#miguel is the one doing the experiment probably

[redstarwriting]

pda/general affection hcs | i.

ft. hobie brown & miles morales

request?: yes

request: “Hiiii!!! I am absolutely IN LOVE with ur the clash series and I can't wait to see how it progresses!!! Could u do some pda/general affection hcs for the spider verse characters? I would love to see Miles and Hobie hcs but it's rlly up to whatever characters u would wanna write for. Endless thanks!!”

warnings:  language, cuteness, mentions of dying, mentions of injuries, mentions of throwing up, mentions of being overwhelmed

a/n: i love hcs lol this was actually how i first starting writing and it’s so fun bc i can be my sarcastic self without having to change any of it teehee, thank you for requesting anon! thinking of doing this for other characters to, what does everyone think?

i’ve made a pt ii. to this with gwen and pavitr if you wanna check it out!

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hobie brown | spider-punk

pda

- he’s kind of a middle ground - not crazy about it - not against it at all - he just - hold onto your hats for this one - ✨he does what he wants✨ - ofc it also depends who’s company you’re in - if y’all are with Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr, he’s super comfortable and a part - of his body will always be touching yours - but it’s not like he’s goin out of his way to be like LOOK AT MY PARTNER - HOWEVER - if he’s ANYWHERE where there are authority figures? - *cough* miguel *cough* - he will just start to make out with you - LMAO - “Hobie, can you stop kissing your partner and listen to me.”   “No.”   “You’re aware of how rude you’re being?”   “Good.” - if you don’t like it ofc he won’t but he WILL be touchier with you in those moments - because it pisses people off - and he loves that - also if he felt threatened? - he’d probably get a little touchier than usual - but honestly he almost never feels threatened so who knows if you’d ever experience that - and if he did ever feel threatened he would feel better knowing that you always wear one of his studded bracelets - ppl will ask where you got it and you’ll be all - “Oh! My boyfriend Hobie!” - he loves seeing the hope drain out of anyone’s eyes when he appears behind you after that statement, he finds it so amusing every time - he’s only obsessed with a few things - like there is something he will ALWAYS do - he is OBSESSED and i mean OBSESSSSSEEDDD with having his hand in your back pocket - at all times - only if it isn’t around your shoulders (another obsession of his) - like y’all are going to one of his shows? - you enter with his hand in your back pocket - after gets offstage? - hand in back pocket - walking home? - hand in back pocket - sometimes y’all will walk instead of him picking you up and webbing back home JUST BECAUSE he wants to put his hand in your back pocket - he also LOVES using you as an armrest - if you’re short, he places his arm on your head like an armrest - if you’re average height, he’s still using your head as an armrest - if you’re tall or as tall as him he will climb a wall to use your head as an armrest - it gets you flustered and he thinks it’s adorable! - and eye contact? - he will keep his eyes trained on you at all times - he’s always looking at you - or else he’s looking for you - only looks away SOMETIMES when he’s talking to other people - “Hobie, I’m over here.”   “Yeah, I know.”   “So stop looking at them, I’m the one talking to you.”   “Yeah, but you ain’t the fittest person in the room so piss off, eh?” - that being said - there is something he just doesn’t do in public - he doesn’t hold hands - i do feel like he would hold pinkies with you upon request - but holding hands just isn’t his thing - in public👀

general affection

- THIS MAN HAS THE WORLD FOOLED - he acts all nonchalant about it - acts like he only does pda to go against societal rules - which he does BUT ALSO - he is so touchy - he isn’t clingy by any regard - but he LOVES being affectionate - just like the smallest things - every morning when y’all wake up in the same bed together and he wakes up before you (which is a lot bc he doesn’t sleep well) he will place a feather-light kiss somewhere on your face so he doesn’t wake you up - but like clockwork - he will do it - and after he will just lay there and hold you for a bit - even when during the night the two of you separate from each other he will always reach out for you during those times - and he will maneuver you back into his arms so he can just lay there with you for a bit - every time you ask him why he just tells you you make him a “bloody softie” - which yeah you do - but also - he gets scared when he comes home, you won’t be there - with his job that isn’t really a job and all, he gets so nervous that you’ll just be fed up with it and leave - or worse, you’ll be used as bait for him - bait which he would immediately take, of course - he even does it because he thinks about the possibility of him not coming home one day - and he wants you to feel like you were loved if that happens - he also just loves the little smile that comes to your face every morning - when you realize he’s done it again - and that is just ONE THING - he hates getting injured, but would lie if he said he hated getting patched up by you - when you’re cleaning his wounds with alcohol the two of you hold hands - he’ll squeeze when it stings and you’ll squeeze when you feel bad - so you’re kinda squeezing his hand the whole time - but you know how i said he doesn’t hold hands in public? - at home it’s a different story - watching tv? - hands are held - looking at the stars from the top of a building? - hands are held - throwing up after drinking too much? - hands are held - so is hair - and he rubs your back - you rub his - he adores back scratches (not when he’s throwing up just in general LMAO) - one thing he didn’t realize he loved so much until it happened was when he was sitting and playing his guitar on y’alls bed - just mindlessly finger picking some melodies - and you came up and sat behind him and put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his cheek and just - stayed there - it made him melt - he loves it so much - he especially loves it when you hum along - even if you can’t hold a tune - it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard he doesn’t care - you can expect him to be all over you the minute he gets back from being Spider-Punk - especially when he has a bad day - i could probably give more examples but this is already kinda long lmao oops

overall

- he LOVES affection - public and private - if he loves you, he’s gonna show it - he’s gonna scream it, literally and figuratively - everyone will know y’all are together - which he loves - but that’s not why he does it - he just loves you - and doesn’t care what other ppl think 🤭

miles morales | spider-man

pda

- omg this lil man is so awkward - i’m far older than him and he makes me think of how nervous and awkward i was at his age when it came to any type of romance - so i can see him being SO unintentionally awkward in public - he tries so hard to be cool - but omg - the tiniest thing will go wrong and he’ll go from 😏 to 😟 - everything is the end of the world until you assure him it isn’t - like the time he saw you outside around Brooklyn Visions Academy and thought it’d be so cute to go up behind you and cover your eyes and say “guess who :)” - except it wasn’t you - you were across the street and watched it all go down - he literally made eye contact with you the minute he tried to be cute - the HORROR on his face - he was immediately apologizing to the random person he just did that to - in the moment you were so confused - but when you and him were in his dorm and he was flailing his arms around -and yelling in lowercase explaining it? - oh my god - hilarious - he was all pouty when you started laughing so you had to attack his face with little kisses to make him cheer up - one would have done the trick but he was grateful for all of the ones you gave him regardless - or the time he went to wrap his arm around your waist during lunch because he wanted to be all cute in school and you turned around as soon as he put his arm out and tried to walk and his sturdiness and strength made you literally drop your lunch tray and the food went everywhere - and there you were again in his dorm as he was flailing his arms around and yelling in lowercase apologizing because you just got new shoes and he ruined it and— - shut him up with a kiss, would you? - a display of public affection that always happens though is you’re always in his jacket - to the point where he has two of the same jacket now so you guys can be twinning :,) - “Look, babe! Same jacket!”   “Oh my god wait! We’re gonna be so cute!”   “I know, right? Pretty smart and cute of me, huh?”   “Very smart and cute of you, Miles.” - he also loves to have his hand on top of yours whenever he can - he’ll do it in class - if y’all go out to eat - if he’s sketching and you’re next to him - and holding hands in public is a favorite of his - it’s very tiny things that he does because every time he tries something big something goes wrong - like opening a door for you and motioning you to go in before him - and always being ready to steady you if you would trip (which happens more than he thought it would) - and always fixing your necklace that he bought you for your birthday (with the help of Rio) when the little clasp comes down in the front - he’s constantly staring at you with a dopey grin on his face - literally will get called out in class because he’s just 👁👄👁 - and then he gets all flustered  - but the smile you get on your face letting him know you like him that much will relax him - will go from “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to draw attention to you!” to “yeah, you like that? imma do it more then.” - he’ll also pretend to drum on you with his pencils when you’re near him - especially if he has his headphones in - he likes to play this game where you guess which one of his songs he’s jamming out to - sometimes he says you got it right when you get it wrong just to see you get excited - and he doesn’t necessarily mean for this to be a public display of affection, - but his constant drawing of you is frequently watched by other classmates - the only person who has successfully seen his bold moves of affection is Ganke, and he pretends to gag every time lol

general affection

- he’s such an affectionate boy 🥹 - like i said, Ganke is the only one who successfully sees his physical affection plots work - he’s much smoother when people aren’t around - and yes, he has shown you the shoulder touch - you did it to him once and he short-circuited - i’m so serious he accidentally shocked you - but then he hugged and kissed you for like 40 minutes afterward cause he felt bad - so it wasn’t too bad of an experience - but when it comes to physical affection in private, he’s worlds better at it - any time he plays video games, whether that be with you or Ganke, he has his leg over top of yours - He loves watching movies with you where you lay your head on his lap and he just mindlessly draws little shapes on your shoulder - he also loves having you laying on top of him while y’all cuddle - it makes him feel safe (and he gets to steal soooo many kisses from you) - you’re kinda like his very own weighted blanket but not even because his spider strength makes you feel like a feather - but it’s also an easy way for him to keep a hold of you and feel like he’s protecting you - he also loves to take you web swinging - holding you super close and taking you to a tall building away from anyone who can see y’all - he loves that - sometimes he’ll have like a whole picnic type date set up and y’all will just have a cute lil date on the top of the one world trade center - he also loves having you over to his place - his parents love you - and you love them - they make him keep his door cracked when y’all are in there together but it’s mainly because they love to peek in and see their son so in love - Jefferson took like 74 pictures the first time he saw y’all napping together - And Rio took like 52 pictures when she caught the two of you on the roof of the building and he was playing you a playlist he made for you - he does that a lot but that was the first time Rio saw it - she was ecstatic lol - he occasionally will just poke you for no reason - and by occasionally i mean he does it constantly - “Miles? Why did you do that?”   “Do what?”   “I literally saw you poke me.”   “No, I didn’t”   “…”   “…”   “I did, you’re just so cute, I don’t know.” - he also loves drawing on your hand - the back of your hand has constant Miles doodles - sometimes it’s stuff like the two of your initals in a heart - sometimes it’s Spider-Man - sometimes it’s just whatever was on his mind - but you love your constant Miles hand drawings - and he feels like it’s some sort of way for other people to know you’re his - but when he does it it’s so cute - cause he’s so gentle - and no one is watching - but you’re sitting there and just smiling as he creates a work of art on your hand and the playlist he made full of songs that remind him of how you made him feel the first time he saw you is softly playing in the background - he calls them temporary tattoos and one day you’re going to actually get one of the doodles tattooed on you somewhere - he’ll probably have a heart attack from how much he loves it but hey that’s fine he’ll recover - speaking of he loves to draw with you - he doesn’t care about your skill level, he just loves to be creative with you - he also is very much all about making sure you’re eating - getting enough sleep - prioritizing yourself above everything else - and if anything is ever bothering you - he is There - he will always be there and it’s very comforting - he just wants you to be happy all the time and does his best to do so - and you feel the same - so any time the responsibility of Spider-Man is too much for him - or when his parents get on him because he’s hiding half of who he is - you’re there for him - often times after he comes home from a long day of Spider-Manning he’s the one who is being held, but you’re fine with that - cause he can be vulnerable with you and he needs it

overall

- Miles is getting the hang of being in a relationship - he really does love pda but is so bad at it lmao - when he gets better beware - you will be a melting mess in public all the time - but for right now it’s just behind the scenes where he’s able to show how he really feels - give him all the hugs he needs ‘em

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

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Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

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

[gatorbites-imagines]

I finished watching the new spiderverse movie- Im OBBSESED with miles M, Miguel and hobie tbh.

Sooo.. if it’s not a problem, could you write hc’s for either miles m, hobie or Miguel please? :)) it’s fine if you don’t want to, I really do not mind <33

Luv youu <3

Miles Morales, Miguel O’Hara, Hobie Brown

Relationship Headcanons

How about some relationship headcanons for all of them?

Miles Morales

He’s so sweet when you guys are dating. He doesn’t have much to any experience when it comes to dating, so he’s kinda basing it all off of media he’s watched or read, and from what he’s seen between his parents.

He brings you cheesy gifts on your anniversary, like flowers or those really big teddy bears that’s holding a big plush heart. Hed also go out of his way to get your favorite cake or dessert, and if you don’t like sweets, hed get you something else.

He loves kissing, Miles would do that thing where he lifts one of his legs when you kiss, like in the cartoons. The best way to distract him is to kiss his cheeks or lean over and kiss him on the lips. It always makes him lose his train of thought, and makes him cover his face and giggle.

Miles loves holding your hand, you two can always be caught holding hands in one way. Be it by intertwining your fingers, or just locking pinkies when you walk. Its one of the best ways to help ground Miles when he’s stressed, since just feeling you hold his hand helps him focus on something other than stress.

His parents love you, since you are nice and respectful, and never refer to them by their first names, and you make Miles so happy. They’ve seen how mushy Miles gets, and he almost has hearts above his head when he talks about you, so they’re happy that he’s happy.

Miguel O’Hara

Miguel is a little more subtle and quiet about his love for you. He’s a pretty jaded guy, and has a deep fear of losing you. So, when you guys start dating, he might be kinda standoffish or scared of getting close to you, since he fears he would love you too much or somehow scare you away.

Shows his love in quieter ways, like bringing you your favorite drink or letting you lean against his shoulder when you are tired. It would take a while before he would cuddle you back or kiss you on the lips, but Miguel would always kiss you on the forehead or the top of your head.

Is a little insecure about his fangs or claws, since they come right out of the bottom of his fingers and don’t act like normal claws. When he sees you don’t mind though, it helps lighten the insecurity a bit and after a while hed grow comfortable, and would stop hiding them.

When he feels completely safe and secure in your guy’s relationship, you see a whole new side of him. He’s such a secret cuddlebug its insane. Look at him and tell me he isn’t touch starved. And now that he has you, there will be no way for you to escape his strong arms. Don’t get it mixed up though, he’s the little spoon and cuddled against your chest, not you against his.

He always kisses you like you mean the world and the stars to him, like its gonna be your last. This is because a small part of his brain is still constantly scared he will lose you, or that he’s gonna die on missions. Because of these fears he might need some hugs and kisses after missions.

Hobie Brown

Hobie is an easygoing guy, so he wouldn’t make the biggest thing out of you two dating. So, if you are one for big displays of affection of devotion, he wouldn’t be your guy. He likes to keep his love more subtle and on the quiet side, just for you two and no one else.

Would still bring you small gifts, like his guitar picks or a cool shirt or jacket he made for you. He loves when you wear his clothes and will wear yours too if possible. The moment you agreed to date him you pretty much signed up for him raiding your closet for anything he likes. And he probably looks better wearing it than you ever did too.

