placating and warm, but you’re too far gone to hear it; the AI too much of a reminder of miguel for your comfort. a wave of your hand through her hologram and a stumble through the portal, and she’s gone too.

well, fuck. that couldn’t have gone worse.

v excited to continue this one. as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day<3

taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @pertinentpostmortem i know most of y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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huicitawrites · 10 months

Text

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

tw: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark-fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spider-verse.

word count: 6,1 k

status: in revision

Prev chapter

taglist: @zeniiin @aikoiya @caramelcandescence @adamsloverboy @slowlymax @reapersimps @jenniferdixon05207 @superduckmilkshake @ceeesxy-blog @wotterblue

Part II

“Stay still and let me squash you like the spider you are!"

"I think I'll pass on that one, thanks" you retorted as you moved out of yet another attack which could have pierced through you. You were jumping around, feet and arms in sync as you balanced your body to dodge the snapping metal claws.

The flow of your body conveyed an effortless image, but the fight was far from over. As hard as it was to admit, you were having a tough time figuring it out.

"Be wary of those, (Y/n)"

"Yep"

The foe before you was good at maintaining his distance and using the range of the metal limbs to his advantage. The claws snapped any web you shot at him and easily dodged and covered from your attacks as well. This metal exoskeleton he had was really bothering you- whereas you were used to the fleshy feeling of the mutant tentacles of the mad bio-engineering scientist you knew, this self-proclaimed Otto Octavius’ tentacles were purely made of metal. And it was quite metal, because your fist hurt like hell when you came into contact with it despite your super-strength. In addition, the metal exoskeleton was purely coordinated with his movements. They were calculated and clean, unlike the brash and wild nature of 'your' Doc Ock. [Thank God this copycat came in with a discount, it would have been worse if you had to deal with eight metal octopi-limbs.]

In the battle's agitation, something odd occurred. Just when you thought it could not get any weirder, his frame shook violently, and he fell to the ground in a flash of strange colors and shapes. His voice quivered, his shout of pain came out distorted and chopped.

"What the-? Peter, is he...?"

"Glitching?” he said with doubt, “but how..." immediately, he began to tap away on the keyboard.

You did not want to waste your time observing the phenomenon, instead deeming this man dangerous, you took the opportunity to confine him in your webs. The webs surrounded his torso and tied extra-tight around the metal limbs.

The glitching stopped and you neared him.

"So… Otto Octavius, right? Mind telling me more about Spider-Man?" You asked, but there was no answer. His head was hanging, and his shoulders were too lax, he seemed unconscious.

"Um, sir?" You closed the distance between you and touched him briefly. "Sir? Other Dock Ock?" You continued, and just as you were about to check if he was breathing, something cool clamped down on your wrist.

Immediately you redirected your sight and saw a metal claw on your wrist, it was viciously gripping you. Then you heard laughing, making you turn your attention at a now perfectly conscious man with scraps of web around him on the floor.

"Ah, shit". In cue with the curse that left your lips, you were thrown at full force against the building. Your head impacted first and your body slumped to the ground, a loud ringing sounded off in your ears, and your sight turned terribly foggy.

You groaned in pain and attempted to get up, but the metal limb got to you first and lifted you off the ground once more. It pulled you near as you thrashed. To escape from the vice grip, you focused the muscles of your arm and began to open apart the metal claw. The metal screeched and folded, yet your efforts dwindled when another claw came at you.

This time, it wrapped itself around your throat, cutting the airflow into your system. He hoisted you up to admire your writhing form.

"I just love killing spiders," he grinned wickedly, "after this, Peter Parker is next".

The mention of your friend sent the adrenaline in your body rushing and your heart strained against your chest. Your body was urging you to move, muscles tightening to contract and exert force- but your eyes began to fail you. Your vision slowly turned opaque due to the lack of oxygen.

A final metal claw appeared, and you vaguely made out a glimmering edge at the center of it- a sharp blade.

"Die."

You heard the words laced with venom and your friend frankly calling out to you, his voice drowned by the fading consciousness of your body. Was this the end? Is this the way it all ends?

'C'mon girl, keep it up!'

Just when the point-end of the blade was about to pierce you, an orange glow painted the scene. An engine roared— the blade never came.

You were dropped on the ground unceremoniously when the vice grip let go of you. Lips parted for a large gasp for that sweet, sweet air. Still, its sudden intrusion made you cough, and as your back shook furiously you felt a soothing sensation on it. Somebody was rubbing your back.

"You alright?" Another masculine voice, but this time, it was friendly and caring. There were no traces of animosity in it.

