#miguel o’hara scenario

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[princessmonochxkeme]

♱˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖙 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚♱

𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Miguel O'hara x fem! reader

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: On a story New York night, you bond with a handsome stranger in a library (over comics of course). Moments later, you're attacked on your way home, saved by none other than Spiderman. He'd been watching you since you left, and plans on doing so all night long.....

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 5.3k words

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: S-M-U-T !!! NSFW !!! BARK BARK WOOF WOOF !!! lol but fr-- voyerism, choking, age gap, oral (fem receiving), pussy play, nipple play, overstim, fangs/bloodsucking, pussy stretching, breeding (kinda)... I think that's everything. just, DO NOT interact if you're a minor lol.

𝕰𝖙𝖈.: Whelp, I'm despicable lol...and so are you if you read this and enjoy it ;))) Of note, Miggy is 30-35 in this story (that's how I view his Spiderverse character), and you're a first year law student (23-26 y/o).

**THIS IS A ONESHOT BUT I'M CONTINUEING THE SERIES ON A03 **

Lastly,-- there's one violent-ish scene but its pretty short. Happy reading <<;<3333

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Universe 1999J: 9:02 PM, Queens, Nueva York

The storm boomed in the background, thunder echoing through the halls of the library. You were in your early 20s, in the most exciting city in the world…spending your Friday night in a library. You’d been there studying for hours. A month into law school and you already had 2 exams on Monday (and you were less than prepared).. Isn’t this the life… you thought to yourself dryly. The most recent bout of lightning caused a power to surge, which you took as a sign to leave soon. You packed up your notes, and decided to check out the comics before you leave. You’d recently gotten into Marvel comics-- you loved the linework of the art, the vibrant colors, and the simple yet exciting stories. Maybe in a different life you’d be illustrating your own books, or better yet, protecting a city in a sexy spandex suit... Sigh.

It’d been a while since you read a Spiderman story-- there were too many to catch up on so you gave up. P….Q….R…. you say to yourself, scanning the isles. You finally reach the shelf you’re looking for, but some man is blocking it. You immediately notice how large he is-- more than a foot taller than you with broad strapping shoulders. It was ironic, but he looked like he could’ve been a comic hero. Nevertheless, he was focused on whatever he was reading and didn’t notice your presence. “Hi, excuse me…” you say quietly “Do you mind if I look at the Spider-Man comics for a sec?” He looked at you, subtly embarrassed.. Getting a good look at his face you noticed he was gorgeous: Caramel brown skin, dark wavy hair, and perfectly chiseled features….not, not bad at all…. “I’m sorry, go right ahead.” He kindly apologized. “Thanks...have any good recommendations?” You replied, hoping to prolong your convo with this DILF-y stranger. “Actually, the one I’m reading is pretty good! I’ve read it about 100 times but it never gets old.” He smiled and handed you the book. “Spiderman 2099….” you read the title out loud. “Cool, I think I played a PS4 game with him once.” He rolled his eyes at your response, flashing his white teeth with a playful smile. “That’s how everyone knows him. OGs learned about him the real way.” he said, tapping the book. “Ohhh brother, whatever you say old man…” you smile back deviously. He looked 35 at most, but still noticeably older than your 24. “Please, I’m not that old” He chuckled back at you. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but was he flirting right now? “SHHH!” The librarian looked in your direction, glaring at the both of you. “Sorry!” you mouthed back at her. “Anyways..” he whispered “I hope you enjoy the comic, you have good taste.” You thanked him and walked away, preparing to check out the book.

You ended up leaving the library a bit later than you intended. It was almost 9:30 and you still had a 30 minute subway ride home. There were other, closer libraries to campus, but this one had beautiful marble architecture and was open later-- shame it was in a crappy part of town. Born and raised in Nueva York, you knew how to handle yourself at night: music on, head down, “fuck off” is the default response. You begin the familiar route to the station, scrolling through a thai menu for the place near your apartment. “Larb gai…basil stir fry…mang-” within seconds someone pulled you into an alley, slamming you against the wall. You’d dropped your umbrella, and rain started soaking you. “Don’t try to fucking scream cuz no one will hear you. If you try any funny shit, I’ll blow your pretty head off.” the man whispered in your ear. You felt the cool metallic barrel press into your temple, and with a click you knew the gun was ready to fire. “What do you want….” You manage to say. “Drop the bag” he commanded. You comply, removing your backpack and dropping it to the ground. “There’s nothing in there I’m broke” You tried to plea. “SHUT UP.” He retorted, keeping a gun aimed at you while scouring through your things. After stripping your wallet of any cards and cash he turns his sights back to you, scanning your body for valuables. “Drop the phone, and take your fucking sneakers off” “...What?” “FUCKING DO IT OR I SWEAR--” he screamed. What happened next was a blur.

Out of nowhere, a masked man slammed the robber's skull into the ground, twisting his arm back in an unnatural angle. The sudden struggle caused the gun to go off, making you scream for cover. Although it was dark, you could see the man was wearing a black and red suit with a webbed pattern. ‘W-Who are you?” You tried to ask. The masked figure looked at you before returning his attention to the scum below him. The robber tried in vain to wiggle free, only making things worse. With his back turned to you, the masked figure hunched over the robber, biting him in the neck. He choked on his own blood, twitching in the mangled position. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck… You think to yourself as the ordeal unfolds. For good measure, the masked man shoots webbed material over the robber, ensuring he can't move. Paralyzed in shock, you stare at the person who’d just saved you. He grabbed your stolen items, and reached a hand out to return them to you…but you were frozen. The suit, the webs, the insignia on his chest….you must’ve been losing your mind. “Are you….” you started“....Spiderman?” He finished awkwardly. “Well I was going to say real…but yeah that works, too.” You replied, finally grabbing your things. “I…um….thank you...” You said sheepishly. “Thank me later, we need to leave” he said firmly. “Wait what--” You start as the sirens in the background louder. “Hold onto me unless you want to go to explain this to the cops.” Reluctantly, you grab onto him before he shoots a web into the air. Within seconds he lifts the both of you up to the top of a random building, away from the police. “Sorry to be so hasty back there, are you ok?” He looks at you concerned. Your mind still hasn’t fully processed what’s just happened.

“...Uhhh….yeah...sure….”. You start. “Just to make sure I have everything right, someone just tried to rob me at gunpoint, Spiderman is real…and is you…and you just saved me….and now I’m on top of a 12 story building in the rain?” “...sounds about right.” he confirmed. “Well, at least I’m not concussed…” you say dryly, eliciting a chuckle from him. “I have so many questions but, I don’t have the mental energy to ask right now….” “Understood.” he replied, relieved he wouldn’t have to explain himself. “Ok I do have one question….can you take me to the Subway station? I just want to go home…” “Of course, but honestly if you’re up for it, I could probably get you home faster myself.” he replied. “By…swinging through the city in a storm?” you replied skeptically. “Well….yeah. You're pretty easy to carry.” he chuckled. “Plus you don’t really notice the rain when you’re swinging.” “Hmm…I don’t know….you seem a little old to be Spiderman…what if you drop me?” You cross your arms squinting at him. He was admittedly huge and towered over you, but he sounded too old to be Peter Parker….and in a strange way, his voice sounded familiar. You couldn’t pin it to anyone in particular, but you’ve definitely heard it somewhere. “Old? Please, I’m not that old…” He muttered. With that phrase, you recognized him as the man from the library. Your eyes widened as you realized this, but you fixed your face before he could notice. “Also, trust me, or don’t. But at the very least you’ll need my help getting back to the ground.” He continued. Shit, he was right. The more you mulled it over, this was a rare opportunity! How many people could say they’d swung through the city with Spider-Man? Besides, an uber home was laughably expensive, and you really didn’t want to wait on the subway with more potential creeps. “What the hell…let’s do it. But I swear to god if you drop me….” You hooked your arms around his neck, while one of his strong arms tightly wrapped around your waist. “Whatever you do, don’t let go…” And just like that you were off...

In the beginning you clenched your eyes shut, screaming in fear. But after a couple minutes, you got used to the sensation. He was right, you were going so fast you couldn’t feel the rain. You opened your eyes, regretfully noticing how high up you were, and silently buried your face in his neck. “It’s ok….I got you….” reassured you. He held you a little tighter so you’d feel secure. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you couldn’t help but think how…romantic this all was? A tall, handsome, mysterious hero, whisking you through the New York skyline, chest to chest…You dreamily smiled the rest of the ride home, and as promised, he had you there in minutes. He gently lowered down onto your fire-escape, which was conveniently placed outside your bedroom window. “There you are…safe and sound.” he said kindly. “Thank you so much! I don’t have the words to express how much you’ve helped me tonight…” “Don’t worry about it kid, just try not to walk alone so late at night. You never know who’s watching…” He replied. He was happy he was there to protect you this time, but didn’t want you putting yourself in harm's way again. A cute girl like you could easily attract trouble. “Yeah…” You say biting your lip. “I’m lucky you were at the library tonight, Spidey.” “I- What do you- What library….” He stumbled. You couldn’t see it, but his face turned bright red under his mask. “It was pretty obvious.” you laughed sweetly. “Your suit looks just like the one in the comic you ‘recommended’, but your voice really sealed the deal. Tell me I’m wrong.” You smirked at him. Sighing in defeat, he removed his mask, revealing the handsome face you saw earlier. “Alright, alright, you caught me nena.” He confessed. “Nena?” you questioned. “Yes, nena.” He teased. “...and you can call me Miguel.” He said warmly, looking down at your lips. You notice this and move your gaze to his, gradually leaning in to kiss each other. You rested your palms on his defined chest while he caressed your cheek with his hand. The kiss was velvety and sweet, the perfect ending to this disastrous night. “Goodnight, Miguel.” you smiled up at him. You open your window to enter the apartment, and by the time you turn around he’s already gone. You plop your bag on the floor and begin to shed your wet clothes. Fortunately the books weren’t water damaged since you wrapped them in a plastic shopping bag-- a habit you formed after a different stormy New York night. Exhausted, you take a hot shower to decompress. You think about a lot of things, but mostly him--, how he got his powers, where he came from, and if you’d ever see him again… little do you know he never left.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Universe 1999J: 11:06 PM, Brooklyn, Nueva York

Freshly moisturized, you exit the bathroom with a cloud of steam. You rummage around your laundry looking for something to sleep in. Normally you like to keep the place tidy, but you were not in the mood to fold right now. You settle on a white t-shirt with red trim, and one of your many lacy black thongs, drowsily flopping on your bed. You tried to fall asleep, listening to the panging raindrops and rolling thunder….but you can’t. The storm drones on as you replay the night’s events in your head. The alley, the robber, the gun, Spiderman.....Spiderman. You really met a living comic book character today. He was so much bigger than you expected-- what was he, 6’8? 6’9? In the comics he seemed scrawnier, in a cute, boy next door way. THIS Spiderman was a pure beefcake. Although he was friendly, you were surprised to see such a statuesque man in a public library. A man with that jawline should be running for office, starring in movies…but he wasn’t. To think he held you in his arms just an hour ago, whisking you through the city…kissing you on your fire escape…Your body ran warm thinking about how handsome he looked: his sprawling back, powerful biceps, juicy quads, all covered in black webbed fibers…You slowly graze your hand over your panties, while your other hand squeezes your breasts. You move your panties to the side, and let out a soft, breathy moan as you begin to explore the sticky wetness between your legs. The dramatic flickering background fades as you play with yourself. “Ahh-…” you rasp through your aching lips… But between gasps, you swear you see spider man's silhouette standing at your fire escape. Startled, you hastily move to your window…ultimately disappointed when no one’s there. Any sane person would shut their curtains, down a xanax, and try to forget the traumas of tonight. But right now, you were anything but sane. You became irrationally horny at the thought of Miguel watching you fuck yourself. Your mind flooded with thoughts of him, strong enough to rip through steel and asphalt, lusting for your body behind a sheet of glass. Lulled by your unrelenting imagination, you stick a second finger in your gushing hole. Lust coursed through you like a siren luring your prey. You closed your eyes and moaned as you rolled your nipples in little circles. The little buds start to harden, peaking through your t-shirt. Once more, you creep one of your hands slowly down your taught stomach before stroking your panties…a growing wet circle already formed on the cloth--all for him. With hooded eyes, you pump your fingers in and out of your soaking pussy… “Fuck…Miguel…” you moan in a trance. Crazy as it sounded, you desperately wanted him to watch come undone...

….and he was. “Fuck…” he unintentionally echoed, watching you in the pouring shadows. He originally told himself he’d watch you fall asleep from afar, JUST to make sure you’re safe-- then he’d leave. But if he was being honest, he knew you were safe when he dropped you off (albeit stupid for fingering yourself with uncovered windows). For starters, you lived on the top-floor in an off campus studio apartment, plus he’d watched you check to make sure the front door was locked. At this point, we was aware his intentions were self-serving. He thought you were cute when you bumped into him at the library, but after the fire-escape kiss he wanted more of you. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, get to know you better, old-fashioned courting ...but he wasn’t sure how--there were just so many variables to consider. He wasn’t from your dimension, and once his mission ended there wouldn’t be a justifiable reason to stay. It was already bad enough that a civilian found out his identity, and the more time he spent with you the more your life was endangered. Everything about his infatuation was problematic. But then he thought to himself…were things really that bad? There’s no spiderman in this universe, he’s just a myth here. You were a smart girl, he could probably explain things to you…right? “My name is Miguel O’Hara, I’m the leader of an interdimensional Spiderman force that’s keeping the fabric of the universe together…don’t tell anyone.” Pondering different hypothetical confessions, he knew this pursuit was stupid at best. Coming to his senses, he prepared to return to HQ, that is….until you started your performance.

The sight of you pleasing your supple body awoke something primal in him-- his eyes glared crimson and fangs unwittingly sprouted. As if this vision couldn’t become more delicious, he was able to hear you moan his name with his superhuman senses. The longer he stared, the larger the aching tent in his suit grew. He wanted to taste every inch of your body-- feel your perky nipples on his rough tongue. He wished his thick fingers were sliding in and out of you….better yet, he wanted to watch you unravel he stretched your pretty, wet pussy, filling you inch by inch. Reaching his limit, he immediately rushed to your fire escape. But of course, lighting had to strike in that instance, nearly revealing his stalking gaze. He was able to climb to the roof of your building, hiding just in time for you to come to the window…but it was a close call. Way to close. During the next eruption of thunder he returned to his original vantage point, far enough to remain undetected, but close enough to keep an eye on you. He was sure he frightened you given the events that transpired earlier that night…but he was wrong? Not only were you fingering yourself again, you were aimlessly looking his way. He knew you couldn’t see him through the turbulent darkness, but was stunned at the implication: you knew he was watching-- and you wanted him to. You were putting on a private show just for him, one that he refused to miss….

…You continued staring into the distance, fingering yourself for your deviant admirer-- at this point you were just as perverted as him. You bit your pouty lower lip, turned on by the gushy noises your body made for him…if only he could hear. “Come back…” you whimpered, looking into the stormy nothingness outside. As the thunder continued to rage, the lightning revealed another towering silhouette on your fire escape. You were so horny by now you thought you hallucinated him. You’d never been this down bad before, and you were still running off adrenaline. Ignoring what you saw, you moaned louder, slipping another finger into your spongey warmth. You could barely keep your eyes open as pleasure radiated throughout you…until lighting stroke again, and the body--his body was still there. Chest heaving, you sit up, crawling across your bed to open the window. The lights were off, but you could make out more details of him with every move you made--the red of his suit, contours of his muscular frame, and lastly, a bold spider in the middle of a webbed suit. For a second, you stare up at his towering frame, admiring his imposing presence. Now that you were closer, you noticed his warm brown eyes were now a piercing red shade, undressing you through the glass of your window-- He was frighteningly handsome. With a click, you unlatch the window and open it as wide as you can. You expect his entrance to be awkward given his size, but he moves with an unexpected quickness that makes you fall back on your elbows. “Long time no see..” you mutter “Likewise…” he returns with a smirk.

You watch him as he grabs your towel off the desk chair, drying his face and hair. To your surprise, you hear muffled laughter coming from his direction. “What’s so funny?” You asked.. You were at the edge of your bed, on your knees with crossed arms. He threw the towel down, smirking as he approached you. “You are.” he replied smuggly. He placed an index finger under your chin, and tenderly traced your lips with his thumb. Forcing you to look up at his crimson gaze, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him. You clumsily put your hands on his pecs for stability (but also to feel for yourself). “Tsk tsk tsk…. I save you from imminent danger tonight, and not even 2 hours later you’re letting a stranger into your apartment. Que tonta….” he teased. “Oops….” you say with an insincere smile.

He moved the hand caressing your chin to the nape of your neck, gripping a handful of your hair. With gentle swiftness, he forces your head back, exposing the length of your neck. You inhaled sharply as he grazed the delicate skin with his lips…then his fangs.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” he mumbles into you, smiling. You had no clue, but desperately wanted to find out. His words coursed through you like electricity.

“...Want a bite?” You half joked. A part of you didn’t believe he would, but in the back of your mind you were terrified….it was exhilarating.