Isn’t a mushy guy, but still likes to cuddle as much as the next guy. Doesn’t care about being big or little spoon, just wants to get close to you, especially after a long and stressful day, or if you’ve ever gotten hurt in one way or another. Because dating Hobie would probably end up with you getting hurt every now and then, but dating Hobie also means you know how to defend yourself too.

Hobie is the kind of guy to start wearing a chain with a lock on it when you two get serious, it’s the most visible he is with his love for you. He’s also extremely loyal, no one could even catch a smidge of his attention with you around, so you would never have to worry about him cheating.

Writes songs for you and about you, they can get a little cringy sometimes, but you love them anyways. He would also just make up songs on the spot when you guys are doing stuff. Like about how much he loves your hair, or your outfit, or how you smell good today.

[winterzsurprise]

Taking care of you || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: Miguel comes home after a rough week and a half out of his universe and you decided that the only way to take care of him was to web him down.

Tags: NOT BETA READ, SMUT, bondage, overstimulation, denied orgasms, multiple orgasms, blowjob, blindfolds, he bites you and paralyzes you, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), big dick Miguel, sub Miguel (ig??? he still try to get the upper hand throughout)

Words: 2k

I was struggling because all the words I know are aggressive because I watch gaming streamer (Quackity & Roier) and I don't think moaning pendejo or chinga tu madre is very sexy.

Spanish speakers, tell me what moanable curses you guys have, it's for science (I am begging u)

mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi amor - my love || dios mio - my god || mierda - shit || puta madre - motherfucker

When Miguel came home after a long week and a half, he’d expect a heartful meal to consume before passing out on a warm bed beside you. To get bound on the chair with a special web fluid designed to keep him down in the dimly lit apartment is not one of those expectations.

Being a Spider-Man with no spider senses, his first instinct was to break out of the binds, calming down and unmasking once he caught a whiff of your scent.

“Mi vida? What are you planning this time?”

“Nada, is it a crime to want to take care of you?”

Your touch burned through his suit as you dragged your fingers across his chest. After days without being to see nor feel your presence near him, the desire in his chest grew from a pea sized to universal.

“I’ll give you thirty minutes to finish what you planned before I break out of this shit.”

You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look over his shoulder where you stood so mysteriously with no indication of your clothing visible to his eyes.

“You won’t.”

Miguel chuckled. “Why not? I can probably break out of this if I want to.”

“I’ll go back home to my dimension for a month and you wouldn’t even be able to find me since you’d be busy with work.”

He frowned, cursing under his breath to which you giggled at.

“Are you going to break out, mi amor?”

He said nothing, turning away bitterly and you took it as a win. 

“Now, let me take care of you.”

When your lips first touched his neck, a spark went off in his veins. He grunts as your hands start roaming his chest with feather-light touches, forcing him to retract the suit to be able to feel your warmth on his skin to complete the gaping hole in his chest.

There was something about Miguel being tied up, hopeless and responsive to your touches as depravity clawed at his chest.

The frustrated groan when you pulled away to reposition yourself to sit on his lap told you everything you knew, the tent poking you when you sat on him was also a confirmation. Placing a kiss on his cheekbones, you pulled out the blindfold from your pockets and he groaned.

"Really?"

"Oh shush."

You've read somewhere about blindfolds enhancing the experience as a whole, something about taking out one sense amplifying the others and decided to try it out tonight.

And Miguel having sharper senses than most Spider people only made your plan irresistible to not do.

Tying it around his eyes, you find yourself enamored with how vulnerable and submissive he looks right now.

"Darling, you look so pretty like this."

He scoffed. "I would look better on top of you, cariño."

"Fair enough."

Unbuttoning his shirt, you placed light kisses on every inch of skin exposed to your eyes while he'd sigh at the feeling of your lips on him. You weren't able to unbutton it all nor push it away due to the webs but you deemed it perfect as long as his pecs and some parts of his collarbones are out in the open.

Turning your attention to his pants, you captured his lips with yours and it instantly grew heated with a hunger not even a meal alone can satisfy. Pulling his fly down, your hands rose to tug at his hair to which he groaned, a reaction you've never had in the past.

Is it really effective?

Pulling away, you tugged on his waistbands and pulled them down to reveal his girth standing at full attention leaking with pre-cum.

"Fuck… touch me."

“You’re not in control here.”

Even then, you wrapped your hand around his dick and even that alone got his breath stuck to his throat.

Maybe you should bring the blindfold more often…

Pumping him leisurely, he threw his head back, melting into the chair, thighs spreading wider as the enhanced ecstasy spiked his veins, stirring every fiber of his system awake.

"Mierda, th-that feels so good…" 

The sight of his glistening chest heaving heavily as sweat beads on his forehead is enough to make your nose bleed till the next year. A memory forever ingrained in your mind. 

You trailed kisses on his collarbones and up to the side of his neck. Miguel's streams of mumbled Spanish curses and shaky exhales should be classified as a drug with how addicted and how greedily you were engulfing every noise he makes.

"You look so pretty like this baby, it makes me want to tease you a little."

He said nothing, reveling in the nirvana you offered him so generously. His hips struggled and writhed in the small space he was allowed to, chasing his promised euphoria with desperation.

But before he could notify you, you unmounted him and he let out a frustrated groan. Miguel was about to rip the binds until you got to your knees, only to web his feet to the chair legs as well and he grew more tempted to do so.

"Come on! Even the feet?"

"Gotta secure the package, darling."

Placing chaste kisses on his weeping head, the complaints died down in his throat. You then laved your tongue around his slit, gathering as much of his pre-cum and he groaned, dick twitching in your hold. His taste is heavy on your tongue and you moan.

You missed him on your tongue.

Taking his whole cockhead, Miguel flinched, arms struggling behind him as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard while circling your tongue around his girth, providing him multiple sensations surrounding his girth.

"Dios mio, remove this blindfold. I wanna see you." He said, almost begging. "Please?"

"No, you look prettier this way."

Your hands stroked the places your mouth couldn't reach and Miguel's thighs trembled. His pants and borderline whimpers sounded like a sweet melody, the sight of his perspired skin glistening under the moonlight with his head thrown back burning itself at the back of your lids.

You'd stop at nothing to be able to see him like this again.

Then you heard a snap from the webs and you halted, pulling away to his absolute dismay.

"No no no no, ay puta madre—"

"Stop struggling and maybe I will continue."

He didn't say anything, his fuzzy mind struggling to conjure any good bargain to bring up.

"R-remove the blindfold then I'll consider."

"Nope."

He groaned, almost whiny and you grinned. Miguel slowly settled down, suppressing himself from breaking more threads. Once you deemed him behaved enough, you dipped down to take him in once more.

Relaxing your mouth, you sink in another inch of him before descending as further as you could go and pumping the other areas you knew you couldn't reach. The groan that left his lips was guttural, almost animalistic.

"Fuck, I'm near. Deeper cariño, I know you can do it."

Pinching his shaking thighs, you quickened your strokes while waiting for any tell tale of his climax. When his breathing picked up and his abdomen pulsed, you pulled away.

And Miguel whimpered.

And he realized it a little too late, cheeks darkening as he groaned in embarrassment.

"You did not hear that."

You laughed lightly. "But it was cute."

"Fuck your cute and pretty bullshit, why did you pull away?!"

You grinned. "I liked seeing you struggle."

"Ripping this off gets very tempting every passing second."

"I'll run away and don't think I won't do it."

The sound of you shedding off your shorts stopped him from mumbling incoherent complaints. You swung your leg over his thighs and placed yourself above his weeping dick. With his sense of smell

"Don't break from the webs, alright? If you do—"

"You'll run away, I know. Just fucking get on with it."

"So impatient, what if I don't do anything at all?"

"I will break off these chains and take you on the floor. Don't tempt me." He growled, pushing his arms out, stretching the webs as a demonstration.

Rolling your eyes, you lined him against your heat and sank down, the hardest part of your plan for the evening. Despite trying your best to stretch yourself out earlier before his arrival along with the drenched state you're in, it proved useless with how difficult it was to have him.

You hissed as the burn of the stretch lit your veins on fire and Miguel grunted, arms twitching at his sides.

"St-stop clenching so hard!"

"Not my fault you have a big dick!"

As you take in more of his inches, Miguel grew crazy at the warm tightness surrounding him reawakening the denied orgasm earlier. The blindfold taking away his sight only magnified the pleasure flooding his system to the brim. The coil in his abdomen tightened and he threw his head back, absolutely light-headed and drunk on ecstacy.

"Le-let me bite you, yeah? It'll go away. Fuck…! I'm so close..."

You didn't second guess his intentions, falling to his shoulder with your neck bared to his lips. Trusting your Spider-Man genes, he spared no time leaning down and sinking his fangs into you.

You gasped at the feeling of his incisors piercing your skin as your mind grew fuzzy and your body numbed itself to paralysis. Miguel, desperate for his climax, plunged his entire length into you before thrusting savagely in and out of your heat.

The sound of a hundred threads ripping off cuts through the air, his arms surged from behind the chair to curl around you. His heavy exhales, borderline whines, made your brain short circuit as he chased after his denied orgasms ferociously.

Panting openly on your shoulders with your name vaguely murmured like a mantra, you moaned at his sounds as he came with a shout, the feeling of his liquid arousal spurting into you made you shiver with delight but the shaking thighs beneath you only fueled your arousal further.

"F-fuck…! Thank you cariño. Mierda..." 

The paralysis ebbs away while Miguel continues to convulse, albeit weaker than before. Mouth hung open as he threw his head back, hands falling to your waists.

"How rude, you didn't even consider my pleasure, mi amor."

His grip on your sides tightened as you bounced on his dick and he faltered, trembling as he gasped and groaned at the overstimulation nipping at his senses. His hands tapped your thighs, asking for some rest and you slowed, waiting for him to use your safeword.

When he didn't, you picked up your previous pace and grinned.

"But when I did that, did you stop, cariño?"

He didn't answer as streams of Spanish curses and colorful words escaped his mouth. 

"Exactly, so take it like a king, alright? Maybe I'll forgive you for getting off the web."

You rolled your clit in tight and fast circles, growing merciful for him as his sounds turned into whimpers and pleads. The sinful sight of his sweaty self blindfolded and body intoxicated by ecstasy along with his beautiful noises was enough to bring you to the edge.

With a few strokes and rolls of your beads, you came. Warmth explodes from your chest to your fingertips and you let yourself sag to his shoulder whilst he grunted at the stings of overstimulation still mouthing at him as your walls pulsed around him.

"Fuck…! G-get off…"

He didn't even manage to get his sentence out when he exploded again inside of you and practically lost consciousness with how lax he turned beneath you.

Concerned, you tapped his cheeks. "Baby, are you still there?"

It took a while but he eventually answered, removing the blindfolds himself to peer up at you with glazed eyes. "Barely… You won't leave right?"

"Yeah, I was joking."

"Alright…"

You smiled, placing kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and lips. Miguel's face bloomed at this, grinning slightly.

"You did so well, darling."

He only nods. "I'm confiscating that solution by the way, you're not webbing me up again."

[anchoeritic]

♥︎ — BEAUTY BEHIND THE MADNESS

MIGUEL O’HARA + SPIDER-FEM!READER

SYNOPSIS: a big bad guy was what you saw in him. but he proved you differently, in a way no one else would get to experience the other side of his coldness: a perfect warm seat, just for you, on his lap.

WARNING: eighteen plus only content, minors do not interact. dirty talk, praise kink, vaginal sex, clit play, choking kink, biting kink, cockwarming, use of fem. terms (good girl, etc.), stomach bulging, breeding kink, size difference/kink.

ENDING UP IN THE SPIDERVERSE was not on your list: exploring off and falling into a world filled with multiples of people, creatures, concepts like you. the hole in your heart finally felt filled at last, but was that all it took for you to feel complete? to find peace and answers?

well, not exactly. not when miguel o’hara is always peering over your shoulder, almost holding you up by the back of your suit. he was the ‘leader’ around here, they say. he says.

miguel o’hara. universe 2099. the creator and the same man to put an end to it. the dark in his eyes whenever they’d wander the second you stepped foot into a room or the heat of your scent filling up his nostrils. a big bad guy was what you saw in him.

so he proved you differently, in a way no one else would get to experience the other side of his coldness: a perfect warm seat, just for you, on his lap.

“m-miguel..” a soft whimper fell from your lips as your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders, trying to keep yourself from falling off his thighs.

his cock sat nestled in your tight pussy, stretching you out beyond your reach. “shh, shh.. feels good, doesn’t it?” if it wasn’t for his hands gripping firmly onto your hips, you probably would’ve fell limp by now.

he was a much better man than you were, in every way possible. he stood at a taller height, towering over you. his biceps were the size of your head, covering half of your body whenever they wrapped around your front.

that man was a work of art and he knew it too.

“feels s’good.. god, fuck.” your voice was shaky as you were consumed by the immense amount of pleasure he was giving to you right then and there.

“mm, where do you feel it, honey?” moving your hips, he guided you slowly to make sure you took every last inch of his cock inside of you. if you were going to try a taste, might as well finish the rest.

leaning in close, his breath fanned hot against your jaw. his heavy breaths weren’t close enough to match the volume of your pornographic sounds, only letting you hear them.

his teeth sunk softly into your delicate skin, his fangs sharper than the others as he continued to drag them down your jaw.

“tell me, baby. where do you feel me, hm?” sliding his hand down the valley of your breasts, he laid his palm against your lower stomach and putting pressure on the spot. “here?”

your eyes rolled back as your hips twitched against his, rolling backwards. “right there. i-i feel you right there..”

“takin’ me like such a good girl, aren’t you? so deep and you can take all of me.”

miguel was so deep inside of you that he could feel the bulge of his own cock against your skin. the pure thought of your pleasure had him groaning to get deeper inside of you, to fill you up with his warm cum.

to see you all swelled up, carrying his children.

[indecisive-capricorn]

Small Headcanons to Miguel O'Hara After Pregnant Wife Reader Gives Birth:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I miss reading and writing Miguel O'Hara fics so muchhhhh!! But yeah, my schedule lately has been so hectic and busy, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to finish this in time for the 2nd of June. I will probably just post shorter contents instead of my usual ones.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Have some wine before you leave, or suggest a good brand to me. any form of messages are a delight.

First and foremost, Miguel is in absolute awe when baby Benjamin entered the world. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness bloom in his chest over the little infant. And when Miguel held him for the first time- oh, he was so close to crying right then and there. Miguel could never understand how people could love within a few seconds of meeting them, but he was immediately proven wrong by his tiny son who was quick to steal a spot in his heart.

Miguel is constantly raining you with love and affection after you had given birth. He couldn't think of how he could ever repay you, the love of his life, from bringing your baby into this world, and he is forever grateful for the second chance you had given him, especially since the journey before is a hard one too.

However, if you think for a second that Miguel will leave your side for missions, then you're sorely mistaken. Miguel has a duty being the head of Spider Society, but he also has a duty as a husband and father. Also, there is in no hells way Miguel is letting you or Benjamin out of his sight while you're both at your most vulnerable states. He specifically restricted Lyla to not give him any assignments throughout the next month after your birth, only telling her to give him occasional updates and to assign his missions to either Jessica or Peter.

