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hoshigray · 11 months

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Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

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bensolosbluesaber · 11 months

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Nowhere to Run: Part 1 (Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader)

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader

Warnings: Hints of suicidal ideation on reader’s part, Fang stuff (Miguel uses fangs on reader), Chasing, Miguel is maybe ooc (I only saw the movie once and was mostly trying to keep from audibly moaning every time he was on-screen), Miguel and reader fight - he does some damage, Poison, Wounds, Not edited (but I will come back for some minor edits later on), Let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After the collapse of your universe, you resort to jumping around the multiverse to survive. Evolution gave you the powers needed to escape your universe. Technology of your own design stopped the glitches. But you haven’t found a way to escape the man relentlessly hunting you across every universe - Spider-Man 2099. ~2,500 words

Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending

A/N: This is for all of us who watched the Nueva York chase scene/train sequence and thought ‘when do I get to be Miles?’ This is dedicated to the Miguel O’Hara editors on TikTok - you guys are doing god’s work over there (especially with the captions). There shouldn’t be any spoilers in here beyond what was shown in trailers, but tread as carefully as you feel you need.

EDIT: Part 2

A persistent tingle deep in your mind vibrated madly the closer Spider-Man 2099 was to you. It was your Spidey-sense warning you of danger. For the first few months, you managed to stay several universe’s ahead of the terrifying Spider-Man variant, but after running for months with no one to help you, dodging the Spider-Person in each universe, and growing more exhausted with each portal you opened, 2099 was catching up.

He was catching up quite literally. The man was a few blocks behind you, pursuing you through the streets of a Queens in a universe you had never seen before. Buildings were built into trees. The entire city was a perfect symbiosis between nature and technology. It was beautiful, but there was no time to appreciate it. The time on your wrist ticked down. Seventy-six seconds. Seventy-five.

You shot out another web. It caught a window, and you took a sharp corner then another trying to lose the hunter.

Seventy seconds until you could safely open another portal. Well safe was a relative measure. Ideally you would allow a full day between jumps, but if you only had twelve hours, well then odds of survival rose to about fifty-fifty. Anything less than twelve hours and implosion was basically guaranteed.

Sixty-eight. You extended your legs for more momentum, rolled in the air, shot out two webs and used them to zip forward. Sixty-two. 2099 was fast, faster than you. You didn’t dare to look back to see if he was still in pursuit.

He protected the multiverse, kept it from collapsing in on itself, and you put the entire web of connection at risk just by being alive outside of your universe. You didn’t begrudge 2099 for what he thought he had to do. Maybe it was true that your presence could cause a universe to collapse, but you were careful not to stay for too long, not to interact with the Spider of that universe, not to fight any super-villains. If he could just understand that you were careful, that you didn’t want a multiversal collapse anymore than he did, maybe he would be reasonable.

Then again, maybe not. He was relentless, and from what little you had heard of Spider-Man 2099, he wasn’t one for talk and negotiation.

Fifty-five. You dived down, shot another web, swung again. You could never go back to your world’s boundless emptiness and not another living soul. That thought kept your exhausted muscles working. Fifty. The void was all that remained of your collapsed universe, a void in which you could not die but where no one else could live.

Forty-eight. Forty seven. This block was all future, half-built apartment buildings.

Thirty. You’d long ago lost your suit. All that remained was the mask that obscured your face. You must look ridiculous swinging around in stolen street-clothes: a baggy sweatshirt, leggings, dirty sneakers.

Twenty-one. Nearly there. Just a few-

A solid mass of muscle stole the breath from your lungs and flattened you into a cement wall. Claws shattered the cement beside your head into a fine gray powder. A hand closed around your throat, and you were crushed between the blue and red clad Spider-Man and the wall.

He was pure muscle. This was the closest you’d ever been to 2099, and his sheer size was terrifying. The red lines on his mask narrowed with his eyes as he studied you.

Eighteen. You pushed at his broad chest, struggling desperately to fight him off, but he was enhanced too and probably well-fed and rested - two things you were not.

“Stop fighting me,” 2099 growled into your ear, his voice a deep rumble that you felt in his chest.

“I won’t go back.” You choked out the words while you planted a knee against him and tried to kick him away. Your efforts were utterly useless. Quite literally, you could feel muscles rippling across his chest and arms as he held you against the wall while you trid to wriggle free.

In the corner of your eye, you watched the red numbers tick down. Six. Five. Was it even possible? It had to be.

2099 brought you forward then slammed you into the wall again. The impact made your head spin. The red lines of his mask doubled and tripled. He was trying to get something around your wrist.

“Hold still!”

Two.

With the last vestige of strength left in your body, you brought a hand to his face and shot a wad of webbing at his eyes. He growled and stopped his attempt to hand-cuff you - or whatever he was doing - to wipe the webbing away. For a second he was distracted. You imagined the glowing golden portal. Closed your eyes. Energy sparked in your body, coursed through your veins and arm. You shot a web at the wall behind you. It shimmered gold, dim gold, but still gold.

There was a moment where you thought it hadn't worked. Then the wall crumbled away and you felt wind whip you backward as a bright gold light filled the space. 2099 reached for you, claws extended. Four knife-like talons dug into your shoulder, ripping through the ratty sweater, digging into your skin, and tearing four long bloody stripes into your flesh as the portal drug you away..

You planted both feet on his stomach and kicked him off. A bright red web shot out from 2099’s hand to tangle in a tree. The last thing you saw was 2099 falling then catching himself before you tumbled away from him and toward a new universe.

It was raining on this new Earth. Actually, ‘raining’ was a bit of an understatement. It was absolutely pouring, and you were soaked before you hit the ground. Hard.

You hadn't been as focused as you needed to be, and the portal had opened in the sky and dropped you ten feet to the roof of a towering building in some universe’s version of New York. You couldn’t tear the mask from your face quick enough as you gasped desperately for air. 2099 was strong, and he’d smashed you half a foot into solid cement.

Your ribs ached. So did your head for that matter. But it was the dull ache spreading across your shoulder, down your arm, and seeping through your muscles like liquid fire that really made you afraid.

The gray of your stolen sweater was soaked in crimson blood. Carefully, you pushed the stained fabric over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit!

Beneath the torn fabric, your skin glowed a sickly, dare you say radioactive red - the same red as 2099’s suit. His talons must have been poisoned, and now that poison was making it’s way through your body, causing unknown damage and immense pain. There had to be a lab on this Earth. Right? If you could only get there, you were smart enough to whip up an antidote.

But as you stood, it was obvious that you wouldn’t be going anywhere. The poison was potent and fast-acting. Insanely, you wondered if it was really poison or if you should be calling it venom. It didn’t matter, because a moment after gaining your feet, your legs failed. You careened forward and nearly smashed your head again, only just catching yourself before slowly laying down in the rainwater.

City lights sparkled in the distance and reflected in the puddle forming around your head. Purple and blues and few bright yellows. Not a bad view if this was how you died. If only the poison weren’t so painful. You wanted to scream, but you lacked the strength.

A familiar tingle shot across your spine a second before the bright gold light of a portal obscured the reflection of the city lights. No! He was so close when you jumped universe’s. He must have tracked you; no wonder he hadn't bothered to chase you through the portal.

You scrambled backwards weakly, your feet struggling for purchase on the slick roof as the broad shouldered man appeared. He was wreathed in gold light. You couldn’t jump again, couldn’t even stand, could barely drag your body through the rain as Spider-Man 2099 strode closer.

“Nowhere to run,” he said. His voice was flat, like he took no pleasure in finally having you trapped.

“I won’t go back!” You tried to sound tough, strong, but your voice cracked over the words. “There’s nothing there. I can’t. I’d rather die than- than go back to nothing. 2099, don’t send me back”

Your fingers felt the ledge of the building and empty air beyond it. Poison. Fall. The clawed Spider-Man. A slow descent into madness trapped in the empty and endless remains of your home universe. A fall seemed fastest. But you didn’t want to. You were scared. You didn’t really want to die. Your shoulder throbbed and head filled with fog. The skin was glowing such a bright red you could see it in the corner of your eye.

In the brief moment you hesitated, he was on you. 2099’s red webs wrapped around your chest, and he yanked you forward and away from the ledge. You crumpled at his feet, and he just stared down at you through that mask. His blue and red mask swam in your vision as you stared up at him. Was it the rain that was so cold? Or was it the poison? No, venom. Poison? Venom?

2099’s face got bigger as he knelt beside you.

“What is this?” He pulled at the torn sweater, his gaze falling on the bright red mottling your skin.

Miguel O’Hara had never seen his claws damage anyone like this. There was no venom in them… unless in whatever universe you had come from something about them was venomous. It was possible. His fangs were venomous, that he did know.

Miguel pulled off his mask, the adrenaline of the chase fading while he watched you struggle for life. He’d meant to stop you, take you back to base, figure out where you’d come from… not kill you. He ran his tongue over one of the fangs protruding from his mouth.

The next thing you knew, 2099 was sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap. It might have all been a dream, you couldn’t tell. The lights were so beautiful. Your head lolled to one side, your whole body limp as a ragdoll in his muscular arms. His face filled your vision and blocked out the pretty lights.

He had a strong jawline, dark curls, sharp cheekbones, a broad nose, and were those fangs? And were his eyes glowing red? Yes, two orbs as red as the suit and your poisoned skin shone down at you. He was pretty too. This had to be a dream. The monster chasing you couldn’t be so handsome. You blinked, eyes unfocused. Your Spidey-sense was going wild, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight. 2099 was warm, and you could go to sleep right here.

He shifted your body again so your side was pressed against his chest. “2099,” you whispered weakly, pathetically.

“I’m sorry for this,” he whispered in that low growl. Now it was tinged with what almost sounded like real regret. “It’s the best I can think of.”

He guided your head to rest in the curve of his shoulder, face turned toward his neck. One hand brushed hair away from your neck, the other wrapped around your waist. His fingers were no longer clawed, and his movements were gentle as he held you close, muscles tensing underneath your body. The expression on his face was tender. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had made you his prey for months.

“Don’t panic now,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to your neck. “Stay still.”

You were barely aware of what was happening. His lips were warm, then four sharp pricks stung the base of your neck just above your collarbone and the deep poisoned wounds. Panic tried to rise in your throat, but you weren’t conscious enough to really process that a man currently had his fangs sunk into your throat. He drew back and spit out bright red poison, then bit into you again. Then again. And again.

Miguel was exceptionally careful with you, holding you perfectly still and being sure to sink his fangs into the same spot each time so as not to mark your skin any more than necessary.

Slowly, the world began coming back into focus. You were exhausted, but the poison was being was successfully being leeched from your system by his fangs. Brown curls were the first thing you became aware of, then the almost unnatural warmth coming from the man beneath you, then the cold pricks on rain on your back, then... then that something was biting you. Before you could wrench your head back, a large hand cradled the back of your head. You desperately tried to struggle as you realized what this vampiric Spider-Man was doing to you. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held your head still.

2099 pulled his fangs from your neck, spit bright red then let go of your head. You sat up quickly. The movement made you dizzy.

“I know you’re scared.” Miguel could see the fear in your eyes. He nodded to your still glowing shoulder. It was dimmer now and hurt less, but it was still obvious poisoned. “But this is working. Let me help you.”

You were looking him right in the eyes, the glowing red eyes, and though you didn’t trust him, you knew instinctively he was right.

“Okay,” you breathed lowly.

You laid your head on his shoulder. Miguel could feel how your whole body trembled, but whether it was from fear or cold or something else entirely he couldn’t tell. When his lips touched your skin you whimpered. That was fear.

Miguel still had one arm around you, but he took your hand in his free one, interlaced your fingers, and squeezed once. Then he sunk his fangs into your neck. It stung a bit but didn’t really hurt. Now that your were conscious, you could feel the poison being drawn toward the spot where his mouth connected to your skin. That didn’t really hurt either. It was like stretching a sore muscle - a satisfying pain that ultimately brought relief.

2099 drew back to spit out his poison. When was the last time you’d touched someone like this? A touch that was more than an accidental brush in the street - or a purposeful one so you could steal someone’s wallet. 2099 was your enemy, your hunter. He was dangerous. But he was saving your life and holding you so tenderly it made your chest ache.

“Once more,” he promised.

His fangs brushed over your skin for the last time. You pulled your hand from his and splayed your fingers across his chest. 2099 brought his now free hand to your poisoned shoulder and pushed the ripped fabric apart.

Miguel watched the last of the poison be pulled from your veins as it filled his mouth. He spit it out then turned back to study how your body was pressed against him.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. Then panic hit and you jerked back, still sitting on his lap but with your face now safely away from his fangs. “You- you’re going to send me back. 2099, please don’t.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Miguel.”

Miguel. 2099 had a name. Of course he did, but hearing it made him seem so human. And his face was handsome. That was no venom or poison induced hallucination. The man was beautiful.

“And no. Not yet.”

“My universe collapsed. There’s nothing for me to go back to.”

His red eyes softened as they met yours.

“We won’t send you back to an empty universe,” he paused, and one side of his lips twitched up. “You ran because you thought I’d send you back to a void? I see I have quite the reputation.”

Miguel lifted you to your feet easily. He set you on your feet and tapped the watch-like contraption on his wrist. You leaned against his muscled chest for stability. Even without his poison, you were still wounded and tired and malnourished. A portal spiraled out in front of you both.

“You promise not to send me back there?” You looked up at Miguel. He squinted at the portal’s bright light and tugged the mask back over his face.

“Promise.”

To be continued...

Part 2

A/N: Part 2 will be a little time jump, and we’ll actually see Miguel and reader get into a relationship!

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moondirti · 11 months

Text

animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break.

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home.

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart.

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground.

Of course, he has that advantage on you too.

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls.

How did he track you down so fast?

The day pass?

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far.

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass.

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him.

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand.

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes.

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing.

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck.

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be.

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below.

“You really gonna give up that easily?”

Yes.

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats.

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion.

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel.

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again.

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more.

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen.

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought.

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.”

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling.

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles.

Yeah. Definitely a concussion.

Like you could afford one right now.

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger.

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.”

“And where would you go, exactly?”

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.”

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind.

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him.

“I didn’t want to resort to this.”

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.”

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you.

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster.

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.”

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline.

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline.

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them.

Please let this just be a kiss.

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–”

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo.

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side.

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape.

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare.

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.”

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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qaxqxd · 10 months

Note

Miguel O’Hara with an s/o who is on they’re period but gets super cuddly because of the headaches and cramps?

Warmth

♡Pair: Miguel O’hara x f!reader Genre: Fluff Warning: nothing bad, just fluff :) A/n: AAAA I love this idea. It's a little short, but thank you for requesting this. Summary: You're on your period and you wanted to cuddle with Miguel.

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

It was morning, the sun was seeping through the blinds. You woke up feeling a unbearable sharp pain in your lower stomach. Walking to the restroom, seeing blood on your underwear.

“Shit.” You cursed, as you felt a headache coming through.You were on your period.

Great.

Cleaning yourself up, and putting on a pad. To walk back to the bedroom, laying down on your bed. You mumbled in pain. As you decide to call in from work today. You notify the watch. You were aching from your stomach.

You had your phone and watch turned off. You tried to fall back to sleep, hoping the pain would go away.

Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

Miguel flinched a bit, looking over his shoulder to who the voice was. As he noticed it was Jess.

“I’m- just a little worried. (Y/n) hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. She called in sick, but I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right.” Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. He was very worried for you.

“She’s probably fine. Have you checked on her yet? As in person?” Jess bridges her arms together. Miguel shook his head. As she sighed.

