#miguel ohara scenario

[luveline]

could I get some miguel aftercare pls 🙏🙏🙏

cw suggestive content mdni !! I actually loved writing this it was the highlight of my day, thank you for requesting. fem, 1k

“You’re doing that thing,” Miguel says. 

You’re breathless where he’s fine, voice lost as you ask, “What thing?” 

He smooths his hands across either side of your face briefly. “Locking up. Relax, sweetheart. Catch your breath.” 

You cover your face with your hands but end up too hot, the back of your neck wet with sweat and your face glowing with heat. Miguel laughs softly, blowing cool air up and down your face where he lays beside you. 

He’d usually call you cariño or some other pet name in his native tongue, so sweetheart is out of the blue but no less affectionate. You close your eyes against his cold breath and slouch toward him, where you’re quickly held in his arms again, his voice quieter as he asks, “You okay?” 

“Mm.”

“Yeah?” He works the soft cup of your bra back down over your chest, pressing a kiss to the hill of your breast. “You sure?” he asks, your skin warmed by his breath. 

You curl down around him, trying to keep him there, your face in his hair and your knee sliding up his thigh as you turn onto your side. 

You’re hot all over and aching, but not unhappy. You walk a careful path up his chest and shoulder to his neck, your fingers brushing over the soft surface of his skin one centimetre at a time, not dragging, just touching, searching for his face. You hold his cheek in your hand and kiss his hair, not caring if it’s slightly ineffectual. He’ll know what you’re trying to convey either way. 

Sex with Miguel nearly always leaves you like this. More than satisfied, desperate to be hugged, and desperate to impress upon him how much he means to you if the sex hadn’t already. Your hand moves with him as he lifts his head to yours, eyes aligned, the familiar hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“You want me to open a window?” 

“I love you,” you say, because what you want is reassurance that it felt the same for him. 

His voice is velvet. “I love you. Te adoro. When I look at you… me dejas sin aliento.”

“Tell me,” you mumble. 

“I can’t breathe.” 

You tip your head back with a laugh, “That’s ironic,” you say. 

He chases you there, his nose down the curve of your throat and his hands pressing behind your back, wrapping you in, hugging you and kissing under your ear, bridging the gap again. It’s weird to be so together, to feel like one person and to have that end, but he hugs you and it’s nearly the same. It’s a different kind of connection. It eases your heart, calms your hot flush. 

“You are beautiful,” he affirms. “I just have better stamina.” 

“Don’t say stamina.” 

“You’re jealous of my stamina, and that’s okay.” He smiles into your neck before kissing it tenderly. 

Moments of this Miguel are rare. He’s so happy, you only get to see him as uninhibited in moments of intense connection, though that can be anything with him. A teasing remark as he helps you up the short step of the tram or a shared smile when you lean back into his chest for no reason at all, knowing he’ll take your weight. 

You savour it. He’s got a good heart. 

And a great physique. “Doesn’t count. You got it all from a bottle.” 

His lips part. “Oh?” he says, the slight scratch of his teeth sending shivers down your arms. 

His lips close in a soft, soft kiss. Miguel pulls away from you to sit up a touch, and then he’s caressing your hip and your knee like he can sense the ache, his face pensive. “Do you want to shower, or should I bring you a towel?” 

“Whatever you want to do.” 

“I want to take care of you,” he says earnestly, hand back up, resting on the strip of fat between hip and ass. “But…” 

You look at him. Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s taking you in, and thinking you might be the most lovely thing he’s ever seen, not just because he’s fucked you and you took it beautifully, or the sounds you made, or the feeling of your arm wrapped behind his head as you kissed him, but everything about you. He loves you and you know that, but he can’t convey it right. And he thinks if he cleans you up he might spend an hour just looking at you, because you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, all your marks and wrinkles and softness. He’d lose half the night. 

“You want to fuck me again?” you ask gently. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he denies, leaning down over you. You close your eyes and allow him another kiss. “It’s late, we can’t stay up all night. You’re tired.” 

You hum regretfully. “Yes.” 

“Was it everything you wanted?” he asks. “I can…” His hand trails down to your stomach. 