You know those husbands who does all the work after their wife has given birth? Like, literally everything and anything their heart wishes? Yeah, that's literally Miguel. He's the one constantly taking care of you and Benjamin all the time, from changing his diapers to making sure to order your favourite food, especially the ones you weren't allowed to eat during your pregnancy. Miguel is very active, always using every one of his minutes doing something, and he enjoys it.

MIguel sometimes fear that he might have neglected you during your pregnancy, which wasn't the case, but he felt as if he could have spent more time taking care of you. That's probably why he enjoys spending each moment with you and Benjamin after taking the two of you home. Time was very precious to him and Miguel had learnt to cherish it after years of experience. It could be an ordinary day with a slightly fussy Benjamin and a moody you, but he would still embrace it with open arms and love the time spent together.

Miguel has always been protective of you and Benjamin, there's no doubt on that, but there is this deep fear in his heart that something might happen to Benjamin the same way something had happened to Gabriella. Due to it, he has a very hard time falling asleep most nights, often choosing to not sleep at all and would use the excuse that he was merely tending to Benjamin. You knew the truth, of course, and you had a long talk with your husband about it, assuring him that nothing will happen to Benjamin and managed to get him to sleep for a few hours.

That is until Benjamin woke the two of you up with his cries of hunger.

[lowkeyrobin]

Miguel x reader but reader is just absolutely in love with Miguel but Miguel has eyes for sam and reader tries to be supportive be can't so they distance themself away from Miguel😁

- ♠️

dude I swear we're gonna brawl and I'm gonna make the guy ur talking too watch as I win. I'm so srs rn I'm gonna tell meemaw (I lit don't even know them all that well but idc) ; anyways thanks I guess 😒 /sarc ; but I went a little off the rails w this one cause why not

MIGUEL DIAZ ; casual

summary ; you have eyes for miguel while he slowly distances himself to be with sam, and you accept your fate

warnings ; language, physical fighting / a punch thrown

disclaimers ; miguel is a whole fucking villain, kinda off to canon timeline cause I'm rewatching atm and it's hard to keep 5 seasons straight in the brain, fun hawk tory and demetri content cause they'd be so cool together

track ; casual, chappell roan

word count ; 1.4k

masterlist

You thought that maybe after all these months being with Miguel meant that you were together. Apparently not.

After two weeks of dating, his mom invited you over for dinner.

You gave him everything.

You did everything for him, you owed him everything, you could only thank him for being alive now.

After all the passionate making out, the special dates, the first time experiences, after everything, he said that. He said that there were no attachments. Every time you kissed, you gained anger issues, knowing his lips were probably on another's at some point between the last and now.

He made out with you after pressing you against the wall while his family sat at the dinner table down the hall.

But no, it was just casual.

You knew he just told his friends that it was just casual.

You loved being dumb about it for a while, at least while you thought it was real. After graduation, you'd have an apartment, and he'd show you off to his friends at the pier.

You noticed his unfocused gaze upon you. You noticed how he looked more interested in Sam LaRusso, again, for that matter.

You were just a rebound, apparently.

But apparently, it was just casual when he made out with you in the locker room just before the All Valley tournament. Yeah, it was just casual when you were on the phone trying to convince him not to run away to go find his dad, yet he went anyways.

You made out with him when you went to dinner, his mom and Johnny at the table.

Yet once he knew that you knew that he was into Sam again, he wondered why you were bitter. He bragged to his friends about how much he loved your lips, how much he wanted you and how amazing you were.

You hated how you allowed it to drag on, how you let it break you as much as it possibly could before you just gave the fuck up.

You hated yourself.

You hated yourself for allowing it to happen. You hated yourself for letting him think it was just casual. You hated yourself for not fucking killing him once you caught him in the act.

But no, you had to be the chill person who would just shrug it off.

At least some of your mutual friends were on your side after you texted them about it. Demetri, Tory, and Hawk the most, slightly surprisingly on Hawk's part.

The trio immediately rushed to your house, knowing you needed someone to lean on. For fuck's sake, you just saw your supposed boyfriend making out with his ex in a rollerrink.

The (kind of unlikely) trio, during a grace period between Eagle Fang slash Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do, had to team up just this once for their favorite, non-Miguel friend. They were all shocked and disgusted by Miguel's actions, though kind of expecting it.

He was infamous for his love triangles, apparently.

Tory holds you in her arms, allowing your vulnerability to show through while Demetri talks, hoping his rambles would ease your pain. Hawk is downstairs, making you some mac and cheese since you hadn't eaten dinner.

"Fuck him," Tory smiles, cutting of Demetri's nonsense ramble. "You're better than him, in many ways, actually. But, he lost you, that's his problem. You're free, Y/n. It wasn't just casual, I don't know why he's lying to himself, but he and Sam can go suck it. He clearly doesn't deserve you. You're way out of his league anyway"

You look up at her, a smile painting your face before you hug her. "Thanks, Tory"

Demetri awkwardly sits on the foot of your bed, unknowing of what to say or do. Tory gives him a look, considering you'd need feedback from both male and female friends of yours slash Miguel's. Her current state of mind was just showing you that there were apparently sides and they were on yours.

Demetri nods, quickly getting the message. "Yeah, he doesn't deserve you. You should like, get him back or something. Or at least yell at him, or something. I mean, getting back with your ex while trying to tell your current partner it's just casual? He fumbled"

You giggle, wiping your tears away. "Thanks, dude."

A light knock is heard at the door before it's opened, revealing Hawk with a tray carrying four bowls of mac and cheese, forks stuck in each of them. In his pockets are water bottles, two shoved in each one. The purple haired boy lightly sets the food down on your dresser, handing a bowl to each of you, then tossing you a bottle of water.

You all eat in silence, you trying to gather your thoughts while the others attempt to even wrap their minds around what you were going through after what Miguel did. In the background, on Demetri's phone, The Umbrella Academy plays, his phone perched against a few pillows on the bed where you were all huddled together.

Hawk and Tory share a look before turning back to the screen, enjoying the calm quiet that basked over them.

"what do you mean, why am i bitter???"

"youre being weird about this, we were never anything. you were basically a rebound. get over it omfg"

The three look up from your phone then at you, astonished looks painting their expressions. Their eyebrows are furrowed, their eyes widened.

"What the fuck?" Tory asks, "You weren't lying about that, were you?"

You shake your head. "Literally, what does he want from me? Of course I'm mad, he basically lead me on and won't explain why he was making out with his ex, then bragging to his friends about "oh we're casual"

Demetri bites his lower lip, trying not to laugh, considering it was a nervous tic of his. He shares an eyebrow jump with Hawk before listening in again. Hawk quickly grabs your phone from your hands unexpectedly.

"Dude-"

"What're you doing?"

"Calling him"

"What?!"

"Why?"

"I'm not talking to him-"

The dial tone makes your skin crawl as you hear it.

"Just let it out," Hawk shrugs, handing you the phone.

"Feel like I'd rather do this in real life, Moskowitz."

You feel an absolute weight fall from your shoulders as it moves to the voicemail, seeing as Miguel declined the call himself. You sigh out of relief, quickly shutting your phone off.

You glare at Hawk.

"Would you rather do it face to face? I can tell him to meet me somewhere and we'll jump him or something" He shrugs.

"Violence isn't gonna help anything," Tory declines. "We'll get him to go somewhere quiet yet busy. That way, you can expose him or something. Mental violence is better than physical"

"Says the champion of the All Valley girl's team"

"I'm tempted to paralyze him again."

The three friends share half fearful looks, knowing you didn't joke lightly in times like this. They lay their eyes upon Sam and Miguel again, holding hands as they walk through the hallway.

You bite your tongue, trying to hold back yelling profanities as they walk past you. You lean against the red lockers where Demetri fishes out a few textbooks from his. Tory stands by you while Hawk leans against them as well, arms crossed.

"What if we tell people there's a fight, you expose him, since you got receipts, and you beat him up?" Hawk suggests, throwing his idea out there.

You shrug. "I think he could beat my ass. That'd be embarrassing"

He shrugs in return. "Eh. He hasn't been practicing recently. He's probably a little rusty. Like, he hasn't been showing up to class for days"

Tory and Demetri nod to confirm Hawk's statement. You shrug again.

"M'kay"

"You wanna get suspended over this?" Demetri asks, closing his locker.

"First offense," you reply with an informative tone.

"Oh, I'm crazy because I thought you gave a shit about me? Please, inform me what casual is to you"

"Something not serious."

"But that's why we went out on dates, and why I did everything you asked of me?"

"You didn't have too"

"So?"

"So what?"

"So you're a bitch"

You quickly pull your clenched fist back, then push forward to hit Miguel straight in the face. He quickly gasps, along with the bystanders, holding a hand to his now bleeding nose.

"What the hell?"

Tory and Hawk goofily grin while Demetri lightly smiles, proud of you for sticking to your word.

"Too-da-loo, mister casual." You spin on your heel, walking back to your three friends.

They wrap you into side hugs, pulling you away from the shocked boy who'd essentially played you. Bystanders laugh at him and gawk at you, snapping pictures, sending videos across the school.

A happy little smile remains on your face as you're sent home for the rest of the week.

[madschiavelique]

Because I live for soft Dom! Miguel, Miguel (as a soft! Dom, ofc) x fem!reader where it's her first time? Just fluff & smut? If you're okay with that, of course.

anything to satisfy a soft dom <33 (i once again got carried away and wrote a bit too much fvhsdfeefg)

pairing : fem!reader x soft!dom miguel o'hara summary : your first time with softdom!miguel content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, masturbation, fingering, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), praise kink, softdom!miguel, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, miguel is so reassuring in this word count : 3,9k tag list : @fandom-ash

You and Miguel had been together for a while now, and everything was going swimmingly. You'd moved into his quarters, which you'd been squatting in long before you officially moved in, and everything was superb.

Romantically speaking? Perfect, the two of you even managed to surprise each other with your shared affections and thoughts.

Mentally? You pushed each other up, faced the bad times with each other and got through the good ones together too.

Sexually?

Sexually...

That was a step you hadn't taken yet. You'd never had the chance to taste the desires of the flesh, not necessarily because you didn't want to, but let's just say you'd never found the opportunity.

And although Miguel's initiative swayed from time to time, he didn't seem to want to trespass on this subject. You'd already discussed the theme a little, mostly in relation to Miguel's experiences, which he at least possessed. But it seemed that, as long as you didn't make the first move on it, he wouldn't.

You thought about it, about how it would be like to feel his hands roaming over your body as his lips kissed yours. You were picturing his hands moving slowly down your hips, one of them gripping your thigh...

The apartment was empty, there was nobody but you, Miguel was at work, and your frustration had to be satisfied. You settled more comfortably into your bed, inhaling softly as you slipped your hand under the elastic of your panties.

You brushed against your clit, its sensitivity heightened as your thoughts drifted back to Miguel. You breathed softly, your fingers going a little lower and feeling your wetness between your lips.

You let out a hum between as you closed your eyes, imagining that it wasn't your hand, but Miguel's. You slid one of your fingers up and down until it reached your the ball of nerves again, the sensation giving you a little jolt of electricity.

You brought the collar of the T-shirt you'd been wearing closer to your nose. You were wearing one of Miguel's shirts with your panties, and his scent was impregnated into the fabric.

You imagined him, kissing your neck and lips as he inserted a finger. You let out a small sigh of frustration as your fingers were undoubtedly half as small as his. They could probably touch parts of you you couldn't reach with just your fingers.

"Miguel..." you murmured as you inserted a second finger, the cloud of heat in your lower belly spreading.

You felt hot, curving your fingers into you as best you could. How would he do it? What movements would he make? What words would he say to you?

"Nena?"

The front door had just closed, you'd heard it, and you still had a few seconds before Miguel reached your bedroom.

Quickly you pulled your hand out of your panties almost in panic, wiping your fingers on your thigh before raising yourself up and pretending that... you took a look around the room, searching for a good distraction. The computer? No, it was turned off; turning it on would take too long for a good alibi. A book? No, he'd probably ask you how you'd got on with your reading and you'd have to invent a scenario on the spot. Your phone?

You grabbed it, pretending to scroll through one of your social medias as Miguel entered the room. He offered you a gentle smile, walking over to your bed and sitting down next to you before dropping onto you.

"How was work?" you asked, trying to relax, putting your phone down on the bedside table to stroke his hair, your sinner hand hidden under the comforter.

You knew Miguel had a particularly keen sense of smell, and you dreaded that he might notice something different. He'd managed to smell when you were menstruating the other time, and had been very helpful then, and you suspected he must smell when you were ovulating... but could he smell sexual desire?

"Boring," he sighed as he rolled his head until his cheek rested on your breast.

How would he touch it if it was naked? How would he caress your skin? Would he kiss it?

"How was your day?" he asked, his eyes locked in yours.

You looked at his lips, where would they kiss? What would his tongue do? Where would he bite?

"Boring," you whispered, half present in the conversation, all your thoughts turned to him.

Did he too have moments like the one you'd just had while you were away? Did he touch himself while thinking of you? Did he whisper your name when this happened?

"Is everything okay? You seem... distracted?" he questioned, straightening his head until his chin was between your breasts, one of his eyebrows raised.

You bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your hand under the comforter on your thigh as you tried to think of an answer.

"Yeah!" you said first a little too eagerly and hastily, "yeah, everything's fine."

He frowned, and made a simple movement that made you shiver: he sniffed.

His eyes changed suddenly from tenderness to surprise, his lips parted as he sniffed again. He sat up straighter, turning his head to where your hand was under the comforter, and you swallowed silently. His eyes returned to yours, interested.

"Show me your hand."

He would know, or he already did. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. The color of your shame reflected in the darkness of his eyes.

"I won't repeat myself," he warned.

There was no point in opposing Miguel, because no matter whether you showed him or not, he wouldn't hesitate to grab your wrist. He had the strength, he could handle you.

You lowered your eyes, unable to meet his gaze as you pulled your hand from the comforter. You could only see the mark the elastic of your panties had left on your wrist: of course he'd know.

He took your wrist, his thumb tracing over the trace that had been left, his eyes returning to yours. You didn't dare look at him.

"Look at me."

You weren't going to keep him waiting, you knew his patience had limits. Your eyes met his, intrigued, oscillating between teasing and serious.

"Did you touch yourself while I was gone?"

You breathed out, chewing your cheek as you nodded shyly. He chuckled, his lip stretching.

"What were you touching yourself to?"

You bit your lip, lowering your chin and inhaling before letting out in a whisper:

"You..."

He moved his head closer to yours until you were so close your noses were about to brush.

"What did you say?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line before letting out a sigh, the warmth of his breath on your skin sending tingles through your skull.

"I was touching myself... while thinking of you," you managed to say.

A sincere proud smile appeared on his lips, his tongue running over his teeth.