“I can take over for a bit if you’ll like.” She offers him.Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back.” He said with haste, opening a portal to (Y/n)’s Earth. As he left, Jess let out a small giggle. As (Y/n) texted her earlier letting her know everything was alright. She knew you just wanted him to be with him, and she was happy to help you success with that.

Miguel needed a break either way.

As the sun seems to set on your Earth. Miguel arrived at your apartment, he had his own key to your apartment. You knew it’d be handy someday. Opening your door to your apartment.

“(Y/n)?” He questioned if you were home even.

“In here.” You drag out the word ‘here’. As you sounded tired. He walked into your room.

“Are you alright, mi amor?” He sat on the side of your bed, stroking your face. As you nodded at his question, you sat up a little bit, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s just that I'm on my period.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Ah, do you want any sweets or anything by chance, mi vida?” He asked, a little worried. He was glad you weren’t actually hurt, or in trouble. You shook your head, as really all you wanted was to be close to him.

“Could you stay for a bit, Love?” You looked at him, hoping he would say yes. As his small smile confirmed that he’d stay.

“Of course I'll stay for a bit, mi querida. I want to take care of you.” Miguel cups your face, laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

And he did just that. He made sure you had everything you needed. Holding you close to him, knowing you’re feeling super cuddly. You both watched movies with each other. As you snuggle closer to him.

You spend the rest of the day with Miguel. He got you treats even though you said it was fine. You were just glad you had him around you, and you were able to cuddle against him. This was a side most people wouldn’t see from Miguel, but he was just happy to be with you.

As you two rested on each other. Cuddling with each other. Eventually falling asleep on each other.

WC. 0.7k

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you��re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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allysunny · 1 month

Text

Safe in my Arms

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Drunk!Fem!Reader

Synopsys: A nigth out with your friends turns into you getting drunk. You're lucky your sweet Miggy has come to pick you up.

Words: 3.5k words

Warnings: Alcohol and being drunk, duh, reader is said to be shorter than Miguel and is wearing makeup, lots of fluff and a bit of crack, some suggestive themes. It's just a nice, fluffy and funny fic overall. Untranslated spanish, do tell me if I fucked that up, please.

A/N: Hey everyone!!!! So, three nigths ago I got fucking plastered and I was wondering about how nice it would be if Miguel was there to pick me up and take care of me. I love this man so much, he'd be the best at taking care of a drunk person, fight me.

It's kinda short and it's not my best work, because when I thought about writing it, I was drunk,,, and as I sobered up the inspiration kind of disappeared? I still think it's rather sweet though, and I hope y'all will enjoy it.

“There you are, mi vida,” An extremely tall and rather handsome man said as he approached you near the bar. You’d been hanging out with your friends, celebrating the very-much promotion one of them had gotten. So far, it had been amazing. You all had been downing drinks and dancing to the sound of the catchy pop music playing on the speakers, and while you admitted your head felt lighter than it should be, and your limbs were getting harder to move around, you were still having an amazing town.

“Who are you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly to try and get a look at the stranger’s face. All you could make out were sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and what seemed like a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s me, honey, it’s Miguel. I’m here to take you home, do you have your things?”

Half of the things he said went over your head, the music far too loud and drowning out most of his speech. You shook your head and took a few steps backwards, putting your hands up.

“Sorry man, not interested. I’m here with a couple of friends.” You turned away from him and faced the very same friends you had just mentioned. The one being celebrated, Katie, smiled, somehow not noticing the imposing figure that stood behind you. You simply took her hand and spun her around a few times, laughing loudly as your feet swayed and the two of you tripped over and over again.

Another girl approached you to – rather, Miguel, and sighed before offering him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to call you, she’s incredibly drunk and I didn’t want her doing anything stupid. I think it’d better if she goes home.”

Miguel gave her a tight-lipped smile and chuckled.

“Thank you for calling me. Before she left home, she said, and I quote, ‘Don’t worry Miggy, I’ll maybe have one or two drinks and head home.” He turned to you, standing on wobbly legs, and shouting loudly over the music.

“Well, you know her.”

“I do.” He nodded, before taking a few steps forward. “Thank you for calling me again, I’ll take her home now.”

“Thanks. Let us know when you two make it?”

“Of course.”

The girl walked away, leaving Miguel to look around himself – somehow, you’d disappeared in the middle of the crowd, and for a few seconds, it scared him shitless. Where the shock had you gone? You were standing just a few feet away from him just now. He turned around, walking and dodging the dancing bodies on the dance floor before he spotted someone whose hair resembled yours. Squinting, he made out your figure, leaning over the bar and gesticulating wildly.

Miguel approached you, sighing once more.

“ – And make it a double!” you yelled, before turning to face your friend and continuing to chat excitedly.

“Honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have another drink,” Miguel said as he walked up to you. He wanted to wrap an arm around your waist, or place a gentle hand on your lower back, but he knew you were intoxicated and might be upset that he was touching you so freely. So, he simply stood by your side, hands itching to touch, but never doing so.

“You again? Look man, I have no idea who you are, but I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.” You mumbled, eyeing him with disgust. “I have a boyfriend, and he could be here within a few minutes and kick your ass. So, if you don’t want to taste the floor, I’d recommend backing away from me.”

It broke Miguel’s heart to have you address him so roughly, with such harsh words. But it also filled him with a sense of pride – even intoxicated, you knew how to stand your ground. It also made him smile how you were quick to mention him.

“Cariño, it’s me, Miguel. I think you’ve had enough to drink, don’t you?” he asked, voice as gentle as possible, considering the loudness of the club.

You let out a snort and looked him up and down, suspicion evident in your eyes.

“You!? Miguel!? Yeah, sure, buddy. You’re not even half the man he is.”

Miguel crossed his arms, an amused smirk playing in his lips.

“Really? I’m not?”

“Not even close.” You faced the bar once again and smiled at the bartender who placed a drink in front of you.

“How so?”

“Well, first of all,” you took a sip of your drink, humming in appreciation, “You’re not as tall.”

“Ah. Not as tall?”

“Mhm. Miguel is huge, he’s this tall!” You faced him and stood on the tips of your toes, hand up to illustrate a height you clearly couldn’t reach. “He towers over me, you know, he’s huuuuuuuuge! And he’s super handsome, and you’re clearly not.”

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

“Why would I? When I have my Miggy at home waiting for me?” You punctuated your statement with a large gulp from your drink. Miguel wanted to stop you, but he didn’t want to scare you by taking another step forward. “He’s the best boyfriend ever – you know, he gets up real early because he has a super important job, but he always makes time to cook breakfast for me.”

“He sounds like a dream,” The man before you nodded, leaning against the bar.

“Oh, he is. And he’s so kind and considerate. You know, people say he’s grumpy and mean, but I don’t really buy that.”

“Grumpy? Mean?” Miguel knew people didn’t think of him as the most affectionate or outgoing or overall happy person out there, but it was never nice to find out people spoke about him behind his back. Nothing he wasn’t used to, but it still hurt. However, your sweet words made up for it – they always did. You never chastised him for being standoffish, or for not being as excited as you were sometimes, or for being kind of a glum. You embraced him for who he was, giving him the space he needed when he needed it, and loving him and his traits completely. You never minded that he seemed a bit grumpy or rude, it was simply who he was. Besides, he was never rude to you. Sometimes he could be grumpy, yes, but he never once raised his voice at you or treated you badly. He was the sweetest when he was around you, all honest smiles, and relaxed hugs.

“Yeah. People say he’s like an all-year-round Grinch, but I don’t buy it. He’s so nice to me. He loves me so much and proves it every day. I don’t care what people say about him, I love him, and I think he’s fantastic, and really handsome, and so nice, and I love him, and I am not going to abandon him for you because we’re happy together. And you’re a stinky homewrecker!”

Miguel had to chuckle at that. He knew just how honest you were, and it would seem the alcohol in your blood was only amplifying that honesty. He nodded and reached for his phone, turning it on and showing you his lockscreen. Your face contorted in confusion as your eyes raked across the two figures on his phone. Your Miguel, in a dashing black suit, his arm tightly wrapped around you, wearing a dress that matched the colour of his burgundy tie.

You scrunched your nose, and looked from the picture to the strange man, and from the strange man to the picture.

“How do you have this picture of me and Miggy?”

“I told you, cariño, it’s me. I’m Miguel, I’ve come to pick you up.”

You shook your head.

“No, you’re not Miguel. I told you, you’re not as tall, nor as handsome, and you don’t sound like him. I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not gonna fall for this.”

You picked up your drink once more, and he sighed, trying to come up with something, anything that would make you stop drinking.

“How could I prove it to you?”

“Huh?” Your hand stopped mid-air and you frowned.

“How can I prove to you that I’m Miguel?”

“Hmmm….” You rubbed your chin comically and offered him a grin. “How did we meet?”

Miguel smiled softly.

“We were at the library. I wanted a book on Genetic Science, and you wanted a book on botany. Somehow, they were in the same shelf, although they really shouldn’t have been. I accidentally dropped by book when I saw you were on the other side of the shelf, and you helped me. The rest was history.”

Your expression of confusion had turned to a silly smile of content. You really did like your little meet-cute and bragged about having such a cute story to tell your friends and possibly your children in the future.

“Anyone could’ve told you that.”

“They really couldn’t.”

“Yeah, they could! Next question. What’s 40 + 40?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“How does that prove anything?”

“My Miggy is super smart, he’d know the answer.”

“It’s 80. Honey, please, let’s go home. It’s getting late and you need to be taken care of, your hangover tomorrow is going to kill you, and I’d like to help minimize it.”

“What flowers did my Miggy bring me last week?”

“Peonies. Pink ones, just like the ones you’d seen at the park last month. I know just how much you liked them, so I brought a fresh bouquet home. You almost cried, because you were on your period, and you told me it was fate because just as I'd done something nice for you, you'd done something nice for me and had cooked me those empanadas I like.”

As the man before you recalled the memory, your features softened, and he shifted before your eyes. He wasn’t a stranger – far from it. That was your Miggy staring right at you. His kind brown eyes, his fluffy hair, his sharp jaw that you loved to trace with your fingers on lazy Sundays.

“Miggy?” your whole body relaxed, and you reached forward. Miguel understood immediately and gathered you in his arms, sighing of relief. Now that you remembered who he was, he could get you home safely. It’d be alright.

“Yeah, that’d be me.” He hugged you back tightly, rubbing circles on your back with his hand. “How about we go home? You need to get some rest.”

“You gonna take care of me, Miggy?” You looked up at him with a dazzling smile that he returned.

“Of course I am. You got your things?”

You move away from him to go back to your booth. You fetch your things (with a little bit of help from your boyfriend), say goodbye to your friends, and follow him outside of the club.

All it took was a few steps outside of the building and in the direction of Miguel’s car for you to lean over to your left and empty the contents in your stomach.

“Mierda,” Miguel whispered, holding back your hair and your clothes, and making sure you were okay. You weren’t. You sobbed for a while about how you were “utterly disgusting”, accused him of never wanting to see you again because he’d seen you puke and you were sure he was disgusted and thought you were disgusting, and now your life was ruined because you just loved him so much and you couldn’t live without him, and how were you supposed to move on when he was the love of your life and wanted to break up over some vomit?

“And – and – and I just love you so much – and if you leave me, I will never be the same, and I promise I will never vomit ever again, please don’t leave me, Miggy, we’re so happy together aren’t we? And there’s no need to ruin that over something as stupid as vomiting, and, and – “

“Ven aquí,” Miguel mumbled, pulling you close to him. He took a tissue out of his pocket – did he know this was gonna happen? – and wiped your mouth. Your eyes were sparkling as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m not leaving you because you vomited. ¿Me entiendes?”

“Really?”

“Really. I love you, and no amount of vomit would make me stop loving you.”

You placed a hand on your mouth, making a gagging noise.

“Please don’t say ‘vomit’ again, or I’m – “

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

And that’s exactly what Miguel did. He brought you to his car, buckled you in (stopping halfway to kiss your face once or twice) and drove home. He was kind enough to not speed up too much, making sure to take turns extremely slow for your sake.

Once you got to your building, you nearly burst into tears again.

“The seventh floor!?” You exclaimed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t wanna – I can’t do all of that. I’ll just sleep here, and you’ll come get me in the morning. How is that, huh?”

“C’mere, muñeca.”

Without any more words, he picked you up in his arms, and you sighed in relief, burying your face in his neck. He smelled like Alchemax and coffee and him and you felt like the smell itself could lull you to sleep. He carried you up the stairs up to the seventh floor as if it was nothing – and it really wasn’t.

“Alright, we’re here.” He said, opening the door to your shared apartment. He put you down and carried you to your couch, where he left you for a few minutes while he prepared a light snack and some pills.

“I don’t wanna eat, Miggy, don’t wanna throw up again,” you whined.

“You can’t take these on an empty stomach, and you need to take these, otherwise tomorrow your pretty little head is going to hurt like hell. So, eat up.”

You groaned and threw your head back, but complied, nonetheless. Your boyfriend was an Alchemax scientist (not to mention Spider-Man), so he was pretty smart. He must know what he’s doing.

“Fiiiiiiiiine….” You took the crackers in the plate in front of you and gulped them down in an instant. They were nice – soft enough for your stomach to keep them inside, but still tasty enough to feel like food. Miguel surely was smart, how did he even come up with this?

Once you were done, you downed the glass of water and the few pills Miguel had placed on top of the small coffee table in front of you. You had no idea what they were for, but if he told you to take them, then that must mean it was for your own good.

“Alright, ready to take a bath?” Miguel asked as he appeared from inside your bedroom.

“A bath?”

“Yeah, don’t you want to clean up before bed? I can help you.”

You shook your head, whining softly. Your head was beginning to spin a tad less than when you were in the club, but you were sure you were going to either fall asleep or fall on the floor should you want to take a bath.

“Miggy, ‘m so tired…” you mumbled, leaning your head against the couch’s headrest. “Can’t we just go to sleep? I’ll shower in the morning… You can shower with me in the morning you know, and you can do that thing I really like, the one with your tongue, and – “

“Sí, sí. I get it.” He chuckled lightly before moving towards you. Miguel helped you up, steading you with an arm around your waist, just like he’d wanted to do at the club. Only now, you were completely out of harm’s way. “At least let’s get your makeup off and brush your teeth. Is that okay?”

“Mhm. That’s okay.”

Miguel led you to the bathroom, where he placed you on top of the sink in front of him. You laughed as you often did at his displays of strength and closed your eyes as he gently cleaned your face and removed every trace of makeup. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin, on your face, taking care of you so sweetly. It felt extremely intimate to have him take care of you like this.

“I love you, Miggy. Thank you for taking care of me and not breaking up when I vomited.”

“¿Es en serio? Why would I break up with you over something so silly as that, huh, muñeca? I love you. I promised to always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You looked into his eyes and nearly melted. There was nothing but kindness and adoration in his, and when you put your palm against his cheek to caress it, he turned to kiss it softly. His fangs grazed your hand and you chuckled. Your little vampire Spider-Man.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled. “Is my head gonna hurt tomorrow?”

“Most likely. And I don’t think you’ll remember any of our interactions tonight.”

“Really? Well then, you better take advantage of that.”

“How so?”

“Well, you could tell me something you didn’t want me to remember.”

Miguel pretended to think for a while, stroking an invisible beard and earning a few chuckles form you. Then, he placed his hands on either side of you on the side and brought his face closer to yours before beginning to whisper in that low voice of his that always got you blushing.