“Don’t test me nena…” With that he swirled his tongue, leaving velvety kisses along your jugular. You let out a repressed moan, melting into his dark embrace-- and then you felt them. A stream of blood trickled down your clavicle as his fangs plunged into you. Your tense body was too shocked to release a scream, and your pupils dilated at the sensation. Despite your haziness, you noticed he wasn’t actually drinking you….no, this felt much different. A stinging warmth radiated through your throat, then the rest of your body like a shot of whiskey. It burned through you in the best way possible, and disoriented you all the same…”what is this?”, you thought, “....what is HE?” Your senses ebbed and flowed--the pounding New York rain melding into his intense grip. Mere seconds felt like an eternity as he poured his hell into you, but you weren’t scared. If anything…you liked it? There was no time to ponder your questionable decision making-- when he was done, you were an intoxicated, tingling mess.

You finally look at him again, the lower half of his face red with your blood. Subconsciously, you bite your lower lip turned on by his brutish appearance. Snaking your arms around his neck, you passionately kiss him, a drunken smile forming against his lips . He follows your lead without an ounce of hesitancy. Your kisses evolved from urgent, to desperate, then feverish, his tongue battling yours for dominance. You got a taste of your neck blood during the exchange, savoring the metallic flavor. Hungrily, you bit his lower lip, getting a delicious grunt out of him before pulling away. You stared at each other with restless eyes and parted lips .

“Why did you stop?” he asked with frustrated curiosity.

“Because…” you start as you reposition yourself. You lean back on your elbows, arching your chest chest up, and opening your legs to him“… I want you to taste the rest of me.” you drag your hands up the sides of your torso before grazing fingertips over your nipples. He let your words linger for a second…meeting your coy gaze with a grin.

“Careful what you ask for, Nena….I’ll ruin you” he says with his last iota of restraint.

“So then ruin me, Spidey…” you taunt him. Right now, your body needed him in ways your mind couldn’t explain. Your eyes widen as claws grow out the tips of his hand, as if he’d read your mind. Before you can process his mutation, he tears your shirt clean in half-- your pretty tits bouncing out to greet him. “Oh-” you blush trying in vain to cover them, but Miguel won’t have it.

“Move your hands…” he commanded darkly, pinning your hands at either side of your head. Fully vulnerable to him, he immediately starts devouring you. He swirls his tongue over your nipples, licking, sucking, and them like his last meal. His lips feel heavenly as they savor your tender chest….Growling into you, he takes is time kissing a line down your stomach…..lower…and lower…stopping right at your soaking panties. With finesse, the lacy thong met the same fate as your shirt. “Much better” he said matter-of-factly.

You were now fully exposed to him, so vulnerable to his touch and every whim-- exactly what he wanted. He hooked his arms under your thighs, hungrily pulling you towards his devilish mouth. He relished at the sight of your luscious body, trapped in an explicit pose. Legs on his shoulders, he started slow…his tongue licking a line down your wet entrance. He groaned knowing your juices were meant for him, licking your opening over and over. After this initial tasting, he became even more depraved-- You were so sweet, and so deliciously reactive. He unhooked one of his arms so he could spread your pretty pink hole open…it was so beautiful. You both let out a loud moan as his tongue plunged into your sweetness. He was in a trance, bobbing his head viscously between your thighs, causing your shaky hand to grip his hair. Your touch was a catalyst, further igniting his animalistic need for you. More, more, more…..nothing would ever be enough. He started to rise, pressing your thighs back to your ears. With this new angle, he could push his tongue even further in you, taking you to new highs. “M-Miguel…Oh god….” you struggled. ‘How cute’ he smiled to himself. Burrowing his nose into your clit, he’d gotten you to cum in his mouth (exactly what he wanted). He didn’t stop until you were a shivering mess from the overstimulation. He finally removed his mouth, anxious to see your post-cum body. To his immense pleasure, you were a mess-- skin flush, tits heaving, eyes barely open. The bed sank as he crawled over you, his body resting between your legs. He kissed you slow and steady this time-- giving you a chance to savor your own juices. “Open your eyes nena…we’re not finished”.

Obeying, you daze up at your tangled bodies: his forehead on yours, his arms caging you, his bulge pressing into your sensitive center….but he still had on that goddamned suit. You tug the fabric covering his abs, silently telling him to take it off. He obliged, making the suit melt off in a wave of pixels. Being skin to skin, centimeters under him, it was the best view in the world. He looked like a renaissance sculpture and was easily the most attractive person you’d been with. You eagerly drag your fingertips down rippled core, tugging down on the elastic of his compression shorts. It's a bit of a struggle since he’s so huge, but eventually, it plops down on your stomach: thick, 9 inches, perfectly brown, curved, and leaking pre-cum. Without realizing it, a bewildered expression washed over your face-- where was this supposed to go????? You hear him chuckle lowly as he flips you on your stomach with ease. He raises your hips to his, using his other hand to stretch your back into a perfect slope. Next, he starts a trail of soft wet kisses down your spine, causing you to shiver with each contact. “Fuck you’re so cute….” He whispers into your ear. He bites it as he curls his fingers into your sticky slit--forcing a loud moan out of you. “I haven’t even fucked you and I have you like this…I can’t wait to stretch you out princesa…” . His thick fingers pumping you, his warm breath on your neck, his low seductive voice-- it was all too much for you. “...Please Miguel…please….” “Please what? You’re a big girl use your words” he taunted, but you couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me! Stretch me out!” you yelled out desperately. He took his fingers out your pussy and started pumping them in your mouth, in and out…..in and out. Once you licked him clean, he spread your ass wide-- exposing your tight, wet, aching opening. He slowly dragged his dick along your slit before finally sliding the tip in. “Mmm” he said while you gasped. FUCK you needed more….He continued teasing you, making you wetter and wetter until he savagely thrust the whole thing in you. His rhythm starts off slow, giving you time to adjust to the fullness. You felt SO good clenching around his throbbing cock. The image of him stretching you, the squishy sounds you made, the way your ass jiggled with his thrusts---you made him absolutely feral. He wrapped a clawed hand around your throat, choking you as he pounded into your hole. Your moans became animalistic as he squeezed the out of you, owning you. You tried (and failed) to maintain your arch as he thrust into your g-spot over and over “AH Miguel, fuck….” you said deliriously. “Not yet nena, Fuck not yet…” he grunted. With superhuman speed, he flipped you on your back again. This time you were in a mating press with your hands pinned above your head. He grunted several obscenities while sliding back into you. The clapping of his thrusts competed with the raging thunder outside-- droplets of rain mimicking the sweat on your bodies. When things couldn’t feel any better, he started rubbing on your rock hard clit, crushing his lips against yours to swallow your moan. “Fuck Nena…can I--” “Yes, fuck…please cum in me…” you greedily finished his sentence. With a final sweaty thrust, you finished together. He collapsed on top of you, a panting, blissful mess. He released your hands, allowing you to rub his broad back and shoulders as you kissed.

Catching his breath, he slid out of you and came to your side. He tenderly moved your body towards him, making you his little spoon-- the beast had swiftly morphed into a teddy bear. “So Spidey…do you live far?,” you joked. “You could say that…” He smirked warmly. “Could I trouble you for a place to sleep tonight?” “Maybe…but you should probably sleep on couch. Could be dangerous to let a ‘strange man’ sleep in my bed.” you teased him. Smiling down at you, he caressed your cheek and began to kiss you again. You did this for a while, eventually drifting off in his arms. “Good night Nena…” he said once you’d dozed off already, affectionately kissing your forehead. You both slept peacefully that night, Miguel sleeping better than he had in years.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

The next morning, you woke up naked…and alone. Disappointed, you got out of bed to piece together what had happened, did you make last night up? Fortunately, you noticed the scraps of your thong and t shirt on the floor--last night was definitely real. You got up and looked in your mirror, analyzing your body. You longingly grazed over the hickies he left all over your chest-- your favorite were the bite marks on your neck. Last night was like something out of a movie, the most interesting thing that ever happened to you…..and it was over. You didn’t have a phone number, social media, hell you didn’t even know his last name. He just came into your life, gave you the best dick of your life, and bounced. Typical, back to Earth you went. Recalibrating to your normal boring life, you start to get ready for your day…when you notice something on your desk…a gift bag? You reach inside to pull out a brand new thong and t shirt, a rose, and Plan B with a sticky note on it “Sorry nena, I’ll be more careful next time. Thanks for last night. - M.” ….Next time? It was a short note…but you endlessly looped those words in your brain. With this, a small smile crept on your face. You continued your morning routine, interrupted with thoughts of your next Miguel encounter…..

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Ahhhhh that was my first fanfic! Hope yall liked it :))) PLEASE comment and provide feedback (I'm kinda a slut for comments lol). Anyways, shameless Ao3 plug if you want to support the rest of this series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48369409/chapters/121995508#workskin

Bye for now xxx

[lacedinweb22]

Desperate to breed, desperate for your scent ༶ Miguel O'Hara headcanons nsfw 18+

⊹ He’ll sneak your used underwear out of your hamper, keeping them out on his desk in his home office, sniffing them to soothe his stress and nerves, but mostly when he’s craving you. He’ll imagine you, squirming and whining as he eats you out. He’ll imagine how you taste, remembering how your fresh heat smells, as his nose rubs against your throbbing bud, all while keeping his nose pressed against your lace panties. He gets off on it. He’ll try to control himself, but every now and then, he’ll release a shameful load into them, imagining his tight, lacy fist were you, though he knows too well it’ll never compare. After you search all over your apartment for them, he’ll return them in a week, now freshly washed and ready to be wet again. You roll your eyes when he returns them to you, as he defends himself, “couldn’t help it, mamas, you smell too good to wash away so soon,” he’ll shrug, kissing your neck, “I just needed to savor it.” 

⊹ Miguel is animalistically desperate for you when you’re ovulating. He fights to ignore his dirty thoughts, but his heightened senses make your hormones smell one million times stronger, the sweet musky smell driving him insane. He usually keeps his distance, trying not to overwhelm you with his intense desire, but mostly fails and ends up smothering you on these special days, which you don’t mind. He’s always obsessed with you, but those days, he’s like a desperate animal, craving your taste and your wet warmth. 

⊹ He wants to make sure it takes. After filling you up with his hot thick liquid, he’ll finger you, curling his fingers back up into you, pumping his seed back into you, hoping it’ll stick and make you plump with his child in a few months time. He doesn’t even realize/acknowledge how obsessive he can be about it; it’s natural to him. You moan, concealing your smile, as you let him satisfy his instinctive desires. 

⊹ He lends you t-shirts to wear and sweat in for one whole week, knowing your scent and musk will be absorbed into it. He makes it a job for you to complete, handing it to you, expecting his shirts back in one week, drenched in your scent. When he goes home, he puts one on immediately and wears it as pajamas all week until the smell wears off. 

⊹ He loves the smell of your sweat. Especially the sweaty essence you bring home after you work out or after a long summer day. He’ll embrace you right at the door, digging his nose into your neck, or burying his head into your chest and underarms. When you resist out of embarrassment or exhaustion, he begs and whines for you to let him smell you all over, asking to help you undress for your shower so he can smell you all the way up until you wiggle out of his grasp and begin to shower the long day off of you. As he undresses you, he buries his face into every corner of you. He’ll kneel down, undressing you, pressing his nose in between your inner thighs, inhaling and humming against your skin. You can’t help but blush and giggle at his simple, kind of embarrassing but harmless requests. He’s obsessed and addicted to you, and you love it. It reassures you that he craves your skin and entire existence as much as you crave him. 

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Two

***Fanart done by the lovely @sunsetdoodler for the end scene of this part can be found here !! Thank you so much @sunsetdoodler for drawing this!! I'm in love with the way you drew this scene and I'm still not over how tiny the coffee cup looks in his hand 🥹 so CUTE!!! Please go and show some love to this amazing artist and their work!!***

Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: You show up to HQ after a day off due to your period (Part One). You accidently intrude on your boss's personal moment.

Word Count: 6,468

Warning: Sad Miguel Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine |

Part Two

The next day you wake up bright and early. You're definitely feeling a million times better. You sit up in bed and untuck your sweatshirt. Miguel's handmade rice socks slide out. You didn’t need them last night, but you still felt like using them to prevent or ease any cramps or pain during the night. You quickly get ready for the day, changing into clothes to go out and fixing your hair. You make breakfast and for some reason you check the cabinets and drawer from last night again. They're still fixed. The containers that Miguel left are in your fridge. 

You feel silly as you check this. It really did feel like a dream having Miguel O'Hara, your boss, visit your apartment and then to find out he had lied about the reason for his visit.

You reheat the canelita from last night as you eat breakfast and think. The realization that he had lied kept you up for a little while last night. You don't understand why he would lie about it. 

But then you also wonder what it meant. It wasn't like you thought he was heartless. Or some stone-cold man. He could act like he was sometimes, but you feel that he is not like that. You remember hearing the events that unfolded before your enrollment into the Spider Society. An altercation with Miles Morales, who is now one of your closest colleagues, trying to prevent his father from dying. Miguel launched a multiverse hunt for Miles, trying to prevent him from breaking the canon, which had resulted in several spider-members breaking off the Spider Society to side with Miles. In the end, Miguel had discovered that he was wrong. Miles’s father didn’t need to die to keep the multiverse balanced. After discovering he was wrong, he apologized and even helped Miles save his dad, according to Miles himself. So, Miguel O’Hara was not heartless, or completely uncaring.

He was, however, still filled with guilt and pain from losing his family. You couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to heal and move on.

He did care, you think. He was just too scared of showing it. Maybe he feared letting people know he cared or had the potential to still care. You sigh as you drink the warm canelita. Maybe that’s why he had lied. Perhaps he had been somewhat concerned for you and had decided to check your wellness. Then, seeing you in pain, he felt the responsibility to help. That was it. Whatever the reason, you know he didn’t want you to know. This was clear to you as he had made sure to tell you not to mention it to Jessica twice to prevent getting caught in a lie.

You finish breakfast and wash dishes before heading out. You stop as you're nearly out the door, turning to look at a picture of Peter. You bring your fingertips to your lips, planting a soft kiss before pressing them to Peter's lips on the picture. 

You smile at the photo. "This city depends on me," you say, remembering this was one of the things he had last told you. You head out then, fulfilling your daily promise to Peter of ensuring the safety of this city. You swing through the city, easily, looking out for crime or anyone in need of help. You watch the sky, the sun climbing higher and higher. The city never rests but you see it's still calm and early before the sidewalks are overfilled with busy citizens living their lives. You end up sitting on a tall building, just watching and patrolling. Your senses are met as you sit there. You hear chatter already. There are some honks here and there from cars below on the streets. Music plays from somewhere nearby. You feel a light breeze in the air, messing with your hair. There’s a bakery down below, and despite the height, the scent of fresh baked bread fills the air.

Your eyes end up on a couple. You can't help but watch as they walk hand in hand. Not a care in the world. They both look like they're going to work as they talk and laugh to themselves. Your gaze follows them until they reach an intersection where they part ways but not before they kiss on the lips. It looks like a longing kiss, as if they're already missing each other despite their bodies being pressed against each other’s.

A soft sight escapes your lips. That used to be Peter and you, you realized. It was that kind of love. The kind in which you'd start missing your person even before you said goodbye. The kind that had you already longing to kiss their lips again while you were kissing them. 

You longed to have that back. You missed having that. To still feel that. Even though it has been three years since Peter's death, you haven't thought about a new relationship. Sure, you have been asked out in the last year or so, but you didn't feel ready yet. You felt as though it was too soon. For some reason though, in this moment, watching the couple, you feel as though you are ready to be open to the possibility of a relationship again. You know it might never be the same as with Peter. Peter was the first everything. He's always going to be special and different to you no matter what but... 

That doesn't mean love can't come again, right? And you had promised Peter, too. That you would be open to it. As you look at the city before you, you realize you're okay with at least being open to a relationship now. It's not going to be immediate of course, as it's going to take a while to find someone you can trust the same way you trusted Peter. 

You sigh and get up, cleaning your pants. It seems that everything is good with your city. At least for now. You give one last glance at the lovers, now walking in different directions.

You walk away from the edge of the building and open a multidimensional portal, ready to report to HQ. Since you missed out on yesterday's meeting, you have no idea if you have special missions today or for the rest of the week. The sooner you show up to HQ, the sooner you'll know what you have been assigned and plus, you needed to go and organize the lab since you also skipped that. You enter through the portal, stepping out into the cafeteria which buzzes with energy of about seventy or so spider members. You nod to a few who you've worked with in the past as you walk by. The scent of coffee fills the air, making you crave it since you didn't have any earlier. You grab a cup then decide to grab another one for Miguel as you're heading there to collect the report from yesterday. You make your way to his lab, making it sooner than expected. You call for Lyla, who always appears. Except she doesn't appear right now. You frown. 

"Lyla?" you say hoping she'll pop out of nowhere like she usually does. You always call her before you go into Miguel's lab. You always do this to avoid entering unannounced, but Lyla doesn't appear with her bubbly and sassy personality.  

You debate going into the lab. On one hand, you need to figure out if you have a mission. What if there's something planned that you were assigned, and you miss it? You really don’t want to make any mission partners angry at you skipping accidentally. On the other hand, you don't want to just go into the lab unannounced even though you know other members do that sometimes.

You frown and debate internally, finally making up your mind. You push open one of the labs doors, careful not to spill any coffee on yourself, deciding that knowing if you have missions is more important. Once you enter, the door closes behind you softly. The lab is dark and quiet. You can spot the yellow lights from the monitors faintly. You begin to question if Miguel is even here. He might be out on a mission right now. You continue to walk further in just as you receive a message from Jessica through your gizmo. You put the cups of coffee down on a nearby surface, already too deep in the lab. You pull open the message, noticing that it was sent to all Spider Society members.