You laugh under your breath. “I don’t think I can anymore,” you mumble, half flirtation and half aching fondness. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you?” He brings his hand up and squeezes your face, taking another kiss, so many now you can’t count them. 

You smile into his mouth. You’re thinking thank you for being caring enough to think about it, and he’s thinking you’re crazy for not expecting it. Regardless, he doesn’t touch any lower, only dropping his hand and rubbing a sweeping, soothing line over your tummy and your side. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. 

You peek at him through threaded lashes. “Your eyes are closed,” you whisper back. 

“I knew before I closed them, and I know it now.” He sighs. “Sorry,” he says, kissing your cheek, “forgive me. I’ll get a towel.” 

“It’s my fault, being so enchanting n’ all.” 

Miguel kisses you again. “Exactly.” 

[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

[moh-cas-oio]

Miguel: *Massages your clit to help you sleep* (NSFW)

Sleep deprived OC. He is concerned for your health. He wants to help you to get some sleep.

[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.

[nut-zy]

His weakness is showing?

Rhea & Miguel definitely have spars, to test each others skills & strengths to keep themselves on their toes. Hard to stay focused when your sparing partner is also your actual partner.

She’ll use it to her advantage~

[lacedinweb22]

your neighbor, stoner Miguel ✥°o｡ headcanons nsfw 18+

✤ Stoner Mig who leaves his apartment door open a crack just before you get back from work, knowing the smell will force you to come over.

✤ Stoner Mig, who with eyes red, voice lazy, leads you to his couch, where you sit on his lap.

✤ Stoner Mig who puts the joint in between your lips, lighting it slowly, his eyes on your lips.

✤ Stoner Mig who talks you through it, telling you when to inhale and exhale. He praises you, “Took it so well, chula,” he whispers, eyes low as he takes the joint from your lips into his. He has a glass of water ready in case you start to cough. He’ll hold the glass up to your lips, eyes on yours. He knows how to take care of you.

✤ Stoner Mig who inhales the smoke you exhale, getting high off of the air you breathe.

✤ Stoner Mig who lets the smoke slowly escape his lips, then presses his lips to yours, passing you the little smoke left in his lungs. The kiss gets messy, you lazily kiss, giggling, as your hands roam each other.

✤ Stoner Mig who flirts with you all night, towering over you in the kitchen, pressing up against you, your back against the counter.

✤ Stoner Mig who will make sure you’re fed, dragging you to the kitchen so he can make you a sandwich, a real sandwich. He shows you his pantry, impressing you with all of the snacks he bought, the snacks he knows you like. You stand in the kitchen for what feels like hours, munching on ten different kinds of snacks, talking and giggling til your ribs hurt.

✤ Stoner Mig who rests his hand on your thigh, prompting you to move from your spot on the couch to his lap. You feel his hard-on through his sweats, grinding slowly; it’s innocent really. You’re both high, it happens.

✤ Stoner Mig who lazily whispers how good of a girl you are as you finish him off through his sweatpants. His eyes are drowsy, voice low, deep and raspy. He looks up at you, eyes red, cheeks pink, as you comb your fingers through his hair.

✤ Stoner Mig who spreads you on the couch, his lips wandering down to your thighs. He pulls down your pants slowly, trailing kisses towards your underwear. He drags your panties down to your ankles, as you tug at his roots, he moans at your touch. His lips finally wrap around you, he lazily laps at your core, high, and still able to give you the best head of your life.

✤ Stoner Mig who is needy when high, asking you to come under the blanket with him. He eventually lays down on his side, spooning you, whispering sweet nothings into your hair, high off his ass. You wait for him to fall asleep then head back to your place. You’ll repeat this tomorrow anyways.

‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙

I’m finally 21 years old! ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻) ✿༶⋆˙⊹✢

[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.