“I love you. Te amo con todo mi corazón. Eres mi todo. Mi vida. I could never part from you.” He stroked your cheek with the back of your hand, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I say this nearly as much as I should, but I’m so grateful to have you in my life. And I want you to be in it forever. I want to marry you, someday. I’ll take you somewhere real nice and propose and promise to devote my life to you forever. I’ll love and worship you like a goddess because that’s what you deserve. I was so broken before I met you, so lonely and empty. I don’t think I ever knew what true love was until we met. All my life I’ve felt alone. My relationships seemed superficial. And then you came along and changed all that. I’m not afraid of saying these things when you’re sober, it’s just – you know how bad I can be with words and feelings sometimes. And we’ve never really discussed marriage or anything like that, and I wouldn’t want to scare you. But my point is, thank you, cariño. You’re everything to me.”

You were speechless. You didn’t know what to say, so you clumsily wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. Big fat tears were rolling down your cheeks, the alcohol in your blood making you more emotional. It was true – your Miguel wasn’t a man of many words. He would rather show his love and appreciation for you through actions. Cooking you dinner, bringing you your favourite sweets, remembering small details you’d told him days before. So, it made it all the more special when he did speak, especially when his words were this sweet.

“You’re so sweet, Miggy. I love you so much.”

Miguel helped you brush your teeth, and then he carried you to your bedroom, where he took off your clothes (or rather, helped you wrestle out of them) and helped you put on your favourite pyjamas.

“We’ll just get some clean sheets tomorrow,” he mumbled as he helped you lay down next to him. You wanted to toss and turn a few times, but after your stomach started complaining about all the movement, you decided to stay still and curl up into Miguel’s side.

“Dulces sueños, mi vida. If you need anything during the night, just let me know.”

“Okay. Night, Miggy. Love you, Miggy. Thanks for picking me up.” you nodded, nuzzling into his pectoral. Miguel felt something wet covering his chest and realised you were already out and drooling all over him. He chuckled – it wasn’t a problem for him. He’d let you do whatever as long as you were safe and sound and comfortable. And if you felt all those things in his arms, who was he to complain?

And as you fell into a deep slumber, you smiled, feeling your boyfriend’s grip tighten around you.

The following day, you did have a killer headache (that could’ve been much worse if Miguel hadn’t advised you to take those pills) and your limbs felt heavy and weird, and when Miguel asked you if you had any memories of the previous night, you shook your head and told him no.

You did not tell him the sweet words he’d said to you, about a future and marriage were engraved in your brain, and your heart.

A/N: And that's it!! Once again, I hope you guys have liked it. I am aware that it's short, and I haven't written for Miguel in a while, so I hope he's not too OOC. I need to write for my man some more, I have some nice requests for him, and I still have to continue Royal Secret omg, but my exam period is coming up and I'm getting kinda swarmed with papers and reports and whatnot. Luckily, I'll be able to write more when all of that is over.

I hope y'all have a wonderful day ahead!!!! <3

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #astv x reader #astv x you #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel spiderman #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x you

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kittysl4t · 11 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Hispanic reader

Fem civilian reader

Thinking of miguel being all tough and 'manly' but when he's near you, he gets all shy and nervous. 😔💗

(English is not my first language)

Gif not mine

Miguel is a man that has a really good reputation, serious, manly, tough giant hero that whoever dares to cross his path with a slight different option to his, is done.

People close to his job environment were kinda scare of him, but tried not to make it to obvious, in case he gets more furious about it.

That scary, angry expression of his was immediately gone once he sees you, smiling at him, his gaze changes to a more relaxed one. He was finally home.

You didn't get up from the sofa and just lift your finger, you can see his face light up and rapidly goes towards you, getting on his knees immediately, kissing your hand.

'¿Que tal estás, amor?' (How are you, love?) You asked, pleased by the quickly submission of your giant boyfriend.

You rub his cheek cutely, and touch his soft wavy hair 'Bien, estaba un poco estresado por el trabajo, but contigo a mi lado im much better' (Good, i was a little stressed 'cause work, but w you by my side im much better).

Miguel never considered himself a submissive men. All the other relationships he has been in before, were pretty normal, but with you he is a different men, he feels like he only exists to please you, not only sexually, of course.

You want something? He give it to you no matter what, no matter the money, the time. You want to fuck him in the middle of his work?, You have it.

No complaints, no 'buts' , no 'i can't' .

You love going outside w him, watch him begin all tough and demanding to the people around him.

So funny seeing him squirm and change his expression when you set the vibrator to the max, you can't help but laugh at him when he gives those pleading eyes.

Poor thing, he knows you won't stop, you're gonna make him cum in front of his employees. :(

He gets all flustered, but he never changes his grumpy face.

'i have to go for a moment i'll be right back' you see how he quickly runs to the restroom. You grab your phone, and immediately send him a message '¿Quien te dio permiso a irte? Brat' (Who gave permission to go? Brat)

'Please, mommy, not infront of them'

'salte, miguel' (get out, Miguel)

And as the good boy he is, he obeys.

A couple of minutes of your teasing is all it takes for him to cum in front of everyone.

Surprisingly no one noticed were their scary boss weird behavior comes from and they tried to ignored it.

'Good boy' you whisper closer to his now very warm face

He looks at you flustered, proud and surprised of his good behaviour and acting skills.

------------------------------------- • 🍒

Love y'all, if there's any bad grammar please let me know 😭. (Requests are open)

#sub miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #hispanic reader #fem reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x f!reader #subbmisive #subby men #learn spanish #miguel o'hara #fluff miguel O'Hara #fem civilian reader

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springtyme · 10 months

Note

I come to humbly ask if we can please have some Miguel smut? I just really need to be fucked silly by a big strong man 🥺

𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐈𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ♡

Thank you for the request! Sometimes you just need to be fucked silly by an almost seven foot tall guy, and that’s valid

Miguel O'hara x afab!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: Smut (18+, mdni!) Language. Lingerie. Biting. Thigh riding, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, cream pie. Miguel picks up the reader, possibly a bit of a size kink (reader's height and body shape isn't mentioned, but Miguel is 6'9 and very big and buff) No spoilers for the movie.

Despite you and Miguel being deeply in love and living together, it’s not much you get to see him.

You had wanted to surprise Miguel by waiting up for him. And you had tried, you really had, but at last, you had lost the fight against sleep as the hours went by and your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. You had started to snooze off on the couch in your and Miguel’s shared living room a little while ago.

You know why he does what he does, how he feels like he has a duty, and no matter how much you miss him and how much you worry about him when he’s out there, you’d never ask him to stop. You love him, and you love him even more for everything he does and all the sacrifices he makes to fulfill that sense of duty he has. You really, really love him, but you also miss him.

You know how much he secretly despises himself for all the nights you have to fall asleep without him, and all the times you wake up to an empty bed too.

That is why you wanted to surprise him tonight. You wanted to give him a good time, to show you how much you love him.

To, hopefully, help make him feel a little less guilty about not spending as much time together as you both wish you could and to give him some, much-needed, stress relief.

You had spent your evening cleaning the apartment. After that you had awarded yourself with an extra long soak in the tub, letting your mind wander as you had scrubbed and lotioned your body. You have actually had this night planned for a few days, and you had even gone out and gotten yourself some new lingerie for the occasion. A beautiful lacey set with matching garters, which you had slipped on after your bath.

It had been a while since you had felt as sexy and confident as you had after looking yourself over in the full-length mirror of your bedroom before you had wrapped your favorite satin robe around yourself and gone to the living room to wait for Miguel to come home.

And you had waited and waited and waited.

You are now curled up on the couch, your consciousness floating in a hazy state between wakefulness and sleep. Just as you are about to fully doze off, some kind of sound pierce your mind and you slowly gain a little of your perception back. ‘The door’ you think, it was the click of the front door you heard. The sleepy fog is slowly lifting from your thoughts. And just as you remember what you had planned and what had happened you open your tired eyes to be met with a tall figure towering over you.

“Mig..?” You croak out, before letting out a little surprised shriek as you’re suddenly being lifted from the couch as Miguel scoops you up in his big, strong arms.

“Sorry, querida, didn’t mean to wake you.” The familiar baritone of Miguel’s voice is hitting your ears. You want to protest, he might not have meant to wake you but you hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the first place.

This is not how you had planned for him to find you when he came home. You had meant for him to step into the living room where you had lit candles, and in your dream scenario you would have scattered a few rose petals on the floor leading to the bedroom, but you had settled with the candles. You would have greeted him with a crooked smile while slowly untying the belt that holds your rope in place. But you had fallen asleep and he has now instead walked in on you sprawled out on the couch, and not in a particularly sexy way. Your plan gone completely down the drain.

“Why don’t we get you to bed, sweetheart?” He says, already on his way toward the bedroom with you in his arms.

“No, no, I’m not even tired,” you protest. It might sound like a lie after he just found you knocked out on the couch, but you actually mean it. You suddenly feel wide awake despite how late it is. But you guess that Miguel’s probably exhausted by now and that you shouldn’t even try to put the naughty plan you had made for tonight into action.

You come to this conclusion, even though it saddens you a little, as you reach your bedroom and Miguel finally sits you down in front of your bedroom door.

“Get in bed, sweetheart, I’ll join you in a bit, just have to put those candles out in the living room,” he says quickly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to go back into the living room.

You sigh as you push open the door to your bedroom, you’re suddenly feeling like an idiot for having thought that this would have been a good idea, to begin with. It is already hours past midnight, he is clearly exhausted and just wants to go to bed.

You untie your robe and walk over to your dresser to pull out a set of soft, unsexy pajamas to change into, but you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, making you stop as you’re just about to change out of your lacey attire

You can’t help but walk over to the mirror to take one last glance at yourself. You had felt so good when you had stood in front of the mirror earlier. You let the now-open robe slide down your shoulders and fall to the floor.

You have to admit, you really made the right choice at the boutique when you picked out this set. It looks amazing, hugging you in all the right places, and somehow manages to look both sexy and classy at the same time. You turn a little in front of the mirror, as you get lost in your own thoughts for a bit, making you not hear when Miguel walks towards the bedroom again. You jump slightly as he opens the door, catching you off guard.

“What were all those candles even-“ he cuts himself off mid-sentence and stops dead in his tracks as your eyes lock with his in the mirror.

You see how his eyes scan your near-exposed body, looking you up and down before his eyes again find yours in the mirror.

“I, uhm, I wanted to surprise you tonight, but I fell asleep…” You shrug a little defeated, but a little glimmer of hope starts to bubble in your chest at the expression on Miguel’s face, hungry and intrigued.

“You wanted to surprise me..?” He sounds amused, a smile tucking at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, it's just that we haven’t seen each other much these last week and I’ve just been missing you and I thought this would be nice, but…”

“But..?” He arches a brow, a sly smile now plastered on his lips. “I think it’s very nice.”

“Yeah?” You smile back at him, maybe this night hasn’t gone completely out the window after all.

“Yeah.” He says as he steps over to you. “And I’m sorry that we haven’t seen much of each other. I wish that it could be different, I really do, but-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” You cut him off. “I know why you have to be out there and I love you for it, Miguel. I just missed you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” he says before putting his arms around you. He just holds you for a little while, letting your bodies do the talking. “Love you so much,” he sighs as he squeezes you a little extra tight before finally letting go of you, only to duck down to crash his lips onto yours.

It starts out sweet, but it doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated.

You only break the kiss after your lungs have started to burn and you literally need to stop so that you can catch your breath, but Miguel just takes this as an opportunity to start licking and kissing his way up your neck. Your eyes roll back as he reaches an especially sensitive spot just under your ear, and you tilt your head a little to the side to give him better access.

Your action is not lost on him and you let out a little whine as he starts to suck down at the soft skin with a bit more force until he detached his lips from your skin with a wet pop, only to gently place your earlobe between his teeth.

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” he says softly into your ear before nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck and taking in a deep breath, almost like he is trying to inhale you, to breathe in your essence to always have a part of you with him.

You can’t help but let out a little whine at his words and you squirm a little in your seat on his lap as the warm tingling in your cunt intensifies and turns into a needy throbbing instead, which makes you start to grind your clothed pussy slowly against Miguel’s muscular thigh.

Miguel’s hands find your hips, gently squeezing into your soft skin as he starts to slowly move you against his strong thigh whose muscle you can feel flexing under you as he starts to slowly bounce it up and down to match the movements of your hips.

“I have missed doing this with you too,” he says into your skin before he starts kissing your neck again. You let out a low moan and bring your hands up to his hair and you bury your fingers into his dark locks, making him let out a low growl sound from deep within his chest which only makes you all the more turned on.

“Ah, fuck, Miguel, I-I...” You babble as you feel how the lace of your panties are growing damper and damper against him.

“Just tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he encourages you as he gives your hips a reassuring squeeze, leaning his head back to look at you, his beautiful brown eyes locking with your own.

“Need you, Miguel,” you pant out, “need you to touch me.”

He is quick to act on your request, lifting you from his lap to flip you over and laying you down on your shared bed, your back against the soft mattresses as he is hovering over you, caging you between his arms. He comes crashing down on you, his lips finding yours in a hungry, passionate kiss, removing one hand from the mattress to sneak it between your bodies.

“Mmm,” you happily hum into his lips as you feel his fingers against your warm skin.

“God, baby,” He groans as he slips his hand down your panties. “You’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. You really meant it when you said you have missed me, huh?”

“Yeah I–oh, fuck–Miguel,” you softly cry, as he starts to circle your clit teasingly slow with his thumb while his middle and index fingers start to slide between wet your folds, coating them in the wetness of your arousal as he starts to tease around your entrance.

You exclaim a series of pathetic whimpering sounds as he starts to slide into you, first pumping into you with one finger but soon adding another, stretching your pussy out on his thick digits. You grab the sheets, clenching the soft fabric in your fist as Miguel starts to pump his fingers faster and faster into you.

“You are so beautiful,” Miguels tell you, he sounds almost drunk at the sight of you getting fucked by his fingers. “My sweet, beautiful girl,” he continues.

He is curling his fingers, hitting your g-spot, oh so perfectly, and you feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

“I-I’m so close, Miguel.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, dipping his head down to leave a kiss on your collarbone before bringing his head back up to look at you again. “Come on, baby, I know you can, cum for me sweet thing.”

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls agape as your walls begin to flutter and squeeze down around Miguel’s girthy fingers as your climax reaches you and washes over you in hot, blissful waves. He keeps pumping into you, letting you ride it out to the fullest. When he finally removes his fingers from you, he slips them between his lips and happily hums as he sucks them clean of your juices.

“Mmm, you’re so delicious, baby,” he hums, “you think I can have a better taste, sweetheart?” He says as he sits himself down between your legs, hands gently massaging your thighs.

“I think we can arrange that,” you chuckle, still a little out of breath from your climax.

“Well, lucky me,” Miguel chuckles as his fingers slip under one of your garters and slowly start to slide it down your thigh and then your calf until you can slip your foot out. You expect him to remove the other garter in a similar way, but he doesn’t, instead, he dips his head down to your thigh, leaving a wet kiss on your warm skin before taking the lace between his teeth and start to slowly slide the garter down your thigh with his mouth. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and lets them follow the garter’s journey down your legs until he has to let go of the delicate fabric between his teeth so you can be freed from the lingerie, leaving you completely bare under him.

“God, baby,” he gasps out, looking you up and down with a lovestruck look on his face as you lay spread out for him, your legs wide open for him. “You’re so gorgeous,” he continues, hands coming up to gently squeeze your thighs as he spreads your legs even wider. He leans down over you, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips before getting back into position between your legs.

“So beautiful,” he sighs, locking eyes with you for a second before lowering his head, licking and kissing his way up your groin before burying his face between your thighs. He slides his tongue through your folds.

He starts out slowly but is soon turning up the tempo as he gets more and more lost in the taste of you. Miguel has always loved eating you out, you sometimes wonder if he is enjoying it more than you and that says a lot cause you really, really enjoy it.