Even before your sight could clear, your spider-sense was running. It was running even more wild than before, and when you opened your eyes to see your savior, you were left astonished.

Your spider-sense tingled and evened out, synchronizing up with another spider-sense.

This man was just like you.

The web-patterned mask, his lenses, the arachnid symbol on his chest. It was all too familiar.

"You...are me?"

"No, and yes. I mean, no, I am not you, but I am like you." He hoisted you up by the elbow and put you on your feet. "Anyway, explanations later, now we have to deal with this guy and put him back in his dimension."

"In his dimension? What-"

"Explanations later", a female voice interrupted and reiterated. You glanced at the direction of the voice and your spider-sense picked up the same feeling.

It was a woman with big, dense curly hair, in a stylish leather tracksuit with a matching headband, and she rode on a motorcycle. She did not wear a mask, revealing part of her brown skin, but she had large, yellow-tinted sunglasses in a shape and proportion you knew all too well.

The woman flashed you a sweet smile, showing her gapped-pearly whites.

"Now, let's kick ass" and she roared the engine once more and rode straight at Octavius. She crashed the vehicle into him, pushing him back, and stood up on it. As she balanced her weight forwards on the vehicle, she reached out her hand- five web strings much like your own sprouted from the pads of her fingers. She brought the villain flush against the tire of the running motorbike, and he clutched his face in pain. The man who patted you followed suit, and he too shot web, although out from his wrist, and launched himself against him. He delivered a couple of blows, punches, and kicks, as he used his 'web-shooter' -you guessed- to propel back and forth.

You just stood there, eyes wide and lenses as big as round plates.

"Peter, are you seeing this?"

"Yes, and I'm already coming up with some theories" you heard the fast-clicking sound of a keypad going on. "I can't have anything for sure and it's not like I can track back to any tabs on these guys... The best thing I can produce is for you to stick around and find out, but do not lower your guard"

"I guess so" you said, simply taking in and accepting what was going on as you took speed and jumped, your legs pulling back and your arms stretching at a sharp angle behind your back.

Your body flew, and you looked down to see Octavius struggling to stand up as the two new heroes faced him.

Octavius stood up on all metal fours and he growled in rage, "Spider-Man!" his sights now focused on the blue and red hero.

"You might want to look behind you, Doc"

The smirk of the lady on the motorcycle and the cheekiness of the disguised man said it all. The dark silhouette of a shadow cast upon him was growing bigger, and Doc Ock turned his head.

Your wrists extended and web shot from both. The silk rope attached itself to the upper shoulders of the metal limbs and you grasped the webs to pull yourself. With the help of force and acceleration, you delivered a powerful kick on the man’s back.

Your attack was not meaningless, for your aim was set on the bright spot at the top near his nape. The power source, the connection of the exoskeleton with Octavius’ nervous system.

A few sparks blew off, signaling your success in delivering the final blow. Well, that, and how the tentacles trembled before collapsing- dropping the mad man on the ground.

“You!” he whipped his head, “You little- “his words were cut short by web sticking on his lips, sealing them shut.

“Not a word more from you, please. I kinda had enough,” you exasperated and slumped your shoulders. Your hand rubbed on your head, a little bit of pain still lingering on the impacted area.

You were about to web him up, this time making sure he would stay put, but the curly-haired woman halted you with her hand. With the other, she slid a disk across the floor which stopped in front of Octavius. Then, laser-like hexagons formed, one by one until the villain was encased fully.

“Oh, well that’s nice. What is that?”

“A portable prison we use to capture anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“People that stray from their original dimensions and pose a threat to the cannon.”

“The cannon?” 'Geez, keeping up with this new information is hard'. Amid your confusion, the woman laughed. She was not laughing out in mockery, more like she had found your confusion endearing.

She stretched out her hand for you to shake it, and hesitantly you did.

“I am Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman, Earth-404.”

“And I’m Peter B. Parker, the one and only Spiderman from Earth-616B” The man took off his mask, showing excited eyes and a warm smile as he stretched out his hand. The physical resemblance he had to your best friend was uncanny, well, he was him from another dimension, of course. The brown eyes and hazelnut hair, but he was much taller, certainly older and you could distinguish the outline of worked muscles below his spandex suit.

“(Y/n), this is unbelievable...” but you ignored your friend through the comms as you were just as surprised as him, or even more.

“Spider-Woman, I mean, (Y/n) (L/n), Earth…

“Earth-699” Peter B Parker filled in for you, and you repeated his words, taking them in your mind.