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[allysunny]

If you said your requests are open… I know this is silly but JEALOUS MIGUEL

Dude gets annoyed if Y/N talks abt someone else (Ben Reilly, Peter B, some other spider people orsome of her friends back in her world) fondly and even LYLA called him out on that

Then one time when Y/N was doing that thing where she talks abt someone else in a fond way and Miguel accidentally said smth that reveals his feelings for you 🤭🤭🤭

A Jab of Jealousy | Miguel O'Hara x Spider Fem!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Jealous behaviour from Miguel - seriously, he's kind of a stalker in here. He's down bad and whipped and acts like a sulking baby. Mentions of violence, but it's for comedical effect. Peter B. is a menace. Perhaps OOC Miguel? If there's anything I missed, please let me know!

A/N: Hey guys!! Hello!! It's me again! Gosh, it's been kinda long since the last update. I'm very sorry, but as I mentioned, I'm super busy with university, and am trying to juggle everything without going absolutely crazy. I hope you guys haven't forgotten about me! Please be patient <3

Anyways, I had a blast writing this! I'd never really written for jealous characters before, so I'm not really sure if this is any good. BUT it was very fun to write a sulking Miguel. He's just so funny, picture a big grumpy cat, upset his owner won't give him any attention, hahaha!

Anyway sweet Anon, I hope this is to your liking! It's a bit shorter than my usual works, so I apologize for that, though. But I hope it meets your expectations!!

Miguel was fuming. So much, that he could probably fry an egg on his head. In fact, Lyla had expressed a desire to do so. If only she had a physical form, she thought.

But since frying eggs on top of her boss’s head wasn’t an option, she simply chose to watch as he dug his own grave over and over again, acting like a complete moron.

It’s not like she wasn’t amused – but there is only so much she could say when Miguel sulked because you’d given someone else your attention without making him upset and causing a “I am not jealous” rant to happen.

Lyla did not want that.

Lyla knew better than to prompt that conversation.

More people should be like Lyla – namely Peter B., who’d caught onto Miguel’s little act rather early on. But the brunet couldn’t help it – pissing off Miguel was a hilarious past time, and he loved to push his buttons. He wondered how long it would take for him to finally admit his feelings for you.

Thing was, Miguel had a soft spot for you.

A very soft spot for you.

A “I can’t listen to any of these idiots talk, but as soon as you start a conversation, he’ll tell everyone to shut up so he’ll listen” soft spot for you.

A “I do not want to see anyone, leave me alone you insufferable brats, but if you walk into his office, he’ll pull up a chair and let you keep him company” soft spot for you.

A “I can’t believe you guys disgraced your mission and were unable to contain the anomaly, it is unacceptable, unless it’s you because then it’s only a ‘common mistake’” soft spot for you.

A “I’m Mr. Grumpy and Annoyed and spend my whole days sulking, but if you walk through that door, I’ll light up like a Christmas tree” soft spot for you.

A “this is the last empanada in the cafeteria, and I really want to eat, but you seem to be starving, so please have it, I don’t want you passing out on me” soft spot for you.

A “I’m not jealous, how dare you, but if I see you talking to someone else, I will most likely punch a wall (and destroy it in consequence)” soft spot for you.

Yeah.

Miguel was down bad.

But he’d never admit it to anyone – let alone himself.

He’d simply sulk in a corner, muttering about how “Ben isn’t really that interesting, and he doesn’t really need help, he’s just dramatic and needs to grow up”. Or something of the sort.

Right now, he was watching as you casually conversed with Peter B. The two of you were sitting next to each other, munching on some spider themed burgers for lunch and catching up. Mayday was contentedly eating her own burger, cheddar sauce smeared all over her face and coating her hands. 

Peter must’ve made the greatest fucking joke ever, because you bent over the table, laughing like a maniac. Miguel loved your laughter - so carefree, so unapologetically you. You wiped some tears from your eyes, still giggling. You reached out and touched his arm, which made Peter smile, and Miguel frown. 

Why’d you be touching his arm? Were you two that close? Sure, you were friendly with everyone, but were you this touchy? You’d never touched him. Did you only do that to your close friends? Did you perhaps want something more with Peter? Well, Peter was a married man. And a loyal one at that - he wouldn’t leave Mary Jane. Why would you go for a married man?

Miguel was single. Why not go for someone single?