He adds a little more pressure, making you wail out with pleasure as he nuzzles his nose against your clit while lapping into you with a tempo and precision that has your legs shaking. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tucking at the roots which makes him moan into you. The vibrations of his moan are sending a chill up your spine and you can’t help but buckle your hips, gently grinding against his face as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your second orgasm.

“Fu-uck, Miguel!” You whine out as your body and mind reaches a state of absolute ecstasy. “I-I’m coming–fuuuck–Miguel I’m coming,” you whimper out in between heavy breaths. Your hips are jerking as Miguel’s tongue keeps fucking you through your climax until you’re feeling too sensitive and gently pushes his face away from your cunt.

Miguel takes in a heavy breath as he finally detaches his mouth from your pussy.

“You always taste so good, been way too long since I’ve last tasted you, baby,” he smiles at you as you slowly come back down to the earth after having been sent to cloud nine by his skillful mouth. His chin and lips are glistening in the gentle light of the bedside lamp.

He climbs up over your body, caging you in between his arms once again as he dives down, kissing your lips so sweet and loving that it has your heart clench with love and contentment.

You take his face between your hands, cupping his cheeks as you kiss him back as you taste yourself on his lips. The before-so-sweet kiss turns heated as you start licking into his mouth so that you can deepen the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s now that you realize how very naked you are and how very clothed he still is. You break the kiss to look into the deep hickory brown sea of his eyes.

“I think you should get out of these clothes, you know?” you whisper as you rub your hands up over the fabric covering his broad chest.

“Yeah?” He grins down at you.

“Yeah,” you confirm, a sly smile on your lips as you look up at the man you love.

He is quick to follow your orders, lifting himself from the bed to get rid of his clothes, but not before planting another sweet kiss on your lips. He first gets rid of his shirt, peeling the fabric off to reveal his broad shoulders and chest. The sight of him undressing for you has your cunt throbbing once again, you don’t even think you have been fully aware of just how horny and how much you have missed being intimate with Miguel these past weeks. You are so pent up and your hands and your vibrator just haven’t been able to satisfy you like how Miguel can.

His pants are soon following his shirt on the floor and he is left in only a pair of tight boxer briefs that hugs his thick thighs oh so deliciously and looks like they’re about to be bursting at the seams by the immense and rock-hard bulge that he is sporting, a little wet spot of precum darkening the fabric.

You can’t help but gawk as he starts to slide the garment down his hips and thighs, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing, slapping heavily up against his stomach. Despite how familiar you are with him and his body, and how many times you have seen him like this before, it seems like the sheer size of him never ceases to amaze you and it makes your need for him reach a whole new level.

“Fuck, baby, I need you inside of me so bad,” you sigh as you reach out for him, sitting up on your knees as he comes back down on the bed to you.

“Need to be inside of you too,” he grunts as you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, giving him a little squeezing. He really must have enjoyed himself as he ate you out cause his tip is almost purple at this point and already dripping with precum.

It really is a beautiful sight and you can’t help but feel a little proud that you are the reason for his arousal. He has the most beatiful cock you have ever seen, and if you weren't as desperate to have him in you right now as you are you would have got on all fours and choked on it right this instant. But you lay back down on your back instead, sprawling yourself out for him.

Most often when you’re having sex you’ll be in a position that has you on top, he is so big that you often have to be the one that controls the pace to avoid you becoming all too sore, and so you can at least somewhat walk the next day. But tonight you want him to be in control, to let him have his way with you.

“Then come here,” you say, smiling up at him as he does as you ask.

His dark eyes sparkle as they look down at you with awe. He kisses your lips as he positions himself, the tip of his cock teasing at your entrance. Despite how needy the both of you are, he really takes his time, slowly letting your walls adjust, giving you time to adapt to the size of him as he slowly gives you inch after inch. He is kissing you through the whole thing until he finally bottoms out. You feel so full, the size of him is both slightly painful and absolutely amazing at the same time.

“God dammit, querida, you feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, “so warm and so fucking tight,” he groans as he gently nibbles at your bottom lip. It has a hot rush of desire run through you and the pain is quickly forgotten, only leaving a feeling of flaming hot love and desire for Miguel in its place.

“Move,” you sigh into his ear, your voice low and raspy. “Please, Miguel, I-” but you are caught off as he begins to slide out of you only to ram back into you, making you let out a breathy moan. He lifts up your legs, making you cross them around his hips as he pulls out of you again only for him to drill his cock back into you.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” He asks as he locks eyes with you to see your reaction as he continues his movements.

“Yes, yes… Just what I wanted,” you nod your head eagerly, already feeling tears of pleasure starting to form in the corner of your eyes. “Been missing this. Fuuuck, been… been missing you.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby. I hate that I have to leave you so often.”

He picks up the pace, going at an almost brutal speed now as if to make up for lost time.

“You are doing so good, baby,” he encourages, “taking me so damn well.”

You are clinging to him for dear life as each of his thrusts pushes you further up the mattress, only for his broad hands, which are firmly planted at your waist, to pull you back down to meet each savage snap of his hips. He kisses along your neck and collarbone, while he murmurs about how beautiful you are, how wonderful and smart you are, and how much he loves you.

He hits something so perfect inside you and you can feel how the knot in your abdomen tightens and tightens, so close to exploding.

“I’m so… fu-uck, so close.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, digging his fingers a little deeper into your skin, “just let go, sweetheart.”

Your nails dig into the flesh of his back as you feel how your entire body fills with bliss. Your walls are clamping down around him, sucking him into your warmth as your climax overwhelms you and rushes of hot, electric euphoria starts to run through your veins, your vision turning blurry and your bones turning to jelly. He kisses you through it and you feel how his dick twitches inside you, signaling that he is about to cum too.

“Inside, Miguel. Inside, please, need to feel you,” you ramble only to hum with delight as a second later as you feel the hot ropes of cum coating your walls as your desperate cunt squeezes down around him to milk every drop of his release. All the while he keeps thrusting into you, fucking his cum deep into you until you are so full of him that it starts leaking out around his shaft.

You lean forward to plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose as he finally begins to slow his movements, his eyes, which he had shut tight under the intensity of his overwhelming orgasm, slowly opening to look at you.

He kisses you, still not pulling out as you feel his cock slowly starting to soften inside you.

“How do you feel?” He asks when he finally breaks the kiss.

“Amazing, but I might not be able to walk tomorrow,” you giggle breathlessly, “but that’s future me’s problem,” you smile at him, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Good thing I’ll be there to take care of you,” he says before pulling you into his arms and gently pressing you up against his broad chest.

“You will?”

“Yes, baby, I promise,” he says, squeezing you a little tighter, “I’m sorry that we don’t get to spend as much time together as we should, but I promise you tomorrow I’m yours.”

“I love you, Miguel, so so much,” you whisper, placing your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I love you too, baby,” he says as he brings your hand to his mouth and gives it a gentle kiss.

2K notes · View notes

lo-vearchive · 10 months

Text

Forgive Me

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female! reader

Summary: After an argument at work with your boss Miguel O’Hara you quit your job at Alchemex in anger. Luckily your boss’ AI talks some sense into him and sends him your way to beg for forgiveness. Read Part Two: here

Word Count: 2340 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel begging for forgiveness, 18+ (minors DNI), no explicit smut, but things do get spicy at the end, breastplay, questionable Spanish

Note: Not proofread. Did get carried away a little, but I just love angst and men begging. Take it up with the duolingo owl if you don’t like my Spanish (i tried :((). Feedback is appreciated because this may be the most I have ever written on Tumblr. Have fun, horndogs.

You rush into Miguel’s office at Alchemex on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you call out, heaving. “I need to speak to you.”

If Miguel found the use of his last name odd, he didn’t react. He sat hunched over his desk, clattering away on his keyboard. His wide shoulders obstructed the view of the screen, but you could tell he was working away at something important. Everything Miguel did seemed to be a matter of life or death recently and that left you with no time to discuss the nature of your relationship. You were stuck somewhere between more than colleagues but less than romantic partners, and now you wanted more than just the stolen looks and accidental lingering touches.

When he didn’t answer you called out again, wary of the listening ears at your workplace. “Mr. O’Hara?”

He let out a sigh with his back still turned to you. “What is it?”

You clear your throat to brace yourself against his cold tone. “It’s about something a bit more personal, sir. I would feel much better if we could speak with the door closed—”

“No quiero hablar contigo,” (I don’t want to speak to you) he cut you off. “I have a deadline to meet. Come back later.”

“This is important,” you insisted, glancing behind you at the ajar door to his office. “I just need some clarity about where things are going. Our interactions are messing with my head and that’s impacting my performance. I just need an answer.”

Miguel scoffed and continued typing away. “Helping you with your little feelings isn’t my priority. Go find something else to do. I’m busy.”

Irritation flooded through your body. Usually you could tolerate his hot-and-cold behaviour, but your patience was wearing thin. You hated his unwillingness to ever say what he truly felt, and you were tired of being in limbo. “You can’t just dismiss me like I’m some child. Miguel—”

“— No me hables—” (Don’t talk to me)

“No, I am going to talk, and you are going to listen or whatever is going on between us will end right now!”

He slammed his hands on his desk and the entire room shook on impact. He turned around and stalked towards you until he stood, looming over you. His red eyes reflected the anger in yours. He ran a large hand through his dark, dishevelled hair and spoke in a hushed, stern voice. “You are embarrassing yourself. Do I have to remind you that I’m your boss and this is your workplace? Let go of whatever fantasies you have got cooking in your head and get to work.”

You felt as if someone had slapped you in the face. Your cheeks felt hot, and your eyes began to sting. You felt like an idiot and then you felt angry for feeling that way as Miguel stood in front of you with sunken eyes and a stoic face.

A smirk played on his lips. “Calladita estás más guapa.” (You look prettier when you’re quiet)

You didn’t need advanced Spanish skills to understand what he meant. “F-Fuck you,” you choked through a constricting throat. “You’re an asshole. I quit.”

You stormed out of the office, hiding the tears that had begun leaking out. Avoiding the pitiful gazes of your colleagues, you grabbed your purse off the reception desk, threw your nametag aside and left the building.

Once Miguel was alone in his office, his bravado faded away. “Fuck,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “Lyla, give me a visual on her.”

Lyla puffed into his sight with her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her played a video of your name tag being tugged off your coat lapel and landing in the garbage. Your palms rubbed furiously against your eyes as you made your way to the elevator and away from him. “Shit,” he cursed again. “I messed up . . . ”

“Messed up?” Lyla echoed, incredulity laced in her voice. “You broke her heart! Matter of fact, I can show you precisely where you shattered it!”

She rewinded the visual to a few minutes back. Miguel’s stomach dropped as he saw her lips tremble as she held her head up, listening to the knives launching out of his mouth. Lyla shook her head as you’re the image of your crestfallen face faded away. “You better fix this,” she warned.

“I know, I know,” he exhaled loudly. “Send me her location. I need to go fix this.”

*******************************************************************************************

You sat in your bed with red eyes and a spicy chicken burrito bowl, scrolling through a job-hunting website. Miguel would have told you that the take-out place you ordered from wasn’t authentic Mexican food, but he would also dismiss your existence in the same sentence, so you decided to not put any weight behind his words. Yet you couldn’t deny that his behaviour today hurt you deeply. You kept replaying your past interactions to see if you had imagined a connection where there was none.

It had been six months since you started working at Alchemex. Everyone had warned you about Miguel and his brashness towards his past secretaries. You used to walk on eggshells around him, minimizing the space you took, and trying your hardest to not bring any undue attention to yourself. It wasn’t long until you figure out he was Spider-Man, you were always perceptive, especially of him. Somewhere along the line, the nine-to-fives turned to nine-to-midnight and then those turned into overnight stays at his office, working alongside him to research anomalies with Lyla.

At first, it was just innocent touches at the small of your back to move you out of his way in the cramped office. Then came the lingering touches on your arms as he hunched over behind you, helping you navigate some code written on his computer screen. You could vividly recall the night when you couldn’t reach a box of files on the top shelf of his filing case. Miguel had scooped you up effortlessly with an arm underneath your buttocks. His warm breath hit your stomach as he asked, “Did you get it?” You were thankful that he didn’t see the bright flush on your cheeks as he lowered you back onto the ground. You were even more thankful when he didn’t step away.

But none of that mattered anymore. He was an asshole and you had quit your job. You shoved a spoonful of rice in your mouth and pushed away the memories. The sun began to set, painting your room orange and slowly that too faded away. You sat in the darkness, contemplating hitting up your friends for a night out when you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise. From the corner of your eye, you saw a shadowy figure peering inside your bedroom from the fire escape. You let out a loud scream, scrambling away with the bowl in your hand.

The figure held up its hand in surrender. “It’s me! It’s me!” a familiar voice called out.

“Miguel?”

The figure nodded and the mask around its face disappeared to reveal his face. “Let me in,” he said, pressing his hand against the glass. “I need to speak to you.”

You set the bowl down on a nearby table and walked towards the fire escape with your arms crossed over your chest. “Pero no quiero hablar contigo,” (but I don’t want to speak to you) you replied, throwing his words right back to him. “You need to leave.”

He sighed and shook his head. Holding his wrist out, he let out a string of web and pulled the door back slightly. “No!” you shrieked as he slipped in through the gap. “I won’t get my safety deposit back!”

He crossed the space between us in long strides and grabbed my arms. “I will fix it,” he promised, “but I need you to listen to me first.”

You eyed him with a neutral expression, trying your hardest to control your thundering heart. “I am so, so sorry,” he said with his big brown eyes boring into yours. “I was an idiot for how I behaved. Please don’t quit. I need you.”

You pursed your lips and looked away.

“Mírame,” (look at me) he whispered, moving his hands up to your neck. His thumb turned your chin softly back to him.

“You were right,” he continued, rubbing his thumb softly across your jawline. “There is something here and it scares me. I acted like a coward today when you, my sweet, brave girl brought it up. Please don’t leave me behind.”

“You made me feel like I was an idiot,” you mumbled, fighting back tears, and looking anywhere but him. “Made me feel as if I was imagining things. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want to forgive you.”

His large hands moved to cup your face. He inched closer until the material of his suit slightly skimmed the surface of your tank top. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Forgive me.”

“No.”

his cool minty breath gently fanned your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Forgive me,” he repeated and moved his face lower to the crook of your neck.

“No— ung.”

He pressed his lips gently against the sensitive skin on your neck. “Forgive me.”

You raised your forearms and pressed them into his chest, attempting to push him away, but Miguel didn’t move an inch. His arms moved to your back, caging you in his embrace. “Not fair!” you cried.

He tipped your head back with his nose and slid his lips across the expanse of your throat. You bit your lips harshly to prevent the sounds of pleasure from escaping your throat. Your chest rose and fell harshly as his lips sucked away sensually. He moved his mouth and connected it with a spot that made your legs go numb. Miguel’s hands caught you before you could slip away. He hoisted you up and on instinct, you wrapped your legs around him for support. He walked you both backwards and gently laid you down on your mattress.

Leaning over you, he opened his mouth to speak but the light from your laptop screen caught his attention. “You’re already looking for jobs?” he pouted, fisting the sheet around your head. “You can’t leave me behind, baby. What am I supposed to do without you?”

You scoffed. “Whatever you were doing before. You can find someone else to be mean to.”

He grunted and dipped down to your throat once again. “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”

He kissed you again and your hand flew to his dark locks in surprise. He groaned as you tugged on it. “You can pull my hair and be mean to me too,” he mumbled against your throat. “Just please forgive me and give us a chance.”

You wrapped your hand around his neck. “Everyone at work heard us argue.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “It was my fault, and I won’t ever do it again.”

“People will talk,” you tried to reason, playing with the ends of his locks. “You are my boss.”

He pulled back to meet your eyes. His hair stuck out in different places and made you giggle. “Oh, yeah? Just your boss?”