"Whatever you do, do NOT, and I mean do NOT, go into Miguel's lab today. Don't speak to him. Don't approach him. Avoid him at all costs. He's not to be approached today. Any questions you have, direct them to me." 

You curse under your breath. Why didn't Jessica send this sooner, you ask yourself as you look up. At least it seems that he's not here, you think as you look around only to realize you're very wrong. 

You feel shivers run down your body as you see him. He's hunched over his monitors on his platform. You hadn't seen him because the light was off. You stand still, heart racing suddenly. 

Shit, you think to yourself. Why did Jessica send the message two minutes too late? You begin walking backwards quietly, forgetting the cups of coffee. You'll retrieve them tomorrow if all goes well. You watch Miguel carefully, making sure he stays the same, making sure he doesn’t detect you. You make it a good bit before he moves. His movement is so subtle you pause walking, making you freeze in place.

Shit, shit, shit, you think. He's looking over his shoulder now, probably scanning the area. 

"Who's there?" Miguel asks, in a voice so much different from the one he used last night. This voice is raspy, laced with anger and something else. It's almost threatening. "Do not make me ask again," he says with a coldness that could put winter to shame when silence meets him. 

You hear your heart race in your ears. It's beating and beating. This is the scary Miguel people talk about, you realize. You hear him breathing. He sounds irritated. You decide to speak at last to avoid angering him any further. 

"It's me, Y/N. I'm sorry for coming in... I see you're busy, so I'll head out now," you say, before you begin speed walking towards the doors. Before you know it, however, you see Miguel's bright illuminating webs shoot past you and onto the doors, blocking them. You halt as you see this. You turn around slowly to face his direction, unknowing what’s going to happen next. Is he going to scream at you for interrupting him? Is he going to take out his emotions on you?

You watch carefully as he stands on the platform, facing you now. He looks menacing standing there on his platform with the lights off, the only visible lights being the yellow monitor lights which are faint to begin with. He stands still, watching in your direction, silent. You swallow hard before you take a step forward.

You can’t help but ask yourself what you’re doing. You should stay still; you should try and leave but no. Here you are, taking more steps towards him, approaching him as if he were a delicate glass figure who could break at any sudden and abrupt movement. All the while, Miguel stands there, like a statue. You can feel his gaze on you now. He has the kind of gaze that anyone could feel. Or maybe it was just you who felt his heavy gaze. You take step after step, until you are standing before him. He still stands there, towering over you, perfectly still. You release a slow breath as you meet his eyes. There’s anger, sadness, and grief in them. You tell yourself you should leave at that moment. Who are you anyway? You are just another member of the Spider Society. You are not one of his most trusted members. You are just you.

You are you, the one he checked on last night. You are the member he left his lab and million of duties he assigns himself for to travel to your universe to check on you. He helped you last night. He made you homemade rice socks to ease your pain. He made food for you, which happened to be one of your comfort foods. He made you canelita, to ease your cramps. He fixed your cabinets and took out the trash and dealt with the dishes. He watched you become overwhelmed with your emotions as you remembered Peter.

Even though Miguel O’Hara didn’t want you to know, he had shown up of his own accord and not because another member had asked him to. Jessica had not asked him to check on you.

He made the decision all on his own. You didn’t know why exactly but you were thankful, nonetheless. And that was all that mattered to you suddenly. You were grateful he had shown you kindness.

Still meeting his eyes as you think about this, you speak up again, knowing that the only thing you wish to do right now, is reciprocate that kindness. He can reject it. He can tell you to go away. He can laugh or mock you. You could care less right now. You just want to reciprocate the kind gesture from last night and that’s why you ask, looking into his maroon eyes, “Is there anything – anything I can do for you right now?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow down at you. There’s an emotion in them. Perhaps, surprise? Is he surprised by the question? Has anyone ever asked Miguel if they can do anything for him? Would he even let them if they asked?

Your arms hang at your sides as you continue to hold his gaze. “I could simply listen,” you say quietly, trying to tell him that he could just talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him. You’ll listen… If he lets you.

A few minutes go by – or maybe it just feels that long as the two of you stand in front of each other, holding each other’s gaze, in silence in his dark lab. You almost feel like he could do this all day. Just stand there, watching you with his maroon eyes narrowed at you. You wonder what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not even thinking. Maybe he’s so wrapped up in his emotions, he has forgotten you are there. Maybe you have become part of his lab, just another object laying around.

You begin to feel as though this will continue forever. You will be stuck in this moment with him until he snaps out of it. You find yourself thinking that you’d wait it out with him, to return the gesture of last night. You will stand here the rest of the day until he-

“Lyla,” Miguel says, finally breaking the silence. His voice is hoarse.

You feel stunned for a few seconds. You thought he’d only continue to stand there in silence for longer. You recover quickly though and nod slowly, hoping that this encourages him to talk more. You also wonder for a second if he’s requesting Lyla to show up, but she doesn’t appear. You find this strange. She’s not showing up even for him.

Miguel turns around, turning away from you to face the monitors. You stand still, in the same spot. You feel as though you should remain still, to avoid upsetting or alarming him. You notice that he begins to move his monitors around, though you cannot see what’s in them as his body covers your view. You wait for anything else. He sighs as he stops moving his monitors.

“Last night,” Miguel begins, “I returned from your apartment. I ran maintenance on Lyla before I left, and when I returned, I found a folder that she kept hidden from me.”

You listen intently, your brows furrowing as you hear the last bit. Lyla hid a folder from him? You can’t help but wonder what it contained but you know immediately whatever it was, is the root of his mood today. You watch Miguel’s head drop. The sight of this on a man like him, who always looks put together, stern, and unbreakable, is devastating. You feel the need to reach out to him. To lay your hand on his arm as a sign of support but you know very well that would be too much for the founder and leader of the Spider Society. You can’t help but think about something Jessica once said after you and other members had returned from a mission. The mission had been particularly hard, as you had all dealt with a vexing anomaly. However, it had been a success in the end, with the anomaly captured and returned to its original universe. One of the other members on the mission had joked about Miguel congratulating all of you with a hug, to which Jessica had responded in a very serious and somber manner that had snatched your teammate’s humor instantly after.

“Miguel cannot do physical touch in that way, right now. Perhaps he never will.”

You remember thinking how sad that sounded. That someone couldn’t do physical touch in that way. Of course, you understood why it would be hard for him. You had heard he had lost his daughter in his arms. Your fingers twitch, wishing you could comfort him but there’s a line. A line you’re unwilling to cross when you know Miguel has firmly drawn it. Your hands curl into fists, trying to end the need to comfort him. Listening will have to do, you think.

“The folder contains photos and videos of my… previous life. Of my daughter and wife,” Miguel says, sounding pained and heartbroken.

You share his sadness as you realize. Lyla had hidden it. Lyla, who is nowhere to be found… You piece the pieces together and conclude that the bubbly, cute, and sassy AI assistant has been deactivated or shut off for the time being as a result of Miguel’s emotions.

You don’t know what to say. What can you say? How do you respond to this unique scenario in which your AI assistant hides a folder containing contents from your previous life before disaster struck? As you stare into Miguel’s back, you think about Lyla.

Lyla, who is always sassy and bubbly. Lyla, who follows Miguel’s every command.

Lyla, who is the only one that accompanies the founder and leader of the Spider Society when he’s locked up in his lab. Lyla, who despite being AI, is the only one that knows in full disclosure about the life Miguel led.

The one who saw a happy Miguel. A Miguel with a wife and daughter. A Miguel that probably smiled and laughed often. A version of him that didn’t stare into monitors with a grief-stricken face. You cannot help but wonder in that moment, staring at his large back… What was it like to hear Miguel O’Hara’s laugh? You guessed it was deep and rich, the kind that probably made you want to make the man laugh more to keep hearing it. You wondered what his smile looked like, too.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was not the moment. You focus again. Lyla, the AI assistant that probably knew Miguel better than any other Spider Society member, had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of his previous life. Of his wife and daughter. And you know why. Or at least you are certain you know why. That little sassy and bubbly AI assistant cares for Miguel. You cannot help but pinpoint this as her reasoning for hiding it. She knows him and what he has been through. She knew it’d break him further to see more memories of his previous life.

Still standing behind him, unmoving, you gently respond, “I’m sorry…”

Miguel’s head is still hanging when he speaks again. “She hid it from me all these years. Do you know how many files I had before this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, still laced with anger and sadness. He responds before you can. “I had three!” he says, louder. “Two videos and one photograph! And she’s had this file containing over a dozen photos and videos of them. How dare she! How dare she hide this from me? How could she hide them from me… My family,” Miguel says with a much more desperate and mournful tone that almost makes you want to weep for him.

You notice his hand, laying against a monitor softly. He shifts his body some, allowing you, accidentally, to see the monitor. You feel overwhelmed with sadness as your eyes scan the photograph. There, in the monitor is Miguel standing in the back with his arms wrapped around a woman while the other one holds a girl. Your eyes move across the woman, Miguel’s wife. You had heard from other spider members that he had met her shortly after inserting himself into the child’s life. They had quickly fallen in love and had married in a short amount of time. She was beautiful with mid-length hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile. You move to the child. Her small face was precious with her toothy smile and scrunched nose as she looked at the camera. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a soccer uniform. You cannot explain the feeling that overwhelms your heart as you see this beautiful girl. Finally, your eyes land on him.

Miguel O’Hara looks at the camera with happy eyes and a smile that leaves you a little breathless. The sight is strange and yet comforting in some way. His eyes are bright. He looks happy. More than happy, really. This was another Miguel. One that you had never met. One that you may never meet. You don’t fail to notice that he’s in casual clothes in the photograph, further indicating how different this version of him to the one in skin and bones before you are. Miguel never smiles or laughs. He is never seen in comforting and relaxing clothing. His eyes are never full and bright. There is no twinkle in his eyes like there is in the photograph. No, the eyes of the man in front of you are vacant of this twinkle. No sign of happiness.

An involuntary, deep sigh escapes from you. You freeze almost immediately. Miguel turns to you with an unreadable look on his face. You meet his eyes briefly before you  return your attention to the monitor.

“She was beautiful… They both were,” you whisper as your eyes land on the little girl again.

You wonder what she was like. Her soccer uniform gives you a glimpse of her. You imagine she was dedicated to it. She probably was good at scoring goals. You imagine her scoring one and running to the sidelines, where Miguel probably stood, watching, and cheering with his wife. You imagine them, going out to get ice cream afterwards to celebrate. You imagine Miguel giving her a ride on his back as she squeals, his wife laughing and finding the scene wholesome.

You cannot explain it. You feel as though you are grieving for him, the life he used to have. You grieve his happiness.

He was so happy. He had everything. A wife and a daughter. A family. And they were gone. Just like that.

As you stare at the photograph, your emotions swirling, you fail to notice Miguel watching you. He notices the way your posture has changed. You usually walk around with a posture that many envy. Your head is always high. Your face is usually bright and warm. And yet, when he looks at you now, he sees the way your arms hang at your sides almost in a helpless way. He notices your hands, curled in fists and wonders the reason for it. He observes your slumped shoulders, as if you were sharing the burden of his emotions in that moment.

Despite his emotions being a wreck right now, he finds the moment to feel off by this sight. He is used to seeing you happy and with a warm smile. He wondered a few times how someone could always carry themselves this way despite losing someone. He knew of your loss, of course. He didn’t know the exact details, but he knew it had been painful and his suspicions had been further confirmed last night when he had asked why you stuck around to your shitty apartment. He had seen the way you had focused on the wall with photographs. He had guessed you were looking at a photo of you and your Peter. He was never going to admit it out loud, but he had explored your apartment while you slept, and that wall had caught his attention.

His eyes had observed your face. There was not one in which you weren’t smiling. It didn’t matter if you were looking at the camera or not, there was a smile on your face. He couldn’t help but notice the way you smiled at Peter, too, in the photos that you were not facing the camera. It seemed to Miguel that Peter was your everything and you had proven his thought right when he saw your eyes focus on a specific photo on this wall. When your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill down your face. When he saw the familiar emotions he carried with him every day.

Grief. Sadness. Heartbreak. Longing.  

Miguel swallows the lump in his throat as his eyes are still on you. He watches the way you scan the photo. There is no judgement from you. There is no question about how it happened. You just watch and you seem to feel his pain. He finally turns to the screen, shifting over, giving you a better view of the monitor displaying the photo. His movement is subtle, and it could easily be mistaken as an accident, but it was anything but that. Miguel O’Hara, for once, was okay with someone looking at a photo of his previous life. He felt that he could trust you, even though you were one of the newest members in his society. He felt something inside him when he heard you call his wife and daughter beautiful. His face had a longing look on it but a small, almost barely there, smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned the photo again.

“They were…,” he said softly. “My daughter – her name was Gabriella.”

Your eyes shift to Miguel again. You can see a ghost of a smile on his face. It pains you to see this. He deserves to be happy, you think.

“That’s a beautiful name… Gabriella,” you say softly, and you don’t fail to see the way his eyes close when you say his child’s name. It’s almost as if it’s too much to hear it out loud but Miguel opens his eyes again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone else say her name,” Miguel says quietly, barely audible but you hear it, and this breaks your heart. You watch him swallow. “She was bright, so bright. She did well in school. She loved science,” Miguel says before he brings his hand to his face. You watch as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Tears, you realize. He’s wiping tears off his eyes as he talks about Gabriella. And – suddenly, Miguel is talking about his daughter. Spilling everything that comes to his mind about her.

He tells you about the science projects Gabriella did and how she earned A’s. He tells you about her in the soccer team, how she put so much determination into her practices. How she dedicated her goals to him. About the way she had nightmares sometimes and how she called for him, him being the only one that could truly comfort her and lure her back to sleep. He talks about making her breakfast and how much she loved Saturday breakfasts especially because he made pancakes with chocolate chip cookies on them.

Miguel goes on and on, giving you more glimpses into his life and hell – you grieve that life for him. You grieve the death of a child you never knew. Your urge to comfort him grows with each detail he gives you. Your curled fists unclench and clench over and over. It’s so hard to hold back, to not wrap your arms around this man who is stuck in the past, grieving a life he no longer has… but you know you shouldn’t. You know you can’t as you remember Jessica’s comment about Miguel being unable to do physical touch. Instead, you do what you can do.

“She sounds like a wonderful child, Miguel,” you whisper still looking at the image, and you mean it. Little Gabriella sounds like a beam of sunlight. She sounds like the kind of child that could turn your frown into a smile. You smile faintly at her toothy smile. You wonder what kind of life she would’ve led but you stop yourself, feeling like you have no right to wonder that. “I have never said it before because I know…” you trail off not wanting to say what you wanted to say, which was that you knew this was a topic that couldn’t be brought up. Other members had warned you about bringing it up, so you never did. “… but I’m so sorry for your loss,” you whisper and hope your tone expresses your condolences.

Miguel remains silent. He continues to look at the screen and it appears his tears have slowed down at least. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sounding less hoarse and calmer, but it’s still laced with sadness.

You remember Lyla then and you can’t help but feel bad for the little AI assistant. You wonder if you will push it too far by bringing her up.

“I know I’m no one,” you start, turning your face to him even though he cannot see it. “To say anything and I know it’s upsetting, rightfully so…” you say, understanding why Miguel was so angry.

Miguel turns slightly towards you, as if interested in what you have to say. You let out a soft sigh. “Lyla – you know she cares about you, right?” you ask, softly.

Miguel turns his head away again and doesn’t respond for a few seconds until finally he nods. He sighs and brings a hand to his left temple. He massages it for a few seconds, perhaps a sign of a headache, you wonder.

“I know,” he answers quietly. “I know she did it to avoid – “ he says but doesn’t finish. You nod understanding.

“She’s always around to help you,” you say, a little smile forming on your face as you think about her. “She’s always so sassy but she always does her job.”

Miguel scoffs, nodding. “Her sassiness wasn’t planned. She took that trait all on her own,” he says but you don’t believe it. Lyla had once told you how sassy Miguel himself was before the events that changed his life forever took place. You guess his own sassiness was inspiration for hers. You smile as you think of that side of him, probably buried deep in him. You don’t mention this though and just nod. Maybe one day, you can see that side of him. Maybe.

“I haven’t seen her in a few days since I was out, but I miss her questions,” you say, referring to how she showers you with questions every time you clean the lab.

Miguel stays still and replies a few seconds later. “I deactivated her after I found out what she did.”

Your suspicion is proved correct then. You don’t say anything else. It’s not like you can ask him to bring her back. At the end of the day, Lyla is his creation. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes in his dark lab. Miguel finally sighs and straightens up, his true height towering over you.

“I’ll activate her again,” Miguel says, and his voice is in its usual tone now. The same one from yesterday while he talked to you in the kitchen. You feel relief wash over you. If you felt so attached to her without being her creator, you wonder how attached Miguel might be to her. Miguel then turns around, fully facing you. You look up at him. He is a different man than the one you first encountered earlier. He lifts his wrist closer to his face and begins clicking his gizmo. Not even ten seconds later, Lyla appears again.

She floats next to his head and looks around, seemingly confused. Her eyes land on you before they turn to Miguel.

“Miguel – you know I didn’t mean to,” she says and for once, her tone is not sassy or bubbly. She sounds truly sorry. Miguel stares at her, with eyes that reveal his attachment to her.

“It’s alright, Lyla. I know,” Miguel mutters and Lyla floats over to hug his head, happy to be back and forgiven it seems.