“Oh Peter - never change!” you exclaimed with a bright smile that could’ve lit up the whole Spider Society. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take care of some reports for the big guy.” 

The Big Guy? Who the hell is the big guy?

“Ah, yes. Don’t want him to throw a table at you, do we?” Peter joked.

A table? 

Miguel had only done that once. 

And it was deserved.

Were you talking about him?

“Don’t be like that -” your voice quickly interrupted Peter’s. “He threw a table at you because you’d been slacking off. You let that Doc Ock anomaly escape. He’s not normally like that.”

Precisely. 

Oh.

You were defending him.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he’s not. Off you go, you busy bee!”

“Give MJ my love - I can’t wait to try her casserole. Tell her I’ll bring the pizza rolls, I promised I’d give her my recipe.” You placed a delicate kiss on top of Mayday’s red mane (to which she giggled and reached out her arms towards you - Miguel wondered if you were this naturally good with kids, or if it was just the younger B. Parker that made everyone act like this) and walked away.

Peter smiled to himself, ruffled his kid’s hair, and then looked straight at Miguel, giving him a knowing look from across the cafeteria. He nudged his head towards your figure, and wiggled his eyebrows, mouthing “Jealous?”

Miguel sulked even more, finishing his burger in one whole bite.

Jealous. As if he was jealous. 

The next time something like this happened, Miguel had been doing some research on the Spider Library. It was a fascinating place, really - Spiders from every earth would donate books from their homeland. There were books on just about everything, from Victorian etiquette to small Lego blocks Lego Spiderman would swear to be books (a claim Miguel has never once doubted, for the little guy was one of his most trusted allies). 

He’d been looking through a few cookbooks (Because even Spider People deserve to learn how to cook), looking for casserole recipes. He convinced himself it was simply a way for him to eat a more balanced meal, for him not to eat at the cafeteria every single day - not that there was anything wrong with it, but he sometimes longed for the warmth of a homemade meal. 

“Noir!” your voice cut through the silence, and Miguel caught a glimpse of you chastising yourself for speaking so loudly in a space meant to be relaxing and quiet. “Sorry,” you whispered with a small giggle, before turning to the black and white character. 

You conversed happily, feet tugged under your body as you relaxed on one of the library’s comfiest chairs. The cookbook long forgotten; Miguel was now busy watching you. The way the corners of your lips titled up whenever Spider Noir said something that pleased you, how your hands fidgeted with your hair, twirling it around your fingers or tugging it behind your ear, how your eyes would widen in recognition whenever you deemed the topic good. 

“Stalker much?” Lyla whispered on his ear, making him jump. 

“Mierda! Coño - Lyla - pendeja de una…” He mumbled under his breath, looking around to make sure no one had heard him - unfortunately for him, you had. You looked over in his direction in confusion and gave him a soft smile once your gazes met, as well as a small wave. He retributed, far too stunned to speak, before returning his attention to Lyla. 

“What the hell do you want?” He asked, keeping his voice low and gruff. He hated being interrupted, especially when someone interrupted him while he was looking at you. 

“You do know this whole ‘Watching her from the shadows’ thing is getting sort of old, right? And it’s real creepy Miguel, real creepy!” Lyla chimed in, looking at him over the rim of her heart-shaped glasses. She was way too done with him. And with good reason. While it was amusing to watch jealousy eat him up from the inside and watch how smitten he was whenever you walked in, it was also draining, because it meant she was stuck with a big grumpy cat whenever you weren’t near, or whenever you were near someone else. 

“Why don’t you just ask her on a date?” she asked, voice way too exasperated. It wasn’t the first time she suggested this. Nor the second, nor the third. It surely wouldn’t be the last. “Grow a pair of cojones and ask her out. You’re a decent cook - why not cook up something for dinner? She’d like that, I’m sure.” 

“Why would I ask her out?” Miguel grumbled, trying to focus on his book once more. “And why would she say yes? She’s got plenty of friends, of companions. I’m sure she doesn’t lack dinner invitations.” 

Lyla scoffed and rolled her eyes, wishing her boss wasn’t so stubborn. 