“Yeah, what else— mmph!”

His mouth is on yours and it leaves you confused. Every touch of his in the past has been fleeting but this time Miguel won’t let this kiss end. His tongue parts your mouth and finds yours as his hand coaxes your jaw open. You let out a satisfied hum as he brushes your hair away from your face and neck and angles your face up. You had always imagined what kissing him would feel like, but nothing compared to this. You both lay in bed, fully dressed, but Miguel kissed you like he was already inside of you.

He pulled away and you groan, chasing his lips. “Wait, wait, wait, does this mean you forgive me?”

You rolled your eyes and exhaled harshly. “Miggy, you’re in my bed and on top of me. Of course, I forgive you.”

“Good,” he grinned.

His hand moves to your throat and then down the laced edge of your tank top. He inhales you deeply. “You smell so good. Every time you walked by my desk, I would get hard from a whiff,” he muttered to himself. “Thought it was your perfume, but now I know that it’s just you, your scent . . . I wonder if its stronger when I . . . can I?”

You were too preoccupied with feelings of disbelief to understand what he was saying, but you knew you felt safe in his arms. You nodded enthusiastically. Miguel hooked a finger into my tank top and gently pulled it down. He lets out a deep groan as your peaked nipples emerge from behind the fabric. “I know this is fast, but God, I could just . . .”

He wrapped his large hand around a breast. You let out a whimper as his touch makes your cunt clench around nothing. He moves your nipple in the space between his fingers and gives it a tug. “Miggy,” you gasp, gripping his hair. “You do this to all your secretaries?”

He shook his head as he continued to play with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingertips. “Only you, baby. I only ever want you.”

His warm mouth wrapped around a nipple as your legs wrap around him tighter. He sucks away at one breast while his hand plays with the other.

“Miguel!” you cry out at the sensation.

The side of your thigh begins to vibrate. It takes you a moment for you to navigate through the haze of pleasure to realize his cell phone is ringing. You reach into his suit pocket and pull out his phone. The words ‘Tyler Stone, CEO’ shine brightly on the screen.

You let out laugh which turns into moan. “Your boss is calling.”

Without stopping his ministrations, he tugs the phone out of your hand and chucks it aside on the bed. “Can’t talk now,” he mumbled around your breast. “I have my mouth full.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #angst #miguel o'hara angst #spider-man: across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #first fanfic #spiderverse #fic rec #my post

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moonlight-prose · 6 months

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✧ MORE THAN ENOUGH ✧

a/n: i wrote this at 3am, sleep deprived but somehow still thinking about this man. honestly i fully think my best works come out of the 3am haze. the thots are always around though when it comes to miguel. it's hard to believe kinktober is already almost done. seriously october has gone by so fast i'm actually upset. but nonetheless, the show will go on. so enjoy this filthy miguel fic my darlings.

day eighteen - sex pollen | kinktober 2023

summary: "this life was dangerous enough. neither of you wanted to make it harder by being stupid and falling in love. but that was the worst part. he had fallen long before you ever did. and there was no escaping the grasp you had on his heart."

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, sex pollen (which means slight dubious consent/dubcon), consent is given, p in v sex, miguel being a tortured soul, angst, the ramblings of an exhausted writer.

The mission was routine. Simply another anomaly that you had to secure before heading back home. Each move, each maneuver was familiar—something your body knew by muscle memory now. You apprehended them, grabbed a meal on the way home, and climbed through your living room window at a quarter past two in the morning. Exhaustion riddled your body when you finally entered your bedroom, the dirty suit you wore now an irritation as you slipped out of it.

Even though you wanted to collapse, give into sleep for as long as possible, you were in desperate need of a shower. With a groan, you headed towards the bathroom, suit discarded on the floor, watch still attached to your wrist. Thankfully it was capable of handling a bit of water in the shower.

Halfway through the mission the villain had sprayed you in the face with a powder. Bright red that covered your suit, mixing with the black fabric and practically disappearing. It wasn’t until you saw a red stream into the water did you remember the pungent floral scent that nearly suffocated you. One single spray and you were brought down to your knees, gasping for breath.

Yet the fact that you were simply able to shake it off made you think nothing of it. Until the water turned warm.

A hot stream from the nozzle soothed your aching muscles, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. You needed it after the night you had. But the heat simply continued to build. Steam rising in the room and clinging to your skin the longer you stood there. Your fingers twitched at your sides, senses ringing loudly in your ears as you tried to figure out what part of your body was going haywire.

Hissing at the burn, you scrambled for the nozzle to turn it cold. Yet even that didn’t cure the painful incapacitating ache that began to overtake you. Turning your legs into jello and sending you to the ground with a hard thump. You gasped, clawing at the walls for some reprieve to get out, but your body had gone limp. The heat now seeping lower, curling around the base of your spine and screaming for something.

Something red flashed on your watch, drawing your attention to it quickly. And it wasn’t until the harsh beep of a call came through did you realize it was your vitals notifying you that something was wrong. Slamming your hand down on the watch, a small form of Miguel popped up. His mask covering his face. Yet even from this angle you could tell he stood rigid and worried.

“Miggy,” you sighed, head falling back against the shower wall.

“Something’s wrong.”

You scoffed, pressing your thighs together at the painful ache that surged through you simply from the sound of his voice. “No shit.”

“Nena,” he warned, the soft whine you let out filtering through the call and grasping his attention.

With a sharp inhale, you dragged your hand up your thigh, feeling the way your body jolted. “The mission went wrong.”

“Explain.”

“There was a fucking powder,” you said, eyes trained on the way he moved in the small hologram. It became clear to you that he was pacing. “A red one.” You gasped softly when your fingers slid along your inner thigh. “I’m burning up.”

He let out a harsh breath. “Your vitals are all over the place.”

“Need help.” Letting your fingers dip even further, you felt the pool of wetness that trickled down your leg, your pussy fluttering around nothing. “‘S hot. Can’t fucking—ah—need you.”

Miguel stiffened, mask vanishing and eyes narrowing as he took in the way your eyes fluttered shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Before you could beg him again—your voice sweet and enticing—he was ending the call with a guttural noise. A portal already opening up beside him seconds later—your window in his sights.

He could feel a weight fall on his shoulders the second he climbed in, swiftly sliding it shut behind him and flipping the lock for an extra measure. It didn’t do much, but it put his mind at ease knowing the safety was set in place. Miguel wasn’t one to drop everything and go, but this was you. The person whose smile was permanently etched into his heart. Who lit up his day by simply starting up a conversation about nothing—your words quickly divulging into a rambling mess.

Yet he listened anyway.

Content to simply hear the sound of your voice.

Ten steps into the apartment he felt it. His senses flying off the charts, your scent filtering through the air, stronger than normal. Two steps away from the door he nearly fell to his knee as he heard you. The utterly obscene echo of your moans muffled through the door—the sound of your fingers plunging into your slick with reckless abandon. His mouth went dry, eyes darkening and claws descending as he softly knocked. He hoped you were still okay enough to acknowledge his presence; to ask him for help.

“Miguel,” you softly whimpered, pain lacing your voice and that’s what had him shoving open the door. His eyes raked down your naked form to check for injuries before settling on your face. Entirely contorted in a mixture of anguish and bliss.

“Amorcito,” he murmured, face softening as a tear streaked down your cheek, hand reaching out for him.

He fell to his knees beside you, gathering you close. It was hard to ignore the way his cock twitched at your moan—your body reacting to his touch without hesitation. As if you were opening up to the underlying feelings you had both shoved down. This life was dangerous enough. Neither of you wanted to make it harder by being stupid and falling in love.

But that was the worst part.

He had fallen long before you ever did. And there was no escaping the grasp you had on his heart.

“What can I do?” he asked, lips brushing against your temple.

The water still thrummed loudly against the shower floor, heat spilling out into the rest of your home. But Miguel didn’t care. Not when you were curling yourself around his body, lips dragging along his neck and hips bucking up into his stomach. You were wanton and needy. Breathy moans and pleas of needing him falling from your lips—eyes glassy with lust.

“It hurts,” you gasped, somehow managing to catch your clit on the bulge of his suit.

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he let you work out your needs. Biting down on his bottom lip until copper burst on his tongue while you grinded shamelessly against his body. Your moans being pressed to his neck, fingers digging into his back. It was its own kind of torture. But Miguel refused to take pleasure in the fact that you were in pain. He couldn’t.

Not when your mind was elsewhere.

On his way to the bathroom he spotted your suit on the ground. The red substance clearly marked on the fabric and he made a mental note to take it with him for testing. Whatever the fuck you’d been infected with wasn’t something he wanted out on the streets. Not if it was this painful.

A sharp gasp signaled the end of his sanity. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth forming an O as your body shuddered. A gush of slick now coating the outside of his suit. His body was screaming at him, fingers digging into your soft skin. For a brief moment he wondered if it was safe to pull away. Simply to regain some control over himself. But then your teeth sunk into his neck, hips moving once more, and Miguel heard the thin strand of his control snap.

With a groan, he pressed you back onto the shower floor, your yelp covered by his mouth. Tongue slipping in to taste you, your moan being swallowed by him licking deeply into you. Hands pulled at his hair, twisting the now soaked locks around your fingers as your legs locked him in place. A gasp echoing in the small space as you pulled away—eyes taking in the way he practically fell apart for you with a single look.

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

He fumbled with his watch, pressing the buttons needed for his suit to dematerialize, leaving him bare above you. Yet something tight pulled at his chest. A feeling he couldn’t ignore, even as your mouth parted, eyes going wide at the sight of his cock jutting up into his stomach. Miguel wanted to capture that image of you and keep it in his lab. The pure raw desire on your face, blatantly clear for him to see.

“What do you need nena?” he asked, his chest heaving and eyes focused on your face. He hadn’t allowed them to drop ever since he pulled you close, too intent on making sure you were going to live to see tomorrow.

“You.” Your hands slid along his back, pulling him close until your lips brushed against his. “Please. It hurts so fucking bad.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

A soft puff of air washed across his cheek as he guided his cock to your entrance, feeling the way your slick practically poured across his length. Coating him in a shiny layer of you. It made his mouth water, his body calling out to you even as he pressed into you slowly. Biting back a cry at the feeling of you tightly wrapped around his cock. You were warm. So fucking warm Miguel nearly shoved his way in, but he could sense the slight tinge of pain that bloomed across your body. Your face scrunching up as a loud moan echoed in the room.

“So big,” you gasped, hips canting down to let him sink in an inch further. Until his hips were pressed to yours—filling you so much he felt the wires in his brain fry.

“Mierda.” His hand slapped to the floor beside your head, body going taut as his head tilted back, the veins prominent on his skin. “‘M not gonna last bebita.”

You watched transfixed as he finally looked back down at you, his teeth clenched and bared as he slid out of you slowly, only to shove himself back in. Crying out, you dug your nails into his lower back, feeling the muscles contract beneath your fingers as he moved. Thrusting into you swiftly—barely even pulling out.

It scared him how quickly he became addicted to the feel of you. The way you writhed in pleasure beneath him, moaning out a garbled version of his name. He wanted to bury himself in your chest. To make a home in your heart without any promise of leaving, but he’d settle for this. The heat of your body against his, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed right where you needed him most.

“Eres mía,” he gasped, sliding his hand up your back and lifting you slightly. He fucked you deep, feeling the way your body trembled beneath his touch, breaths erratic and filled with high pitched whines. “Never fucking leaving this.”

You cried out, your walls clamping down around his cock and dragging a low grunt from his chest. “I-I don’t want you to.”

His eyes snapped up to yours, hips stuttering when your nails dug into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark—or so he hoped. “Yeah?” He shifted the angle, pounding down into you and dragging a sob from your chest. “You want me to stay nena? Fuck you full of me?”

Your walls tightened even further, head falling back as he did what he could to shove you towards what you needed most. What would finally put your body at ease. Tears dripped into your hair, the heat practically radiating off your body and seeping into his. And with one final deep grind of his hips against yours, you broke. Sobbed his name so loud for the entire apartment complex to hear as you soaked his cock.

Miguel nearly dropped you to the ground, his body giving out at the feeling of you dragging him in so tight he never wanted to leave. White flashed behind his eyes, the breath now stolen from his lungs, as he came so hard he nearly collapsed. Catching your lips in a messy kiss, he cried out, spurting into you until he nearly spilled out. Filling you so full you were sure to feel him for days.

With a gasp, your release finally came to an end, body going limp in his hold. He was soaked from the water—now cold—that still echoed thunderously in the bathroom. With a shaky hand he reached out and switched the knob off. Panting into your mouth as he attempted to regain some of his strength.

“Miguel,” you sighed, hands sliding along his sides.

He grunted, lifting himself up with effort. “Let me get you up, amorcita.”

You shook your head, a whine leaving your lips and legs crossing over his back, effectively shoving him back down over you. “Don’t. Please.”

“I have to. The substance is out of your system.” As much as he wanted to give in to those feelings, to stay right there on the floor with you, he knew this was fleeting. Something to help you when you couldn’t help yourself. Because Miguel knew he would always be there when you needed him.

But then your lips met his once more, hands tangling in his hair. “I meant what I said Miggy.”

“It was—”

“Not entirely the powder,” you said, pressing your thumb to his lips. “I care about you Miguel. More than I probably should.”

That weight from earlier slid off his chest and he swore he could hear it crash to the floor. Shattering on contact. Crimson eyes met yours, an emotion flickering in them so prominent it tore at your heart—forcing your feelings to the very forefront of your body. There was no turning back after this. No possibility where your emotions didn’t clash with reality—intertwining dangerously with the role you were given.

But that was the thing when it came to him.

You wanted the danger. You wanted him in whatever form you could get. Even if it was in fleeting moments like this.

“I know our life is dangerous, but I want…” You sighed, your head falling to the ground with a soft thud. “I want you.”

“Amorcita…”

“If that’s what you want too.”

He smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours, hands sliding along your sides. “More than you know,” he murmured, settling his body over yours completely, finally giving into the feelings that clawed at his chest.

Content to remain right there with you.

For as long as you wanted.

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #my writing #kinktober 2023

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hoshigray · 11 months

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Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

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bensolosbluesaber · 10 months

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Nowhere to Run: Part 2 (Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader)

Read Part 1 Here

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader

Warnings: Miguel helps reader through a panic attack (descriptions based on my own experiences but not necessarily perfectly written down), mentions of isolation and isolation-related trauma, references to child loss, scars

Summary: Living in Nueva York and working with the Spider Society is pretty great... except for Miguel O’Hara, the man who injured you, saved your life, and now refuses to speak to you. Luckily, Peter B. Parker loves interfering in Miguel’s life, so when you’re at your lowest, it’s Miguel who is there to help you through it. ~ 2,200 words

Angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending

A/N: This is still dedicated to the Miguel O’Hara editors on TikTok as well as the people leaving the comments. There are light spoilers for AtSV (I made up an ending for BtSV since this is set after that).

Two Months Later…

Miguel O’Hara kept his promise. His Spider Society ran all kinds of tests, searching for an explanation for the rapid evolution that provided your the ability to travel the multiverse. Best they could guess, you had been close to the epicenter of your world’s implosion, close enough to absorb some of the energy leaking from what was essentially a black hole devouring the universe.

Another Spider-Woman had given you a more advanced goober - no, gizmo - to keep you from glitching and destabilizing the place they called Nueva York. It was Miguel’s home, she’d explained, and the home base of the Spider Society that kept watch over the multiverse. You’d started volunteering for missions with them, happy to be doing some good. It made you feel like a hero again, like there was a point to all the sacrifices that led you here.