You try hiding your chuckle but fail miserably, catching both of their attention. You straighten up, noticing their gaze on you now. Lyla disappears and appears just as quickly as she disappeared, suddenly in front of your face.

She makes it a point to look like she’s whispering to you. “I guess I have you to thank, right?” she asks, winking at you behind her heart-shaped glasses. You chuckle softly.

“It’s good to have you back, Lyla.”

Lyla grins and offers you a fist bump. “This is why you’re one of my favorite spider members,” she says, earning a scowl from Miguel.

“I thought you said you didn’t have favorites, Lyla.”

Lyla shrugs at Miguel once she faces him after you return the fist bump. “It would hurt your feelings if you knew you’re not in my top five. Sorry, Miguel,” she says, still hovering over you. This earns Lyla another scowl.

“And I created you,” Miguel says in disbelief, but you can tell there’s a little bit of a playfulness in his tone.

“Y/N is in my top five.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I am? I literally joined the society like – four months ago.”

Lyla shrugs, floating back to Miguel. “That doesn’t matter, Y/N. I will not elaborate why you’re one of my favorites,” she says with a little smirk before looking at Miguel and then back at you. You can’t help but feel like her look at Miguel was to make some point as to why you’re one of her favorites, but you chalk it up to overthinking.

“Well, consider me flattered,” you reply with a grin, which Lyla returns before she looks around.

“So – you guys have been hanging out in the dark like some weirdos? Let’s light up this place,” Lyla says, and the lab is suddenly lit up.

The sudden light makes Miguel and you close your eyes in discomfort. You blink a few times, trying to get used to the change.

“Lyla, did you really have to do it that suddenly? A warning would’ve been appreciated you know?” Miguel asks, giving Lyla an annoyed look.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t stand the darkness in here.”

You chuckle quietly, still trying to adjust to the sudden bright lights. With your eyes finally adjusted, you look up at Miguel and Lyla. Lyla is grinning as she sits in the air with one of her legs crossed over the other. Miguel scoffs at her before he turns his attention to you. His face is calm and relaxed.

“I’m – sorry for the way I snapped earlier when you arrived,” Miguel starts with sincerity. “Did you need something?”

“Please don’t apologize, there’s no need to,” you say with a small smile. The last thing you wanted was for him to apologize when you intruded. Yet, you feel something in your chest you cannot describe at the fact that he has apologized. “I came to collect the report from yesterday’s meeting. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t skipping missions.”

Miguel nods and steps off his platform, brushing past you. He walks over to another surface and picks up what you assume is the report. He walks back to you and extends his arm, handing you the report. You take it and thank him. You quickly flip through it, your eyes scanning the pages to see if you have a mission today. You see you don’t have anything until tomorrow.

You look up at Miguel. He seems to be looking elsewhere though there’s an expression on his face you cannot decipher.

“Well, that was all. Thank you and – I’m sorry for intruding,” you add with embarrassment.

Miguel turns to you and shakes his head softly. “Don’t worry about it…”

You smile briefly before you begin taking steps back. “Okay, well. I should head out… I’ll see you around,” you say before you turn around and begin walking towards the door. You suddenly remember the organizing. You stop walking but don’t turn. “Oh, I’ll come tomorrow after my mission to organize the lab, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lyla calls out.

“Bye, Lyla!” you say before exiting the lab, report in hand.

The door closes after you, leaving Miguel and his sassy AI assistant alone in a well-lit lab now. Miguel turns to his monitors. He stares at the picture for a few seconds. There’s a faint smile on his face before he closes the tab and folder. Lyla remains silent as if sensing that Miguel needs this moment. Miguel sighs, looking around the lab. Sensing that she can talk now, Lyla breaks the silence, noticing something.

“Why do you have two random coffee cups abandoned over there? I swear some of the members are so unorganized and forgetful sometimes,” Lyla complains, floating away.

Miguel looks around, a slight frown on his face as he searches the lab with his eyes before he spots them. Two cups of coffee are placed on one of the many surfaces of the lab. He stares at them, knowing instantly who brought them. He walks over to the surface and grabs one, lifting it to his face. It’s still warm in his hand and the scent of coffee fills his nostrils. He takes a sip, deep in thought for a few seconds.

“So, care to elaborate why Y/N is one of your top five spider members?” Miguel asks Lyla, curiously.

“I don’t think I will.”

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

taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @mandodinstuff

Thank you for the support so far, it's really appreciated 🥰! Part three will be up in a few days. I don't know how long this will be but I think there might be five in total? We'll see! Also, excuse any spelling or grammar errors. I edited it but I read it for so long my eyes probably still missed something.

I still love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[murdrdocs]

Miguel/reader/peter b. Parker.. soft dom peter and rough dom miguel… peter and Miguel bickering and miguel being the one to degrade u while peter sweet talks u and gets you through it then reader is showered in love at the end.. JUST A THOUGHT

hmmmmm

having your back against peter's chest, your head resting on his shoulder, one of your hands intertwined with his and the other digging into miguel's hair as he mercilessly sucks up every drop that your cunt creates. he'd been down there for what felt like hours at this point, and maybe it was. there was no clock around, and the curtains were drawn, and time seemed nonexistent.

nothing existed besides the torturous nature of miguel, and the comforting nature of peter.

"don't know how much more i can take, peter," you would say after many tries, stuttering and sputtering and stumbling over your words time after time again until you got them out. your hips push up towards miguels mouth, a direct contrast to your tapping out words, and peter's free hand is instantly rubbing circles at your hip.

"you're okay, baby, you can do it." he kisses your cheek, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, breath warming your skin comfortably instead of heating it even more. "you want us to fuck you, right? that's what you wanted?"

his voice is soft, tone sweet to the point where it's almost making you sick, but you don't miss the teasing nature in his words. you don't miss how condescending they are. how he's patronizing you. when he's supposed to be the nice one.

and miguel calls him out, coming up for air but his thick fingers already replacing his mouth. "play nice, peter. i'm supposed to be the mean one." a pause. “but i think she likes when you’re a little mean. little cunt flutters. she’s dirtier than we thought, huh? nothing but a dirty little slut willing to spread her legs for us at any moment.” his smile is wicked, he kisses your inner thigh, and his words are harsh but they don’t sting. they do the opposite, making your back arch, your cunt leaking even more.

peter tuts behind you, kissing your shoulder. “she’s a good girl, right?” he asks you, and you nod, fingers flexing in peters hand and miguel’s locks. “she’s nothing but a good girl who’ll do anything we ask of her.”

you look down at miguel and he looks like he agrees for a second, brown eyes softening, but then they narrow a bit and a chill runs up your spine as you remember just how cruel he can really be.

[baynetta]

something like this with miguel <3

[movedtodykedvonte]

Miguel: When a spider bites a man they say “Omg a new Spider-man!!!”

Miguel: But when I bite a man they say “Wtf are you gay?” The double standards.

Jess: No we asked if you’re gay cause we saw you and Peter kissing after you bit him.

Miguel:…

Jess:…

Miguel: It was for morale.

[yandere-sins]

Control (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

a/n: Finally I got to write about him! Thank Tiktok and music for inspiration, because otherwise I would have been sitting on such an amazing character for even longer! Glad to have that out of my system ♥

Characters: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Implications (grinding against each other, kissing), I don't speak spanish but tried to do my research, Threatening one's life, Fear of falling to death, Death/Suicide ideation mention, Long post

You were desperate for someone—anyone—to notice you, despite being in a room filled with so-called 'superheroes'.

No matter how many times you tried to establish eye contact with someone approaching, they wouldn't notice your feeble attempts to reach out or simply ignore the glances you exchanged. As if your presence meant nothing to them, your indigence only meeting indifference. They treated you like a ghost, or more fitting, a hologram they could dismiss for their own sake. As if you never existed in the same plane as they did.

Or perhaps, the presence of the man whose lap you were sitting on was completely devouring yours. 

"Concentrate," he ordered, reaching up to pinch the cheek of yours that wasn't settled on his shoulder. You'd been staring off into the hustle and bustle, gazing longingly at the other spider-people doing their normal, everyday things, unbothered by your meager attempts to distract them. It was your own fault for not speaking up, screaming and crying, throwing a tantrum, but there was one thing - one person - you feared more than being left to your fate. 

Miguel O'Hara.

Or the bane of your existence. Your enemy. Stalker. Psycho. An unexplainably respected man in this universe you found yourself in, the details still a little confusing. How anyone could respect someone that kept himself a human pet was incomprehensible to you. But he made it all too clear that he wanted you to not move off his lap or talk to anyone but him, as well as made sure to warn anyone approaching of the consequences if they came too close to you for his liking. And somehow, everyone just accepted his conditions. Even you. 

Where would you go? You couldn't outrun him, and no distractions had been great enough to find a place to hide and wait him out. Even if no one acknowledged you aside from him - and Lyla, who, ultimately, was on his side in all of this - they'd become bloodthirsty hounds the second he wanted you to be tracked down and captured. You tried. You really tried. 

And failed, and failed, and failed, and failed.

There was no way out for you, at least not at that moment. No matter how much it made your stomach churn, how much you hated to comply, you heaved a defeated sigh, sitting up straight as best as you could on his thighs with your legs hanging from either side of his, his arms around you keeping you safe from falling off—and locking you in place on his lap. Miguel O'Hara didn't do 'mistakes' and 'coincidences'. Especially not when it came to keeping you right where he wanted you. 

"Do you get it now?" he asked when he noticed your eyes back on the screens, technical codes and video live feed running next to each other on countless smaller windows that began to envelop you two. The platform beneath his workspace shuddered briefly before it was put into motion, a mere swipe of his fingers enough to lift you two into the air, away from the crowd. 

Maps started to show up, all similar but different, the same city in different universes. Places you'd never go. That he'd never take you to. Well… unless… 

Unless you loved him.

The thought alone made you gag, and you covered your mouth to not give away the fact you weren't listening to him explaining how to use the statistics again. You wondered how many more times he'd explain it to you, only for you to say, "I don't get it," and him starting over again. It was a small act of pettiness. One that was wearing his patience thin and rigid. One that would cost you a lot if you upset him later. But it was better than to be his pretty little assistant 2, nodding and awing at every word slipping from his mouth while he taught you such an important task. For putting so much trust into your skills and helping him do… whatever the fuck it was, he was trying to teach you.

God, you couldn't stand that guy.

As if kidnapping and threatening you wasn't enough, now he was also enslaving you to do his work. All under the pretense of—as Miguel called it—putting your energy into useful things.

"Cariño, could you please just concentrate?"

Bumping his chest into your back, the slight shove forward was enough to tear you out of your thoughts. You held back your disdain for the new seating arrangement, only one of you two enjoying the closeness while the other dreaded it. Before, he'd let you sit at the edge of the platform, watch the people work and pass the time in your thoughts. But ever since you tried jumping off in a moment of boredom-induced insanity, Miguel had decided that a desk and chair would benefit his plan of keeping you caged by his side, ripping away your freedom piece by piece, one time after the other. 

And you hated how gently he was doing it. 

You felt the sigh he heaved, felt his chest brushing up against your back again as he let his hands glide down your arms. The man didn't have patience, but he had time, and he made sure to remind you of it. Time to break you. Time to make you submit. Time to make you love him. Miguel ever so slightly opened his legs, spreading yours while he interloped your fingers with his at the same time, placing your hands on the keyboard and mouse respectively. It was his way of asserting control, showing you that you were nothing without him and needed his guidance. All while forcing you to rely on him, as you'd fall without his support. He was in control of you. Of your life. And even in the most subtle ways, Miguel didn't want you to forget it.

You knew all his tricks by now, making you hate him even more. 

"You have to click here and then enter the system password…" he mumbled into your ear, his hot breath grazing it. A cold shudder ran down your spine. You could assume all the innocence you wanted in his actions, but you knew he was far from it. In the reflection on the screen, barely visibly if you didn't focus on it, you could see the jerk in the corner of his lips. The bastard was enjoying this more than he hated repeating himself. But you were not going to sit there and let him have it his way.

"What happens if I click here?" you asked, feigning the same innocence as you led the pointer astray, clicking on some pop-up you couldn't decipher. Miguel turned rigid against your back instantly, muscles bulking and fingers curling into claws on top of your hands. 

"Let's not–"

"Wait, that looks super interesting." 

You stopped him before he could close the pop-up, pretending you were terribly interested in the colorful numbers running down the screen, certain that it was unimportant, perhaps dangerous, to have someone untrained like you work with easily modifiable code. Miguel halted, unmoving, gauging out if you were genuinely interested or if this was another one of your schemes. For good measure (and to confuse him), you let out a few more "wow!" and "I see!" wasting at least some of the time he had put aside to teach you before he saw through your terrible acting. 

"That's enough–" 

He pushed the cursor towards the X in the corner.

"Wait, I really want to see that!"

You pushed the cursor back, accidentally marking a few numbers and copying them with the help of the keyboard.

"No, you don't even–"

Once again, he tried to close the window, growing more forceful with your hand and the mouse.

"Ah! Don't close it! I was reading that!"

You struggled but pushed the cursor back over the numbers, clicking and adding the previously copied ones into the code.

"ENOUGH!"

Raising your hands from the mouse and keyboard, you stopped completely in your tracks, not even daring to breathe. You listened to him taking a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth to calm himself before he pressed his face into the back of your head. It was a short-lived defiance, but defiance nonetheless, and when you were sure he couldn't see it, it was your turn to grin like the rascal you were. A small victory in a war you were utterly losing. 

"You're testing me again, Cariño, but this is no game. You could do some serious harm to people if you play around–"

A blaring alarm suddenly rang out, and you weren't the only one that jolted. Gripping you by the hips, Miguel stood up, setting you down only briefly before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the edge of the platform. You were no longer the same person that wanted to jump off into the depths, at least not that day. But even though you took a tentative step back, Miguel made sure you were right by his side and in his peripheral by tugging you forward. 

"What's wrong?!" he yelled through the alarm at some spooked Spiderman below. Surprised by Miguel's sudden yelling, the man jumped and looked around him in a panic, apparently not knowing what was happening either. Just as Miguel wanted to shake his head in frustration, the alarm stopped abruptly, and you both raised an eyebrow as you looked around, both confused and unsettled about what had just happened. 

"Hey Miguel!" someone called from below, and you recognized the pregnant woman you saw standing down there with a tablet as one of Miguel's trusted henchmen, ushering the other Spiderman away. "Thanks for finally fixing that damn broken code! Now Sector 5 has functioning doors again!"

She walked off before Miguel could say anything, and you slumped, the realization of what you did slowly dawning on you. He let go of your hand, brushing back some strands of hair that had fallen into his face before chuckling. “Dios bueno, Cariño…”

It wasn't the outcome you had wanted, and it was driving you up the wall that you had done something that benefitted Miguel's cause even in the slightest. But you had no time to let the frustration take over your thoughts as he turned around to you, stepping forward, to which you instinctively took a step back. One after another, he forced you to go backwards, prowling like a predator that had his prey right where he wanted. Even with his posture relaxed, a hand on his hip, and a grin on his lips, you felt nothing but danger when you looked at him, urging you to keep avoiding him.

"Look at you, you're doing such a good job," he purred, and you stumbled a little, his gaze burning against your skin, raising goosebumps everywhere on your body. "Seems like I have to thank you for that, huh? A little reward?"

"No need!" you rejected without hesitation, taking another step back.

Only this time... it didn't connect with the ground.

Flailing your arms, you let out a horrified gasp. You were about to plummet off the platform, down to the cold, hard, metal ground, and other than the last time, you couldn't be sure Miguel was going to catch you. After all, it had been Miguel who directed you towards the edge. Surely he must have known you'd fall off if you took that last step, not saying anything. 

You squeezed your eyes closed, not wanting his face to be the last thing you saw before you'd break all your bones and leave this world for good. However, with your body already tilted over the edge, his hand gripped you by the throat, holding you in place, the fear and panic coming to a sudden standstill as did your movement. There was nothing to catch you behind your back, your life hanging on to the whim of the person you hated the most. The one you were sure secretly hated you just the same, considering all the torture he put you through in the name of his love. 

Slowly, unwillingly, you forced yourself to open your eye again, refusing to look at Miguel, and instead shot a glance over your shoulder. A mistake. 

"Pu-- Pull me up!" you demanded, shaking after seeing how deep the fall was. Apparently, your survival instinct was still intact and very much active as you clawed your meager nails into his arms, trying to hold onto him. You tried desperately to find a grip on his arm, slipping off over and over as you tried to help yourself upwards, your fingers too sweaty to stick to the slick material of his suit. 

"Please!" you whisper squeaked, tears filling your eyes when you finally decided to look at him. Miguel's slight grin disappeared as he pretended to think, humming thoughtfully and rubbing his chin. "You said I deserve a reward! I want you to pull me up again!... Please…”

He stepped closer to the edge, the grip on your throat never tightening or loosening. A horrifying way to be held in the air, not even able to twist out of it. The sudden closeness, however, gave you a chance to claw at his chest instead, your fingertips reaching out to try and grip the nape of his neck to find some halt, only missing a few inches to reach it. 

"That's not how it works, Cariño. We both know you're not in charge here. Your reward is being saved from falling to your death."

Pulling you just a few inches upwards, Miguel had you close enough to bring your face before his, his body looming over yours, the threat of falling now spreading to both of you. "But you have to earn being pulled up."