“Well, you should ask her about because you’re whipped! Damn it Miguel, it’s becoming really disturbing to have you sulk and pout all day because she didn’t look your way, or smiled too much at someone else. It’s annoying. And you are becoming a stalker. Look at you! You followed her into the library and were watching her!” 

“I was reading!” replied Miguel, trying to keep his voice down but failing - which earned him a few “Shhhhh”s from other dedicated spiders. “Sorry…” he grumbled. “But I was reading. It’s got nothing to do with her.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, big guy.” If Lyla were to roll her eyes again, they’d probably roll into the back of her head. “Anyway, you have some new reports to catch up on. The new recruits have done a brilliant job, actually. You might want to give those a look.” Miguel sighed and swiftly exited the library, but not before catching your gaze again, and receiving a smile from you. 

Miguel was halfway into reviewing one of the reports Jessica had sent him when he heard a knock on his office’s door. 

“Who is it?” he asked, not particularly thrilled to talk to anyone.

“Oh, it’s me! [Y/N]!” You. [Y/N]. 

Well, his door would always be open for you. 

“Come in,” he said, turning away from his multitude of screens. 

Just be cool. 

It’s not like Lyla was right.

Or Peter. 

They love to tease him - they’re both insufferable and love to annoy him. 

He’s not jealous. 

He’s not possessive or anything. 

“Miguel?” You asked, breaking him out of his trance. “You okay?”

He looked up to meet your kind eyes, and immediately relaxed before them. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just distracted. Jessica sent me some new reports, and I need to revise all of these before I store them.” It’s funny. Miguel would never admit he was tired. Not to Lyla or anyone else. He wouldn’t even admit it to himself - but you were different. You made him feel safe. He felt like he could confide in you and tell you all that troubles his mind.

“I could help you out, if you wanted to?” You leaned against a desk, shrugging your shoulders. “I mean, I don’t have much on my plate right now. If you want, I could look at them?”

Miguel couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t give someone else his workload, couldn’t trust someone else with such an important task. Should you overlook something, the consequences could be disastrous. Even the tiniest detail could lead up to catastrophic events. That’s why he always took it upon himself to review everything himself, to make sure there were no mistakes.

“I might just take you up on that offer.” 

Huh. 

That’s not what he meant to say. 

No, what he meant to say was, 

“It would be great to have a helping hand.”

No. 

No, actually, abort mission. Abort mission.

Miguel didn’t need help. He was doing fine on his own. He was the only one qualified for such important jobs, and that was why he had to set the record straight and tell you,

“Thank you, [Y/N].”

You smiled brightly at him, one of those smiles reserved for your closest friends alone (at least that’s what he thought, because Miguel had not been stalking you, and most certainly wasn’t aware of the types of smiles you gave people).

But did this mean he was one of your closest friends?

Miguel shook his head at the thought, and you giggled – a cheerful, melodious sound that Miguel didn’t mind hearing more often.

“You know, everyone around HQ keeps saying you’re like this big bad wolf,” you begin, gesturing with your hands, as if painting a picture. “It’s funny because you’re not like that at all! It seems like I’m the only one who sees that, though. Oh, and Peter B.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You see, the other day, we were joking about what kind of animals each one of us would be, and – “ Miguel’s ears blocked out the rest of the line.

Peter B. this, Peter B. that.

How close were you two anyway? And why are you always talking about him?

“ – And then I was like, no, Miguel would totally be a cat, and then Ben just completely faints on the floor in front of us, and we burst out laughing!” You’re doubling over yourself, even going as far as wiping tears from your eyes. “Oh, he may be dramatic, but boy is he funny. You should listen to his impression of Victorian Spider; he’s got it down to a tee! And oh – he can mimic Peter Parkedcar so well, he does this thing with his voice, in which he goes – “

He's not even that funny.

“Huh?” You questioned, looking up from your little rant.

Huh? What “huh”?

Oh. Mierda.

Had he said that out loud?

“I’m just saying, he’s not even that funny. Ben Reilly.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking away. “I don’t even know why you hang out with him. He steals everyone’s jokes and makes everything about himself. Also, he’s annoying.”

Way to go Miguel. You do not sound a day over four years old. Not at all.