But you hadn't seen Spider-Man 2099 since he dropped you off at a Nueva York hospital and huffed an order to “make sure she gets stitched up, and for god’s sake, get her some food.” That was two months ago.

“I can’t believe you bring a kid here.” You waved to Mayday who was sitting on her dad’s lap and trying to steal his food with her webs. For some reason, Peter had given her a web-shooter… as if toddlers weren’t difficult enough.

“Neither can I, honestly. But she loves these guys. Especially Miguel.” He frowned and took a bite of empanada. “She’s borderline obsessed with Miguel actually. I think it’s because he has such climbable shoulders. It’s good for him to see her too.”

“Meaning?”

“Ah nothing.” Peter waved off your question.

An awkward pause filled the space between you and Peter B. Parker. Just ask him, you told yourself.

“Is Miguel avoiding me?” Blunt. Right to the point.

“Ummmmm…” He drug out the word for far too long, looked to his daughter for help, seemed to remember she couldn’t do more than babble random sounds, and then sighed heavily. “Yes. He feels bad about…” Peter gestured broadly to you. “About a year ago we had a little situation with this kid - I mentored him. Good kid. Smart,” Peter added proudly. “This kid, Miles, made Miguel rethink a lot of things. We started handling anomalies... differently, a bit more gently.”

“He calls this gently?” You touched your scarred shoulder.

“Ummmmm… no.” Peter scooped Mayday out of the air where she was now dangling from the ceiling. “You freaked him out pretty bad. I mean you are a huge anomaly. Dangerous. He sort of, uh, how would those kids say it? Oh, yeah, he ‘went off the deep end.’ You should hear him tell the story.”

Mayday babbled incoherently.

“Yes ma’am, it does all seem a bit romantic when he tells it doesn’t it?” Peter cooed to Mayday then grinned at you.

You blinked once. Twice. Romantic?

Mayday went zipping away. Peter stood and sighed.

“Gotta get this kid, but I’m sending him to see you.” He took off after his daughter who was expertly navigating a minefield of other Spider-People (and animals). “Promise!” Peter tossed over his shoulder.

You seriously doubted Peter B. Parker would be able to convince Miguel to talk to you. And that was just as well because by the time you made it back to your room, it was turning into one of your bad nights. It was illogical. How could you could be fine for and suddenly a panic-stricken nightmare-ridden mess one random night? But then, the human mind is an enigma even to itself, the traumatized mind even more so.

It happened when you walked into your room and found yourself suspended in complete darkness. You followed the same routine every night, but today was different. Blackness surrounded you and closed in. You could see nothing, not even the hand in front of your face, and something tightened in your chest, clamped down on your lungs. For a second, you had control of the thing, were reaching for the light switch. Then you were spiraling.

Your mind was no longer in your safe room in Nueva York surrounded by the Spider Society who had taken you in and protected you and even become your friends. No. It was trapped in the silent and endless darkness of a collapsed universe, utterly alone, smothered in deafening silence. Your breath came in rapid, shallow pants, and you stumbled back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sat down on the soft mattress, drew up your knees, wrapped your arms around yourself, bowed your head, and tried to breath through it.

Caught in your panic attack, you didn’t even hear two familiar voices arguing, or see the light from the hallway fall across the room as the door was pushed open, or notice the shadows that loomed in the doorway.

“I know what you’re doing, Peter,” Miguel snarled.

“I’m not doing- why’s the door open?”

Miguel noticed you first. The dim room was the perfect environment for his sensitive eyes to make out your hunched form and trembling shoulders. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of you, an act that confirmed every one of Peter B. Parker’s suspicions. He watched for a moment from the doorway before taking a step back and closing the door with a click. Miguel had this under control. He was sure of it.

A deep voice, gravelly as if it were being drug over stones whispered your name. It wrapped around you, held you tight, and pulled you above the thrashing waves. That crushing feeling in your chest relaxed ever so slightly, and finally, you managed a deep breath. Then a second. It’s okay now. The worst is over.

After the third breath, you looked up and searched the dark room in a search of the voice’s owner.

Two dimly glowing red orbs shone in the darkness. You knew exactly one person with red eyes. Slowly, your own eyes adjusted, and the broad outline of Miguel O’Hara materialized. He wasn’t wearing his usual vibrant suit, just a dark colored sweater. Even kneeling on the ground he was still tall enough to be eye level with you. The two of you stared at each other for a long second before Miguel slowly raised a hand and... and brushed his thumb across your cheek?

What was happening? All you could do was blink stupidly at him, but when you didn't shy away he brought his other hand to your face. He smoothed his thumbs over your cheeks. He was wiping away your tears so gently and with such concern it seemed impossible. His hands were soft, softer than they had any right to be, and those dangerous claws that had done so much damage to you earlier were nowhere to be seen.

“You’re safe. You’re here with me.” Miguel’s voice was so commanding; he was obviously accustomed to giving order, but that actually made it more reassuring. “I’m here.”

I’m here. For some unexplainable reason those words reassured you more than anything. You didn't even think, just did. You slid forward on the bed and buried your face in the broad muscles of Miguel’s shoulder. His sweater was as soft as anything you could have imagined, and his warmth seeped through the fabric. He smelled like fresh laundry and something more woody and musky.

Miguel haltingly wrapped his arms around you, awkward at first, before he pulled you in closer. He held you like that for several long minutes, running his hands across your back and drawing small circles with fingers until your breathing synced with his.

Since coming to this place, the most physical contact you had with anyone was the occasional hug or handshake or Mayday crawling up your arm. Before that it was Miguel holding you in the rain while he sucked his venom - you had confirmed that it was venom - from your body. Before that you had been trapped in a collapsed universe or on the run. Before that... well, being Spider-Woman was a lonely job.

To be held like this was the most comforting experience you had in longer than you cared to remember. You didn’t want to let go. Even when you realized that in this position Miguel was kneeling between your legs you didn’t let go.

Eventually, he shifted with a quiet huff. You pulled back immediately. What were you doing? Miguel definitely didn’t want you all over him. What could you have possibly been thinking, using the man who actively avoided you for comfort?

Miguel stood and stretched. You looked away, suddenly self-conscious.

“Thank you. I’m okay now,” you muttered.

That was an obvious lie. The man tilted his head as he gazed down at you. He knew what this loneliness was like, how it felt to have wallowed in solitude for so long that you forget how to feel anything but alone. His eyes shifted to your shoulder where a tank top did nothing to hide the four long scars he had left in your skin. You tracked his gaze and immediately tried to cover them with your hand.

“I’m okay,” you repeated, hinting that he could go even though part of you - an insane, irrational, needy part of you - wanted him to stay.

Miguel ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair with a sigh before sitting down, uninvited, on your bed. Next to you. He sat down next to you. On your bed.

Miguel O’Hara was handsome. You never denied that, especially now while he was inches from you smelling the way he smelled and radiating much needed warmth. The temptation to lean into him was strong, but not strong enough to override your embarrassment that he, of all the Spider-People, had seen you at your lowest point.

“I thought you were jumping through the Arach- the Spider-Verse with bad intentions. I had no idea you were running… from me.” The explanation came out of nowhere. Miguel turned to look down at you. “You had the potential to cause a lot of damage, and I panicked. I forgot you’re one of us, and I hurt you, and I’m sorry.” Another long pause. “My claws have never poisoned anyone before.”

The apology was genuine, you could hear it in his voice. Some invisible barrier between the two of you shattered then.

“Are you saying you didn’t mean to kill me with your venomous talons, you only meant to seriously maim me with your regular talons?” You could feel a smile growing as you tried joking with him.

Miguel looked back at the bed spread. Should you? Was this a good idea? You threw caution to the wind and leaned over to bump your shoulder against Miguel’s.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ve all made mistakes. Glad I was threatening enough to scare you like that.”

“That’s not what- okay.”

“You can look at them. If you want, I mean.” You nodded to your scarred shoulder.

Slowly, as if afraid to scare you off, Miguel smoothed a finger over the scars. They were deep and jagged, but had healed rather well all things considered. His hand on your neck startled you for a moment before you realized what he was doing. Four tiny scars from his fangs still decorated your skin, and he was tracing his thumb over each one.

Miguel felt you swallow, realized what he was doing, and then froze. A single second stretched into an eternity during which you could confront every thought racing through your head. He’d chased you for months, but he had a good reason. He’d hurt you. Then he saved your life. There was that thing Peter said about Mayday being good for him. And Miguel’s sad eyes and ever-present frown. And how warm he’d felt while he held you. And the ripples of muscle across his entire body.

He’d kept his promise not to send you back. And he was handsome. Handsome and sad. So instead of pulling away and kicking him out and going back to avoiding each other, you leaned into him.

There was nothing awkward about Miguel’s movements this time. He wrapped an arm around you and maneuver you both until you were laying down, curled up against his side, head on his shoulder, his arm around your waist.

“What is going on?” You whispered.

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” Miguel whispered back.

“Okay, but why?”

“Because... because I know how it feels to lose everyone and have no one to hold you.”

You looked up at him then. He was staring at the ceiling, some memory you couldn’t see dancing across his eyes. Peter said Mayday was good for Miguel then refused to answer any more questions. The frown lines. How ferociously he protected the multiverse. Mayday was good for Miguel. Mayday. The kid.

It hit you then, and it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. Miguel had lost his family, probably in circumstances not too different from your own. You wanted to know everything about the Spider-Man with the fangs and venom and the saddest eyes you had ever seen. Not now though.

Already, you felt sleep tugging at the edge of your consciousness, a sense of safety and comfort brought on by Miguel’s presence.

“You could stay until I wake up,” you offered drowsily and splayed a hand across his chest. “If you want.”

Miguel ran his fingers lightly over the back of your hand.

“I think I might.”

A/N: There is a teeny tiny potential for an 18+ Part 3. No solid plan yet, but possible. Thanks for all the love on this fic!

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #Spider-man 2099 #spider-man 2099 fanfiction #spider-man 2099 x f!reader #spider-man 2099 x reader #oscar isaac x f!reader #miguel o'hara hurt/comfort #miguel o'hara angst #spider-man 2099 hurt/comfort #spider-man 2099 angst

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moondirti · 11 months

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gorgeous header by the ever talented @ghostaholics

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ;

˗ˏˋ miguel o'hara x ‘wraith’ f!reader ´ˎ˗ enemies to lovers. emotional slow burn. angst AO3 mirror

⁀➷ main series – ONGOING

[ a dive into the polarising dynamic between a girl who can slip through matter and the man determined to catch her. ]

one. CAT AND MOUSE || two. PURSUIT || three. BITE || four. FREEFALL || five. APOLLONIAN || six. YOU/ME/WE || seven. PROPOSITION || eight. VICES || nine. INTROSPECTION || ten. RESILIENCE || eleven. SUCK IT UP || twelve. PUSH / SHOVE || thirteen. A CHALLENGE || fourteen. WANT

68.7k WORDS

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GENERAL. || FAN ART.

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qaxqxd · 10 months

Text

Spider Lust

♡Pair: Miguel O’hara x Afab!reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: NSFW / Sexual content

A/n: Fulling my Janitor.ai roleplay (sigh) Also Miguel could release his venom on command if he wanted. (first time writing smut in forever.)

Summary: You and Miguel were on a mission to stop an anomaly in a lab. It was supposed to be a stealth mission. You both got caught red handed and were now hiding for it to die down a bit. Hiding in a small cramped space wasn’t a good idea, or.. Was it?

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

Great, just absolutely great. You were in a tight space and sitting on your Boss’s lap. Just how you wanted to spend your Tuesday’s night.

“Stop moving around.” He whispered, gripping your waist.

“Your lap is uncomfortable.” You whine.

“You should have thought of that before you grab the USB.” Miguel spoke, seeming a little pissed.

“Why would I think about sitting on your lap?” You teased him.

“What?- No! You know what I mean.” He frowned. You couldn’t turn around to look at him, but you knew he was a little red.

I mean it was technically your fault that you were in this situation. You grab the USB without thinking it wasn’t guarded. You technically could have done this on your own too, but Miguel insisted on coming along. Now you know why. He probably predicted you would screw up or something.

Miguel always acted like he knew the future which was- True sometimes. He is trying to stop the multiverse from collapsing, so maybe he predicted your screw up. But goodness, his lap is uncomfortable. You tried to move a little closer into his lap. It was a little more comfortable, still uncomfortable.

“(Y/n) stop moving.” He whispers again, his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t listen and moved closer, until your back touched his chest. His grip on your waist tightens. You heard him grunt a little.

“My bad, it's just really uncomfortable on your lap.” You said. He had both hands on your waist trying to move you somewhere comfortable on his lap. He didn’t say anything after, so you scoot back to your original spot. Laying your head on his chest.

You heard his heartbeat, it was pretty fast. He was breathing heavily on your head.

“You alright, boss?” You spoke sort of concerned.

“Yeah, I’m. I’m fine.” He had his head buried in your shoulder. You felt a bump underneath yourself. You felt like you were sitting on a rock. You moved a little, not knowing you were grinding on his groin.

You felt him flinch.

“Please stop moving, (Y/n).” Miguel sounded like he was out of breath.

“What are you carrying in your pockets?” You asked, still moving a little. “My suit doesn’t have pockets.” He grunted.

A moment of silence went by when you realized what you were sitting on his cock. Your eyes widen and you turn all red.

“Shit- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

He crashes his lips onto yours. Exploring every part of your mouth. Shutting you up. You both let go to catch your breath. A string of saliva connects you two.

“I can’t resist you anymore, amor.” His words send shivers down your spine. You felt your core heat up.

“You can have me then.” You mumble.

The look in his eyes was lust hungry. Using his claws to rip off your suit. He kissed your bare neck.

“You owe me a new suit.” You whisper. “Mhm..” He continues to kiss your neck caressing his fangs onto your neck. His hand going into your panties and feeling your folds.

“You're so wet for me, querida.” He teases, sliding his fingers inside of you. Pumping them in and out. You moan at the pleasure.

“Shh… You don’t want to get caught do you?” He coe.

As his pace picks up, you feel your climax rise. His large fingers felt so good. You jolted as you felt his fingers go deeper inside. Your back arch as he finds your g-spot. He kissed your lips, trying to silence your moans.

Miguel was using his other hand to play with your breast. Flicking your hard nipple with his thumb.

“Miguel- I’m, I’m close.” You whine. As you felt the waves of pleasure crash over you. You came on his fingers, riding your orgasm out. He took his fingers out of you, licking his fingers. You watched the nano tech disappear from his groin and his cock flinging out.

The bead of pre-cum dripping from his tip. Your eyes widen at his size. Miguel lifted your thigh up with one hand. As the tip of his cock enters you. He rubs your clit with his cock teasing you.

“Put it in already.” You mewled as he slowly slid his lengthen into you. You felt so full, tears forming.

“So needy” He chuckled lightly.

You moaned out, as he started to thrust into you. You felt his cock so deep inside. He was throbbing inside of you. As pain turns into pleasure. You heard him groan as he picked up the pace. You tighten around his cock, but he was able to thrust in. His thick cock stretched your hole so much.

“Ah mami, you're so tight. Such a perfect fit for my cock.” He bullied your tiny cunt. Your eyes rolling back to the intense pleasure. Your only vocabulary was his name. As you came for the second time.

He rubbed your clit while thrusting into you. He loved that you came on his cock. He was hungry for more. His hips, bucking to your hole. His pace is a little sloppy from before. You clutch onto his back, basically digging your nails into him.

You came so many times afterwards, he fucked you stupid. You cried into his shoulder. As he release, you felt a hot liquid shoot into you, painting your walls.

“ngh.” You moaned, but Miguel covered your mouth with his hand. Your thighs trembling on his cock.

“You did so well.” He praised you. Miguel kissed your head. Exhaustion took over you, and you fell asleep. As for Miguel, he placed a long lab coat over you. Carrying you out of the cramp room as the coast was clear.