"What was I doing, in your thoughts?" he questioned as the hand holding yours unclenched, his fingers moving up your arm, brushing against your skin.

"You were," a small breath choked in your throat, "you were touching me."

"Where?" he questioned as his hand moved from your arm to your hip.

"Down there..." you murmured as your noses now touched.

"How did it feel?" he asked as his hand moved down your hip to your thigh.

Your lips were so close, and the sensations his hand gave you running over your skin delicious.

"Like I needed more," you admitted.

"More?" he hummed as his hand moved down your inner thigh.

"Yes, more than my fingers... I needed you, need you."

You felt his fingers moving up your skin, awakening small currents of electricity in your veins that seemed to light up as he passed.

"Tell me what you need now." he demanded as his lips kissed the corner of yours.

You felt yourself heating up, the cloud of desire spreading again in your lower belly like a summer fog.

"I need you, now."

He let out a breath of relief against your skin, brushing temptingly against your lips again before only pulling away to face you, looking into your eyes.

"Do you want it?" he asked seriously. "You want to have sex with me?"

You looked up at him, nodding, the urge climbing by the second.

"I don't take silences as an answer for this, nena." he warned.

"Yes," you replied, "I want to."

"Are you sure?" he assured, his hand now making circular movements against your inner thigh, "once I start I don't think i'm gonna be able to stop."

"Yes, I'm sure." you confirmed.

He looked at you for a moment, contemplating the truth in your eyes, then came to kiss your lips softly, a shared moan of relief escaping from both your mouths.

You let your hand trail up the back of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair as his hand moved slowly up to your panties.

His thumb reached your covered cunt, grazing it through the fabric as your lips let out a whimper of ease. He made slow, circular movements against it, your breath trembling slightly against his wet lips.

"Can I?" he asked as his fingers worked their way up to the elastic of your underwear.

"I'll let you do anything if you just touch me now," you let out in a breath as you came back to kiss him.

He smiled against your lips, responding to the kiss with more intensity as his fingers reached under the elastic and pulled down. You raised your hips to help him, and retracted your knees against you so he could remove them completely.

"You're already so wet," he remarked as your panties were completely soaked.

You bit your lip as he got rid of your underwear and came to kiss you again.

His hand resumed its journey, moving up between your thighs again until finally reaching your crotch. The feel of his fingers against your bare skin made you open your lips even wider with a moan, giving Miguel the chance to slip his tongue in.

You felt one of his fingers press between your lips, gently moving up and coating them as his thumb circled your clit. He swallowed every whimper you made.

"May I?" he asked between pecks.

"Yes, please," you breathed, as if bewildered by his kisses and touch.

"Mira que buena," he smiled.

And you felt him sink his first finger in, and you drew in a shaky breath. His finger alone already filled you as if you'd used two of your own. He kissed your cheek tenderly, sinking it a little deeper into you.

His thumb resumed its circular movements over your clit as his finger gently took on a little back-and-forth rhythm, curving slightly upwards.

He came to kiss your chin, your jaw, gradually moving down to the nape of your neck to kiss its crook as he inserted a second finger, your breath becoming jerky for a few seconds.

He undulated his fingers like a wave inside you, his lips kissing the warm skin of your neck as your hand moved down from his neck to his shoulder, pressing your fingers into it and clinging to his still-covered skin.

Miguel was beginning to feel more uncomfortable in his clothes, specifically in the crotch part. The sounds you made, the smell you had, the feel of his fingers inside you, everything was intoxicating to the point where he was tight in his costume.

The movements around your clit accelerated, and you felt the cloud tighten in your belly. Your heart was pounding, and you felt the heat prickle in your cheeks as you sensed yourself getting close to your climax.

"Miguel," you articulated between your lips, the latter returning to kiss you, "I'm close."

He bit your bottom lip, accelerating the circular movements.

"Come for me nena," he said softly, kissing your lips.

The cloud tightened further, and then everything exploded at once, your hips straightening as a second heart was born between your thighs and beating throughout your body. All vibrating with desire, your hand tightened on Miguel's arm as the other gripped the sheets.

He kissed your temple gently, letting you come down from your high, patiently. But you had almost no patience left, you'd been unable to feel this way since you'd gotten together, and you couldn't tolerate any more waiting.

"I want you inside me," you breathed against the skin of his cheek.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. A dark gleam burned deep in them, and you realized soon enough that he'd been dreaming for far too long now that you'd utter that phrase.

"Before we go any further," he began, however, "I want you to breathe with me, okay?"

He inhaled, and you followed his lead.

"Match my inhale, and exhale... look me in the eyes."

Your two breaths were synchronized, your eyes plunged into his. You didn't necessarily expect him to tell you to make this kind of movement, but it's true that you felt a little more relaxed that way. Every first time could sometimes be accompanied by a slight nervousness, but this simple gesture immediately helped to calm you down.

"That's it, good," he nodded. "It'll come in handy in no time."

He bit his lip, then positioned himself correctly above you and the depixelation of his suit began.

You followed each colored cube as it deformed to reveal a little more of his torso every second. You'd obviously seen Miguel with his shirt off before, but seeing him in this context was much more different.

Pixels vanished one by one, down to his crotch, finally revealing him whole. You swallowed... There's no way that's going to fit.

You'd seen pornography before, and you were quite used to seeing the normal size in these latest videos. But this was way beyond the norm.

"Like what you see?" he asked, laughing lightly.

Worried would be a more fitting term, you thought.

"Miguel that's..." the words almost failed you, "that's not going to fit."

He bent down to kiss you gently, caressing your cheek to reassure you.

"It will, because we’re made for each other. All you have to do is relax for me."

He came to kiss you again, tenderly, his hands grasping the edges of your shirt and lifting it up. You didn't have to worry about anything, Miguel would be there to make sure everything went smoothly. He'd never hurt you, and you knew that perfectly.

You settled back properly underneath him, spreading your legs a little wider as he gripped your hip to stabilize you neatly. He continued to kiss you gently, then your hand, hitherto clinging to the sheets, relaxed to rest on his chest.

It travelled down his side, settling on his hip, and Miguel let out a low groan. He pulled away from your lips, and you felt a twinge of nervousness: had you done something wrong? But he immediately reassured you:

"It's okay, you can touch me." he said, kissing your cheek, a little laugh bubbling in his throat. "I think I just liked that a little too much."

You exhaled softly, relaxed. And it was in the seconds that followed that you felt his cock against you. You felt his hard, warm skin brushing against your body.

You undulated your pelvis upwards, finally feeling his full length pressing against your lower abdomen. Miguel let out another grunt as he kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck again.

You then moved your hand down to your belly, and your fingers met it. You traced his length, his breath colliding against the skin of your neck. His pelvis undulated against you, seeking more friction.

You shaped your hand into a kind of bridge over him, starting to move back and forth slowly feeling the hardness under your fingers. His sighs melted into moans against your skin.

How long had he wanted you to touch him like this?

His hips kept undulating against you, and soon you were both feeling the same thing, thinking the same thought : You needed more.

Then, returning to kiss you, Miguel caressed your hand before taking his cock in his and rubbing against your glistening cunt. He let his tip slide between your lips, raising and lowering it to coat it with you.

He kissed your lips again, his hand from his arm braced near your head coming to caress your cheek.

"Remember to breathe, okay?" he said softly, "if at any moment you feel uncomfortable, or simply don't want to continue, let me know."

You nodded gently.

"Okay." you answered.

He smiled softly, then lightly thrust his head into you.

You inhaled, your breath trembling as both your hands came to rest on his back, holding Miguel tightly against you. His free hand came to stroke your hair, murmuring soft "Shh, shh..." against your ear.

"Breath," he encouraged, kissing your cheek as he sank a little deeper into you.

Salty drops tore at the strange pallor of a secret. Those words, so strong, so warm, that he whispered against your skin, felt like a caress.

You were gradually loosening up again, the previous orgasm Miguel had made you experience having probably helped you relax properly. Otherwise, even with good lub, you could've never done this.

"That's it, you're doing good mami," he murmured as he managed to thrust deeper, "just a little more."

And seconds later, he was fully inside you. You could feel him stretching you out, filling you in every corner of yourself.

"So warm nena... te sientes increíble" sighed Miguel as he came back to face you.

You could feel yourself blushing, all those sensations making you feel like you didn't know where to put yourself.

"What a pretty blush," he smiled.

The single remark made you go as red as a tomato, so much that you brought one of your hands up to your face, hiding your eyes.

"Hey," Miguel whispered, kissing your lips and then pushing his nose against your hand to move it away, "no." Then, gently grabbing your wrist to move your hand to the side of your head, he said "Don't hide it. Why so shy?"

You bite your lip.

"I've never done this before," you whispered.

He came over and caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin with love.

"No need to be shy," he assured you, "it's just you and me."

And he was right, it was just the two of you in that moment, one in the other, the other in one, united: one was the other, and both were one.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, kissing your eyelid, the simple movement making him move against you and wringing a small moan from you.

"It's okay," you affirmed, sighing softly against him.

"Let me know as soon as you feel ready," he murmured against your skin, still stroking your hair.

By the time you were used to it properly, you let your hand placed on his back caress his skin, moving up his spine, making him arch his back and breathe out an open-mouthed sigh.

The thumb of his hand still around your wrist caressed the plump part of your skin, the one just before it advanced to the hollow of your palm.

This moment of sensitivity in all that heat was sweet, and soon enough you felt comfortable enough to rock your hips, biting your lip.

Miguel exchanged a glance with you. His fingers brushed your hand, sliding a little further down your palm until they settled between the slits of yours and he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you.

Your fingers tightened around his, each breath you let out mingling with a soft moan.

His rhythm was slow at first, letting you get used to the feel of his movements. He filled you completely, filling every inch of your being without exception and awakening all kinds of sensations inside you.

It was like you were warm all over, every thrust forward and back touching delicious points.

"Do you like the way that feels, nena?"

"Mhm, yes," you stammered as your mind failed to focus on anything other than all the sensations your body was beginning to experience.

He picked up the pace slightly, his hand settling on your belly, feeling under his fingers the sensation of his own dick sinking into you.

"Gosh, you feel so good."

And your eyes plunged into his, and it was as if the world around you no longer existed, that there was only this moment you were the only ones to share.

Your hands in each other, your eyes in each other, your two bodies and hearts connected: nothing could take you from this.

He came to kiss you as if you held the air that belonged to him, his hand coming further down between your two bodies, coming to caress your clit.

You sighed a groan, your walls tightening around him and in turn drawing a grunt from him. The mingled sensation of his coming and going and the friction he was giving you would undoubtedly make you come soon enough.

Everything was hot. Your fingers scratched his back, your nails leaving pink lines in their wake.

Everything had this tingly warmth, and it felt like you had a rubber band in your belly that was stretching dangerously.

"Tell me when you're going to come nena," Miguel asked breathlessly, slightly picking up his pace again.

The sound of your skins slapping against each other started to repeatedly fill the room, along with the moans you let out.

The cloud of heat in your lower belly rose up to your back. Miguel came over and kissed your neck, nibbling lightly and licking between pecks and sucking.

You were drowning in sensations, your hand tightening around Miguel's as the other went from his back to his hair and tightened.

He let out grunts against your skin, accelerating his thrusts and circular movements around your clit.

You felt the elastic stretch even further, sensing the orgasm coming.

"Miguel, I'm gonna," but you didn't finish your sentence, too disoriented by all the sensations you were feeling.

He came back to face you, kissing you hungrily before pulling away and looking at you.

"Eyes on me," he asked before sighing at ease. "I want to see you."

Your eyes fell on his again, and you felt your heart racing and cheeks tingling once more before the rubber band snapped.

It was as if lightning had struck metal, spreading from your core to your entire body in a completely electrifying way. Waves of heat were bringing sparkling stars to the shores of your body.

Until now, Miguel had managed to contain himself, not to come simply by penetrating you, even though this had been a real torment. But the sensation of your walls closing in so tightly around him disempowered him, and made him come at the same time as you.

You were completely out of breath, Miguel gently decelerating his pace as he came to tenderly kiss your lips.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered against your skin, "you're my angel."

He placed sweet words on your still-warm body, kissing the back of your hand still in his.

"Next time you want to touch yourself, I want you to call me."

You laugh softly, kissing him lovingly.

This was only the beginning.

[wyvernest]

would you be able to write something about chubby!reader having body issues and thinks she doesn’t deserve miguel because he’s so sculpted and beautiful, but miguel reminds her how perfect she is? (in whatever way you think is best)

i just love reading these types of fics and they really help boost my confidence 🥹

tysm! <3

hope you like it<3

aphrodite

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: fluff, established relationship, body dysmorphia

summary: you start feeling self conscious right before your date, and miguel isn't having any of it

translations are at the end

Miguel had finally made time to take you out. You are well aware of the fact that he is a busy man, and had decided against pressuring him to abandon his work overtime.

But tonight was for you. He had planned out the perfect date, from the restaurant, reservations, to the tiniest details; what day would be best in terms of weather, your job, and his duties. 

To say you were overwhelmed with excitement was an understatement. He had always been so caring and considerate, looking for ways to make you feel valued and appreciated even when time itself stood against his efforts. Finding unadulterated joy in asking you out like it was your first time getting closer to each other over and over again, the 'honeymoon phase' spark never once leaving your relationship, contrary to popular belief.

And so here you are, in your shared home, getting ready for yet another date with the most handsome man you've ever seen. 

He's already fully dressed, fixing himself in the mirror. His black suit sits oh-so perfectly on him, hugging the shape of his large back and shoulders, tight enough around his biceps, so that they still bulge through the material when he brings a hand up in his hair to tame some dark strands that had fallen out of place. It accentuates the line of his abdomen, having his large thighs finish off the whole look. 

He stands in front of the bedroom mirror, in his striking royal height, the man that ancient Greeks probably had as a muse when they sculpted the ideals of the male body. His dark, cocoa brown hair is brushed back, silky and soft. His perfectly contoured face is dimly lit by the low, warm bedroom lights, his features prominent: the bridge and line of his nose, squinted piercing eyes along with a downright intimidating set of brows His sharp jaw is held up high while he works with his tie, expert hands skillfully experimenting around an array of various knots, pondering upon which fits best.

He truly is quite the sight, you melt at the tableau before you, holding back a sigh seasoned with nothing but the very heights of being irrevocably enamoured.

His whole presence screams strength and mature dominance, with a hint of incontestable luxury.

Resuming your own outfit, your own body still only adorned in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra, you head to the closet for the one dress you have been imagining yourself in for the whole week since he offered you the invitation. You couldn’t be more excited to finally try it on and admire yourself with it, have people look your way while wearing it, with an arm hooked around the one and only Miguel O’Hara. 