“Well, I find him charming.” You reply sympathetically. “We all have our flaws.”

“Charming. Tch. Sure, if you find crying over his ‘traumatising day’ which probably consists of a spilled Sepsi charming, then sure, he’s the spitting image of a charming gentleman.” Miguel scoffed, still not finding it within himself to look you in the eye.

“That’s just who he is. I mean, you can’t really blame him, that’s probably how his whole Earth is. Oh goodness – could you imagine? A whole earth full of Ben Reillys?” Your eyes widened and you grinned once again, covering your mouth with your hands. “Peter’s always saying –“

“Peter should probably get some adult friends. And doesn’t he have a baby to take care of? I mean, he can’t possibly be bothering everyone around HQ when he’s a father – you must have things to do other than listen to him ramble on and on and on about whatever topic. Dios, he desperately needs a hobby. Doesn’t he have a wife to return to?”

Perhaps Peter B. could arrange some playdates for Miguel and Mayday. Who knows, the two children might get along.

You’re looking at him, mouth agape in a grin. You supress a chuckle and clear your throat, amusement rather obvious in your eyes.

Could Miguel O’Hara, the big bad wolf leader of the Spider Society, be jealous?

“Someone seems to be a bit jealous.” Your remark was accompanied by some sort of smile that was also a smirk. Almost like you were too amused by the situation but were also flattered. Which you were.  

There was that word again.

Jealous.

Miguel ran the word repeatedly in his mind. Could it be he was actually jealous? Was he, perhaps, too possessive of you? You weren’t his. There was no reason for him to feel so protective.

“They’re just friends, you know.” You shrugged, tilting your head. A few strands of hair fell in front of your face, but you made no effort to move them. It gave you a slightly ragged look, and Miguel felt his heart leap in his chest at the sight. “You could hang out with us sometime. I’m sure they’d appreciate it. You’re the boss, I’m sure fraternising’s not against Spider Society rules.”

It was Miguel’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah – right. I’m afraid any conversation I might have with them will reduce my brain capacity. Thank you, but no.” He waved his hand dismissively. It was true. Ben was a focused superhero, that was true, but he could get caught up in his own drama far too quickly. And Peter B… Peter B. was Peter B.

This was getting quite ridiculous.

Here he was, nearly stalking someone, attacking all her friends, and acting like a possessive jerk, all because he was sad said someone wouldn’t look at him, or hang out with him as much. Miguel was a grown ass man, but lately, he’d been acting like a confused teen going through puberty. You deserved quite better. Much better.

He’d dated women before, surely, he could do it again. He’d had nice dates and formulated interesting conversations. He could do all of that again. Without stalking you and following you around like a lost puppy. He could take you out and grant you a night of fun. Treat you nicely. Cook you some dinner, perhaps.

Something ran through Miguel’s mind – a thought he never expected to have – Lyla was right. Maybe it was time to do things like a proper adult instead of pouting and throwing tantrums whenever you looked somewhere else. It wasn’t fair of him to keep acting this way, and especially towards you, who’d done nothing to warrant such a weird treatment. All he hoped for was that you hadn’t noticed his strange demeanour these past few weeks.

“But, well,” he started, trying not to sound like a sulking child, “I surely don’t lose any of my faculties whenever I’m with you. Perhaps you would like to get some coffee sometimes?”

There it was.

An invitation.

(Even if slightly half-assed)

An opportunity to stop being some creepy loser (Peter’s words), and maybe get closer to you.

(It should be noted that Lyla was observing the whole thing, and although she was merely AI, the joy she was feeling was far too big to be considered “synthetic”. She was simply happy her oblivious moron of a boss had finally manned up. She was so proud. It was like watching a baby take his first steps – only in this case, the baby was a 6’9 superhero who could crush a car with his bare hands. She was proud, nevertheless. He was all grown up now.)

Your smiled softened, and you nodded.

“I’d like that. I really would.”

Miguel looked up.

Huh. That’d been surprisingly easy.

And you’d said yes.

“Really?” Were you messing with him? Was Peter going to kick his door down, shove a camera up his face and proclaim he’d been pranked?