Back to HQ with the USB.

Mission succeed?

WC 1k

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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fandoms-writings · 10 months

Text

Stay with Me

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader (fem! intended)

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: He knows he shouldn’t see you, that coming to you puts you in danger. But sometimes, Miguel just needs to let himself have your softness, even if it’s just for a couple hours. (based on the prompt: “stop staring”/“i can’t, you look so pretty like this”)

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, tiny bit of nipple play, miguels canines (those deserve their own warning), miguel has some inner turmoil, miguel’s kinda subby in this one oops

A/N: Thank you so so much to @perdidosbucky-yyo for all of the spanish sections and the prompt and @banana-cheese-cake for beta reading! I love both of you very much <3

This is a part of my neon milestone party - if you’d like to request a prompt, please see this post <3

Translations for all phrases/terms used will be at the end <3

You were walking through your apartment, animatedly talking on the phone as you picked up while you paced - a habit he'd seen with his own eyes more times than he should’ve allowed himself.

Miguel wanted to wait for you to finish your conversation, but he needed you. He shouldn’t even be here, putting you at risk like this, but if he made his visit quick, it’d be okay.

He swung over to your window, settled on the fire escape and waited for you to return to the living room. He could slide it open and let himself in, you'd told him so last time, but it felt wrong, especially when you were distracted.

Once he saw you round the corner, he did the series of knocks the two of you had decided on after his second time here and your attention whipped over to see him. You all but ran to the window, sliding it open and allowing him to slip through, the wind from outside blowing your curtains to brush against your arms.

"Hey, can I call you back later? I've got something I need to take care of." He heard your friend agree on the other end, telling you she loves you and to have a good night before you hung up the phone, reaching over to place it on the coffee table.

You kept your eyes on him, his frame towering over you like it did every time the two you partook in this dance of yours. You'd never denied him, never turned him away no matter how many times he left. You didn't care how long he'd be gone for, you always welcomed him back.

You'd hold your arms out, like you were now, waiting for him to be the one to close the gap, and he always did. Sometimes, he'd scoop you up in a rush of passion and haste, and sometimes, like this one, he'd crumple before you. Falling to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your legs as you cradled his head in your arms, your fingers pulling the mask off his head and threading through his hair.

You never rushed him, allowing him to take as long as he needed, but it was these days that you both knew you'd be in charge for the night. Usually, he was the one who took care of you, brought you orgasm after orgasm, throwing you headfirst into subspace while he worshiped your softness.

But there were some nights where he didn't want to be in charge anymore. He'd had enough of being a leader - leading the spider society, fixing the multiverse and trying to keep it contained - it took a toll. You gladly took over, showing him care and love that he knew he didn't deserve.

You two almost never wasted time getting to what he came for - you didn't have the time to waste in the first place. This wasn't his reality, it was yours, and he couldn't risk being here for too long.

You pulled him up from the floor, pulling him over to the couch. You helped peel his suit away, tossing it to the armchair by the window before making him sit on the couch.

One of the things he loved about you was that you two didn't need words most of the time. You could push or pull him in any direction and it was like he instinctively knew exactly what you wanted from him.

He watched as you pushed your shorts down, letting them and your panties fall to the floor before kicking them off to the side. He held his hand out to stead you as you straddled his hips and cradled his face, your thumbs brushing against the sharp lines of his jaw and his high cheekbones as your lips descended on his. His hands wound around your waist and up your back, pressing your chest into his.

Your hands moved to grip the hair at the base of his neck, tipping his head back so you could easily slide your tongue past his lips and tasting his mouth as he groaned. The heat and slick from your core lit his nerves on fire as you ground your hips into his.

One of your palms left his neck, reaching down between you to wrap around his shaft, making him gasp into your mouth as you tugged on it, squeezing slightly at the tip.

"F-fuck, hermosa," He muttered into your neck, mouthing at the spot just under your ear, his breath coming out in slow pants. "Don't tease."

"Uh uh," You pulled on the hair at the base of his neck to pull his face from your neck, looking down at him through hooded eyes, "You need to earn it."

He nodded, swallowing down the pitiful whine that had crawled up his throat as you helped him shift to lay across the cushions. Your body shifted from side to side as you maneuvered your way up his torso, moving your knees to either side of his head.

Your hand caressed the side of his face as you cooed down at him, "Such a good boy," it fell from your lips like gospel and he let it wash over him, only allowing himself to believe it while under you.

His hands reached up behind you, grabbing the flesh of your hips and pushing you towards him. You smirked down at him before settling your weight down against face, his lips immediately attaching to your clit, his tongue expertly rolling over the bundle of nerves.

The feeling of your hands in his hair with his tongue buried inside your cunt was all Miguel wanted to feel for the rest of his miserable life. He didn't want to go back to his time - to his mistakes. He didn't want the responsibility of the multiverse on his shoulders.

He wanted to stay here, wrapped up in your legs, your words, your touch, your smell, your taste. To not have to be spiderman anymore, to just be yours for you to use in any way you wish, whenever you wished - he could only dream, and he could barely let himself do that.

He didn't want to allow himself to get used to you, the softness of your skin, the way your nails raked through his hair or down his back, the sounds that tumbled from your lips when he flattened his tongue over your folds, groaning into you.

He couldn't get attached to you.

But he could allow himself a couple hours with you before having to go back to his own reality.

"Just like that," you moaned as he gripped your thighs harder, squeezing your legs in his large hands as you reached forward for the arm of the couch, bracing yourself as you started to grind down against his tongue. "Oh, fuck - don't you dare stop."

He shook his head into you as you pressed down - he'd never stop if you let him.

He reached down, to give himself some sort of relief until you were ready to take him, but your hand caught his wrist, pulling it back up and putting it under your shirt to cup your breast, your fingers squeezing around his until he really gripped your chest as he moaned into you.

“Keep your hands on me," You panted, looking down at him with a heavy gaze, "I’ll take care of you, I promise." Your hand came down to brush through his hair, "I'll make you feel good, okay?"

He moaned at your promise, he knew you'd follow through on it, you always did. So he kept his hands on you, never letting go of your skin and focusing all of his attention on you and your dripping cunt.

The way your legs twitched on either side of his head told him you were close, ready to fall over the edge. You tried to pull up before grinding back down, but he followed you, his nose brushing your clit as his tongue pressed as far into your hole as it could go.

Your legs snapped around his head, squeezing as your body tensed above him and your release flooded his mouth. He groaned as your walls clenched around his tongue and he drank everything you had to offer. With your legs clamped around his head, he couldn't hear you, but he watched from under you, the way your back arched and your head fell back, your jaw open in a sinful moan he wished he could hear, but knew he would before he left.

Your body jolted as he continued devouring you, dragging the points of his canines along your folds before following with his tongue.

You pulled his hands off of you so he couldn't hold you to him and shifted your way back down his body, your hips settling over one of his thighs, smearing your mess into his skin. Your eyes moved up his torso until they locked with his own and from the smirk that grew on your lips, he knew he must look fucked out already, but he didn't care.

All he wanted was for you to touch him. But you were just staring, your gaze moving from his eyes to his chest to his cock and back up again.

"Muñeca," he begged, "please." He only ever begged from you, no one else ever got to see him like this, and you knew it too. He wasn't shy about telling you that after he let the pleading tone slip into his words one night. "Stop staring."

You cooed up at him, sitting up and removing your shirt before leaning over him, your breasts brushing against his shaft, sending jolts up his spine. "Let me take a second to look at you, I don't get to see you very often." The longing in your voice buried deep in his chest, digging at his resolve to not stay longer than usual. "Besides, you look so pretty like this."

He knew you wanted him to stay, every time you tried to convince him, but he didn't want to put your world at risk to be destroyed. He didn't want to lose you too. So he never stayed longer than necessary.

You knew the risks of him staying too long, he made sure to tell you so you wouldn't think he was being avoidant.

A gasp tore through his throat as you leaned down, swiping your tongue from base to tip along the underside of his cock before taking the tip into your mouth, licking off the precum.

"Fuck," He gritted out, his hands coming forward to cup your head. Your hands came from around the backs of his legs, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from your head, holding them in your own at his hips as you worked your mouth further down his length until your nose buried in the hair at the base. You pulled up, swirled your tongue around the tip, and back down.

"No mames diosa," he groaned looking down at you to see you staring up at him with your eyes wide, pupils blown. You hummed around his length as you bobbed your head, the sensation shooting up his spine and pulling another moan from his mouth, "please."

He knew by the glint in your eyes that you knew what he was asking for, but you always were a tease. You pulled your lips off of him with a pop, letting it fall down to hit his torso.

"Please what, guapo, " you purred, knowing what Spanish rolling off your tongue did to him.

Usually, he'd huff, putting up a fight asking for what he wanted, but with you it was different. He enjoyed asking you, begging you, releasing control to you.

"Te necesito," he muttered, fighting off the pitiful tone of his voice, "I need you, please."

At the crack in his voice, your eyes softened and you crawled up his torso, releasing his hands so he could touch you, his palms immediately finding their way to your waist.

"I got you, papi," You muttered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his pouted lips. "I got you."

You pulled him up to sit with his back against the back of the couch before your hand snuck between your bodies, reaching down and wrapping around his length before angling him at your entrance. His breath hitched when you started sinking on to him, enveloping him in your tight heat.

"Oh fuck - " he groaned out once you were seated all the way down. His hands wound around your back, holding your chest to his as he buried his nose in your neck.

Your moans rang in his ears as you started to bounce, reaching behind him to rake your nails along his scalp. You pulled his head out of your neck, attaching your lips to his, your tongue sliding through to tangle with his own. You only pulled away when you couldn't breathe anymore, staring down at him, watching as he caught one of your nipples between his teeth.

He dragged the point of his canines along the sensitive bud, applying just enough pressure to drag out that sinful sound from your throat before dragging his tongue across its surface and switching to the other one to give it the same treatment.

Your hands reached behind him, grabbing the back of the couch for balance as you slammed your hips into his, calling out his name. The steady rhythm you'd created started to fall apart the closer you got to your second orgasm, losing yourself in him. He reached down, grabbing the flesh of your ass, helping you bounce and keeping the rhythm you'd started to lose, making you land harder and harder each time.

"Oh - you gonna - fuck - fill me up, guapo? Hm?" You ask, taking the lobe of his ear between your teeth and dragging. "Gonna give me what I want?"

Your words tightened the band in his stomach - he was so close to snapping, but he needed you to fall first. "Give me one more?" He asked, sucking on the delicious spot on your neck. "Just one more. One more."

You nodded into his neck, your moans growing louder as your nails slid down his chest.

"One more, diosa, and I'll give you everything I have," he groaned, "Let go, let me have it."

Your body tensed over his, your pussy squeezing around his cock, making him groan as he planted his feet on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him as he thrusted up, fucking your through your release while chasing his own.

"That's it," He grunted, "my turn yeah?"

"Pleasepleaseplease," You whispered into his ear, gasping when he buried himself deep and let go, giving you all of his spend.

He clutched you to him, squeezing all the breath out of your lungs as his orgasm racked through his body, burying his mouth into your neck as he shouted.

You two stayed there for a moment, catching your breath as he traced patterns over your back.

"You're not staying are you?" Came the whisper of your voice as you ran your fingertips over the hair on his chest, the words dragging his heart under the floorboards.

He wanted to stay, he really did. He loved being here with you, the only worry in the world being how to make you fall apart again. But he didn't belong here.

He didn't deserve to be here. Didn’t deserve to have you.

Not after what he'd done.

"You know I can't." He muttered back, the sternness coming back into his voice. You were still for a moment, your hands no longer moving back and forth along his skin.

“Well,” you started, lifting your head from its place in his neck, looking at him with the tiniest amount of hope in your eyes, “Do you have time for a shower?”

He sighed, reaching up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I have time,” he muttered, leaning forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. “As long as I get to fuck you again.”

You smirked into his lips with a giggle, “Let’s go then.”

You stood, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall to your shower. Jessica and Lyla may question where he was or why he turned his tracker off, but stealing just another moment with you would be worth it.

It always was.

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Translations:

diosa - goddess

hermosa - beautiful

papi - daddy

guapo - handsome

Te necesito - I need you

no mames - holy shit

Muñeca - doll

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #sub!miguel o’hara #spiderman2099 x reader #miguel x fem!reader #miguel x f!reader #miguel x female!reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #reader insert #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #fandoms-writings #Stay with Me

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allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hello!! Can i request a 14 + 19 + n for Miguel? remember to take care of yourself as always :)) , luv from anon! 🎀

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me” + “I’ve got you” + Pregnancy x Miguel O’Hara

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Beach day! Fluff, pregnancy, mentions of body image issues, mention of suggestive themes, some light angst (if you squint, really), soft Miguel, he's an incredible husband <3 If I missed anything, let me know, I'm terrible at tagging! Not proofread - oops!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! I'm back!!! Wow, I could post two works this week? Insane!!! Well, it was a real blast writing this. I mean it, I got it ready in like, a day or two. That's just how much fun I had with this little drabble! It was just so cute, and I'm a sucker for soft Miguel. I missed writing for him!!!

Once again, I ask your patience. I promise I haven't given up on writing, I'm just really, really busy hahaha.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! I certainly did <3

“These are so good…” you mumbled, biting into the treat in your hand.

Miguel, standing next to you, winced and his face contorted in a slight expression of disgust. “Cream cheese with anchovies?” he asked, “Yes, mi vida. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You kept on biting at your sandwich, a content smile on your lips.

“How’d you know this is exactly what I’d want right now?” you asked, mouth stuffed. Miguel winced again. You knew it bothered him when people spoke with their mouth full, and yet he said nothing, simply happy to watch his loving wife indulge in her (honestly appalling) sandwich.

“Call it a lucky guess. All of your cravings so far have been disgusting, I thought I might as well mix whatever we had left on the fridge, and you’d enjoy it.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Seriously? Were you and your cravings that predictable that he could just mix whatever two ingredients there were in your fridge? But as soon as you gave it some more thought, the notion made you laugh. Perhaps it didn’t mean you were predictable, only that your husband knew you that well.

You ran a hand on top of your pregnant belly, giving it a few pats before returning to your sandwich.

“Thank you. Our baby seems to be enjoying it as well,” you tell him with a soft smile.

Miguel returns it and bends down to press a soft kiss on top of your stomach. “Well, that makes me happy.”

You two sat there. You, enjoying your ridiculous sandwich, Miguel enjoying your company. He’d been meaning to take you on a small beach day for a while now, but his work kept getting in a way. After a few tweaks in his schedule (courtesy of Lyla), and a few missions handled by other people (Jessica and Peter B. had been kind enough to catch those anomalies by themselves), he’d managed to snag you away on a sunny Saturday morning.

You had everything you could possibly need. Lots (and lots) of food, an insane amount of sunscreen (that Miguel insisted on applying on your skin every 20 minutes), a few books to keep you entertained (even though you’re only spending the day, and not a whole week), lots of refreshments, and four beach umbrellas for you to sit under (that occupied far too much space, something you’d stressed a lot at home. But it’s not like Miguel listened).

“Everything alright, mi vida?” He asked you.

You nodded and wiggled your feet, relishing on the feeling of the soft sand against them. “As alright as it was five minutes ago, Miggy. I promise I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about me.”

He only sighed in response and shook his head.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Can I get you anything? Would you like something from the beach bar? Fresh juice? Any other beverage? An ice cream?” Miguel looked positively adorable when he worried. Ever since you told him you were pregnant, he started treating you as if you were made of glass, and as soon as you started showing, he went actually crazy.