Putting it on and adjusting its stretchy fabric over your curves, your smile starts to fade. This isn’t what it looked like the first time I tried it on, you mentally conclude, and the more you look at it, the more things you wish you hadn’t noticed. You pull at the material, the hem, the sides, the neckline, anything you can think of that maybe, just maybe, could fix it. Panic starts to drip into your nerves, what will you do now if it just won’t look good? Screw it and go out with it anyway, and then feel all eyes on you for the rest of the evening? What will people think when they see you, merely decent, next to him? And otherwise, what other option is there? To pick some other dress that can’t possibly be more appropriate for the occasion, since you had bought this one specifically for the place you’re going, and still not look the part?

Your breathing starts to quicken as you keep fumbling with the textile around your shape, attention half directed to the open wardrobe, scanning every shelf and hanger for a second option. 

Suddenly, the floor creaks, bringing the echo of incoming footsteps. And there he is, standing behind you, hands on your tense shoulders. You almost despise the image before you; his impeccable, calm and stoic image, next to you, discouraged and deeply insecure in evident comparison.

“What were you thinking about just now?” his words river down over the shell of your ear on a hot breath that has shivers shot down your spine.

“Nothing, I’m getting ready”, you cover it up in a sing-song voice, not wanting to dig deeper into letting him know that you don’t deem yourself pretty enough for him, let alone expect him to find you more attractive than you do yourself. Unfortunately, he’s too smart for your little diversion.

“Don’t lie to me.”, his tone serious, voice deep. His eyes rank up and down your body in the mirror, and you feel an acute need to just disappear. “Que guapa.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, and you feel rosy heat rise to your face.

Your mouth speaks before you think.

“Does it look good?”, he senses the hesitancy in your voice.

“Baby, you’d look like a goddess wearing a potato sack.” he speaks matter-of-factly, as if his statement equals water is wet, the honesty in his declaration evident with the speed with which the words left his mouth. You can’t help but let a giggle break through your disconcerted face, surprised with the association.

“What, like Marilyn Monroe?”

“No, mi alma, like you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you back into his embrace as you look at eachother in the reflection before you. His expression softens, visibly relaxed and happy to have you close to him. 

“These curves, every part of you, I know them as I know myself.” His palms slide over your hips, and all the way back up to your shoulders, effectively chasing away any hint of doubt and worry, cleansing you of anything that isn’t love.

“Eres la mujer de mis sueños.” He bends down, his lips reaching the crook of your neck. “No hay nadie como tú."

You let yourself fall back into his tempting embrace, knowing that he’s exploiting your weakness for him speaking Spanish so low and deep into the vulnerable skin of your pulse point, completely forgetting about the date and the dress. 

“And if you don’t like the dress, I’ll gladly rip it off.” He exhibits his talons as a warning, the curved edges of the claws grazing your bare shoulders intently. “If anything, the dress isn’t good enough to be worn by you.”

translations:

que guapa - how beautiful

mi alma - my soul

eres la mujer de mis sueños - you're the woman of my dreams

no hay nadie como tú - there is no one like you

a/n: again, if any native speakers see anything wrong with my Spanish please let me know🤍

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch3

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

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

Four months, twenty days until D-Day

Finally, it took you ten full days to understand your abilities and make your suit. It did feel somewhat shameful by how much of a struggle it was to get everything ready. You had to rely on a close friend to make your suit and beg them to not say anything.

You were finally going to start your life as a super hero. Your secret identity had to be top secret. Mainly, because you were afraid of how Miguel would react if he saw you. You loved the man, but you were terrified of his villainous nature.

"Alright, suit is kind of tight, but it will have to work." You whispered, staring at yourself in the mirror.

The suit was tight against your skin, showing off each of your curves, breasts and ass. It almost felt sexual, but what heroes in the past wore baggy suits? Unsure if you wanted to do that research, you knew that you needed something that won't get your snagged on a flag or something.

Patting down your skirt, you glanced at the zipper you had custom made in case for an emergency bathroom visit. Honestly, it made you chuckle since you thought of such a thing. Miguel would probably laugh at you if he ever found out.

"Alright, now for the scary part." You inhaled deeply.

Opening your window, you took deep breathes. You were terrified, but without this leap of faith, how were you ever going to bring Alchemax to justice? How were you going to show Miguel the light in his heart?

"I can do this." You whispered before shooting your web and swinging into the city.

----------

Miguel hissed lowly as he sat in his apartment. There were a million things going through his head. One of them being how to perfect his spider genetic splicing DNA. He wanted to create the ultimate human. The superior human race.

Unable to think in the comfort of his own home, Miguel decided to take a walk around the city. He did need to buy a few things anyway. As he left his penthouse, Miguel grumbled lowly as he avoided the people around him.

How disgusting. All of these regular humans trying to smile and cozy up to Miguel. None of them had what it takes to be at his level. Unless they were willing to place themselves on his metal table for experimentation.

"Miguel, you won't believe this." Lyla appeared on his watch. Miguel lazily glanced towards his AI,

"Won't know until you say it."

"There are reports of a Spider-woman swinging across the city. People are in shock and whispering that the age of heroes might be making a comeback." She explained. Miguel scoffed,

"I'll believe it when I see it. Don't bother me with such nonsense."

Age of heroes his ass. Miguel knew better than to believe that such a time would revive. As he made his way into his local well-off supermarket, Miguel couldn't help but wonder why such reports would come to be.

A spider-women none the less. Miguel hadn't experimented on any women yet and everyone he did had perished. As he grabbed a cart, Miguel hissed to his ignorant thoughts. He shouldn't allow his genius brain subcome to such foolishness.

"Ah!!!" Someone screamed.

With a heavy roll of his eyes, Miguel glanced behind him. His eyes twitched as he saw a fire break out. Just his luck. Making his way to the checkout, Miguel ignored the people's screams, continuing his purchase.

"Sir! You need to leave! It's dangerous!" One of the workers yelled. Miguel just ignored them,

"Dangerous?" Miguel resisted a chuckle as he finished his purchase.

Right as he left, there was an explosion. His eyes widen as he felt the wind push him down. Surprised, Miguel let out a soft groan as he slowly got up. As he did, Miguel felt another wave push him back down.

"I got you!" A woman yelled out.

Furrowing his brows, Miguel saw someone approach him. He grunted, feeling himself being lifted up. Which was quite a surprise since Miguel was a tall and heavy man. Glancing towards the brave fool who came to his rescue, Miguel's eyes widen in shook.

"Spider-woman?!" He nearly gasped in shock. You smiled softly towards him,

"The one and only!" You chirped.

Miguel felt nearly flabbergasted as he observed you. The one thing he had been trying to recreate was right in front of him. There was a surge of emotions coursing through his body.

"Are you alright?" You asked, patting Miguel off as you escaped the building with him.

"Allow me to have a blood sample," Was the first thing Miguel said. You flinched, taking a step back,

"Haha, that's a....uh, unusual request, but I'll have to decline." You said, trying to hide your nerves. Miguel grabbed your shoulders,

"You don't understand. I've been trying to create someone like you for years. Please, I need to know how-"

"Perhaps if we bump into each other at another time, I can give you an answer, but I really must go. Take care of yourself and don't get hurt, okay?"

Miguel reached out to you once more as you swung away. The look in his eyes were one of desperation and frustration. How were you here? How did he not notice such a fine, perfect specimen in his city? This whole place belonged to him....

Including you.

Grabbing his items, Miguel hurried back to his penthouse. He needed to research on you. Miguel needed to find out more about you. Miguel needed you in his lab!

----------

Finding a good building to land on, you let out a small squeal. You had been swinging around doing little things here and there and finally, finally, you managed to do something heroic. Best of all, you had saved Miguel.

Trying to cover the blush on your cheeks, you recalled the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The look on his face was something else too. You've never seen him so shock, so amazed. If only he looked at you like that and not Spider-Woman.

"Mhm, but he just had to ask for a blood sample. I almost gave in too! I have to be careful!" You whined.

Sitting at the edge of the building, you glanced down at the messy, beautiful city below. You were going to have to get better at Super Hero stuff if you wanted to make any real change.

That, and you would have to control your emotions better if you ever wanted to change and heal Miguel. He was far too talented and smart to fall down the same fate as his father.

"I will save him."

----------

Miguel was on a man hunt. He had gotten Lyla to pull up anything on this new Spider-Woman, despite there not being much. He had to know who you were and where you came from.

Unable to retrieve much, Miguel decided to do things the hard way. He pulled up every single file on women who lived within or near the city. Miguel was determined to know who you were. Even if he had to do things the long and hard way.

"Let's see. Judging by her body, she is defiantly within the age ground of twenties to thirties. Let's start removing everyone else."

"Yes, sir." Lyla replied, shorting the age gap.

Miguel grunted since the list was still quite large. At least, whoever you were, you didn't cover your hair. Just a cute little mask that covered the top half of your face. Narrowing the list shorter, Miguel just inhaled since it was still a hefty list.

"Is speed dating out of the question?" Lyla asked with a grin. Miguel let out a rare laugh,

"Highly."

Wondering how to approach this, Miguel started to pace around his living room. He needed you. He wanted you. You were the key to creating the ultimate human race. If Miguel couldn't find you naturally, then he would have to make you come to him.

"I will make her mine."

----------

It was going to be another rough day at work. You had entered Alchemax with two large coffees in hand. Clocking in, you let out a heavy sigh as you made your way to Miguel's office. He had been blowing up your phone all morning.

"Miguel, could you maybe now tell me what's going on?" You asked softly as you opened his door.

"(Y/N), finally! We have a BIG day ahead of us!"

"We do?" You questioned as Miguel approached you, taking his coffee out of your hand, "Ah-Are we doing the seahorses?" You asked innocently.

"Ha!" Miguel chuckled darkly as he patted your head, "What am I to do without your blissful innocence."

"Awe, are we going back to spiders?"

"Always." Miguel hummed as he drank his coffee, "Have you heard about the new Spider-Woman in town?"

You felt a nervous sweat run down your back.

"I-I have! Was that...not your doing?" You asked, knowing that it sort of was, but Miguel didn't need to know that.

"No, and that's what infuriates me." He spat, placing his drink down, "I need to know how she came to be. I will not be stopping my spider experiments anytime soon. Not until she submits herself to me, or I recreate her very existence."

"Miguel...You can't have someone submit themselves to you like a trophy. You'd have to understand them...and honestly, if she really is a hero...I don't think...she will like...what you're...doing...here." Your voice kept getting lower and lower as Miguel slowly approached you.

"(Y/N), do you think what I'm doing here is wrong? Trying to advance us measly humans into something greater?" Miguel asked, twisting his views into yours. You bit your lower lip, holding your tablet close to your chest,

"N-No...I-I think the idea...is right..."

"Oh, (Y/N), try not to think too much, okay?" Miguel hummed as he casually stroked your cheek, "Remember, our work here will be one for the history books."

You tried your best to calm your racing heart as you leaned into Miguel's touch. How could such cruel words come out through his sexy mouth. His low tone just made your brain fuzzy. And his touch? Oh, you were feeling that down to your panties.

"Okay," You whispered, giving into his demands, "What will we start with today?"

It was going to be a long road, but if you couldn't change Miguel as you, perhaps you had to change him as Spider-Woman. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel will listen to you with the mask on. It was a slim chance, but you wanted to save him so bad.

"While I start collecting more spiders, I want you to find me more willing test subjects."

"B-But Miguel, y-you know...how I feel about going to the prisons." You whimpered, tugging against his sleeve. Miguel just chuckled, lifting your chin and leaned towards you,

"You can do it." He hummed and saw the tears about to spill from yours eyes, "I'll have Lyla accompany you. Does that help?"

"I guess," You whimpered once more. Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he had Lyla downloaded to your watch.

"Off you go. I want you to be back to file down each of my spiders."

"Yes, sir."

Shaking as you hurried out of Miguel's office, you tried to calm down. Miguel was being extra touchy today...and cruel. The only good thing about you leaving was that you could finally see the prisoners in a new light. As a hero, you needed to learn what villains think like...aside from Miguel.

"Are you ready to go, (Y/N)?" Lyla asked, appearing before you. You just smiled towards the AI,

"Yep! Let's go!"

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Next Chapter

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[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Your streak of bad luck continues as you find that the universe is not done putting you in harm's way. Luckily, you have grouchy Spider-man to save you.

Word count: 3,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, near death experiences, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara being a rude bastard and a total softie.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

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According to an article that ran in the New York Times: one out of every 40 New Yorkers will have a run in with a Superhero in the time they live here.

That might not sound like much, but considering that nearly 8.5 million people live in this city, it adds up to a lot of people. In fact, most in your friends circle have their own anecdotal story to tell.

I ran into Tony Stark at the Brandy Library and he asked me for my phone number. Bit of a sleaze but he bought our whole table a round of drinks.

Captain America landed on my Fiat on Manhattan Bridge. He dented the roof, but he was very polite about it.

Daredevil was hanging out at the fire escape ladder above the Meatball shop. Gave me tips on what to order.

It's nothing short of a miracle that having lived in this city for as many years as you have that this is the first time you've had a Supes encounter.

It'll be a great story to tell at parties. You fell out of the Chrysler building and were rescued mid-air. It blows all the other stories out of the water. Though, you'll probably leave out the part where he wished he'd left you to die.

You stare blindly at your computer screen. There are endless rows of cells on your excel sheet no matter how far you scroll. Uninterrupted numbers and reference codes for insurance claims that are waiting for your attention. But the numbers and letters all blend into an indecipherable sludge soup. All you can focus on is: 'I should've let you fall.'

Heat prickles your cheek, as you replay his words in your head.

What the hell.

That was entirely unnecessary.

You didn't deserve that.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, you've played the scene on an endless loop in your head, until the memory is worn and scratched like a used up VHS tape.

Did you do something wrong? You must've. Who has ever heard of a Superhero treating a civilian in this manner? You’re just a hapless innocent bystander who fell out of a building due to a supervillain battle they started. To blame it on you and then call it a mistake. Isn't that something a supervillain would do?

Gritting your teeth, you feel yourself seething of the memory of the windows next to you breaking and shattering out of nowhere as a bird-person villain with mechanical wings tumbled past you. Next thing you knew you were tumbling out the window. 

And then he saved you.

Did he mean to save someone else? Is that why he was so annoyed? But, you didn't see any other people falling from the building on your way down.

You replay the memory. Again.

The looming silhouette of his towering frame over yours as he sneered down at you.

He looked at you like he knew you. Like you had offended him with your mere existence. But you don't understand how. You've never met him before. Never met anyone who looked even remotely like him. You would've remembered a man with red eyes, they're not exactly common. Plus, you don't think you've ever met someone quite so tall. Your neck hurt with the angle you had to crane just to look at his face.

What could you possibly have done in your lifetime to piss off a Superhero you've never met before?

For that matter what Superhero is he anyway? You think back at the dark navy suit clinging onto every inch of skin, embellished by that bright angry red in the emblem of a spider.

Spider-man... 

Except Spider-man is known to be a swell guy with a great sense of humor. Not a rude asshole.

Aren't his colors inverted too? You pull up the browser on your screen and google "spiderman outfit". There's over 800 million hits. In all of them Spiderman's suit is primarily red with blue embellishment.