“Wait, wait… So, you are Spider-Women,” you glanced at Peter B. Parker, “Spider…people… sorry, from other dimensions?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” and Jessica Drew hummed in approval of Peter B’s words.

“And, and you! I know you! Well, I know you in this world. He’s my best friend, and my back-up” the other Peter chuckled.

“Ooh, the classic back-at-the-chair guy?” his eyebrow twitched in curiosity. “Feels like a demotion though…”

“Hey!"

You giggled at his antics, "Trust me, you are very cool in this dimension too. Without him, I would not be Spider-Woman". Your warm smile and noble words caught the brown eyes of Jessica, and for a moment, she stared right at your own not long after her and the other Peter -you will call him Peter. B- shared silent eye contact which spoke volumes between them. Then they both smiled, and Jessica Drew giggled, "This one is yours; I have already recruited a lot. Miguel will bite my head off if I bring in one more"

"Right, right, you just want to make me be the one to ask him"

Confused about what they were talking about and who, you were about to ask them before Peter B spoke first.

"So, we like you- my spider-sense can already tell me you are an amazing hero, (Y/n). Do you want to join us? And the rest of Spiders, a spider-society of our own if you are interested."

People just like you? Your heart began to beat fast with joy and excitement, this, this was amazing. If there is a whole society of other people, of other You's, Peter B's, and Jessica's, with their own hero journeys, spider-suits, spider-abilities, and voices to be heard- you wanted all in.

"I'm in!" you exclaimed, physically jumping at the opportunity. The afro spider-woman hopped back on her motorbike, you saw her fiddle with a bracelet on her wrist, a slick white-metal watch of sorts, and the same orange glow from before emerged. This time, you took a closer look- it was a portal, a hexagonal electric-orange portal made of rings.

Peter B. hopped on behind Jessica, and he looked back behind at you and beckoned you closer with his hand, patting the space left on the leather seat. You smiled wide below the mask and rushed your feet to the vehicle, hopping on.

"You know it's almost two in the morning and we have work tomorrow, right?" Your Peter's voice sounded. You groaned, "Yes, don't wait for me. Also, didn't take my keys so leave the window open please"

"Again? Girl, I-" but Peter heard the roaring of an engine and the sound of screeching tires before the loud beep signaling the end of the intercommunication device and he cursed under his breath. He shut down the three-screen PC and kicked his feet to distance the chair from the desk, drawing a large sigh from his lips. He stood up, revealing his pajama set and house coat, and very fluffy set of Spider-Woman slippers you had gifted him jokingly, [wearing unofficial merch of your vigilante best-friend was weirdly hilarious, but they were too comfortable and soft to pass]. He walked toward the living rooms' window, thank God you two were on the seventh floor, and pulled off the lock.

"One of these days I swear I will lock her out, so she begins taking her goddamn keys", he grunted in between teeth. He dragged the palm of his hand down his features, squeezing down his cheeks and wrinkling them. He glanced at the dreadful hour, led bright numbers making out 1:50 AM.

'As long as I get in bed before two...' Despite the petty annoyance this occurrence caused, he could not help but crack a smile.

He looked out the window and observed the city lights, contemplating the night.

You were incredible to Peter, your best friend. Sometimes he wished NYC were more grateful for the protection your courageous and self-risking services lent. Although he was aware they were out of your heart.

Peter took a long, loud sip of his mug of tea. It was halfway cold. As he drank and emptied the contents of his cup, Peter wondered.

"Who is going to protect you when you are too busy protecting others, (Y/n)", his worrisome thoughts were vocalized. Part of why Peter helped you back to the chair was because of this because he was worried about you. Of course, it felt nice and gratifying to put his own grains of sand in the jar of NYC's safety, protecting citizens and loved ones alike, but deep-down Peter felt powerless.

What if one day someone manages to best you, or you mess with the worst of people? Someone you will not be able to defeat, someone like you? The possibilities, the enemies, could be endless. After what tonight's events revealed the existence stirred something within him, call it his Parker-Sense [turns out there is a Peter Parker who is a Spider-Man as well in another universe- he will have to ask you more about it, tomorrow.].

He placed the cup down on the coffee table beside the heater, casting aside his worries along it. Peter knew he could do nothing but help from back of the front lines- he could only hope the gadgets and suits he designed for you would help you in your quest and help you make it back home every night.

You raised your arms as if you were on the best rollercoaster ride in the world whilst you travelled through the fabric of time and space. It was fast and short, but breathtaking. There was not enough time to process what you had just experienced as you crossed through a flash of light.