"Mad… you're mad!" you could only hiss at him, the weight of your body slowly starting to hurt around your neck as gravity tried to pull you to your death. You winced when you felt your last remaining foot propped against the platform slip. 

"Madly in love, perhaps, Cariño, but you've been very naughty back at the station, copying and inserting codes as you please, not listening when I told you to stop and interrupting me. You know I hate it when you go against everything I try to do for you."

"Okay!" you relented, admitting to his accusations. If that was enough to get your feet on solid ground again, you'd do it. "I'll listen now, okay?! I promise! I'll be good! I'll try to do better, just… pull me up, okay? Please? Please, Miguel?"

There were a few moments of silence, a few moments too long as your foot kept slipping away, your body shaking in his grip that you didn't know if he'd keep on you or let go any second now. His eyes merely drilled into you, trying to see if you meant what you said or were lying again. You couldn't imagine anything but horror and your lost pride reflecting in yours, but his expression softened ever so slightly as he looked at you, and for the sake of not plummeting to your death, you ignored the goosebumps returning when you noticed the affection in his eyes.

"Bésame."  

Inwardly, you were fuming. For him to take advantage of your situation was the shabbiest thing you never expected him to do. But you should have! Shameless and mad as he was, you should have known better than to trust he'd help you without gain in your moment of need. Infuriated, you grimaced, the tears burning in your eyes as did every ounce of shame you felt about having to stoop so low as to survive. Maybe you hadn't hit rock bottom yet, but the decision between kissing him and falling to your death was as bad as could be. 

"Fuck you!" you hissed angrily.

"No? That's fine then–"

Miguel tried to play it cool, shrugging his shoulders and averting his gaze as if he truly didn't care. As if he wasn't the obsessed freak you knew he was deep down, broken from his experiences and unable to act like a reasonable human being anymore. His grip on your throat loosened ever so slightly, your body sinking lower, pulled by the weight of gravity. Dread, fear, and horror spread through you, but the adrenaline also brought forth the last bit of pride and spite you had in you. 

What he didn't expect were your hands shooting forward, nails digging into the flesh right above the collar of his suit before he could get too far away. Miguel's eyes widened as you tipped the scales, pulling him forward, both of you tumbling over the edge. "What are you–?!" he started to argue when you managed to wrap your arms around his strong neck, his hands pressing into your back as he instinctively enveloped you in his arms. As scary as the situation was, Miguel would never allow any harm to come to you. At least not harm that he wasn't responsible for. But what really caught him off-guard were your lips finding his in the middle of the fall.

The kiss seemed to drag on for a small eternity, as if time had stopped in Miguel's favor. You had closed your eyes, making everything so much more bearable as you didn't allow anything to break your lips from his. No pause, no air, nothing was to get between your mouth and his, not even the shock of you two landing on the ground, you in his arms while the metal bent under his feet. Only when he roughly pushed your back into a wall did you allow a gasp to escape, enough time for Miguel to deepen the kiss finally, prying your lips open to slip his tongue inside.

You had always cringed at the term 'tongues battling for dominance' in the fanfiction you read about your favorite characters from shows and TV, but now that you were caught up in a real battle with Miguel, you made no show out of fighting him off, trying to push his tongue back to where it came from… and failing miserably. It had been dangerous to awaken a sleeping beast, giving Miguel something he couldn't get easily but wanted desperately. A kiss was as good as a death sentence to you, but for him, it was heaven incarnated in the little pleasure of having a taste of your lips.

You had no time or thought left to share about your surroundings, about what other people might think, and neither did he. All that mattered to each of you was control now that the upper hand was out of both your reaches. He had told you before that only you had the power to ruin him. That your actions would either make or break this man called Miguel O'Hara. But he wasn't going to make this easy for you. You had surprised him just now, overshadowing that he won a kiss from you. But it was what followed that would make the loser regret not trying harder to win, which kept both of you more than motivated. After all, it was your will against his.

Forcing out a moan many men would die for, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him tense and flex underneath your touch. You felt the bulge rubbing against your sex, Miguel not even trying to hide it but jerking when you ground into it. Your hands roamed up and down his arms, nails scratching over his skin as the fabric gave way to your feisty caresses, and Miguel staggered on the spot, pressing up against you even more. A win for you, nonetheless, as his knees were growing weak when you hugged him closer to your body.

When he pushed you forcefully into the wall behind you, however, you had to wince, his fangs getting stuck on your lips, drawing some blood. It was just a moment of being unfocused, and he had turned the tables. His win. 

Sooner or later, one of you had to pull back. As your breath emptied into his mouth while his tongue pushed onwards, threatening to domineer, Miguel managed to focus all his willpower on withstanding the alluring call of your moans and feigned sensuality, you bitterly realized it would have to be you. With all his obsession and desire, he was slowly but surely devouring you, conquering the battlefield that was your kiss, not caring about the casualties he'd leave in his wake. It was very much like him to endure in terms of stamina and…

You couldn't keep up.

Coughing, you turned your head away, sinking into him and hiding your face in his shoulder, defeated. Immediately, he lowered his arms that he had used to cage you against the wall, exploiting the victory to embrace you tightly as he let out a shaky breath. Perhaps it only dawned on both of you then that he saved you from plummeting to death, the kiss having been a good distraction.

"Don't ever fucking do that again," he scolded you, the warning resounding loud and clear. 

Don't hurt yourself. Don't put yourself in danger, is what he actually meant to say, words that went unsaid but not unheard, even if they disgusted you. Let me protect you. I'll keep you safe—always.

"Don't count on it," was all you could reply to spite him, your voice muffled with your face pressed into his chest. Miguel let out a single, short, breathy laugh before shaking his head. 

"How can you be so stubborn?" he hummed, gripping the hair at the back of your neck and forcing your head back to face him. "Guess you still don't know."

"Know what?" you spit in his face with all the disdain you could muster, both of you very aware you were all bark, no bite after the fall, your knees surely caving in had he put you down on your own feet. Miguel returned your angry glare with haughtiness, a smile creeping on his face.

"Who is in control, Cariño."

[jazjelspen]

amor eterno

(miguel and platonic!reader)

(spanglish speaking mexican reader/silly cursing/full sentences in spanish here and there/not proofread/kinda rushed/female reader)

(Happy Father's Day everyone!)

(may make a pt.2 but not sure yet)

(you are Miguel's biological daughter in a different universe and you had to watch your father pass and get buried in your younger years.

you, now an older teenager, have been mastering your spider powers to help the city and your community till all of a sudden you get sucked into another universe where... you see your father again.)

the entire first half of your day was pretty chill as per usual, you just came out of school. you are in a rush inside your home and have been currently getting a few things for your "after school activities". your Tia May always reminding you to stay safe and be careful while Peter, your adoptive brother/guy in the chair, tried to casually dismiss May to let you out faster by asking you to bring him an iced coffee when you get back. once you ran out excusing yourself that you "cannot be late" you then hid behind a secluded alley way to change out of your normie clothes to switch into your spider-themed attire.

It was a normal rest of the day for you, being a crime-fighting spider themed vigilante casually swinging and leaping through your city while taking on a few thieves and even a villain to help your community before resting on top of a roof with a photo of you and your father while munching on a light snack and talking with said photo.

"octo was such a migraine today 'apa.." you scoffed before you took a bite out of your food. "pretty sure I might've broken a small bone or two..somewhere.. but I'm not really sure," you chuckled as you continued "and I know you'd tell me, ten mas cuidado mija, por pendeja te vas a quebrar la cabeza la proxima ves." you spoke as you talked directly to the photo of your smiling dad and you both catching butterflies on a bright sunny day. you imagined what else he'd do right now if he saw and heard you like this, maybe scold you, hug you, curse you out for being reckless then hug you. imagining all this just made you tear up as you stared at his face that you miss seeing everyday, oh how you missed it when he got mad at you. you'd rather him get mad at you a thousand times if it meant to have him back. "I miss you so much.." you let the tears run a bit yet you continued too down your food to calm down the nerves.

after awhile you calmed down and the sun was set with the stars barley getting into view as you peacefully finished the last few chews on your delight whilst enjoying the moment. after crying a bit and relaxing the environment was just so calm and so peaceful in that one second that you even felt as if you were floating, literally. you could practically feel yourself slowly coming off the floor of the roof and your snack basically almost floating out of your han-- oh.

wait.

you are floating.

your eyes then noticed ominous lights of blue, pink,..purple.. and turquoise-- glowing from up above you. 

"ay caray..." you mumbled

you quickly snapped your head to look at the direction of the now glowing portal with black specks now growing in size.. you caught on that this portal was trying to suck you in!

"WHATHEFUCK!!" 

 you immediately shot two spider webs at the ground, one on the floor and one at the photo of your father and you to immediately tuck into your spider outfit to prevent from losing it-- these actions unfortunately forced you to let go of your delicious snack though. you held on as tightly as you could but to no avail your web detached itself from the surface and you were sucked in by the portal with your limbs scrambling to get back out but it closed right in your face. 

as you traveled while screaming your lungs out all you could see was a complete endless void of galaxies and glowing blue constellation-like spiderwebs everywhere, your body continued to be sucked into different directions until you were spit right through another portal.

 it was all incredibly blurry until you noticed you were heading face first into a group of people who all didn't seem to notice you until the last minute.

"AGUAS AGUAS WATCHOUT--" then they all exclaimed in pain with you as you crashed head first into them. as you all groaned while getting up.

"god that hurt.."

"what was that?--"

"seems like it's a spider-person.."

" 'don't seem like someone we have in the society."

you stayed on the ground still trying to process what just happened but once the figures started becoming clearer and your spider senses started tingling like crazy you then immediately scrambled to crawl away after you realized that-- they are all spider people! just like you!

"what the-- who are you people??.. where am I wh--.." you looked at all of them but a girl of fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair, one side longer and pinker while the other was half shaved, stretched her hand out to you.

"hey hey... I know this might seem confusing--" she spoke "but right now you have nothing to worry, you're in the spider-society!.. so we don't intend to hurt you.."

you hesitantly took her hand as you got up, looking at her and those behind you up and down for any bad intent, which you didn't get but you still wouldn't let your guard down.

"my name is Gwen Stacy, those behind me are Hobie and Pavitr." each name she mentioned either nodded you 'hello', or gave you an exaggerated 'hello' wave.

you let go of her hand and took a step back, you recognized her last name but decided to think nothing of it "my name is _____... where am I?, I know you said the spider-society and clearly there's more than one... me." you sighed "but did I travel into another part of the world or--"

"oh no you're in another universe."

"what."

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it's been a good few yet long minutes being shown around the Spider-Society HQ and you've got to say you were getting along pretty well with these new spiders. You have been chatting with a few other spider people along the way and you were starting to really dig some of these guys, mostly because of the title and job but it was really starting to sink in. there were people out there in the vast multiverse that were just like you, held the same goals as you.. you felt like there really are people out here that are able to understand you the way your father did.

"and that's the lunch room, oh and theres the gym room but for some reason it's name is much longer than necessary since the leader of this whole organization is a bit of a drama queen. for understandable reasons but still it doesn't help much." Gwen spoke exasperatedly while leading you through the halls, Hobie and Pavitr following close behind yet kind of mingling between each other instead.

" tu leader? theres a whole leader to this entire mess?" you asked while widening your arms to emphasize the size of this entire organization.

"you bet, Miguel isn't the easiest person to get along with but he does his job really well in protecting the multiverse and all the worlds that live in it." she shrugged while speaking.

your body froze on the spot, the blonde took a few steps after you before noticing your slight missing presence and looking behind herself to see you with a worried look on her face. "you alright there?.."

"Miguel." you paused "Miguel." you repeated "that's... sorry that's my dad's name." you let out a sigh with an awkward smile "he died when I was younger but-- " you then couldn't help but chuckle slightly in embarrassment "ah, just missing him a lot lately."

Gwen smiled faintly as she walked up to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, which you flinched at a bit but relaxed when you saw she was just trying to comfort you.. in her own way. "I'm sure he was a good man, _____. considering how many universes there are I'm sure that in one of them you and him are living happily... somewhere out there."

that phrase gave you a sense of comfort, you smiled and nodded as you gently patted the hand that was on your shoulder.

that was until in the same hand she hand on you her watch shined and emitted a small hologram of a person, a woman. she asked for Gwen and her group to go to Miguel's "office" for an overview of a mission that has to take place.

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you weren't exactly supposed to be there with them but you insisted to join them, using the excuse that you just wanted to know more about this whole society right from the source. but really you just wanted to see how this Miguel person was.

your spidey senses tingled in anticipation as you were expecting a whole different person entirely until you finally looked at the face of the man in front of you, once he turned to look at you and the entire group and all you could do was stare.

as he was speaking he noticed your staring but ignored it trying to get to the point into why he called his most trusted spiders in here. the thing is your staring made him lose focus since your eyes burned into his skull and he forced himself to stop mid convo to look at you face to face.

"what is it kid? what's your problem?" the man who calls himself Miguel O’hara. the same man who raised you but died in front of you. it was as if he was right in front of you back from the dead but just.. in a blue spider-man suit.

in a split second you felt your body just run up to him and hug him. everyone else gasped while you just sobbed and he immediately grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away but he paused while still holding onto you since you called him the word his own little girl used to call him by, " 'apa.. no sabes quanto te extrañé.. te juro que todo este tiempo siempre estoy regresando a la chamba tratando de ayudar a mi communidad y asciendo mucho mas. exactamente como tu me pediste papito..."

the man tensed up and looked at you and utter confusion yet with a mix of hurt just from being called 'apa',

"who are you?" was all he asked.

you wiped off all your running tears before answering "mi nombre es _____ O'hara. y yo vi a mi papa, Miguel O'hara, morir enfrente de mi para que yo podia vivir otra dia mas." you sniffed as you tried to relax "and I became Spider-man to keep his memory alive."

Miguel's eyes seemed to have widened, as if he wasn't sure what to think. his late daughter's name was Gabriella.. not ______.

once the man continued to stare at you in thought you continued to blabber your mouth out "his.. his name was Miguel O'hara." you repeated as you scrambled to get the photo of you and your dad that you held onto just awhile ago and showed it to him, basically presenting it right on his face "he raised me alone after my mother died giving birth to me, he loved empanadas y.. y--"

he gently took in the photo with one hand and the other he continued to hold onto your shoulder. while he stared deeply into the photo he seems to be inspecting it for authenticity. it took a minute of him just looking at you and then the photo and it seemed he recongnized the resemblance of the little kid in the photo to be you. for a split moment it seemed as if he was about to pull you in for a hug until he pushed you further away and letting you go "I'm not your father, kid. he and I might've shared the same name and the same physical features," he gave you a cold and hard look as he carefully returned the photo to you "but I'm not him."

"he's gone."

and just like that he said that one last phrase before he turned to then proceed to ignore you and return to talk to his team, whom were all awkwardly standing there from the scene they just witnessed. he spoke of some mission.. an anomaly.. and who knows what else. all you could think of was how this variation of your father was cold and distant. you hoped for a split second that this variant would at least recognize you, care for you the way your father did. but you should've known better, you know better, that this man was more than right.

he wasn't your father, no matter how many traits, features, or names they shared. you couldn't use this variant of him as a replacement.

not like there was ever a way to replace the man that raised you before May did anyway.

(tried to add some mexican slang and phrases that my family and I use on the daily, as well as trying to make this somewhat relatable to my fellow mexican/americans out there! T-T also sorry if my spanish grammar is a bit weird, not exactly used to writing dialogue in spanish but ill get used to it for sure <3)

[moon-rivr]

falling behind part three

pairing: college miguel o'hara x spanish speaking fem reader (translation provided)

contents: new character included :p, smut, fingering, protected p in v, attempted robbery

author's note: ok ok, here's the actual part. sorry about yesterday’s rick roll 😭 (hope y’all are fed for now 🤫)

word count: 4.6K+

falling behind falling behind part two

If Miguel would've imagined that accepting the job that he'd been wanting for months would've ended up with you in tears in front of his bedroom door, he wouldn't have bothered to make the effort at all. He saw your lip quivering as you tried to maintain your composure, beckoning him to come outside in the belief that Dana was inside his room. He shut the door and slumped against it, looking over at the audio playing as he internally cringed inside. He shut off the recording, Dana's annoying moans coming to a halt as the lullaby of your favorite song faded out.

He watched as you awkwardly paced around the living room, the scent of fresh takeout overwhelming his senses. "Where's Dana?" You inquired before asking anything else and he rubbed the back of his neck. He stayed quiet, his tall frame looming over you as he thought of a way to respond to your question. "Miguel. I'm asking you nicely here. Where's Dana?"

"She's not here. I didn't cheat you on you. I used a stupid recording of when we slept together to give you the impression that we were," he finally responded, leaving you completely flabbergasted. "And why in God's green earth would you want to give me the impression that you're cheating?" You responded, your voice completely laced with venom and rage as you spoke.

“She blackmailed me. Said she needed a boyfriend in order to complete some clause for her inheritance and if i didn't play the role of being her boyfriend then she'd leak a old sex tape to Alchemax," he spoke, his eyes darting around the room before eventually landing on yours. "You could've just told me that. You could've communicated with me, Miguel," you sounded so dejected as you spoke and he mentally kicked himself as he looked at you.

"So instead of talking to me, you decided to pretend to cheat on me so i'd break up with you and you'd take the easy way out?" You asked after a couple seconds, your eyes finding his immediately. "You might've not cheated on me, but you completely betrayed my trust and that's something I can't forgive you for. I'll help you get rid of the sex tape and when this semester ends, i'm moving out."