“Yeah!” You shrugged, linking your hands behind your back. “I think it’d be fun. I’d really like to go on a date with you.” Your eyes widened. “Unless – I mean, is it a date? It doesn’t have to – I’m sorry, I just assumed – but it really doesn’t have to, and I’d love to get coffee either way!”

You scrambled for words, face heating up by the second, which made Miguel smile. He didn’t do it often, but in your presence? All was possible in your presence. You brought out the best in him.

“Would you like it to be a date?” Okay, now the ball was on your court. While Miguel had been the one to ask you out, you were the one in charge. If you told him you’d rather meet up as friends, he’d respect your decision. (Maybe stalk you some more with heartbreak in his eyes, but he wasn’t about to say that.)

“I… I’d like that. If it were to be a date, that is – I’d really like that.” You tried to hide the way your fingers fidgeted with each other, but it was far too obvious. And completely okay. Miguel too was nervous.

“Me too.”

You smiled at his words, and Miguel’s smile mirrored your own.

“That’s settled then. It’s a date.”

In the background, Lyla did cartwheels in the air, mentally congratulating her boss.

Miguel’s smile softened and reached his eyes.

Maybe he was jealous.

But he was sure it would work out in the end.

A/N: And that's it! Again, I hope you guys liked it! I'll be working on more requests, and stuff of my own hehe, I can't wait for you guys to see what else is up my sleeve. Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

[luveline]

hiii could I please request miguel walking in on reader crying in secret?? ty!! :)))

thank you for requesting! fem!reader, 1.2k

It takes Miguel half an hour to fix your spider suit, but when he picks his head up from his work desk with a brag waiting on his lips, you aren’t there. He hadn’t noticed you slinking away. Perhaps he should’ve, given his fantastic sixth sense and his habit of awarding you special attention, just you’re quiet when you want to be. 

He sends you a short message through his wristwatch. Where are you? delivered 7:58PM. 

No response. Miguel folds your suit into a square and holds it under his arm, flicking off his workbench light as he rolls his neck from one side to the other. He wanted to finish the repairs before nightfall so as not to disrupt your routine. He quite likes your routine together. In a stressful life, time spent with you is peace he doesn’t deserve. You aren’t a peaceful girl, of course, you’re his idiot, but he knows the stark difference of having you versus not having you. 

He can’t track you without your suit on and your watch doesn’t have that capability, but he can ping your phone. 

You’re in the building still, at least. 

He texts you. Where did you go? I fixed your suit. It’s dinner time soon. 

Loosely translated, it means, Why did you leave? We always eat dinner together. 

Miguel sighs and decides to check the most obvious places first. The alcove of the hallway leading to the laboratory where you like to hide, the arts lounge, the atrium where your friends hang out, and the outdoor area right at the surface of the society. By 8:30PM he’s agitated wondering where you’ve gone, because he should probably know, but he’s not a great boyfriend and you’re not always as honest as you claim. You could be anywhere. You could be with someone nicer. 

He’s pissed. With no choice but to admit defeat, he decides he’ll head up to bed (he’s not going to bed, he’s gonna find you, because you can go wherever you like whenever you like but it’s been a long time since you disappeared without telling him). He cares about you too much, even if he wishes sometimes he didn’t. Not because of you. 

He sulks into the apartment (his apartment, your apartment, you were never supposed to live with him but here you tend to stay), throwing his phone and command pod onto the made sheets of the bed. 

The shower drips in the bathroom. He can hear the plink of water dripping onto the floor, a slow, dysrhythmic pattering. Two seconds, a drop. Three seconds, your breathing. 

He startles. You’re shuddering, a sharp inhalation, that strange sound you make when you’re overwhelmed without being smothered by his shoulder. “Stop,” you say under your breath. Another harsh breath, and a pained whine to follow. 

Miguel has never crossed a room so quickly. For a moment he thinks there must be someone else there, not a fully realised theory but an instinct —you’re telling someone else to stop, because someone is hurting you, because you aren’t alone. But he can hear only your heart, and your breath. So he stops cold by the door without bursting in and forces himself to knock. 