Whoever the guy is, you don't think he's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman that every New Yorker knows and loves.

With a hapless sigh, you click aimlessly on your screen, trying to look busy at work for the next twenty minutes until you can go on your lunch break. You go through the motions of your soul sucking tasks. Tagging each insurance claim into one of the following categories: approved/rejected/further missing information required.

Peering over your cubicle wall to the wall of windows, you spy the section that has been zoned off since yesterday. The broken window you were knocked out of has already been replaced, but there's still shattered glass and debris nearby.

Your stomach drops, the phantom sensation of the ground beneath you giving way. For a brief second you swear you can feel the weightlessness of soaring through the skies without anything catching your fall.

You stand up from your desk, solid ground meeting the soles of your feet to remind you where you are. 

The office.

There's a monotone drone of workers all around you grumbling and sighing just as unhappily. The quiet tip-tapping of keyboards of the working masses.

Is this the life you managed to escape death for?

Is this it?

It's kind of sad isn't it? You nearly died and lived to tell the tale, only to return to a life so unremarkable your brain didn't deign it necessary to provide you with any highlights (cause there are none).

The most exciting thing that has happened to you the whole of this year was being insulted by a grumpy superhero. The most you've wanted to live was during that span of ten seconds when you were falling out of a building to your death.

You glance at your clock, still 15 minutes before noon. You log out of your desktop anyway.

You barely make it across the street from your office. The light is green as you cross Lexington Avenue when the screeching noise of tires tears down the street and rips through your eardrums.

A yellow taxi hurtles towards you at full speed. Through the car window separating you, the cab driver is staring up at you with wide-eyed horror. In that fraction of a second before the hard metal is going to collide and shatter every bone in your body, you only have one thought: Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. All you see is the familiar blur of shiny blue and red.

Go figure that's the only moment extraordinary enough for your brain to think it's worth replaying before you die.

There's a blunt and forceful shove to the side of your ribs. Softer than you would've imagined a two tonne vehicle slamming into you would be. It doesn't hurt. It reminds you of that time you played football with your cousin and he body slammed you to the lawn. You've heard about this phenomena, the brain will try to protect itself by going unconscious if the pain is too extreme.

But there's no bright light, when you open your eyes all you see is the familiar shiny blue fabric.

A firm weight wraps around your shoulders, and you recognize this, the feeling of being held as you're pulled into their solid chest. There's not enough time for you to look up, you're slammed onto the ground, the solid warmth wrapped around you, absorbing the fall.

The pressure wrapped around you shifts then lifts away entirely. When you open your eyes for a second time, there’s no one there holding you. 

There's no one else there with you. Just the standstill traffic of cars and pedestrians gawking at you.

A concerned woman runs over to you, bending down to help you up on your feet. "Are you okay? That car came out of nowhere."

Your legs feel unsteady, wobbling as you put weight on it to stand up. 

“I’m fine, I think,” you respond, and look down on yourself. There are no scrapes, just a bit of dust on your work-attire from traffic.

"You're so lucky, Spiderman was there to save you."

You blink up at the woman in dazed confusion and it takes your brain a few seconds to process what she's telling you.

Spider-man...

In your mind's eye the flashes of blue and a vivid red invades your vision. It wasn't just your life flashing you by. Not just a figment of your imagination.

He was here. He saved you. (Probably not) Spider-man saved you (again).

A wave of gratitude washes over you. You take back every unflattering thought you had about the man not five minutes ago. Rude? Would a rude man save you, not once but twice in one day? No, of course not, you probably just misunderstood him, or misheard. After all, if he truly regretted saving you, he wouldn't have done it a second time... right?

--

When you get back at your desk, there's a post-it tacked to your computer screen, with an angry scrawl of a handwriting.

'Look BOTH ways before crossing!!!!!'

You stare at the note, and the way the word "both" is capitalized and aggressively underlined.

Rude.

The universe is out to kill you. You're sure of it.

They say that death comes in threes after all. So no one can blame you for being a little bit on the edge after you've gone two for two within the time span of 24 hours.

You stay away from windows in tall buildings. You look both ways, twice, before crossing the street. You try to go straight home from work the minute you clock out from work, turning down any and all initiations with friends to go out after out of precaution. It's just not worth the risk.

And for a while it seems to work. For a while, there are no more incidents. A week goes by and your nerves start to settle and you are lulled into a temporary sense of security before it all goes to shits.

A ceramic flower pot on a windowsill tumbling off the sixth floor of a brown house by Chelsea that would have dropped on your head and split your skull if someone hadn't bumped into you from behind that you weren’t able to catch sight of.

A piece of scaffolding that comes loose and falls from a construction site in West Village as you happened to walk past, and would have been crushed under if you weren’t tackled away at the last second by someone who fled the scene before you could thank them.

A hot dog cart runs amok, hurtling downhill towards you between 184th and 190th street in Manhattan when the cart suddenly out of nowhere, against the very laws of physics like it’s being pulled by an invisible force and changes direction mere inches in front of you, hurtling through the air and crashing into the windows of a bodega instead.

Each and every incident leaves you with an ever growing sense of paranoia that this cannot be explained away by being merely pure bad luck. There are cosmic forces at force that clearly want you dead.

On Thursday, there are leftover cupcakes from a client conference. Mary, the secretary in your team, boxes up four of them for you and tells you to take them with you, because, "you've had a rough week, toots."

It’s not a flattering assessment of you, but when you see your own reflection in the mirrors of the office toilets, you can’t help but think it’s an accurate one. You look rough. Eyes bloodshot with deep furrowed lines underneath. Your face is gaunter than you remember seeing it too. 

You take the cupcakes. 

It's the first good thing that has happened to you all week, and as small of a comfort it is, you take it as a win.

You eye the box from your desk the rest of the day, squirreled away in your tiny cubicle. You are determined not to eat one while at work. Because you'll be damned if Matt from accounting catches a whiff of your cupcakes and asks you to share one with him. You want to properly savor them in the comfort of your home at the end of the day.

But as often is the case when you have something to look forward to, the seconds, minutes and hours tick away with a reluctant drag as if time itself knew you wanted the day to end faster and decided it'd be fun to flip yet another cosmic middle finger in your direction. 

When it's finally time to end work, you get off your chair so forcefully it knocks it to the floor. You are practically jogging through the lanes of cubicles to get to the elevator, and nearly smack the security guard on the other side with how hard you swing open the front door. 

It's pouring outside, which, of course it is. You take off your jacket and cover your cupcake box with it, because you're not going to let the universe ruin the one good thing you've got going for you this week, as you run towards the station.

The moment you step into the damp and sticky station any remaining sense of joy in you evaporates. There's a hoard of tourists swarming the subway paying no attention to their surroundings. Tourists wearing their caps and backpacks and wheelies knocking over a 'Caution Wet Floor ' sign as they gather in a throng in front of the subway map, blocking the way as you hear the train approach.

It's not that big of a deal. A train comes every two to five minutes, and if you miss this one, you'll just get on the next one. It's not the end of the world. Logically, you know that. Emotionally and spiritually however, the world around you has just taken a little bit too much from you for you to concede to this minor little loss.

You are going to make this goddamned train.

Taking a determined step forward, you shoulder and push your way through the throng of people to fight your way to the front of the track.

You push a little too hard. Your feet skid across the slippery tiles, leg buckling from your own weight and you lose control, tumbling forward.

In your peripheral view there's a blinding light approaching. There's wind beating the sides of your face, and you can hear the screeching metal of the train right next to you. Your foot drops into empty space and you are falling into the tracks. 

Oh god why...

Why?

You just want to live.

The cupcake box flies out of your grip, splattered somewhere across the front pane of the train. There's a hard tug on your shirt as an invisible force you cannot see yanks you back, hard.

Your head whips back and for a fraction of a second, there are crimson eyes staring back down at you, you blink and then it's gone.

You land on your ass with a bruising force to your tailbone with a bone-breaking thud. The subway whizzes by with a demonic roar past you, inches from where you're sprawled on your ass on the dirty tiles of the subway station.

In front of your feet, there's a long streak of white frosting trailing down from your feet to the tracks of what looks like a crime scene.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe you've just had a bad night of sleep (after many successive bad nights with little to no sleep). But something in you breaks at the sight of the frosting smeared across the dirty subway tiles.

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. Chest drawing in tight with a crumbling ache that makes you want to curl up on the cold tiles. You're just so tired.

There are people around you staring at you. No one in their right mind who lives in New York would sit on the floor of the subway.

But your legs are heavy and numb. You can’t move from the spot. Everything tastes like bile. You try to swallow and force it back down but it's no use, your throat has swollen shut. Your cheeks run wet and you press your palms to your eyes to make it stop but that only seems to make it worse. Snot runs down your nose and drips down your wrist. You're crying and you don't know how to stop.

Is this the rest of your life?

In the morning, you wake in your bed with a sore ache that gnaws at your bones. Swollen eyes and a soreness that scratches the lining of your throat.

Your back hurts, and as you try to turn to your side to get out of bed a sharp pain surges up along your entire spine.

Fuck.

It's too bright. The sunlight is offensive. It stings your eyes and makes you sick to your stomach. You only have vague memories of how you made it back home. Feet shuffling through the subway in a daze like the walking dead.

God is that what you are? A dead man woman walking?

You crane your head and catch a glimpse of your clock on the bedside table. 9.13 You're late for work. But that's mind as well, you don't have it in you to make it in.

What's the point anyhow? You hate that place.

Besides, if the subway on the way over doesn't finish off the job this time around, then eventually a taxi will. Failing that the universe is probably going to send over a ninja assassin rat from the subway to come after your life.

There's a soft breeze coming in from the open window that grazes the back of your neck and you turn your head towards it. All you can see from your window is the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even though your apartment is on the sixth floor, you can't see a speck of the New York skyline.

Still the breeze is nice, though you don't remember opening the window last night. You never usually do. It is silly and paranoid. No human robber could possibly climb up your six storey building just to climb into your window and rob you. If they could, they’d find that there isn’t much to rob in your apartment, the most valuable thing you own is a complete Le Creuset Cookware set. 

Your eyes glaze over your work tote bag on the floor next to the window, drifting upwards and spot the pink box sat on the window sill and you stop. 

You didn’t put that there. 

You sit upright in your bed, setting your feet to the floor and force yourself to leave your bed as you pad over to the open window.

It's a fancy looking thing. Baby pink, and chiffon ribbon on its side. Wrapping your pinkie around it, you tug it loose. You perch your thumb against the corner of the lid when you stop.

It's not another one of the universe's assassination attempts is it? You're not going to open it to find a bomb ticking down are you?

You hesitate for another moment, taking a deep calming breath before you gather the courage to finally lift the lid. Inside, there is a gorgeous display of cupcakes adorned with white and pink frosting, topped with strawberries, chocolate shavings and on two of them there's mini macarons.

Way fancier than the day old Costco cupcakes you'd lost yesterday.

Picking up one, you take a bite. The frosting is light and zesty. The refreshing lemon melts on the tip of your tongue as the buttery cream floods your mouth with the rich flavor. It's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Lifting the box, you check the sides of it to see if there's any note left behind, but there's none.

Gladis Bakery. It's from a bakery you've never heard of before. When you google the name the place is outside of New Jersey, 58 minutes away and you would need to take a subway then switch to a tram.

There's no note attached, but you don't need one. The list of candidates who would be physically able to climb up six floors up the bricks of your apartment building to leave cupcakes on your window isn’t a long one. 

Something warm blooms in your chest at the thought, and your fingers linger on the top of the box, savoring the taste of lemon and sugar still lingering on your tongue.

You put your head out the window, not sure what you're expecting to find but find yourself disappointed all the same when there's nothing there. No people in the quiet street below, and nothing unusual above.

"Thank you for uhm... saving me,” you say into the silence with nothing but the traffic noise below to answer you. 

 “And the cupcakes," you add. 

There's no reply. 

~ To be continued.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[dreddedwheat]

Spiderverse Spoilers: My thoughts on The Spot

Okay so, Across the Spiderverse had fucking great characters - Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk), Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) and of course, Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India). All are absolute stand-outs, they're all fucking sick, there's no other way of putting it.

This film is an easy 10/10. But I was really impressed with what they did with The Spot.

I'm a big critic of 'silly' villains from comic-books being reduced to one note comedy characters in favour of edgier but much blander villains.

The Spot is a perfect example of how you can have a villain be silly, and remain that way, and still have him be intimidating as all hell.

Spoilers below, reader beware

So first of all, The Spot doesn't actually change that much as a character throughout the film. True we don't see much of him aside from the first fight with Miles and his appearance in Mumbattan, but every time we do he's pretty much the same...in terms of personality.

He's a great subversion of expectations, and I really didn't expect him to be THE villain of the whole film (aside from Miguel ofc). He gets much stronger naturally, and yet he remains this rather relaxed, awkward and aloof person.

He seems completely detached and obsessed with Spider-Man. Not in a teeth-gnashing, Green Goblin-like manner though. He holds a grudge, and wants to see it through to the point he doesn't even flinch at the idea of destroying the universe to do so.

And I love how they use his body-language to convey this. At first he's hunched and awkward, with a paunch and generally pathetic in motion. But the more powerful becomes, the more relaxed he is, slinking about and being almost graceful but with the exact same physique.

He doesn't get more confident, he always was, because he's self-centred (literally if you remember that one scene). I mean he fucking robs a guy, and spends the whole time basically complaining and whining that this is a 'bad experience' for him because someone's standing up to him.

For The Spot, he simply is Spider-Man's nemesis and that means he's totally justified in doing whatever it takes to destroy his life. It's the "Welp, guess I'm evil" approach but done much better.

It takes a character so easily dismissed and makes him a much more grounded and effective villain in every conceivable way.

I'm sure we'll get more insight into his backstory, and probably have more serious grounding with his motivation. But for now the utterly casual nature of him is what makes him so much fun to watch, and almost scary in a way.

[tarjapearce]

As My Own

Miguel O'Hara x Daughter'sRoomate!femreader .

Don't think I have forgotten about the requests 👀.

WARNING: Fluff. A tiny squeeze of angst, Rotting tooth fluff, daily snippets of life, anxious dad.

Summary: Gabi wants a mom. And who is Miguel to deny such wish?

Requested Here. Hope you like ❤️ Feedback is highly appreciated.

Sighing for the third time in a row, Miguel looked fondly at the pictures of his daughter through the years, until she grew out to be a lovely young lady, whose talents in soccer had earned her a scholarship in college.

Despite being terrified of the idea of Gabriela spreading her wings and soar into life itself, he knew the moment would come sooner or later, more like, right now. He was unpacking some boxes into the apartment Gabi would be staying, and if he was honest, the idea of her sharing a room with someone else didn't appeal that much on his trust issues.

If it wasn't for the house renovations needed to be done ASAP, he'd make sure to get Gabi a place for her own.