Miguel sat down at the living room table as he took a bite out of the food you'd brought home, his throat constricting as he swallowed it down. While he was aware that his history with women wasn't exactly the best, he'd genuinely liked spending time with you. The worst part about it seemed to be that despite the fact of his betrayal towards you, you seemed willing to help him out. The food that normally would have him salivating at just the scent now had him nauseated, the food coming down like rocks.

He eventually finished up his plate, leaving yours in the microwave before he walked over to his room. He heard soft sniffles coming out of your room and his heart dropped down to his feet, evidence of his betrayal in the tears rolling down your face. He didn't say anything though, not feeling like it was his place to check up on you anymore. He was faced with his actions as he looked down at his bed, being with nothing but emptiness.

You avoided Miguel like the plague around the apartment throughout the next couple days, only coming out of your room when you were certain that he wasn't in the house and staying late out so you wouldn't be confronted with having to see him. You saw the pride in Dana's face when she saw that miguel no longer walked you to class or waited for you after, her claws sinking into him immediately as she started to parade her ‘relationship’ around.

"It's like we're soulmates, y'know? He just had to date a couple tramps to find his way back to me," you overheard speaking to her friends, laughter erupting from the group as you walked past. You bit back your tongue as the brim of your waterline stung with the tears you were retaining, rushing out the corridor to head back to the apartment. You were seated at the living room table, procrastinating on your homework by texting your mom if you could go and live back home after winter break.

While the commute would take a bit over an hour, you couldn't stand to live with Miguel any longer. In a place that had once provided you with comfort of shared kisses and laughter now provided you with the memory of him betraying your trust. You looked up from your phone when Miguel came in through the door, his hair looking disheveled and his lab coat wrinkly. "So I know you said you were planning to help me out with the whole Dana situation and I understand if you changed your mind about it all. But I'm taking her out tonight to some stupid gala that her family's having, so you'll have all the access to her room."

You hated Miguel for putting you in this situation and most importantly, you hated yourself for apparently not being able to deny him anything. Miguel had left you with the spare key to her apartment before he went out, the small object feeling like a burden the longer you carried it. You stepped into her apartment, immediately being treated with the scent of fake gardenias and roses. Your nose scrunched up as you made your way up the stairs, pictures of her hanging up on the wall.

You walked into her bedroom and shimmied past the discarded clothes on the floor before bending down over her desk, turning her computer on. You groaned as you looked at the page impending the password input, cursing miguel out internally. You texted Miguel regarding what the password was, a loud laughter escaping from your lips as you read what the password was supposed to be.

After typing out 'danaandmiguel4ever' and cringing internally, you began looking through the unlabeled files to find something worth of value. You found what kept her in a position of power, having blackmail worthy material of everyone she approached. Her loud moans filled up the room after you clicked on a file, Miguel coming up on the screen. You loaded the file up on a flash drive just in case Miguel wanted access to it before deleting the file completely off Dana's hard drive. You looked around, expecting her to keep copies on some flash drives but to your luck, it seemed she hadn't thought it out that far yet.

The mission went by pretty smoothly and you left the flash drive on the table, unable to smell Dana's perfume on his clothes when he came back home. You retreated back to your room, looking up at the ceiling as you tried not to fall into the old cycle of crying until you fell asleep. The part that had hurt you the most about this whole situation was the fact that Miguel had gone to those extremes to lie about what he was involved in, showing you no ounce of the trust that you'd once displayed in him.

Winter break approached you rather quickly and you found yourself packing up the contents of your room instead of going out to enjoy the snow like your classmates were. Miguel stood at your doorway awkwardly as you finished putting the last of your clothes in boxes, his fingertips tapping against the hinges. "For the record, you were the best roommate I ever had," he mumbled, the words coming out so fast that you would missed them had his presence not haunted you the way it does. "You were the worst fucking boyfriend I ever had."

Your mom instantly greeted you with a hug when you came back home, helping you put the boxes away in your room. She didn't pry much on the issue, partly because she wanted to respect your privacy and partly because she was too concerned with the tamale dough on the stove. "¿Tu crees que 50 tamales es suficiente?" She turned to look at you and you instantly shook your head, stepping into the kitchen to get a Topo Chico. (you think 50 tamales is enough?)

"Seria suficiente si solo se comieran uno. Pero tu sabes que ellos se comen dos o tres," you pointed out, opening up the water as you took a sip. (it would be enough if they only ate one. but you know that they eat two or three) "¿Puedes llamar a tus tias, porfa? No puedo hacer todo esto sola," she asked after some careful deliberation and you pulled her phone out her purse to text your aunts. (can you call your aunts, please? i can’t do all this alone)

You found a message thread between Miguel and your mom, most of the conversations being him asking how she was. A message popped up about some lab results that were ready for her but you quickly pushed any negative thoughts away, assuring yourself that it was probably something routine. You felt your heart swell a little bit at how much he'd connected with your family but you quickly extinguished that flame.

Your aunts came over a few minutes later after you sent out the text, surprise evident when they saw you back home. They instantly bombarded you with questions about your relationship with Miguel and you found yourself stringing them along for a lie, not wanting to face that judgement once more. You could practically hear them reprimanding you for not being able to keep a boyfriend so you decided to just lie, saying that your tuition didn't cover the cost of your living this term.

They tried to string you along to make tamales with them, but eventually just put you to fill and fold when you failed. Your fingers hurting from folding the masa for most of the afternoon, but the tamales had come out triple the amount that your mom had set up originally. You felt the realization that they would expecting Miguel at the christmas eve dinner hit you, immediately hating yourself for even having to ask him.

"Hello?" Miguel spoke through the other line, exhaustion evident in his voice as he spoke. "Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you. My family's having a dinner and I was hoping that you could join me, I told them we were still together. You're free to say no if you want, obviously. But there's going to be tamales," you spoke, picking at pieces of dough stuck on your forehead as you balanced the phone between your shoulder and ear. "I'll be there. Not just for the tamales."

You woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh pan dulce and as you walked to the kitchen, you noticed your mom and Miguel eating in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand. While you had debated on telling your mom that the two of you had broken up, to seek that motherly comfort, a part of you didn't want to after seeing how well Miguel connected with her. "Buenos dias, mija. Miguel trajo pan dulce y yo hize un chocolate si tienes hambre," your mom greeted you when you came into view, going back to talk with miguel after. (good morning, daughter. miguel brought sweet bread and i made some chocolate if you’re hungry)

You sat down on the couch, taking a bite out of the oreja as the taste of cinnamon filled up your senses. You could notice through the corner of your eye that as miguel was speaking with your mom, he couldn't help but keep his eyes off you. You bit down on your tongue lost in thought, the sting replacing the fluttery feeling on your chest. "Maldita sea," you grumbled, your mom's gaze finding you immediately. (damn it) "Oye, quieres que te lave la boca?" She inquired, her brows furrowed and you immediately shook your head, going back to sipping your hot chocolate. (hey, you want me to wash your mouth out?)

The dinner approached you slowly and you immediately dreaded having to be in a room with Miguel once more, your defenses weakening every time that you saw the side of him you fell in love with him. You decided to wear a cream sweater and jeans, something that wouldn't cause too much commotion between your family before heading downstairs. You saw that everybody was already out in the living room, Miguel included as he played loteria with your cousins. You couldn't help but notice that your mom seemed a bit distant from the family, your concern only rising when you heard her having a coughing fit. You tried to ask her about it but she dismissed it, saying that she was fine.

After the dinner ended, you found your way out to the balcony to watch the fireworks and get a bit of fresh air. You heard the door open but you didn't have to look back to know who was already there, his presence would always leave a mark on you whether you wanted to admit it or not. "I got you something. It's kinda stupid in retrospect but I hope you like it," he spoke up, coming up next to you as he handed you a box. Inside the box, there was a bracelet with small charms of the fake dates that the two of you had went on.

"Thanks," you mumbled, putting the bracelet on as you tried to push down the butterflies in your stomach. "I didn't get you anything for Christmas, my bad," you added, keeping your gaze on the fireworks so you wouldn't have to face him once more. "Por favor mirame. Quiero ver esos ojitos que me encantan tanto," he spoke softly and you turned to look at him, being enveloped in a kiss. The kiss felt needy as your mouths collided, pure longing being shown. (please look at me. i want to see those eyes that i love so much)

As the party started winding down, you and Miguel found your way back to your bedroom. You knew that this was purely out of need, reaffirming to yourself that you still loathed him as you pushed your pants down. The two of you settled on your bed, the smell of his cologne mixing with your perfume. His hand started rubbing you through your panties, the tips of fingers prodding at the entrance of your clit through the material. You hated the way that your body reacted to every touch from him, the way that he made you wet without much effort.

He hooked his fingers on your panties, sliding them as they pooled on the floor. you slipped your feet out of them, your legs spreading as one of his fingers went inside you. Your mouth parted as you felt the sheer size of his finger stretching you out, only being used to yours. Your walls clenched around him, almost sucking his finger in as he pushed it in and out of you. You relaxed the best you could despite the intrusion, your slick covering his finger as he worked it inside you.

Once he stretched your walls enough, he pushed another finger inside to fill you up. You pressed a hand against your mouth to hide the heavy breaths you were releasing. You tried to close your legs around his hand as he brushed up against a sensitive spot against you, but he pried your legs open. His thumb toyed with your clit, finding the stimulation that you wanted as his eyes locked with yours. Once he found his rhythm, you couldn't help the shaking in your legs as he pushed his fingers and out of you.

"Look me in the eyes while I make you cum and tell me that you still hate me, mama," he whispered as his fingers worked you over that edge. Your muffled moans and squelching filled up the room, your eyes shutting out of instinct. While you couldn't deny the immense euphoria that Miguel was providing you with, you also didn't want to acknowledge the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you'd never be able to hate him. There seemed to be a silent understanding between the two of you as he worked you over that crescendo, your legs shaking as he brought you over that edge.

He took his fingers out of your cunt slowly, bringing them up to his mouth as he sucked off your slick. He left your room after cleaning up in the bathroom, not saying a word. You were left on your bed with your chest heaving and panties on the floor, reprimanding yourself for your actions. You glanced over at the stuffed animals on your bed, their beady eyes almost seeming to judge you for the events that had unfolded. You turned them around, laying down on your bed as you tried to forget about the whole thing.

Ignoring Miguel was pretty easy when the new semester rolled around since your schedules were virtually the opposite with his new job. You decided to try to find a new group of friends, replacing miguel as your tutor with someone else. "Hi, is this spot taken?" You asked the man reading braille at one of the tables. "No, I've just been kinda waiting for someone to come up to me and ask for tutoring. I’m Matt. Matt Murdock," he introduced himself, his voice velvety as he spoke. You introduced yourself to him, explaining what you needed help with.

His hand brushed against yours while the two of you were studying, and while he was an attractive man and he seemed to be attentive to you, no attraction ignited inside of you. "You're going into law, right? How's that going?" You pondered, looking over at him as his brows furrowed a bit. "Sorry, Foggy's in my statistics class and he can't stop talking about how you two are on the path to becoming great avocados," you added, a small chuckle coming out the man. "Abogados, actually. But yeah, I am. What are you going into?" (lawyers)

The two of you continued to have a conversation, finding him easy to talk to despite the initial awkwardness. You exited the library after everyone had left, finishing up some touches on your essay when you bumped into someone on your way out.

"Oh shit, my bad," you mumbled, stepping back to look at Miguel standing there with a stern look on his face. "Are you replacing me? Is that what this is?" He asked, completely disregarding your apology as he stared down at you. "You don't have a right to ask me those questions anymore, Miguel. It's none of your business," you responded, staring at him with the same intensity.

"In the contrary, I think it is my business," he responded, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit as he saw your nose flare up. "You lost those rights the moment you made me believe you were with Dana," you countered, walking away from him to start your commute back home. You instantly regretted having stayed at the library so late as you waited in the bus station, the light on the sidewalk barely flickering as it tried to stay lit.

You were scrolling through your phone, looking at the bus station when you felt the cold press of a metal against your forehead. "Give me your backpack and we won't have a problem," the man told you, his finger on the trigger as the gun dug deeper. Though you didn't have many valuables in your backpack apart from your laptop, you refused to give in to him despite your trembling figure.

The gun clicked as he pulled the trigger, much to your luck before he was taken off the ground. You looked over to the man in the spandex red and blue suit, the superhero that was starting to get picked up on the news as Spider-Man. While you never had anything against the hero, his appearance surprised you since he was mostly dealing with city-level threats when you saw him.

“Thank you," you told the masked man, approaching him once he finished tying the man in some webs. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to be out in the street this late?!" His voice boomed from behind the mask, your brows scrunching up as you recognized it. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," you muttered, picking up your backpack from the bench. "Look, I get it. You hate me, whatever, but come back and stay at the apartment just for tonight. This bus doesn't pass by this late anyway."

Once more, you found yourself in the old apartment. you felt that sense of nostalgia as you stepped in through the door, the memories of what you'd been through with Miguel flooding your senses. "What about your new roommate?" You asked, staying close to the door the way someone estranged would. "I never needed a roommate, and even if I did, I don't think I have it in me to replace you," he responded, taking off his mask as he tossed it to the side.

You weren't sure if it was the adrenaline coursing through your veins or if it was just the fact that you missed him, but you kissed him. His hands found their way to the small of your back as he held you up, his head dipping down to meet yours. "Coño, como te extraño," he mumbled once the two of you separated, his mouth slightly parted as his chest heaved. (fuck, how i miss you) "Entonces enseñame." (then show me)

The two of you found his way to his bedroom after that, the stupid posters that you'd made fun of him for still hanging on the walls. His lips attacked your neck, kissing every inch of skin that was made available to him. His teeth grazed on the skin softly and you felt something prick the side of your neck, looking over to see that Miguel had fangs now. "So you're like a spider-boy?" You asked, deciding to tease him a little bit.

"For you, I’ll be whatever you need me to be," he mumbled, not bothering to raise his head as he continued to kiss his way down your neck. He took off your shirt with caution, slowly, almost like he wanted to give you the chance to back out if you so had the desire. He took off the spidersuit, his cock completely exposed as he helped you get rid of the last garments you had on. "You're telling me you go fight crime booty butt naked?"

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the question as he reached over to grab something from his bedside table. You couldn't help but notice that he still had some old polaroids of the two of you together in the mixture of all the chaos he had in there, before your attention was brought back to the subject in hand. You felt a cold liquid hitting your pussy, looking down to see that Miguel was putting some lube on the condom he'd grabbed before slipping it on.

He pushed his cock slowly inside of you, stretching you out beyond belief with just the girth. You felt so full, so certain that he'd put it in all the way. "Is it in?" You inquired, being met with a small laugh in response. "You're really boosting my ego here. No, that's just the tip," he responds, sliding in a bit further once your walls opened up to him. His hand met yours in a intimate gesture as he eased his way in, squeezing your hand reassuringly to get your mind off the sting in between your legs.

"You're doing so well for your first time, mi corazón," he whispered, bringing his head down to your neck as he left another mark on your skin. He retracted his cock, pushing it in one swift motion that had you gripping the sheets already. "Tan mojada y apenas comenzamos," he spoke, more so to himself, as he started off a easy rhythm to get you adjusted to it. (so wet and we just started) You could tell that he was holding back and while you appreciated it for the time being, you felt yourself growing needy fast.

"Please," you spoke up, looking up at him as his cock retracted once more, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Please what, mama? You'll have to use your words," he responded, his eyes twinkling with mischief under the moonlight. "Please stop holding back," you responded, his hips snapping into yours before you could even finish your sentence. His hands found their way to your hips, raising them a bit as his cock slid deeper into you.

Your mouth was parted as moans escaped from your lips, none of them being his name which started to annoy Miguel quickly. He understood that you didn't want to acknowledge what this might mean for the both of you, but he didn't want you to deny that he was the one giving you the pleasure that you desired. His thrusts got more punishing, deeper and faster, as he made it his newfound goal to make you scream out his name while he made you cum.

"Oh my god, Miguel!" You moaned, feeling his cock hit you in places you hadn't even reached before. The ridges of his cock stimulated your pussy with every thrust, his cock sliding against your g-spot with every thrust that he took. "That's it, good girl. Let me know who's pleasing you this good," he babbled, raising your legs up to his shoulders to allow him to get a deeper angle. His hand came down to your clit, stimulating it as he felt your walls clenching around him tighter and tighter with every thrust that he took.

Your feet dug into Miguel’s shoulder blades as you came, your orgasm washing over you slowly but effectively. Your release coated the condom completely, a squelch coming out every time he slipped in and out of you. Miguel’s head went back as his body grew slack, ropes of his cum filling up the condom. The two of you took a moment to bask in the afterglow, of not having to face whatever repercussions awaited you before he slid out of you, taking off the condom and discarding it.

You quickly got dressed, wanting to escape the situation and every memory that this apartment provided you with. "Stay with me, please," he told you, putting on a pair of Star Wars pajama pants on. "I can't do that," you responded, brushing over your wrinkled clothes as you avoided all eye contact with him. "And why not?" He asked, stepping closer to you as he held your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Because I like you too much and it hurts, Miguel. I've tried hating you and I can't. I wish I didn’t feel anything towards you and just being around you lowers my defenses," you admitted, stepping back from him as you made your way out.