As the flash dispersed, you noticed your surroundings. You found yourself inside a big, big building. Although the design was minimalistic, and the color grey was dominating, you made out figures of diverse colors.

Not figures, people.

And not regular people, people like you- spider people.

Hundreds of them, walking, chatting, hanging around. On the floor, on the ceiling, on the walls, all around the unorganized columns that stretched everywhere in every direction.

Your spider-sense had already caught up with the gig, because your mind has surprisingly not fallen apart.

"Welcome to HQ, this is the lobby" Peter B. announced.

A simple 'woah' was all you could muster as your lenses widened. Jessica hopped off her motorbike and stored it in a pocket-size gadget, somehow but it does not surprise you, and she tapped on your wrist. She handed you a purple bracelet, "It's a one-day pass, it allows you to stay here without glitching. You may have seen it happen to that stray Doc Ock".

‘So, he was glitching, huh.’

You hung the bracelet around your wrist and secured it tight, you guessed glitching was not very comfortable and you did not really want to find out for yourself. Once you put it on, she smiled and turned on her heels, gesturing to you with her head to follow her.

"We got to go girl, can't keep Miguel waiting."

"Miguel?" you enquired.

"Miguel O' Hara" Peter B answered for her as he began to walk beside you "the man behind this society. This-", he twirled around and raised his hands in contemplation as the three of you walked, "-was all his idea. He is the leader, it's thanks to him that we are all able to protect and maintain every dimension stable".

'Well, he sounds like a cool guy- I should probably meet him if I'm around here, want to make a good first impression’

"He can also come off as intimidating and harsh, but he's got no bite. He just has a little bit of fang to show, no more. So don't be scared or feel intimidated".

'Or not', you gulped.

Something about the sweet tone in Peter B’s voice, like he had given this disclaimer a couple of times before, slightly unsettled you- but you hid your nervousness behind a small chuckle.

As Jessica lead the way, or Jess as she insisted you call her, you 'toured' the facilities- a cafeteria with spider-themed food, a gym fit for training the super-strengthen, a villain-confinement area in which you found yourself mesmerized by the different versions of villains you had faced [which was a slightly awkward experience as you tried to ignore the daggers that were coming out from that Doc Ock's eyes and threatened to destroy the barrier that imprisoned him]. You even got to know of a therapy room, which could always come in handy later, who knows. You must make sure to swing by the cafeteria later and try out that Spider-Burger, and certainly try out the super/human equipment in the training center [it is not your usual friendly-neighborhood gym that has a leg press machine loaded with the weight of a train].

It was crazy- Peter B. and Jess told you everything about this place. They talked about the multiverse, and how everyone is connected through key moments in their lives as 'Spiders' through cannon events- which were more or less significant events that would shape their paths as heroes, some good, some bad, and some very bad- but all of them necessary.

The death of your parents. Although you would never get over it, and the belief that you could have done something if you hadn’t been so powerless at that time was still rooted deep within your heart- but the fact that it was destined to happen as part of your life as Spider-Woman brought you some relief, because you felt as if it was not entirely your fault alone. They were cannon events in your life as Spider-Woman, and nothing was supposed to prevent them.

It was bittersweet- it made you feel understood. Even though you had your own best friend who you could rely on, and you knew you could tell him everything, you also knew he would not understand. There is a great responsibility that comes with this power, and with its burdens, and inner battles that make you feel alone in the struggle, but not anymore.

You are not alone, you are not the one and only Spider-Woman, and that made you feel you could find other people to bare this struggle with.

The 'Spider' Peter continued with the explanation, "-- and that's why anomalies are so dangerous, and we have to deal with them, because they can break the cannon and thus destroy the fabric of the dimension that has been disturbed, and with it, millions of lives."

In cue with the end of his talk, Jess and Peter B. halted their steps. "We're here" she said and pointed with her gaze to move forward. So, you did, you took a step forward.

Your eyes took in the room, it was dark, and the ceiling was tall. There was a platform in the middle of it, and the orange light was abundant. Atop the platform was a man standing, his wide back facing and disheveled strands of hair facing you- he seemed busy, and too concentrated on the dozens of holographic screens surrounding him.

There was a loud silence in the room, until Jess nudged Peter B with her elbow, and he blurted, "Okay, okay, lemme’ just" he adjusted the collar of his suit, as if it were too tight on him. He breathed in, calming down his nerves, which made you more nervous because why would he be?

"Hey! Miguel!" his voice echoed through the room, and he waved eagerly at the man above. It was a slight movement, but you noticed how this 'Miguel' threw his head back and sighed loudly- it was clear that he was annoyed by the interruption.