------

Emancipation had taken a toll on him and his mind, The once girly and colorful room filled with drawings, trophies and medals with a soccer player motifs, soccer star posters, some consoles and games, was now an empty space full of memories.

When Gabi gave him the news of her moving out completely, made his heart to shrink and break, but he knew that he had to let her go. Gabriela was 19 at the time, doing good at college, had found herself a half time job and a new roommate. The last one seemed the most preoccupying thing on the list. Was it a man? Did she eat well? Did she get along with them? Probably had gotten her a couple of fights, were they older? Was his Solecito safe?

It had been three years since she left home and pursue her superior studies and a professional soccer player career.

His mind was racing with the infinite questions and his stress gnawed at his chest, his phone buzzing interrupted his accelerating thoughts. He opened the message log and sighed in relief to see Gabriela's name on the screen.

He tapped at the message and his heart nearly melted at seeing Gabi with a goofy expression on her face, her hands making a V sign as she hovered over a small table set for two.

"Dinner time with Roomie~"

The caption read. The food looked delicious and esthetically pleasing at the eye. Nearly Michelin star awarded restaurant quality.

(Name) 's food is amazing! . Btw Im free next week, so come over, I miss you Papa.

Gabi had texted him some couple of hours later. (Name) ; at least he now knew that Gabi shared space with a woman. He didn't trust college guys at all. At least, he could sleep a bit better now. However, something had caught his attention, despite Gabi's competitive traits, she rarely loosened herself around others. And the picture only proved him right.

Gabi was unabashedly goofy and silly on the picture, with a genuine smile on her face. Whoever you were, he was grateful for making his most precious treasure comfortable and safe.

-----

The first time you met Gabi was quite the experience, you had just returned from work to find a lot of boxes loitering the entrance and part of the living room. Books, some baskets with soccer balls and equipment, Somw clothes and more books.

The burning smell immediately alerted you as smoke begun filling in the room. Rushing you opened the window and started to dissipate the smoke away with a towel.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" The young and tall woman panicked as she came out of the bathroom, body wrapped in a towel, just like her hair. Skin still sudsy with soap.

The chaos was tamed, leaving one of your favorite collectible pots, charred and useless.

"I'm really really sorry! I'll get you a new one."

"Don't you worry. Just... be careful. Don't leave the stove on when you are away. You could've burn the place down"

Gabi nodded sheepishly and looked down, when she noticed your chef uniform, the logo of a prestigious place she could only dream to afford in a couple of months and a place where he wanted to take her Papa as a surprise, standing out in your chest.

"Im (Name), the other tenant. Nice to meet you." Your voice was firm, yet kind. The kind of kindness that could insult anyone and still sound charming.

"Gabriela O'Hara. Sorry for your pot. I'll get you a new one"

"Ah stop it. It was just a family relic passed on generation to generation that now will end up in the trash."

You couldn't help but laugh at her panicking and guilty reaction.

"I'm just messing with you, sweetie. I got Ceci on a promo back at the supermarket. Don't worry. It's just a pot. We throw at least one daily at the restaurant. What were you trying to make anyways?"

Gabi didn't know if to be shocked or be laughing at your attitude. She settled for confused.

"Cause it smelled like cheap Mac and Cheese"

Her cheeks flushed and you just chuckled knowingly.

"Freshman?" Gabi nodded and you smiled almost endearingly at her.

"Such a cutie! I remember my first semester at college. Such a mess, terrible food and a terrible roommate"

"You're graduated?"

"A long time ago, yeah, Culinary school is something else. Don't get in there if you like having perfect skin."You chuckled and rolled up your sleeve, showing a few shares of scars and burn marks.

"Anyways, let's have a couple of rules okay? If you follow them, who knows? it can take us places." You grinned.

"No boys after 10 pm on weekends, and if you do, keep it low. Thin walls. Same applies to me, but don't worry about it. Im way too tired to actually do something about bringing my libido back."

Jeesh

Gabi's cheek flushed as her stomach fluttered anxiously.

"You can use my tools for cooking with the only condition to leave them clean and back at their place. Got it?"

She nodded at every reasonable rule you gave her. You had warned her that sometimes you'd be out of town due work, and that left her on charge of the place. It was brought to her attention that despite the place being small, it was conditioned enough to make it almost fancy looking. The kitchen specially.

Of course things just grew from there. At first Gabi was shocked to find you were a couple of years younger than her Papa. And that you had been single for quite a time now. Couple of years to be exact.

But that mattered little as her growing fondness for you was borderline adorable. You had helped her through some really bad times, like getting her a part time job at your workplace after being fired from the college coffee shop, something she never had the guts to tell Miguel.

Then you of course helping her out in her cooking skills, to at least stop eating plain ramen and packaged food bags.

"You're an athlete, you must feed like one."

"But I can't... afford it-"

"Uh uh. Shh." You shook your head and taught her to buy the right sort of meals even under a tight budget. Sometimes she would even find meals prepped for her whenever she had run short on money.

You were there when she got her first college date, and also were there when the young man turned out to be a fuckboy and a prick. Wiping her tears and feeding her a freshly made creme brule. A favorite of hers. You had also Dropped her and picked her up in her soccer practices whenever time allowed you so. She seeked guidance in you

She was there for you when depression was making it's way into your head, she was also there when she helped you to recover from a hang over after another failed date, and nursed you through your terrible period cramps. Even though sometimes harmony seemed disrupted by external causes, such as stress, work and feeling particularly wistful and blue, you'd always find comfort in eachother.

You were amazed by the fact that you realized that she was like the little girl you always dreamed to have.

"How come you don't have children?" Gabi had asked carefully. Despite the trust you hsd built over the years, there was some things you still couldn't bring yourself to discuss so openly, until now.

"I..."

"Sorry if I'm overstepping"

"Nah. I think it's time I actually come clean about some stuffs."

"Are you sure?" You nodded and sighed

"I can't have them"

Surprise drawed into Gabi's eyes as she stared at you.

"Infertility?"

"Yup. But... It's fine. I've come to terms with it, so..."

You trailed and she swallowed as her hand was placed above yours.

"For all it's worth? I'm sure you could have been an amazing mother."

Could have been

" To me, you... you are."

Gabi mumbled as tears swelled up in her eyes, threatening to fall. You stared at her, heart leaping in your chest

"Like... You are like the mother I never had... My Papa is amazing, but sometimes I actually yearn for a different kind of love." She hiccuped and you frowned, holding her closer.

"Like a mom. I want... I want to go shopping and talking about boys and how stupid they are. I want... to be cheered on by someone else at my games and not only my Papa."

Your heart felt breaking bit by bit as Gabi broke before you

"Don't get me wrong, I love Papa to death but... It's hard, y'know?"

"Ah, cariño." An endearment term you had learn from her, "You are such an amazing kid. Im sure that whoever comes into your life to take that spot needs to be amazing, because you're such a special young woman. Look at you, bright future ahead, smart, so so pretty and brave"

But Gabriela didn't want a stranger as her mother figure. She wanted you.

Gabi hid her face on your chest as you held her close, consoling her as much as you could. She remained there until she looked up at you with a suspicious glare

"Maybe I can introduce you to my dad" Your cheeks flushed bright red and she gasped, a bright bulb of an idea popping in her mind, sadness remnants vanishing from her body almost instantly

"No, Gabi, cariño-"

"You can meet him this weekend!"

"That's too soon, I am not prepared! Plus I have work remember?"

"He's staying all weekend, don't worry."

You had seen her adoring Papa through pictures she had showed you. The man was attractive, and looked certainly way too out of your league but of course you never told Gabi about it. You just shrugged it off with a 'Oh, cute'. But now that her plan was on set, you couldn't say no to her.

"Besides, I think it's time for you to actually meet guys. And this time no excuses like Im busy or stuff like that."

"Okay, okay. But if things don't work out-"

"I know, I'll drop it." Gabi rolled her eyes.

-----

Even though the recipe for a certain disaster was cooking, you tried to be optimistic about it. A bit of positive thinking wouldn't hurt you from time to time. However, your shift turned out a bit trickier than usual, since the restaurant had been reserved for a main event for important people.

In the little chance you had, you sent Gabi a little video of how crowded it was, and apologizing cause you didn't know if you were making a double shift and wouldn't be able to meet Papa.

Gabi just sent you a picture of the both with a "Miss you! Dad just came"

------

3 am. 3 am and you were finally done, no more stuck up clients pretending to love raw fish and meats, people that were just actually there for the food pictures and to be able to brag about they were there. Your feet ached, and so was your headache. The good thing was that the company allowed you to take some food home.

Keys tinkered as you grabbed them to finally turn them in the keyhole and entering home and closed the door, angry and heavy steps alerted you as the hulking figure of a man stood in the dark, as the dim lit red iris flashed at you. You had to crane your head up to meet his deep eyes.

Now you wondered where Gabi had came out so tall.

"H-Hello..." You gulped and he sighed, hard expression melting slowly.

"Sorry for... the late hour."

"No, no. Discúlpeme I mean, forgive me. Though someone had broke in, until I heard the keys a bit too late. I'm Miguel. O'Hara." He offered you his large hand that easily engulfed yours.

"Oh, so you're... Papa" you shook it gently. He was warm, and chuckled. "Im (Name). Gabi never stops talking about you." You gave him an amiable smile and put your containers on the dining table.

"Nice to meet you" you began unpacking, aligning the recipients carefully on the table.

"How's... Gabriela doing?" His deep voice snapped your focus for a moment and your eyes darted to his form. Sweatpants in grey, a white fitting shirt that snugged his form a bit too nicely for a short stare. Hair slicked back, pouty lips, thick brows and his deep... red eyes? He certainly was even more handsome in the flesh than in the pictures.

"Oh, she's amazing. Her practice in soccer has improved even more. She has a final next week."

His brow arched at how much information you knew about her.

"I apologize, she fell asleep in your room, despite me telling her that the couch would be-"

"Ah don't worry about it. My bed is big enough for two, and she isn't a kicker in her sleep. So make sure to rest properly. Oh! And welcome for the weekend. Would you like something to eat?"

Miguel shook his head and softly smiled at you. You were pretty. So so pretty that his mind was almost in shortcut when you were removing your chef robe, in the kitchen exposing a bit more of skin. Your left arm was adorned with little burn marks and cuts, you poured yourself a glass of wine when you felt his eyes on you.

"Want some?" You offered the wine and he nodded, a bit reluctant at first.

"Has Gabi acted out of place while I'm gone?" You giggled as you poured him some wine.

"If by out of place means sleeping one hour later than she is used to, yeah. She has." Your hands gave him the cup and he leaned on the table. Gabi groggily came out your room, lured away by the delicious smell of food.

"Hey" She mumbled and hugged Miguel and then hugged you, and remained with her arms around your waist. You kissed her forehead and she smiled.

Miguel entered in spectator mode.

"Hey, cupcake. Want some food?"

"Can I have it tomorrow?"

"Got you a Creme Brule." She grunted happily.

Gabi smiled and went through the bags, popping a chocolate coated strawberry on her mouth.

"Still, I'm too tired to actually eat. Got Papa and I some takeout."

"Takeout?! The good sort of thing I hope" Gabriela groaned as she made her way back to your room.

"Don't steal the fluffy sheets!"

"Yes, mom. Take a bath first, you smell like garlic." she mumbled and went to bed.

Your whole face was as red as a strawberry not because your smell, but for how she had called you, you gulped down the wine and sighed. Miguel stared at you and his chest couldn't help but constrict a little more.

" I apologize for that, Gabriela is..."

"Quite receptive to smells? Yeah."

"And she called you mom." He was more surprised about it than anything else.

"Ah hehe. Yeah, she had been calling me accidentally that a bit more often."

"Does it makes you feel uncomfortable?" He sipped his wine

"Not really. I find it cute. She eh... talked to me about growing up and how things had been for her."

"I must thank you. You have fed her, taken care of her and now even protect her."

"She's a great kid." You nodded proudly. "Couldn't find a better roomie, and a friend. You did a good job raising her, Papa."

Miguel cleared his throat and gave you a small smile.

"I hope she hasn't-"

"Relax, she's been nothing but a good kid all these years. You gotta trust her a bit more."

"It's the people around her that I don't trust"

"Ouch..."

"I mean, not that I dont... just... carajo." you giggled at his cursing as his brows knitted together

"I mean, my daughter trusts you enough to sleep in your bed, call you mom even, so... would be kinda dumb to say that you're a bad person... And I'm not making any sense right?"

You gave him a bashful smile and it was your turn to clear your throat.

"She's been busy at playing cupid. She thinks she is subtle..." You bit your lip and poured yourself a bit more of wine as Miguel rubbed his face, tiredly.

"What about, today at 7 pm?"

"At 7pm what?" He coked an eyebrow to you and Gabriela poked her head out of your room, sighing with exasperation.

"Por Dios pa, Te está invitando a salir!" (My god, Papa, she's asking you out.)

You just laughed and put the food in the fridge

"If you're up for it, that is. It's fine if you don't-"

"Make it at 8. Traffic has lowered by that hour."

"Alright." You smiled and took your chef coat with you.

"Sleep well, Papa."

He downed the remnants of his wine and smiled to himself. He had a date.

------—----

And a second, and a third and a fourth and a fifth. You were such an enjoyable being to hang around. You shared little silly texts, learnt a bit more spanish thanks to him to slowly bring down your language barrier. Even though you understood some words here and there, you wanted to understand so you could also feel part of the secret and long conversations the two O'Haras shared when it came to you.

Miguel was the first in making a move and kissed you around the fourth date. Nervous as you were, you finally felt good enough to just allow yourself to indulge in his company and what he had to offer. Great company, laughs, delicious make out sessions you didn't thought possible at your age.

Gabi had found you both eating each other's mouth in the livingroom

"Get a room!" She'd yell as she locked herself, headphones up her ears, but a beam in her face. Her chest swelled in joy knowing her cupid stunt had paid off.

--------

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, pa. Like... She's the best. She's so sweet and... makes me happy cause you are happy."

"You'd be the only child, you're aware of that right?"

Gabi nodded upon remembering your words and your condition.

"Having a little sibling at this point would be awkward anyways."

"That doesn't mean I can't try-"

"Oh my god stop..." Gabi shook her head and Miguel smirked

"Payback for not telling me you were fired." She grunted as Miguel held her tightly.

"I think it's time to try something new."

"You'll ask her to marry you?!" Gabi gasped excited with a beam on her face

"Relax, Solecito. We're still knowing each other. And we wanna make sure that things work out before thinking in something so important as that."

"If you let her go, I promise that I won't talk to you again."

"Ouch."

--------

Bit by bit you had small milestones in your relationship with Miguel, you visiting his home back at New York, you staying a weekend in said home, you being introduced to his friends, sharing carneada with his friends, and of course, being found by Gabriela about to have sex, none of you mentioned it during dinner.

To make things even more convenient and better, your restaurant had opened a second branch in New York. Gabi was about to graduate college and of course, you both were saddened that soon you'll part ways. The both were too enraptured enjoying your mother-daughter relationship you had created that forgot about the future.