His wife can’t lift a box – can’t bend down and possibly hurt the baby. He’ll do all of the heavy lifting. In fact, he’ll do all of the lifting.

She can’t do the dishes – spending far too long on her feet can tire her out, and he couldn’t have that. He’ll wash everything and get a dishwasher for the days he worked late.

She can’t possibly cook dinner – what if something goes wrong and she gets upset? Stress is not good for the baby. No, let Miguel do all the cooking.

She can’t clean either – let him handle it.

The point was, Miguel was an extremely protective man. He loved you more than anything. And now you were carrying the world’s most precious cargo: his son.

So why wouldn’t he treat you with the utmost care?

“Miguel, I told you, I’m fine.” You sighed, finishing your sandwich. Before you could say something, Miguel had handed you two napkins and a bottle of fresh orange juice. You took the napkins, cleaned your mouth, and he quickly grabbed a bottle of water, presenting both to you.

“Water? Juice? Which do you prefer, my love?” he asked.

You just shook your head. It was pointless to say anything. Better to simply enjoy it.

“Juice is fine.” You took the bottle and brought it to your lips, which earned a slight groan from him. Safe to say, your pregnancy had just made Miguel even more enamoured with you and your body. The accentuated curves, the softness and plushness of your skin, all for Miguel to grasp and tug and pull. Your tender breasts that had grown, and he’d already spent hours twisting and helping relieve some of your pain and soreness, your calves that often needed to be massaged – your body had always been a treasure to Miguel, but now that his child was growing inside of it, he was going to do everything in his power to love it more and more.

You looked at him; this look of his was easy to recognise. Crimson eyes low and darkened with desire, tracing every swirl of your tongue over your lips. You blushed furiously. It was flattering to know Miguel wanted you, and even more so to know both his love and lust had only increased with your pregnancy.

“Like what you see, Mister?” you asked, tilting your head, and playing coy.

Miguel loved it when you did that. It did things to him whenever you played hard to get, whenever you pretended not to know the effect you had on him.

“Very much. Te ves bien bonita,” he hummed, dipping his head low to place a kiss on your jaw. You sighed, and he took it as a sign to kiss you further, trailing down your neck.

You were just about to run your fingers through his hair when you remembered where the hell you were.

“M-Miguel!” you breathed out, slowly pulling him away from your body. “Please – we’re in public.”

“No me importa. Que vean.”

“No – Miguel, no.” You giggled and pushed him off you, earning an annoyed huff from him.

“We’re at the beach. We’re not going to give these people a show.”

“Oh, but who told you I don’t want to?” Miguel asked, raising a brow, “I’d like to show all of those idiots staring who the hell you belong to.” His voice was low and raspy, and you felt heat pool in your lower stomach. You shook your head, trying to get these nasty thoughts out of your head. This was supposed to be a nice, innocent beach date! Not fantasizing about your incredibly handsome husband.

“Well,” you spoke, “Too bad. You’re not doing anything.”

Miguel grumbled and got up, shaking his head.

“Always the same. Always ‘We’re in public Miggy!” or, ‘Don’t do that, people are watching Miguel”, or even ‘You can’t fuck me in front all of these people Miguel’!”

Your cheeks heat up and you blushed furiously, embarrassment spreading through your whole body. Your husband wasn’t talking in a particularly low tone, and people had started to look at him. More specifically, women, smirking towards him and licking their lips viciously. Your stomach was about to curl when Miguel spoke his next words, making you forget all about other people.

“One of these days I’ll take you in front of all of them, I’m telling you. Show them you’re mine.”

“Miguel!”

“What?” He turned to look at you, and you could see that stupid smirk of his plastered all over his face. It was no secret that Miguel loved to see you flustered like this.

“Don’t say that out loud, oh my god!”

“Why? It’s not like I’m lying here.” Before you could protest further, Miguel offered you a cheeky smile and nodded his head towards the water. “I’m gonna go for a dive. Do you want to come?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s fine.” It was enough for Miguel to tense up, but you were quick to reply. “It’s fine – I’ll be fine, Miguel, don’t worry. I’ll just stay here under the shade.” You tried offering him a reassuring smile. After all, you weren’t a child, and could take care of yourself just fine.

Miguel eyed you for a while, before sighing.

“Fine,” he said, “But if you need anything – “

“I’ll let you know. Don’t worry.”

“And I won’t be long. I promise. I just need to freshen up.”

“Miguel,” you said his name softly, “It’s fine. I promise I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and ran towards the water. You watched him as he looked around and the water tickled his feet.

You then looked around, taking the scenery in. It was a lovely sunny day. There were no clouds in the sky, and nothing but a small breeze could be felt brushing your hair. It was the perfect beach day, and you were so glad Miguel had taken today off to be with you. You missed him when he was gone, and although you knew what he did was extremely important (after all, your husband was Spider-Man), it was only natural to long for him when he was away. Especially with these pesky pregnancy hormones.

You returned your gaze to him, and that’s when you saw her.

A woman, eyeing Miguel up and down, shamelessly.

You raised an eyebrow. For the looks of it, it seemed as if she had been looking at him for a while. It was clear she was looking him up and down, and you felt a nasty feeling forming on your stomach, something green and envious and nasty.

The woman approached him, and your eyes lingered on her, on her perfect silhouette. Her legs were long and lean, her stomach toned, and her bikini sure did wonders showing off her boobs. Along with the jealousy you felt clawing at your skin, came another feeling, that instead of making you angry, just made you sad.

Miguel had seemed to notice her, because he turned to face her and the two started to talk. She was all smiles and giggles, tilting her head slightly and – was she actually swaying her hips? You huffed. Miguel was no stranger to flirtation. Women shot their shots with him all the time. Well, tried to. He was always quick to shut them down, mentioning his lovely wife, who happened to now be carrying his baby.

You knew him to be faithful. You knew he loved you and only you. You knew he would never hurt you or cheat on you or cause you any distress.

So why was it that you felt so unworthy of him when you two were out?

You looked at the woman again.

She was gorgeous, with perfect skin, flawless hair, and a great fucking body.

And here you were, sitting down on a chair you could barely get out of, eating a sandwich you were sure was positively disgusting to everyone else, feeling big and fat and ugly and simply not enough for him. The thought nearly brought you two tears. Miguel always assured you of how much he loved you, of how much he adored you and found you the most beautiful woman in the world.

And yet you couldn’t help but wipe away one or two tears that spilled across your cheeks, dark thoughts clouding your mind. You were surrounded by beautiful women, all of them reminding you of how much less you felt, with their perfect bodies and normal stomachs that did not weigh a ton because of the baby growing inside of them, with long legs that elegantly strutted instead of awkwardly waddling from one room to the other. Would Miguel be better off with any of these women? Would they look better on his arm, on his bed, on his life?

It was simply too much. You grabbed your nearby dress and placed it on top of your belly, hiding it. Then, you moved to grab your book, trying to focus on your reading. It was nearly impossible, and when Miguel returned after a while, you did your best not to look at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

You refused to meet his eye.

“Mhm. Just peachy.”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then why are you covering yourself?”

“Just protecting the baby from the heat,” you mumbled. What a terrible excuse.

Miguel hummed before you. He bent down and grabbed his towel, shaking the sand from it (away from you, of course), before setting it down on the spot next to yours, and laying on it. Now that he was up close, you could see every freckle on his body, every muscle, every droplet that fell down his arms, his legs, his back. He was as charming as ever.

And you had never felt more inadequate. Unconsciously, you brought your dress closer, hiding your chest too.

"¿Seguro que estás bien, mi vida?" Miguel asked again, looking up at you. Why the hell were you covering your body? Were you cold? It was rather warm outside, that couldn’t be it. Did you feel sick?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Miguel followed your eyes. They landed on the woman that had tried to strike up a conversation with him earlier.

And then everything fell into place.

The way you were hiding your body from him, the way you looked somewhere else so that you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze, how sheepishly you were acting.

And it genuinely upset Miguel. Because how could you ever think that you weren’t the most gorgeous woman out there? That your body wasn’t worthy of worship and adoration and idolisation? His fingers slowly crept up next to you, and he softly pulled the dress away from your body, exposing your belly, your thighs, your legs, your beautiful skin and being.

“Miguel, gimme that back,” you mumbled, trying to take the dress back from him. He pulled back his arm and the dress was immediately out of your reach. You huffed, hugging your hands around your body, as if you could hide it from him. You couldn’t. And Miguel was heartbroken that you thought you had to.

“Tell me what’s wrong, mami.” He said, hand caressing your thigh. He’d have to coax the insecurity out of you.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just cold – “

“It’s so hot, we could almost fry an egg on that cute belly of yours.” Miguel said. He wasn’t afraid to talk about your body, especially not after you’d gotten pregnant. You’d felt insecure once or twice, but he had always reassured you of how beautiful you were, and how radiant you looked, even with that big pregnant belly of yours. And for the past few months, you’d been doing amazing, feeling confident about your body, and loving your new figure and everything it meant for your future alongside Miguel. But perhaps the beach had taken some of that confidence away.

You sighed and looked away. Unfortunately for you, Miguel reached out with his hand and turned your face towards his. Nowhere to hide.

“Vale. Suelta la sopa,” he spoke.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to look to aside from those gorgeous chocolate-crimson eyes of his. You trusted Miguel, you really did. So why were you having such a hard time saying this? Perhaps you didn’t want him to feel like he didn’t love you enough. You knew he loved you. You knew he found you attractive. What if you thought you were being dramatic? What if he thought you were too high maintenance, still feeling insecure even though all he did was reassure you of his love? It’s not like you can help your feelings.

“I don’t want to bother you Miggy,” you replied, voice soft. “It’s fine.”

“You’ll never bother me. You know that, right? Now, come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You bit your bottom lip, and then nodded.

“It’s just… I just feel so…” You scrambled for words.

“Take your time,” Miguel said to reassure you.

“I feel so unworthy.”

“Unworthy? How so, mi alma?”

“I’m not – my body is not – I’ve changed, Miguel. My body has changed so much. I don’t look like them – “ you nudged your head towards the water, where the gorgeous woman had been moments ago. “And I never will. And look at you – you’re so handsome. You’ve always been. And next to you, I feel… I feel inadequate. I don’t feel beautiful enough for you… And I know what you’re gonna say. That I am, and that you love me, and that you love this child. And so do I. More than anything. But sometimes, I just feel… I feel like you’d look better with someone like that on your arm.”

Miguel listened attentively to each word you said. Just as he figured out, you were feeling down because of your appearance.

“Honey,” he started, letting go of your chin. “You are right. I will say that you look beautiful, and that you’ll always look beautiful to me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quicker.

“Uh-uh – let me finish. As I was saying, you are beautiful. And I love you. Sure, your body has changed, but it has changed because you’re carrying our baby. You’re carrying a child. Mi vida, do you know how miraculous that is?” His voice was laced with nothing but adoration, and so were his eyes. “You’re carrying a life inside of you. You’re going to bring a life into this world. That is such a beautiful thing. Your body has simply stretched to accommodate our little one. And that is such a lovely thing. It’s a miracle, mi vida. You’re a miracle.”

Your eyes quickly filled with tears, and Miguel cupped your face with both of his hands.

“I couldn’t care less about other women. Whatever they have, whatever they might offer, it will never compare to what you offer me every day. To the love you so selflessly give me every single day, to the greatest gift you’re about to give me. A child. You’re going to bring my child into the world. You say you feel inadequate next to me – Mierda, I feel inadequate next to you. You have chosen me to be the father of your child, and you’re doing all of this to carry it and bring it to the world safely. And all I can do is watch. I can’t take away your pain, I can’t take away your discomfort. I’m the lucky one. I mean – hell, you could’ve had any guy in the world, but you chose me. You chose this awkward, nerdy, standoffish man who couldn’t even tell you he loved you the first time he kissed you because he was so bad dealing with his own feelings.”

You giggled as you recalled the memory, and your heart warmed. Miguel laughed along with you. He’d come very far with you. He was a man of logic, of reason, never letting emotions cloud his judgement. Which made everything infinitely harder when he met you – you, who broke down his walls and made it impossible to think and be reasonable. He’d come so far, and it was all thanks to you.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Miguel continued. “This child is the greatest thing that could ever happen to us. I know that I can’t take away your insecurities just like this. And it kills me that you can’t see yourself the way I do. But please, please believe me when I tell you that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life. The kindest, smartest. The most miraculous of them all, carrying a child all by yourself.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, and you sobbed softly. Miguel scooted closer to you, and with his help, you got up from your chair and sat down on his lap. His arms were instantly all over you, one of them bringing you close, the other trailing patterns on top of your stomach.

“I just… I feel so ugly sometimes… And then we came to the beach, and it was supposed to be a lovely day just between the two of us, but then I saw that woman, and she looked gorgeous, and I’ll never be her…” You said in between sobs.

Miguel caressed your head and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“You forgot the most important part.”

You looked up, confusion in your features.

“She will never be you.”

Your eyes widened softly, and you parted your lips.

“She will never be the woman I love. She will never be the woman who puts up with me every day, even when I’m cranky and grouchy. She will never be the woman who wakes me up with kisses in the morning because she wants me to start my day in the best way possible. She’ll never be the woman who packs my lunch and writes sweet notes. She will never be the woman who loves me unconditionally despite my many, many flaws. She will never be you. Never.”

You smiled through your tears and the invisible rope that tugged at Miguel’s heart loosened its hold. You were smiling. Thank God.

“She’ll never be me?” You repeated.

“No one will ever be you.” He replied, closing the gap between your faces, and taking your lips in his. You kissed him softly, cupping his jaw with your hand and trailing your fingers through his head with the other. When you pulled away for air, there were tears in your eyes once again.

“I’m sorry for being like this… Sometimes, the hormones, they just…”

Miguel quickly cut you off.

“You don’t need to apologize. I will never get tired of saying how much I love you, of telling you how much you mean to me. It’s okay to not be fine. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

You nodded with a small smile.

“Then I’m telling it to you too. It’s okay to feel like this. And I know I can’t understand the depth of your feelings. I can’t know for sure what you’re going through. But I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always be right here to help you. I love you, honey. I really do. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

If someone were to tell you a few years ago that Miguel would be capable of saying these sorts of things, you’d have scoffed and told them to fuck off. When you met him, Miguel didn’t do feelings. He never opened up, never spoke about himself or his emotions. But then you came along and taught him how to feel, how to love. You taught him it was okay to be vulnerable, to be taken care of, to be loved. You loved him all the more for it, your scary, mean, giant of a man who turned into putty whenever his eyes landed on you.

“I love you. Thank you so much for this. I mean it.” You said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like the beach, like the soft breeze and the warm sun. You placed a kiss there and smiled as soon as the salt of the water hit your tongue.

“I’ve told you, mi vida. I’ve got you.” He said, still tracing patterns on your skin. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”

You two remained like this, in each other’s arms for a while.

You didn’t feel the need to get up or go for a swim. Not yet.

For now, all you wanted was to stay in your husband’s arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, sink further into his touch. You looked up and took in the scenery around you. The shining sun, the clear blue sky, the sparkly water. You watched as young couples smiled at each other, groups of friends played around, and families ran after their children. Someday, it’d be you and Miguel, along with your little one.

You realised you didn’t feel insecure anymore. Miguel was right. It was a miraculous thing, to be carrying such a precious thing inside of you. Your child. Miguel’s child. The product of the love and devotion you held for each other. You couldn’t be ashamed of that, could you?

You knew this would be an uphill battle. Your insecurities couldn’t be erased simply overnight. But with Miguel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you realised that as long as you had him to remind you of all the beautiful things you and this body meant, and how much you two loved each other, it would be okay.

You would be okay.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys have enjoyed this little drabble.

Have a wonderful day ahead, everyone!!! <3

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #astv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x you

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