"Que ganas de molestar... What is it?!" The first part of his sentence was barely audible, but he made sure to raise his voice for the words that came out in English. His body was now facing the three of you, hands rested on his hips, and body weight slumped on his right leg.

From that height, he seemed as if he was looking down on you...

"Give me a minute, (Y/n), you see he looks tough, but he is really easy to crack" Peter B attempted to reassure you, earning a roll of the eyes of Jess which you barely dismissed, and he webbed a corner of the platform and pulled himself up to it.

Peter B's physical gestures were funny and full of movement, while the man remained stiff and stoic. You could not hear the conversation well, they were meters above you, but you guessed they were talking about you--

"C'mon Miguel, she's amazing really, we could use a helping hand and-"

"There's lots of helping hands already"

"Yes, but the more the merrier right? I am serious, you're not going to regret it, I've seen her, and Jess too"

Their talk continued for a few minutes, but then you saw Peter B clinging on to the man's shoulder and you saw him turn his head, mouthing the words 'all right.'

Proving your guess to be true, you saw Peter B smile widely and he walked towards the edge of the platform, "Y/N! Climb up here!" He called out to you and gestured with his hand, and you did just as he did a few minutes ago. Before you could pull yourself, however, Jess tugged lightly at your mask.

"You should probably take that off, you don't want to be rude in your first day before the boss, right?" she chuckled. "You're right," you nodded and proceeded with her advice. Your fingers slid under the mask and hooked at its hem, you tugged upwards. Your (h/c) strands cascaded down and bounced on your shoulders, and you revealed a curious set of (e/c) eyes and (s/c) skin.

Jess ran her hands through your hair, quickly fixing it- after being pressed down by the mask it had a little bit of frizz to it, "You're looking great, now go get that job girl" and she turned you around by the shoulders and patted your back in support.

You smiled and blushed, a little bit of confidence surging within you, you were nervous.

[His gaze, something about it, it made you uncomfortable. You did not think much of it, putting the blame on the towering height the platform provided.]

You twisted your fist around the web, and swung yourself and pulled down with strength, propelling yourself upwards. You made sure to land with grace on the platform, you really wanted to land yourself that good first impression.

"Here she is," Peter B dragged on the sound of the vowels, as if presenting some grand entrance, he walked behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. Quickly, Peter B hunched and whispered encouraging words in your ear-

"You'll do great," he said softly against your ear. You offered a small smile and walked out of his hold, facing the man before you two.

'Well, damn' you said loudly in your mind. If when you were below this man seemed intimidating, now up close, it was ten times more so. He had a big build, broad shoulders and clear, lined brick muscles under his cyber-punk blue and red suit. His forearms left his hips and were flexed below his broad chest, highlighting the muscles in his arms even more. You looked up to his face and gulped.

He had a chiseled, handsome, tanned face- his jaw was sharp and so was his wide nose, his cheekbones were high and his eyebrows thick and straight, giving him a mature look. Your guess was that he was somewhere in his 30's, and by the look in his fierce yet tired eyes evinced by the bags under them, you guessed he had also gone through a lot (not like you will pry about it now, that seemed like a death wish for sure).

Were you staring for too long? You did not notice, at least not until the man before you grunted and shot raised his eyebrows, tilting his face to the side as if granting you the permission to speak.

You also heard Peter B. cough, not so casually.

"Uhm, hi! I," you smiled widely, only to earn a slight judgmental look from him, 'oh my god, this is going to be harder than it looks.' To recover from that small awkward moment, you offered you hand to shake it and rephrased, "Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n) and I'm Spider-Woman from Earth-699, or so I've been told."

You recomposed your breath and stance, shoulders and back straightened, trying to come off as confident and polite. "I met Peter B. Parker and Jessica Drew on my night patrol, and it was quite a surprise, but a nice one. They told me everything about this place, and about the multiverse," unbeknownst to you, the glint in your eyes as your excitement began to slip past the professional facade caught his eyes, "and let me tell you I would be more than glad to join the team, it would be an amazing opportunity, and a responsibility I would be more than glad to take over".

Miguel could tell you were not lying, albeit he could tell you were nervous and a bit fidgety, but your tongue rolled not honeyed words, but ones that were sincere. He genuinely appreciated that.

Your hand was still outstretched when he called out for his trusted A.I, "Lyla", and with simply calling out her name, it appeared.

A tiny orange holograph of a person appeared right before you, at the edge of your nose to be precise, like a playful fairy. She wore an oversize coat and fashionable boots, and distinctive pink heart-shaped glasses.