It didn't help to her sadness when you told her about you and other crew members of your work were selected for a three months workshop in France.

Despite your own sadness, both O'Haras cheered you to go.

"Three months is gonna be torture without you, but time goes so fast. You'll be back sooner than we expect it." Gabi had spoken. And of course, after her graduation, and a kiss goodbye, you flew to France.

Communication wasn't an issue since you talked every day. And still, the gnawing feeling of not being with them made you wish time to fly. You spoke every night with Miguel, telling him how much you have missed him. Even though work had kept you both busy enough, you'd always find a way to talk or text.

And when you came back? It felt like floating in a dream.

"Mom!" Gabriela rushed to you and crushed you in her arms, sniffling and holding you tightly.

"I missed you soo much, cariño." You kissed her forehead, Miguel joined a bit later with a rose bouquet on hand. He pulled you in for a deep kiss.

"Missed you, preciosa".

What sealed the deal for him was seeing you sharing a moment with Gabi. You were brushing her hair as you caught up eith the things you learned in France and how excited you were for them both to taste them.

He asked you to move in with them. And god he loved the feeling of you being around. Gabi was happy, he was happy and you were as well.

Everything about you had captured his heart. Your personality, your way to carry on things, the subtle ways you guided Gabriela without imposing in her autonomy, How much love you seemed to have for them, the delicious feeling of your skin against his on bed.

He proposed a year after. He wouldn't let you go, no no. You were too perfect for him, and a perfect Mom for Gabriela.

[lxmelle]

The KFC breakup was about friendship more than ideology.

The question posited by Geto : Yes it was about identity. Yes it was about choice. Yes it was jarring.

It was also an expression of hurt and pain. It was (immature -ahem, they were kids) retaliation - that’s why Geto saw it as an argument. “They fought” and “that was it”. He regretted it, and that’s why he also told his family “not to argue amongst themselves.” Geto packed in the message in there: You left me figuratively; and I’ll leave you. You decided for me; I’ll decide for you. But you can choose based on what you want; I’ve chosen my path anyway.

Let me elaborate. But first: Let’s get a few things out of the way.

Gojo did not have an issue with killing humans.

He went after Toji. For what purpose? Revenge? He said he wasn’t angry. Let’s look at his mindset after near death or to any threat (like after the parade with Miguel’s cursed tool that interfered with his CT). Auto limitless. He eliminated all potential weapons that could harm him. Gojo did not like it. He wanted to eliminate threats. With Toji? He possibly wanted to try and see if he was more powerful than what felled him. So he killed this person who was no longer an active threat. Then he sincerely did not know whether or not to kill the clapping peeps. Why? Why even think about it? Geto didn’t think about it.

Why indeed?

He didn’t have an issue. Even after internalising what Geto said, he didn’t actually believe it, because he simply didn’t feel it.

Also, why spare Geto? After Toji and the spear, all that was left to his awareness at that time, that could hurt him, was Geto. He couldn’t kill him. Yes , we know it was because he realised he loved him. Geto’s life was precious. This was the message Geto wanted him to realise after all - life was precious. Not only his. With this experience, Gojo finally could feel what it meant.

So let’s go to the KFC breakup and their exchange.

Dissect it:

It’s not about your parents. You told me it was pointless to kill non-sorcerers.

Geto interjects: But there is meaning; there is also purpose.

Gojo doesn’t want to know. Despite there possibly being meaning and purpose, he continued:

That’s impossible! There is no point in attempting the impossible.

He is asking Geto: Why are you attempting something impossible for you? Doing something you can’t do is pointless, at best! (Why did you go against what you told me not to do, even if you say there is meaning, purpose, and it is for justice, you shouldn’t attempt it).

In the original, the language is more condescending/belittling and implies that Geto’s chipping away at it would be inefficient 「できもしねぇことをセコセコやんのを意味ねぇっつーんだよ!!」

And Geto replied with: how arrogant.

Why?

Because: paraphrasing, “Are you determining for me what is impossible, when you can do it? Is it only because I’m not as strong as you, so you’re considering what’s important to me, as pointless?”

Also, of all the things he could’ve talked about, Gojo was focused on Strength. Viewing Geto in that black & white way. It was impossible for Geto, he implied. It reflected his lack of belief in his friend and respect of their shared bond.

Yes, Geto acted on his own. Gojo had a right to be angry. And so did Geto, who felt left behind by Gojo who prioritised training at the expense of other things like friendships - which were probably not seen as something he ever needed to treasure or be insecure about. Unlike Geto. Who knew loss all too well and felt it to his core. They were made very differently. I want to emphasise: Neither is better or worse.

Over this particular exchange, Geto was hurt and the conversation was pretty much over. Geto was always going to attempt this path despite not being the strongest. That wasn’t the point. He had already vehemently dedicated himself to this one path he cornered himself into.

The Crux of it was that: the friendship wasn’t mutual and Geto felt the disrespect and condescension in Gojo’s remark.

Geto had always focused on Gojo’s Humanity. Even if he saw that Gojo lacked meaning and purpose (parts that make us human; and btw Nanami was accurate in knowing Gojo was jujutsu crazy), he believed in Gojo’s capacity for humanity and love. He respected his friend and their shared bond. He recognised Gojo’s potential and wanted him to remain on the right path, as long as it was good for him.

So the breakup was about friendship.

It was about, believing in the other, not based on what one can or can’t do.

Paraphrasing for clarity: “who are you to tell me what I can/can’t do, if you yourself can do it?”

I never stopped believing in you. Did our friendship mean nothing to you?

If there was meaning and purpose, Gojo didn’t want to know about it at all. Yet he knew enough for him to say it was pointless for Geto to attempt it. He knew nothing of Geto’s suffering and how he valued his fellow sorcerers. He was implying, Geto’s ideals and sacrifice were worthless because he wasn’t strong.

Because he, the strongest Gojo Satoru, deemed so. The strong. Keeping. The weak. In check.

But Geto doesn’t subscribe to this. It hit a nerve. He goes by the philosophy of the weak keeping the strong in check; about not abusing one’s power. 「弱きを助け強きを挫く」 ⬅️ This is a known proverb Geto used to advise Gojo in HI when they were in the classroom (anime would be the basketball courts?). And Gojo responds by saying that attaching meaning was for the weak.

But. After what Geto did, he realised it was hypocritical. He was strong. But also comparatively weak. The non-sorcerers were “strong” with the power to hurt the minority / “weak” / the sorcerers. In this context: He knew more than anyone that his crimes were an abuse of power. Hence his self-imposed death sentence to Gojo’s hand. The draft shows him saying: it wouldn’t be bad to die by your hand. In jjk 0 he collapsed to the floor immediately - conceding completely. Even saying “you’re late Satoru”.

Knowing his hypocrisy, that’s why he chose to live as he did - denying himself any pleasures of humankind by only opting for things made by sorcerers where possible, but never imposing this on his family. He didn’t feel he deserved it. He would just be a tool for the sake of this ideal. But. Back to Gojo and Geto.

What Geto saw, that Gojo didn’t, was...

The value of the person vs absolute strength of the person. Geto cared about people and saw Gojo didn’t naturally do that. So he asked him to think - who was Gojo Satoru? The Gojo who just thought about strength, or the Gojo who could care about someone beyond it?

See, Geto has never done that; he always encouraged Gojo. If he could do it, it was worth Gojo trying. Like having humanity. Caring for Riko. Protecting the weak. Having principles about meaning. Being respectful to elders. That was also why Geto felt they “fought” because for the first time, he imposed onto Gojo: I can do it, but you shouldn’t. He was knowingly hypocritical again. And this was also why he did not think Gojo would have any trust left for him after they “fought”.

Killing non-sorcerers aside (we know Gojo didn’t have much of an issue with it at this point in time), Gojo did not believe in Geto. Did not seem to respect Geto.

That’s what made Geto retaliate.

He thought there was weight in their friendship even if the power gap had increased exponentially. Even if he was going to walk down another path. He didn’t know if Gojo was going to just hunt him down or talk - that’s why he was “testing his luck”. Gojo the sorcerer could have just come to exterminate him. Gojo the friend could stop to talk. I think the latter happened but it was too clumsy between them both. Geto was childish himself, as Shoko said. But he was noble enough to not take Gojo with him.

Nevertheless...

He turned away.

As if to say: Don’t even follow me. We are done talking. I’ve heard what you had to say; you don’t see me as someone equal to you. It wasn’t mutual. I’ve decided how to live my life. I know I’ve done wrong, so kill me if you want, I know there would be meaning to it.

We will part ways on this bad note. It’s clear you’ll only respect me if I’m “you” since you only respect yourself. He shoved him roughly into the righteous path instead of his usual gentle way. He never intended on having Gojo follow him anyway. He didn’t like the idea of others being tools - but just himself - he was okay being one. We know Geto didn’t hold too much value to himself.

Gojo was within his absolute right to be beyond upset. Left behind. This came out of nowhere. Geto going back on his own words. He belatedly probably realised what he really wanted to say was, why did you act all on your own, especially going against all that you preached to me? I’m strong, why couldn’t I be strong for you, with you?

And: Why was I the last to know...? I thought you needed me just as much as I needed you.

Geto… knew what he did was wrong. He was under no illusions but chose to walk that path and buried himself in the denial, so he could live pursuing something he could accept. For the sake of… something he felt needed his protection. He would not use Gojo Satoru as his weapon, even if Gojo Satoru chose so himself.

Sigh. My heart hurts.

You and Gojo Satoru both. Idiots. Why did you let yourself become tools?!?!?!

Sigh. One loved by clinging on. The other loved by letting go.

Angst. Aah, angst.

I feel like I’ve somewhat ruined my wip fic by writing posts like these, but nevermind, lol. It wasn’t a given that they’d be read anyway 😳

Take whatever Ive written with a pinch of salt. It’s just my take. I don’t think Geto was jealous of Gojo. I think they were both extremely hurt and both felt left behind. Both carried regrets and treasured the memory of the other, wanted to protect the other (and others like them), in their own ways. It was not enough to be anything (strong / idealistic) if they were alone. I think their reunion made it clear that they needed each other to be happy. I might be completely humbled by the release of the GIGA booklet on Gojo, but we shall see... if anything further on this KFC scene is revealed.

I probably have talked too much on this topic lol.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far 🫶

[miguel-owhora]

just letting y'all know that stepdad!miguel is literally so obsessive and possessive, he almost forgets he's married to your dad and you're supposed to be his stepson. he definitely favorites and gets pissed if anyone even dares to try and joke that one of your friends is secretly your partner; he'd corner you and fucking demands to know if you're seeing one. he's so jealous that he doesn't believe you when you say you're not seeing anyone, and proceeds to milk you dry, forcing you to say that he's the only one you love, the only one you need. he'll mark you up and bite you all over, fuck he's so pissed and possessive, just the thought of someone else touching you has him getting angrier.

but when it passes by he acts as if nothing happened, going back to his loving and attentive nature, going back acting as the overbearing stepfather.

bonus: stepson!mreader probably has some other younger siblings who definitely notice miguel's strange behavior, how he treats you different to the others. he doesn't hate your siblings, he's kind to them and helps them out, cooks for them and treats them as if they were his own children—but you? oh they notice how he looks at you, how he stares at you like a predator, with a sick love in his eyes as opposed to the plain and almost disinterested look he gives his husband.

but how can they bring it up when miguel's been nothing but sweet to all of them? acting like a good husband, treating his stepchildren with respect—and treating you like his prized possession. and when miguel is bound to notice, well, you'll just have to be more sneakier from now on, right?

ugh you'd be so dependent on miguel, so needy for his affection and love, you're willing to risk it all. but miguel is quick to keep you in place, when late at night you're sucking on hia tits, greedy for the sweet milk that makes his tits swell and heavy, his hand curled around your thick cock, slowly fondling it with the experience of a freak. he'll murmur into your ear about how you need to at least finish college, get a good job, and once you do—you can both run. run away and leave your idiot father and too knowing siblings behind, run away to the other side of the country and live together, free from anyone. he'll be your loving husband, doting on your every needs, and all you have to be is be his good boy.

wouldn't that be so nice?

[anchoeritic]

♥︎ — BEAUTY BEHIND THE MADNESS

MIGUEL O’HARA + SPIDER-FEM!READER

SYNOPSIS: a big bad guy was what you saw in him. but he proved you differently, in a way no one else would get to experience the other side of his coldness: a perfect warm seat, just for you, on his lap.

WARNING: eighteen plus only content, minors do not interact. dirty talk, praise kink, vaginal penetration, clit play, choking kink, biting kink, cockwarming, use of fem. terms (good girl, etc.), stomach bulging, breeding kink, size difference/kink.

ENDING UP IN THE SPIDERVERSE was not on your list: exploring off and falling into a world filled with multiples of people, creatures, concepts like you. the hole in your heart finally felt filled at last, but was that all it took for you to feel complete? to find peace and answers?

well, not exactly. not when miguel o’hara is always peering over your shoulder, almost holding you up by the back of your suit. he was the ‘leader’ around here, they say. he says.

miguel o’hara. universe 2099. the creator and the same man to put an end to it. the dark in his eyes whenever they’d wander the second you stepped foot into a room or the heat of your scent filling up his nostrils. a big bad guy was what you saw in him.

so he proved you differently, in a way no one else would get to experience the other side of his coldness: a perfect warm seat, just for you, on his lap.

“m-miguel..” a soft whimper fell from your lips as your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders, trying to keep yourself from falling off his thighs.

his cock sat nestled in your tight pussy, stretching you out beyond your reach. “shh, shh.. feels good, doesn’t it?” if it wasn’t for his hands gripping firmly onto your hips, you probably would’ve fell limp by now.

he was a much better man than you were, in every way possible. he stood at a taller height, towering over you. his biceps were the size of your head, covering half of your body whenever they wrapped around your front.

that man was a work of art and he knew it too.

“feels s’good.. god, fuck.” your voice was shaky as you were consumed by the immense amount of pleasure he was giving to you right then and there.

“mm, where do you feel it, honey?” moving your hips, he guided you slowly to make sure you took every last inch of his cock inside of you. if you were going to try a taste, might as well finish the rest.

leaning in close, his breath fanned hot against your jaw. his heavy breaths weren’t close enough to match the volume of your pornographic sounds, only letting you hear them.

his teeth sunk softly into your delicate skin, his fangs sharper than the others as he continued to drag them down your jaw.

“tell me, baby. where do you feel me, hm?” sliding his hand down the valley of your breasts, he laid his palm against your lower stomach and putting pressure on the spot. “here?”

your eyes rolled back as your hips twitched against his, rolling backwards. “right there. i-i feel you right there..”

“takin’ me like such a good girl, aren’t you? so deep and you can take all of me.”

miguel was so deep inside of you that he could feel the bulge of his own cock against your skin. the pure thought of your pleasure had him groaning to get deeper inside of you, to fill you up with his warm cum.

to see you all swelled up, carrying his children.