Your phone rang as you were walking down the street, distracting you from your thoughts. You looked at it to see that it had a 'scam likely' stamp on it, but a gut feeling told you that you should answer it. "Hi, we're calling from Nueva York’s Presbyterian Hospital," the woman on the phone told you, asking you questions about your relation with your mom. "She's just been admitted but visiting hours are over now. You're welcome to come over tomorrow," the woman told you before hanging up.

You stared at the black screen, completely in shock as it snowed around you. While she showed signs of being ill, you hadn't paid much attention to them after she assured you that she'd been fine. You weren't sure of where to go, the house felt too empty without her and your friends wouldn't understand. You turned around, knocking on Miguel’s door and embracing him a tight hug once he opened the door, tears rolling down your cheeks.

@ayamaiis @mvlanchqly @migueloharastruelove @arbesa-mind @death-moth-art @simeon-lovergirl @analiticalanonymous @thedevax @jadeloverxd

[luveline]

spoilers for spider-man: across the spider-verse below

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel hops dimensions expecting a new family, and a new life. he’s not expecting you —featuring a tired miguel and his confused but adoring wife. or, miguel gets the comfort he so desperately needs. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. gun mention/no graphic scenes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel seems different when he comes home that night. You've loved him for years, you know his face. He looks slightly younger and older at the same time, impossibly so. He looks like he has bad news and he doesn't want to tell you. Something harrowing. How else can you explain his expression? 

You stand up from the dinner table. "Hey," you say gently. "Is there something wrong?" 

He isn't convincing when he answers, "What? Uh, no. Nothing's wrong." 

"Something looks wrong." 

You step in front of him and lift your chin. Usually, he'd look down with a smirk, or at the very least a smile, but he seems weary. You lift your hand to his cheek, pinching it between your fingers without malice. 

"Smile, handsome. You have a lovely smile." 

He smiles. His lips part just slightly. "You… you really love me. You're happy." 

"We're happy," you correct. "Me, you, and Gabs forever, right?" 

"Gabs?" he asks. 

"Don't start with me. Gabriella's a mouthful. A beautiful mouthful," you concede. "I still think we should've named her Sofia. And yeah, Miguel. I love you. Really really. Don't forget it." 

You make him sit at the kitchen table. It's a selfish manoeuvre; you want him to sit so you can actually reach his hair. Your husband is the tallest man you've ever met. 

"Did you get a haircut?" you ask, running your fingers through his hair slowly. He shivers at your touch, and tilts his head back in question. "You did. That's such a betrayal, my love. I've been cutting your hair for going on six years now, I'm suddenly not good enough?" 

"You're good enough," he says. He really sounds so strange. 

"I'm joking. Miguel, if there's something wrong, you really need to tell me. I can make it better. Well, I can try." You bite your lip, unnerved by his quiet, solemn air. 

"Am I being weird?" he asks.

"No," you say, worried he thinks you're judging him. You never would. (He's being really weird.) "Of course not, you're just quiet tonight, that's all. Did you have a bad day at work?" 

"I– I got mugged. On the way home from work. I forgot the– the milk." 

"You what?" you ask, eyes widening in shock. Miguel's kind of gigantic. You've always said that you pity the fool who tries it, but apparently he's less hardy than you thought. A mugging explains his weird behaviour these last five minutes, at least. "What happened? Sweetheart, are you okay?" 

You take his face into both hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a scratch along his jaw, but he seems unhurt. You suppose being attacked would age you instantaneously too. 

"Miguel, are you in shock? Should I take you to the hospital?" 

"I'm okay. I just feel strange." 

"Are you sure?” He nods hurriedly. You purse your lips. ��I'll make you something warm to drink, that'll help. As long as you're not hurt, right? Did he take your wallet? We'll have to cancel your credit card." 

Miguel catches your shirt before you can go too far. 

"Hm?" you hum in question. 

Miguel visibly deliberates. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "Could I hug you?" 

The hurting and worry you have for him intensify before falling on the back-burner. You can shove your own feelings aside easily if he needs comforting. 

"I don't think you have to ask me," you say, offering your arms. 

Miguel is usually a short but meaningful hugger. You've hugged so many times and in what feels like every place on earth, and he's such a tall man that even if he doesn't mean for them to be, his arms are all encompassing.

It surprises you that this hug is different. He's tentative. When his hand falls to the small of your back it slots into place, and you can feel his relief like a palpable thing. 

"You’re okay," you say, your lips at his crown, your legs between his.

He's keeping space between you, and you don't like it. You press yourself as close to him as possible, your arms behind his shoulders, cupping the back of his head. Soft hair tickles your palm.

"Was it scary?" 

"Was what scary?" he asks. You don't mention his little sniff. He's smelling your hair. 

"Being mugged? Did he have a gun?" 

"Yeah, he did." 

"Oh, I see. There's no shame in being scared, you know that?" 

"I'm not scared. I wasn't scared when it happened. I just wanted to come home to you." 

You frown. His admission is like a barb in your chest, aimed true for your heart. "I'm so glad you did," you confess against his forehead, a murmur of sound. "So, so glad. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

You kiss his head three times in a row. The last kiss lingers, his arms slackening around you. 

You pull away, not wanting to smother him. Whoever's watching knows he's had enough of you these last few years. 

"Where–" Miguel clears his throat. "Where's Gabriella?" 

"She's in her room. Call her." 

You're hoping time with her will bring him back into focus. He's clearly more affected by this than he's willing to say. You don't know how you feel about it. Terrified, because you could've lost him. Euphoric that you didn't. You'd had this funny feeling all day long, and it's weird, you’d felt that something bad happened, a moment at the sink with Gabriella singing in her room, the clock ticking on the wall. Miguel late, but promising to bring the groceries you needed home with him before dinner. 

"Gabriella?" he calls up the stairs. You watch from the stove. 

You'll grab the pan and make him some hot cocoa. Just as soon as he stops looking scared. 

"Daddy?" Gabriella asks back. She's audibly ecstatic, and her footsteps are a stampede from her bedroom. You can see her from the kitchen when she gets to the bottom of the stairs. "Dad, pick me up!" 

"Oh, right," Miguel says, leaning down to hold her. 

He pulls her with all the grace of an elephant to his chest, and she nearly chins him. 

"Woah, careful." 

"Dad, you're super late. Mom said I can yell at you for being late." 

"You can yell at me, if you want to." He gives her a curious look. "I'm sorry for taking so long." 

Gabriella tilts her head to the side, dark hair shifting. She's a gorgeous little girl and her dad can't withstand it, melting as you hoped he would, the taut string of his back finally cut in two.  

"I don't want to yell at you," she whispers. 

"Good, because I don't want you to yell," he whispers back. 

Gabriella leans back in his arms and giggles thickly. He almost drops her, and has to readjust his hold on her back. 

"I'm so happy you're home!" she cheers, bringing her little hands up together from her chest and thrusting them out like fireworks. "You work too much! I thought doctors was s'posed to make everyone better and go home." 

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he says. 

You turn from where you've brought cocoa powder and milk to an emulsified simmer on the stovetop and beam at him. It's your favourite thing in the whole world when she mixes it up. Ever since she found his ID card with DR. written clear as day before his name, she's been under the impression that he works at the general hospital. Alchemex might break medical thresholds, but it is far from a hospital. 

"Are you having hot cocoa with your dad?" you ask Gabriella. 

She gasp in excitement and lists toward you. Miguel almost drops her for a second time. "Yes, oh my gosh!" 

"Well, come and sit. What mug?" 

Gabriella can't decide on what mug she wants; there's the orange cat with too many whiskers, there's the black one with bright white stars. After some deliberation, she decides on her and Miguel's matching daddy-daughter mugs.

"You're having some too, right?" he asks you. 

"Don't I always?" you ask. "Though I do want to protest the mugs. Where's my mug? Don't I deserve number one mom?" You kiss the top of Gabriella's head where she languishes in Miguel's lap, before placing their hot cocoa down far from her arm's reach. "It's hot." 

Miguel doesn't touch his. You blow cold air at Gabriella's and dip your fingertip into it periodically, content to spend some time with them both in amicable quiet. Gabriella just loves him to pieces, and she leans back in his arms with her eyes closed, basking in his closeness. 

She squints at you with one eye. "Dad?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. You nudge his foot. 

"What?" he asks.

"You're not doing the thing." 

"The thing?" 

You frown. 

"Yeah, dad." She huffs and curls his arm manually across her front. "Please, I want the kisses." 

He looks at you, completely lost. You're feeling similarly confused. "She wants you to kiss her hair," you say, wondering if perhaps he's suffering from stress related amnesia. 

He leans down carefully and kisses her hair. It's not the usual enthusiastic kiss, and he doesn't bother blowing in her ear after. 

Gabriella glares at him. "My ear!" 

"Blow in her ear," you mouth. 

He blows gently into her ear. She shivers, shudders, and laughs up a storm. 

When the cocoa's been drunk and the mugs washed and put away, Gabriella races upstairs, promising to return with a storybook and the drawing she made earlier in the day once she’s changed into her pyjamas. Miguel looks less lost than he had. In fact, he looks normal. The warm drink has put colour in his cheeks, and his daughter's cuddles have done their job. He's relaxed. He's forgotten the fear of the mugging, you're almost sure of it. 

You waver beside him. "Can I sit with you, or am I too heavy?" 

"Why would you be too heavy?" he asks. 

"You always say I'm too heavy," you say, sitting down on his thighs. They feel solid, a little different from usual. Miguel works out, but this is strange. He must be more tense than you thought. "It's your worst joke." 

"I'm sorry. I won't say it if it upsets you," he says, his voice rough and low. 

"Who said anything about that?" He's never called you heavy to be cruel. 

"Sorry," he apologises again. "I think all the excitement today messed me up." 

You spread your fingers wide across his chest, his heart beating a surface below. "It's okay. You don't have to react any one way…" You rub the tip of your nose against his jaw lightly. "I'm so glad you're okay. I had this weird feeling like something bad happened to you, you know?" 

Miguel laughs and coughs at the same time. It borders on being distressed. He's really worrying you. "You did?" he asks. 

"Mm-hm. But you're okay." You work hard to sound sure. 

His hand slides between your legs, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your upper thigh, though it doesn't stay there. He pulls away, looking flustered. "Sorry." 

"For what?" You blink. 

"I don't know." 

You laugh and press a kiss to the column of his throat, your nose squished against him. "I was thinking we'd watch that new movie tonight, with Harry Woodson, but it has guns and stuff. Would that still be okay?" 

He puts his hand behind your ear and guides your head back to look you in the eye. It's a familiar touch. He looks like himself again, though you truly are offended by his haircut. Maybe something happened at work and fried it off. 

"You're really something special," he says quietly. 

"How so?" 

His face softens with your flirting tone. "You're kind. You're so kind. I've never met someone like you." 

"What are you talking about?" you mumble. It's your turn to feel flustered, jellified by the earnestness lining his features. 

"You're sweet, and soft, and so pretty," he says, matching your tone. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time. 

You understand the feeling. Sometimes you look at him and can't believe he's your love. 

"Soft," you repeat. "Are you trying to say something?" 

"Like that. That joke. You don't even sound mad." 

"You don't have to be so amazed. I've been like this since we met, haven't I? I'm hardly ever angry with you." You follow down from his eye to his jaw with your knuckle, tracing a tear he hasn't shed. He's spun you into thoughtfulness, and more than that —reverential fondness for him aches in the very centre of your stomach.  

"I must have some good luck," he says. 

His near death experience has inspired a wave of sappiness. 

You lean in until your forehead touches his, giving him time to close his eyes or lean away if he wants to. 

"I love you," you say simply. "You're not lucky, you're amazing, and all this good you see in me? I see it in you, O'Hara." You huff a laugh, breath fanning over his top lip as you steal a wonky kiss. You pull back. "You're sure–" 

Miguel kisses you. His hand flies to the back of your neck and his lips are eager, his head tilted to one side to accommodate your nose. He deepens the kiss and it's a mess, really, nothing like his usual kisses, no practised ease, nor confident touches. His fingertips push at the hairs lining the nape of your neck as though he's not sure what to do with his hand. It's like kissing him for the very first time. 

It's not a bad kiss. 

You kiss back slowly. You're the steadying constant to his hotheadedness, in kissing and in everything else, pulling time into an endless stretch of his mouth under yours, his body heat seeping into your skin. 

The sharp point of a tooth catches your bottom lip. You gasp into his mouth and flinch away from him. 

"Um, ouch? What was that, handsome, did you get your teeth filed to spikes?" you ask, probing your lip, a flood of giggles slipping between your fingers. 

He looks at you like you've lit the sky one star at a time. 

"Sorry," he says. "I'll be more careful, I swear." 

"Sure," you laugh. "Well, you'll have to be more careful later. You promised Gabriella you'd read her the Wishing Tree, and she's expecting a performance. Voices included." 

He adjusts you in his lap with more strength than you knew he had. "Will you help?" 

You'll always help him. He doesn't even need to ask. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

[hisachuu]

when he when he when he when he/////

yeah i draw now, sorry about the fanfics tho lmaooooo

[lacedinweb22]

Good Kitty 🐾 ୨୧⋆｡ Miguel O'Hara x Black Cat (reader)

Spidey catches Kitty. nsfw 18+

you don’t have to misbehave to get my attention, Kitty

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I had that!” you shout, chasing after Miguel. 

“No, Kitty, you didn’t. That’s why I stepped in,” he looks down at his watch and storms through the portal. 

It shrinks as you sprint for it. By the time you catch up to HQ, he’s on his platform and you’re looking up at him. He’s deactivated his mask; you can see his dark curls even from this distance. You pull your mask off and catch your breath. 

“Stop following me like a stray,” he growls, his back turned to you. 

“Stop butting in! I didn’t need your saving,” you yell up at him, unable to reach him without webs. 

He growls lowly, “Mentirosa,” he throws some steel prototype across the room. “You did need my saving, Y/N. Who knows what would’ve happened if I hadn’t showed up when I did!” 

“How’d you even know where— have you been watching me?”

“No importa.”

“You fucking creep,” you yell. “I knew it, I knew it,” you slide your hands up and down your suit, searching for the slightest raise in the fabric. 

“Where’s the tracker, Miguel?” 

He scoffs and continues swiping along his orange screen, ignoring you.

“Where’s the fucking tracker?” 

“I’m. Not. Telling. You!” 

“I’ve had enough; that’s it. I’m leaving. I’m taking a break from whatever this is. Figure it out on your own, Spider-Ass.” 

You head for the door, when suddenly, your wrist is tugged back. You look down at your right hand, red web wraps around your wrist, your eyes follow it up to Miguel. 

“Gatita… stay.”

You sigh and turn around. 

“You know you worry me, Y/N. That’s all. I’m not trying to suffocate you, just … keep you safe,” he mutters, jumping down. He walks over to you, following the web he latched to you. 

He approaches you, towering over you, intimidating you. 

You unsheathe your claws, raising your hand up for him to see. You’re not threatened. 

“You’re not the only one with claws, Spidey.” 

“I know that, Kitty,” he sighs, pushing your hair out of your face. 

You drop all fingers but one in front of his face, then fiercely cut the web he has tied to your wrist. 

He looks down at you, his firm poker face unimpressed. He knows how to provoke you.

“I stayed. Now … say you need me,” you purr, pouting up at him. 

“I need you… your help I mean,” he mutters, shrugging. 

You sigh, “You’ll never admit it, will you?... What’s a girl gotta do, hm?” You lightly drag your claws delicately down his cheek and to his chin.

“Maybe stop getting into so much trouble,” he mutters. 

You soften your touch, putting your claws away, allowing just your fingertips to trace his skin. 

He leans into your touch, sighing.

“Hmmm, can’t make any promises,” you sigh, turning around towards the exit. 

He shoots a web at your wrist, again. You stop in your tracks and exhale. 

“Mig,” you sigh, cutting it in one swipe, “stop,” you say, walking towards the exit. 

He shoots again, you cut again. Then again, and again, until you can’t keep up and you’re left standing with both of your wrists successfully attached to the floor, red strands of webbing holding you in place. You hear him getting closer. 

You laugh nervously, yanking both of your hands to no avail. He’s got you pinned down. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out through a smile.

He growls behind you, moving your hair back with his claws so he can graze his fangs along your neck. 

“Miguel,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Y/N,” he says, in between the kisses he plants on your skin. 

He finally stands in front of you, towering over you. He grabs your chin softly, tilting you up to look at him. 

“Finally caught you, gatita. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy,” you breathe out.

“Busy getting into trouble. Mmm, you don’t have to misbehave to get my attention, Kitty,” he smirks, leaning into your face. 

“I wasn’t misbehaving, I was trying to help you. I’ve been a good girl as of late, of course you wouldn’t see that,” you hiss, yanking at the web. 

He bends down into your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. His curls tickle your cheeks; they smell like pear. You inhale his scent, as his warm lips drag along your neck, gently sucking. 

You wish so badly you could run your fingers through his curls, or scratch your claws down his back. 

“Miguel,” you ask nicely, “can you free my hands?” 

“Y/N,” he mimics, “can you be quiet?” he whispers between kisses. 

His lips finally find their way up to yours. His fangs gently bite into your bottom lip before he presses his soft lips into yours. 

Your knees weaken, you lean forward into his chest. He holds you up, his hands on your waist.

One hand traces down your stomach, his fingertips dragging closer and closer to the heat between your legs. He finally hits your sweet spot through your suit. He rubs circles into you, his massive fingers gentle on you, painfully slow. 

He leans his face down closer to you. His fangs brush against your skin before slowly biting into your neck, pain and pleasure causing a sensory overload.