"Hello!" She greeted, and you were slightly caught off guard. You were about to greet back, but she vanished, and reappeared on your shoulder, and then again, and she reappeared on your other shoulder, and again- this time above you. Your sight tried to follow her, but to no avail as she vanished and materialized, yet you did catch a glimpse of these round devices she had with her which bathed you, in yet again, orange light.

"Scanning complete!" she announced and appeared for a final time on Miguel's shoulder. "Let's see... Indeed, from Earth-699, and with an excellent track record of ten years! Her cannon remains intact, and if you ask me, she seems to be an excellent candidate."

"Oh, thanks...?" You were not sure what to say, how could she know all that? It was a heck of an artificial intelligence, nothing you had witnessed back at home, even with Pete's genius, and she even winked at you. She was sentient, that was mind blowing.

Whatever Lyla, as you recalled, showed Miguel seemed to be some sort of CV. He was looking through a holographic tab, and you managed to see a few mirrored images of you and your New York, recognizing frames and scenes from your life and the people you had come across. As he scrolled down through the screen, he kept taking glances at you, as if corroborating the information, while you just stood there with a bright smile and relaxed features in your face- although you were panicking on the inside.

The tanned man closed the tab and redirected his gaze on you, his dark eyes piercing right through yours, but his features relaxed and he even offered a small smile.

"My name is Miguel O' Hara," a smooth, Spanish accent evident on his first name, "and I'm this universe's Spiderman, Earth-2099." He stretched out his own hand, offering it to you and you shook it- his grip was strong and secure, and his hand enclosed over your smaller one.

He retrieved his hand, but he kept it open, his palm facing up while he showed it to you. A bracelet began to materialize on it. After a few seconds, the materializing process was complete, and you noticed the same device Peter B. and Jess had on their wrists.

"It's a travelling gizmo, used for hopping to other dimensions without glitching" the A.I filled in. You took it carefully from Miguel's hands, and with the same manner, you slid it on your wrist- it was a perfect fit.

After the click sound, you admired it for a few seconds before Miguel spoke again, "You are part of the club now."

His features fell back to a strict, but calm, look on his face, and he continued, "You'll be called for missions through the gizmo, nothing for today but be sure to answer on time. I do not like it when people are late for work", he said harshly, and you nodded.

"See, I told you it would work out!" the 'professional' atmosphere was cut short by Peter B, who seemed excited as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. "She won't disappoint Miguel, I'm sure of it." He said as he smiled at Miguel, and you noticed how his features fell flat upon Peter B, however you could not help a giggle escape from your lips.

"Yes, I'll make sure of that", you looked at Peter and smiled, and repeated the same affection with Miguel, who widened his eyes but recomposed quickly, covering for any slip-ups.

"Well if everything is settled then, I'll be leaving." Peter B. patted your shoulders simultaneously "I have a little girl and a beautiful wife waiting for me, back home." The words that came out of the Spider' Peter made your eyes widen and your mouth dropped open,

"You are married?! And have a child?!"

"Yes, they are the most wonderful people on Earth!" he said giddily, then he quirked his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, he sounded quizzical "Why do you sound so surprised though?"

"No, no, I'm just very curious- as you are the other version of my best friend. So, who's the lucky girl?" you enquired, still not believing it.

"Mary Jane, I don't know if you know her in your dimension," he said with a warm tone in his voice, you could tell by the way he spoke about her that he was really in love with her. Of course, you knew Mary Jane, or MJ as you called her. She was a close friend of yours, and Pete, and the main subject of your teasing against him. In your dimension, Peter is so in love with MJ but has yet to gather the courage to face her and take her out on a date.

You laughed, "My Peter would be blushing mad right now. He has yet to take her out on a date and make his move", your words made Peter B remember of the past, and he chuckled.

"Any advice I could relay to him? I want to be the best wingman there is"

"Just tell him to be himself, it'll work out. Ooh, but be sure to tell him he must be on time when he arranges any dates! It will save him a lot of trouble!"

"I'll make sure to tell him", you giggled. Then Peter B proceeded to take out his cellphone and show you pictures of his baby daughter, MJ. You could not help but gush alongside him, she was adorable, with her funny faces, the pictures of her playing around and in little outfits, and as she was doing little mischiefs [you swore right there and then that when the time comes, you would be the coolest auntie ever]

You continued to fangirl over the baby photos until Miguel O'Hara interrupted the both of you, "It's getting late, the both of you. "

His face said it all- the poker face, and flat lips, he looked tired. Hence you bid farewell, Lyla sat on your shoulder as she helped you with the interface of the gizmo. You managed to open a portal back to your home dimension and bid the corresponding farewells before jumping back home.