Your gasps grow into moans as your head hangs low onto his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, gatita?” he asks, condescendingly. 

You groan, muffled into his suit. 

He lifts your chin, his maroon eyes locking onto yours. 

“Eyes on me, chula,” he demands before pressing his lips into yours. 

He pulls away, stroking your hair as he continues rubbing into you. 

You close your eyes then force them open to find him watching you moan. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, before kneeling down and pressing his face into your lap. 

You watch as he drags his claws down your suit, exposing your panties. 

“That’s the third suit this month,” you groan, throwing your head back. 

“Guess I’ll have to design you one with a zipper,” he mutters before lowering your underwear down to your thighs and planting kisses around your heat. 

He hums into you, finally surrounding your bud with his warm lips. His tongue and upper lip envelope you, wet and buzzing friction building you up inside. 

He pries your thighs open, his tongue dragging your slick down from your center up to your bundle of nerves. 

He tastes you, “Tan mojada para mí, tan comportada para mí,” so wet for me, so behaved for me. 

He presses his thumb against your bud, then slowly slides his long middle finger into you, stretching you out. He slowly thrusts in and out, his thumb still rubbing circles into you. 

He looks up at you, watching you burn with pleasure.

“Can you take another one for me, gatita? Can you be a good girl for me?” 

You nod, humming as you watch him enjoy you writhe under his touch.

He slides a second digit into you, slowly curling into you, hitting a sweet spot deep inside. You moan out, your walls tight around his big, strong fingers. 

You squeeze the red webs tight, focused on the pleasure he’s creating inside you.

He glues his lips back onto your heat, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, building rhythm and tension inside you.

You moan out his name, thighs closing against his cheeks. 

He rests his unoccupied big hand on the back of your thigh, pulling you into him, creating more pressure. 

He looks up at you smirking, getting off on how vocal you are, how hot and bothered he’s made you. 

His cheeks are pink, his face sweaty, lips glossy with your slick. He continues humming and sucking on you, muttering cuss words when he pulls away to look up at you. 

“So good, Mig, like that,” you moan, gripping onto the webs for support. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he breathes out, pressing his nose against you. 

The pleasure tenses up in your stomach, spreading across your thighs, signaling you’re reaching your peak. 

“Good kitty,” he groans, his voice low, vibrating against your wet heat.

“Such a good girl for me, Y/N. You gonna cum like a good girl for me?” he asks, curling his fingers into you, slow and steady.

You breathe out in between moans, “Mhm, just keep going like that, Mig, like that, I’m gonna…” before collapsing in whines. 

You throb around his fingers, your thighs closing in around him, as you struggle to stand up straight. 

He lets you finish, lapping at your slick, and kissing around the mess he’s made.

He then slowly pulls his fingers out, before licking them clean, sucking your slick off.

He wraps his hands around your waist, holding you up effortlessly, supporting your weight while he continues lapping, cleaning you up as he hums gently.  

You lean forward, your hair in your face, sweat glazing your skin. 

Still on his knees, Miguel slowly pulls your underwear up then stands up in front of you, his eyes meeting yours as he towers over you. 

He brushes your hair out of your face then finally cuts the webs, freeing you. 

You swipe the web residue off of your hands, then shove him, “Fucking asshole,” you breathe out. 

You crack your knuckles, he returns to you, grabbing both of your hands in his. He kisses your fingers slowly, seductively.

“But I made it up to you,” he grumbles, his fangs visible in his smirk. 

You roll your eyes then wrap your arms around his neck, combing your claws through his curls, lightly tugging at the soft strands.

He embraces you, then leans down into your kiss, his tongue softly stroking yours, allowing you to taste yourself. You moan in each other's mouths before he pulls away, his tone deep as he whispers,

“Good Kitty.”

[miguelswifey04]

hi! how do you think miguel would react to teen!gabi’s vape addiction (if she ever had one?)

hi this is such a good one!! omg i had already written it BUT i lost my draft :(( but im writing this again just for you <3 thank you for your request, much love 🤍

“mija! que es esto?!??!” miguel yelled from upstairs as he had just found a vape under gabriella’s pillow. he was just roaming around her room, cleaning her room as he usually does since gabriella allows it. he would have never thought his own daughter would do such a thing. he was dumbstruck and felt his heart drop to his stomach. his thoughts ran 100 miles per hour and his emotions were swirling within him.

hurriedly, gabriella ran upstairs to her room. she knew she’d been caught by the way her father’s voice boomed with anger. “papa—“ she stood by the doorframe as her face went pale. she felt herself go pale and could even hear her heart beating in her ears. “i-i can explain.”

“mija. you better have a good explanation for this.” miguel shook his head in disappointment as he ran a hand through his brown tousled hair. his shoulders flexing with frustration and disappointment. miguel wasn’t one to play with these kind of things. he was big on health and of his daughter’s well-being. after all she’s the only person he has left. he would never want her to fall ill to drugs or anything of that sort.

“papa, lo siento! i—i was just curious..” gabriella said as she twiddled with her fingers in nervousness. she felt guilty and ashamed but just as any teenager they would probably fall into temptations. everyone makes mistakes and miguel knew this as his eyes softened even though his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. it was evident in the way his stress lines on his forehead were more prominent.

“ay mija! you know this isn’t good for your lungs!!” he protested as he motioned her to sit on the edge of the bed besides him. he was disappointed in his own daughter but that did not mean he was going to stay angry at her forever. he knew that wasn’t the answer but most parents wouldn’t know that anyway.

“i-i know…i’m so sorry. i won’t do that ever again.” she hung her head low as she looked down on her lap and picked at the skin of her cuticles. miguel frowned a bit knowing that his daughter was truly sorry and that he knew that teens make mistakes. he knows because he was a teenager once himself.

he sighed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. he looked down at her with a small smile, “it’s okay mija, i understand that but promise your old man that you will never touch anything like that again. do you understand?” his voice boomed with authority and protectiveness. he needed his daughter to understand that her health should be her #1 priority.

gabriella nodded as she looked up at her dad. she feels awful but she’s glad her dad hadn’t grounded her. miguel embraced his own daughter in his arms as he rubbed small circles on her back in reconciliation. he was relieved that gabriella understood him and that their conversation stayed civil. “i don’t want anything bad happen to you. you’re all that i have mija.”

[greensagephase]

Waking up with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader Summary: Just waking up next to Miguel who wants to be close to you. Word Count: 319 Warnings: None. Masterlist

Miguel is sleeping on his tummy (probably why he has back issues), when he stirs awake and discovers a distance between your bodies. His arm is wrapped around your waist, but there’s still that distance, and all he wants is to feel your warmth against his body. Instead of pulling you closer, which he could easily do, he scoots closer to you until his body is against yours, but it's not enough. You're on your back, so he nudges your legs apart just enough for his leg to rest between them because he wants to partially lay on you. Once he does that, without disrupting your peaceful slumber, he buries his face in your neck and just - there. That's what he wants - needs - right now. Your soft and warm body against his, and your lovely scent surrounding him, making him blissful before he settles back into his sleep.

And when you wake up, there’s Miguel, laying partially over you. You can feel his soft and warm breath on your neck as he sleeps peacefully. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, tight enough so you don’t get away from him in his or your sleep. His leg is still nestled between your legs, allowing him to lay on you. You can’t see his pretty, sleepy face but you can see his little messy curls, you know, those behind his ears that you love to play with. No longer feeling sleepy, you play with them and the rest of his messy hair, not wanting to wake him up.

A little short while later, he stirs again as he feels your fingers caressing his hair.

He gives you a little squeeze, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Mine,” he says sleepily, voice deep and raspy.

“Yours,” you reply.

And with that, Miguel continues to sleep, holding you close, snuggling into you even more.

-----

why is he not real?

[oharamwah]

♡ — accidentally more than friends : you and lyla end up spending your entire day gossiping about your new work boyfriend. → 2.0k

boyfriend!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

contents : bff lyla, softie miguel, suggestive jokes, cursing, situationship (the good kind) — also i imply that miguel built lyla which i know canonically he didn’t but just let it slide :p

this idea came to me while i was trying to sleep oopsies

posted july 23rd - edited

© oharamwah , please do not steal my work

you’ve recently gotten into a relationship with your boss, miguel o’hara. well, situationship. it’s confusing, it’s sort of a will they, won’t they scenario. anyway — while the general public deem a staff member fraternizing with the boss as unprofessional, being romantically involved with miguel while working in the spider society was actually way simpler than it sounded.

it’s safe to say that you owe that liberty to the carelessness of it all. you see, this wasn’t the typical workplace. the spider-society is built up of over a hundred spider-people, why should they all focus on just you two?

it started when you created a habit of greeting miguel every morning, sometimes with two cups of coffee in your hands. it’s what you call a butterfly effect; what started off as a friendly gesture, slowly developed into “so what are you up to today?”’s and “tell me more about _,”’s. you may as well be crowned anomaly of the year, because no one has been able to get as close to miguel as you did. someone he actually felt he could chat comfortably and have a coffee with. this friendship escalated quickly though.

it was just innocently sending each other kind smiles behind closed doors, until it was impulsively making out in secret, only to then swear you’ll never do it again… you do. a lot.

and eventually, miguel starts inviting you over to watch a movie, and then to spend the night, cuddling each other to sleep “as friends.”

you both became accustomed to your little daily routine.

today, you wake up in miguel’s bed, but miguel isn’t there. you groggily reach over to his side of the mattress and feel around for his warmth, but you’re greeted with empty linen sheets. this was normal for miguel, he’d often leave for work without you as he had to be there everyday, you only a few times a week.

it takes you a minute to get up, your eyes are blurry from the shift in lighting and your legs are a bit weak (not like that). you shuffle your feet as you make your way to his kitchen to have a glass of water. and that’s when you notice — miguel left his watch on the dining table.

you recognize it — everyone at spider-society wears the same watch, but miguel’s is slightly different. on miguel’s watch is a small hologram display doohickey (you have no clue) which you know to be how miguel talks to lyla, his ai assistant.

you quickly grow curious of this. miguel never lets you mess around with his tools, let alone his own special crafted assistant. he was certain that if you and lyla ever crossed paths, it’d only end in you having a laughing fit and lyla glitching in excitement. not that he didn’t like when you laughed, he loves your laugh. just not when it’s about him.

you reflect for a moment. ‘it would be wrong to snoop and disobey your boss, y/n,’ you think to yourself. but the devil on your shoulder begs to differ.

‘but you’re special, right? he said you’re his favourite.’

‘but he specifically told you not to,’

it was a seemingly endless back and forth of you either checking out the watch or calling him to tell him he forgot it. but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

in the midst of you fiddling around with the watch, a holographic screen pops up, making you jump.

“OMIGOSH, girl in miguel’s HOME!” a small voice says, squealing in excitement. “i have been dying to meet you,” it adds. you know that voice, it’s lyla.

“lyla? god miguel did an amazing job with you.” you praise, inspecting every inch of her outfit and hair.

she twirls around, her big fluffy coat forming a frilly umbrella and her pink heart shades twinkling as she did. “didn’t he? who knew he could create something so fabulous.” she joked. you chuckle.

“it’s so cool to finally talk to you,” you say with a sigh. your eyes are glued to lyla as you find a seat on miguel’s living room couch. “miguel never let me see you.”

“ugh, babes, he never let me see you! i’ve been waiting to find out who’s been raising his heart rate every morning.”

this information sends you into shock. his heart rate rises every morning? is it when he sees you? you feel your ears go warm at the tips and the redness begins spreading to your cheeks.

“his heart rate rises?” you ask, your interest in lyla skyrocketing. “what do you mean?”

“well, every morning around the same time, someone comes into miguel’s workspace and it gets him all excited if y’know what i mean.” lyla winks at you. you’re a little less convinced.

“oh please, he doesn’t get excited when he sees me.”

“sweetie, he so does. trust me, i have all his health stats.” she brags, a knowing smile on her face. your face warms up again. ‘he’s happy to see me,’ you think. you’re used to miguel being sweet to you, you have made out several times and he has accepted all your morning coffees. but to know that you yourself, you in your being, your presence was all it took for his heart to beat a little faster?

“what else do you know?” you inquire, too intrigued to leave it there. although you and miguel almost silently decided that you two were “just good friends” (who get awfully intimate) you just couldn’t help yourself. it’s a known fact that miguel can be a dick, but it’s also a known fact that he does not lack in the looks department.

miguel is an exceptionally tall man with an incredibly muscular build, and even though he isn’t trying, his hair falls perfectly on his head with only a few strands tickling his forehead. he has intense scarlet eyes that pierce through the eyes of any other, and it’s rare, but when he smiles, the warmth could bring you to melt.

moreover, he’s kind to you. he’s attentive, rarely ever letting you out of his sight. he’s humble, but he’s intelligent. he never fails to impress you with his quick thinking.

at least to you, he’s the most wonderful man you’ve ever known — though you are the only person who’s seen the softest of his soft side. you were lucky, you knew a good man under his thick skin.

the day you realized you were falling for miguel was just like any other day. you were at work, completing one of the training tasks miguel had set up for you. you found yourself at a particularly difficult step; you had to swing from pillar to pillar. sure, shouldn’t be a problem for spiderwoman, but webs were always your weak point, no matter how much you practiced. you had been at it for hours, so close to giving up and calling it a day, but someone approaches the doorway of the training room and clears their throat.

“need a hand there, spider?”

his grip was set on your waist and his face was just a little too close to yours that day. his hair smelled good, his hands were big and rough, but his touch was gentle. he’s clean shaven, his breaths were calm, he was patient with you.

so that brings you to where you are now: sitting on miguel’s couch while he’s at work, wearing nothing but your tiny shorts and one of his cotton tees, and you’re having the time of your life chit chatting with his ai assistant.

“so yeah,” lyla laughed, gasping for air. “he was just super gassy that day for no reason-“ she tried to continue, but you were interrupted by the faint sound of keypad beeps and the sound of the front door.

“hey, y/n i think i left my watch,” you hear miguel say. you and lyla give each other an “oh shit” look as miguel walks into the living room and sees you two, both sitting reaaaal comfortably.

“heeeyyy miguel!” lyla says, acting as if you two chatting was a normal everyday occurrence.

“y/n… did you.. are you..” miguel is too stunned to speak. it wasn’t a big deal really, for you and lyla to meet, but miguel knew lyla. he made her. he knew what type of cards she’d pull.

“miguel,” you say with a sheepish smile. “lyla and i were just.. catching up!” you excuse. miguel gives you a look. not one of anger or disappointment, just a “really.” look. he sighs and sits beside you.

“lyla, shut off.” he says, and lyla has no choice but to follow.

“she didn’t say anything weird, did she?” he asks. you can see his cheeks are slightly red and his eyebrows express slight worry. you shake your head. “noo..”

miguel knows you’re lying, and he sighs again, shaking his head and pinching his nose bridge. “what did she tell you?” he said, expecting the worst.

“well… she told me about that one day you couldn’t stop burping.” you confess. miguel groans which makes you laugh. you straighten your posture and place a hand on his broad shoulder.

“please, miguel it’s not bad! it happens to the best of us!” you laugh, trying to console the big tough guy who’s now sitting in his living room, embarrassed in front of the girl he likes.

he looks at you painfully, his cheeks even more red tinted than 30 seconds ago.

“if it makes you feel better..” you start, “she also told me something good about you.”

miguel furrows his brows and rests his chin on his palm, confused as to what kind of good news lyla could have. you smile shyly.

“she told me you get happier when you see me,” you say, your tone no longer teasing.

miguel exhales a small laugh, tilting his head at you. “she told you that?” he said with a small smile that almost says “yeah, right.”

you nod. “she said your heart beat rises when i come in,” you add. you’re beginning to think maybe you should be embarrassed. what if lyla was wrong?

miguel thinks for a second, staring into your eyes, his smile not fading.

“i guess the heart sensor doesn’t lie, huh,” he says, breaking his silence. “she’s not wrong.”

she isn’t? so it’s true?

“i do feel better when you’re with me.” he says, still not breaking the eye contact.

‘is it hot in here or is it just me…’

the atmosphere in the room is no longer awkward, but as if you and miguel are just chatting.

“you do?” you ask, still in doubt. ‘it can’t be..’

miguel nods. “why do you think i invite you over all the time? i like your company.”

now he’s just messing with you. no way all of this is true, right? you two are just good friends, right?

“miguel,” you sigh. fuck it.

“i like you miguel.”

miguel stays still. he’s still looking at you with those gorgeous scarlet eyes that you love, and the small smile on his face has grown into a bigger one.

“like, like like.” you add.

“oh, like like.” he says wittingly.

“i know you do, y/n.” he adds. scratch ‘humble’ off that list of traits you love…

“you didn’t think you could fool me with the amount of times you’ve mumbled my name in your sleep? or the amount of times you’ve come to my office just to ‘say good morning’?”

he does those stupid air quotes you hate.

“well…… yeah..” you say, your head hanging lower than before. you feel a little dumb.

miguel chuckles, “don’t worry, it’s cute,” he sighs. “you’re real cute, spider.” the nickname has a different feeling today. before, it wasn’t so special. you worked in the spider-society for gods sake. but for some reason, in this moment, you felt like the only spiderwoman in his entire world.

“i like like you too, y/n. incase i had you fooled.”

the day went on, miguel decided to stay home a little longer. a several hour exchange of lovely stories of realizing your shifts in feelings for each other and numerous sweet kisses followed your confessions.

will they, won’t they.