"So, I get that you did like her?"

Miguel grunted, "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira. Go home Peter, I can't stand you any longer".

Seeing that Miguel was already switching back to his grumpy humor, Peter B raised his hands in the air. "Geez, Miguel, cut me some slack" and turned around, not before making a portal to his own dimension. With his hands still raised in the air, he teased, "You'll end up scaring the new recruit" and jumped back into the portal before he could face an even grumpier Miguel.

"Ese insufrible hijo de-"

"He's kinda right though"

"Lyla!"

"See? Geez, you're going to get even more wrinkles..."

The A.I vanished out of Miguel's clawed swipe, and sticked out her tongue in mockery as the man growled.

Surprisingly, instead of landing on the hard concrete floor, you landed on the soft surface of what you recognized to be your own bed, and you made a mental note to remind yourself to thank Lyla.

"Ah, right, the window", you recalled you had told Pete to leave it open, so you went out to the living room and put on its lock. The living room was dark, it had the faint glow of NYC's night. It was a pleasant surprise for you thought you would be arriving at dawn, but it was not the case- you would get more sleep.

"Five hours of sleep are still better than one" you mumbled and retrieved the used mug left on the coffee table, which you then rinsed in the sink- a small favor for your guy in the chair.

At last, you took off your suit and after doing your nightly bathroom routine, you plopped on the bed. Sleep caught up with you quickly, it had been a busy and long night- you only hoped you would listen to your alarm in the morning and be able to get to work.

You shifted in your bed and cuddled into your pillow, your lips parted and let own a drowsy yawn, "I'll have to tell everything to Pete tomorrow" and with that, you closed your eyes.

Although tired and sleepy, you could not help the fuzzy feeling in your chest- you were so happy for what was to come, hoping for the best. You could not wait to be back at headquarters, but you guess, it will have to wait until tomorrow in the least. For now, you would have to settle for some hours of sleep.

A/n: EVERYONE THANK YOU SO MUCH! Part I is about to reach 2k notes and I can't believe I now have 1k followers, truly, thank you so much. Thank you to all the people that have reblogged and commented, I can't express how thankful I am truly. I also want to apologize for the delay, I had a hard writer's block as regards Miguel's introduction, I wanted it to be perfect, and it still not is. I also wanted to give reader a good backbone for the story. Anyway, Part III follows suit and with it the yandere! (yes! finally- I know people can get impatient for it bc it happens to me too). Anyways, I hope you like this part, and I am looking forward for your opinions!

Translations: (Btw, I am Argentinean, not Mexican, so I do speak castellano or spanish, but not mexican-slang spanish. I hope my Mexican readers are cool with the way Miguel speaks!) "Que ganas de molestar..." = So bothersome/ so annoying, or literally 'such need to bother' "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira." = Anyway/Anyhow, time will tell. "Ese insufrible hijo de-" = That insufferable son of a-

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #miguel o' hara x reader #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o' hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o' hara x reader #fem reader #yandere across the spider-verse #yandere spiderman #spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderman 2099

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jayden-killer · 8 months

Text

AFFECTION.

previous part: HOLE IN THE EARTH.

summary: Miguel learns from his mistakes and how he needs the Reader in his life.

warnings: none, some light angst to fluff.

a/n: I'm so happy that my one-short is doing so well that people requested a part 2! Can you believe it?!?!?!😭😭It was unexpected. Thank you so much for the support!! It means very much to me. I wish I could hug you all!!!!💗💗💗

taglist: @geraskier-thots @melodyuu @chiikasevennn @roxytheimmortal @yasmim18fjw @bittersw33t-lotus @voidhope @laysmt @thel0velykey190 @xiangping-28 @emmaiooo @sukioyakio

Plick, plick, plick...

You wrapped the soft blanket closer to your face. Outside the weather was not the best: it rained heavily, with a few gusts of wind now and then. The temperature had dropped. Maybe the time outside was the mirror of how you felt at that moment. You imagined that no one was on the street, otherwise, they would catch a cold. Your two and a half weeks had not gone well at all. As a broken record, your memory postponed that scene of tension and fear: the screams of Miguel, his words full of venom, and how he did not intend to go on and leave the past to the past. His words hurt you at the bottom, with no way out. And you had to run away as if running away from him solved every problem. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. And the problems got worse.

You had nightmares about nightmares, and you cried because you thought for every second that he was right. But part of you knew he was in the wrong, and it was his turn to apologize (let’s be clear, he never would. You knew how proud Miguel was of himself to take days to apologize). This time it was different because he didn’t want to see you anymore. Your relationship? Done with it. Forever.

You breathed a long sigh and your eyes closed. You needed rest, and you knew it too. All that thinking had melted your brain, and it wasn’t good for your health. You had to think about yourself and move on. You would have found better, because Miguel wasn’t the only man on the planet, and yet...he was him. He couldn’t be replaced. Once he knocked on the door of your heart, it was impossible to close it in his face.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Y/N turned his head, and her eyes met a tall, slender figure, seemingly a rather large tree branch. But she didn’t have trees that grew near her window. Also, she lived on the seventh floor.

Taking off her blanket, Y/N cautiously approached the window and found herself face to face (almost) with his now ex Miguel O'Hara, in his Spider-man suit, soaked from head to toe due to bad weather. She gasped and immediately opened the window, letting the man enter the warmth of her cosy apartment. Miguel closed the window behind her, then turned to look at her.

The two exchanged awkward looks, but the first to speak was Miguel. He had taken off his mask: his hair was also wet.

"Were you sleeping?"

A short pause followed. "Not really. Would you like...a towel?" she asked slightly, pointing to his dripping dark curls. He nodded softly and sat down on the leather sofa, his head bent forward. Y/N returned from the bath with a dry towel and handed it to him. Miguel nodded for a second time, this time of thanksgiving, beginning to absorb excess water with it. The girl sat at the edge of her bed, looking at Miguel with fear and mixed curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked. He glanced at her, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. The towel was around his neck. As dumb as she was, full of emotions and thoughts buzzing around in Y/N’s head, she couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was even soaking wet.

"You didn’t make the last report."

Was that really what he was worried about? The absence of Y/N just for stupid missions? She sighed and shook her head. "Is that what bothered you so much to come here?"

"Not only that."

"Go on," she made a gesture of continuation.

Miguel put a hand over his face as if he was looking for the right words for his next speech. Y/N studied him carefully, looking away from time to time.

"I'm so sorry for what I did last time I saw you. I-I was...I am a dick. A real one" A dry chuckle. "I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean any of those words." He looked at Y/N with a pleading look. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You know very well how apologies are not made for me."

"Indeed." She crossed her arms, refusing to look at Miguel’s repentant face. On the other hand, he was looking at her, almost in tears. It was a fragile situation for both sides. "I always told you that the important thing is the intention." Said Y/N with a breif voice, massaging her arm. Miguel tilted his head. He remained silent.

"And you, you came here alone, with the rain and the wind blowing, just to apologize or... Is there anything else?"

The Spider-man got up from the sofa, slowly approaching Y/N, not wanting to rush things. He knew that last time he had scared her enough. And he didn’t want to make that same mistake.

"You’re not a crybaby... Or a burden. Nothing of that..."

"Last time, you seemed very determined about your words."

"I assure you, I didn't mean any shit coming from my mouth."

She huffed. She looked at the dusty ground. "I was serious about...Gabriella last time."

Miguel cringed at Gabriella's name and moved his head to look out the window. The weather had calmed slightly, the rain now mild, with a few droplets beating on the glass. Even the leaves of the trees weren’t moving as hard as before. Maybe...everything was getting lighter. "You’re right."

"I am always right." A small smile made its way on Y/N’s face, bringing her lips up and anxiously peering into Miguel’s face. He felt his mortification.

She gently carried her trembling hand on the right cheek of Y/N and she at once got used to the touch. A contact that she lacked, that was always so beautiful to receive. "Gabriella loves you, but she wants you to move on, Miguel. I’m not saying you have to forget what happened, but now you have to think about healing. Taking care of yourself."

He brought his face closer to hers and their foreheads rested on each other. The two closed their eyes and the only noise they heard was the breaths and the slight wind coming from outside. They joined little by little in a tight embrace, and seemed to forget what had happened. Y/N forgave Miguel, and he apologized for his mistakes.

"I know," Miguel whispered. "She would have loved you. She would have wanted a mother like you."

She smiled even more, taking his hand and holding it in hers, not too hard. "I love you."

"I love you too, Miguel."

He girded her even more, bringing her to himself. Miguel felt well. And he would no longer allow his emotions or his past to go against the one good thing in his life, his present and soon, future.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o' hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #one shot #one short #angst to fluff #fluff #angst #light angst

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 11 months

Text

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.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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wyvernest · 8 months

Text

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning.

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased.

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck.

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress.

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions.

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him.

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear.

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go.

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips.

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it.

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts.

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

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