“Mi cielo?” he asks, aiming for tenderness, roughness seeping through. He knocks the door. “I’m coming in, okay?” 

Miguel doesn’t realise the door is locked until he’s cracked the doorframe. 

You stare at him in shock. Tears fall fast but quiet down your cheeks, thick streams of them, the kind to accompany gutted sobbing. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, his chest falling. “What’s wrong? Y/N, tell me. Tell me,” he prompts, secretly terrified at your tears and your quiet. He sounds demanding instead. 

“I’m fine,” you say.

“No you’re not.” He speaks before you can deny it again, not sure what to make of your teary voice or the way you’re smiling; trying to hide. 

“It’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, mi cielo,” —he takes your hand if only to be touching you— “you're crying.” 

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Tears squeeze their way out unbidden. Miguel reaches to his right for the toilet paper and pulls off a few sheets, bundling them in his palm. Careful, hesitant, he brings the corner to your face and begins to dry your tears from your cheeks, your chin, the wet line running down to your t-shirt and then back to your eyes. He shushes you as you shudder, “Shh, lovely. Everything will be fine. Everything… Todo va a estar bien.” 

“It’s fine,” you whisper tightly. 

“It’s fine,” he echoes, much more kindly, though he’s no closer to understanding why you’d locked yourself away to cry so intensely. “Tell me what’s wrong, yes? You tell me what’s upset you.” 

“It’s nothing–”

You try to persuade him but end up sounding even more upset than you had, shaking your head from his touch, receding backward toward the sink. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asks gently. 

“It’s so stupid, Miguel, you weren’t supposed to know.” 

He’d say it was unlike you to be secretive with your feelings. You love loudly, tease louder. You’re spirited and petulant when you feel like it and you’re constantly barraging him with cheerfulness he doesn’t deserve, so why doesn’t your unwillingness to share this with him surprise him? 

“But I know now,” he says, bending to be your height, to meet your tired eyes, “and I want to know what’s wrong so I can make you feel better. Can you let me do that?” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

Miguel can only handle so much. He uses some of his added strength to wrap you up in a full body hug, your toes struggling to stay on tiptoes and then completely off the ground as he leans back under your weight. “I know,” he says, though he hadn’t, “it’s okay, cariño, I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you.” 

You’re all softness in your off-duty clothes. The rolled neck of a worn t-shirt, your naked arm curling behind his neck and your thighs to his. He doesn’t keep you up for more than a few seconds, just enough to take your weight and hopefully save you the energy it’s taking to stay upright. You sag against him as your socks touch down again. He’s the one thing keeping you standing, and he doesn’t mind. You should know that already. 

“Please,” he says emphatically, “don’t cry by yourself. You have to let me know.” 

“Sorry.” 

He moves his head from one side to another slowly, his nose rubbing along your hairline. “Don’t be sorry. But if I don’t know, how am I supposed to fix it for you?” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

“Are you kidding?” He encourages your head back tenderly to meet your eyes. “That’s what we do, hmm? What do you think?” 

You smile. Still sad, still watery-eyed, but a real smile. “Yeah.” 

“Alright. Let’s go sit down, okay? I’ll get you a drink.” 

“So weird,” you murmur. 

“I’m weird?” 

“You’re being really nice to me.” 

Miguel squeezes your arm. “Don’t get used to it, Spider-Girl.” 

[yanderestarangel]

★ 𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 x 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ★

𝐓𝐖: Porn plot, unprotected sex, SUB!reader, oral sex m!receves and You!receves, over stimulation, afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, SMUT, my writing, my english, Dom!Miguel, sex taped, established relationship, reader is FTM, Husband and Husband, Headcanons.

Miguel O'Hara is your husband of 2 years and he is a simple Cowboy in the Mexican countryside, you two met in a bullfight and Miguel fell in love with you practically immediately.

Your marriage is great, Miguel is a loving and attentive husband, always trying to pamper you as much as possible even with the little money you had.

You took care of the house and Miguel worked as a cowboy and caretaker on some local farms, but the money was running out very fast making Miguel worried, so you suggested something, create a homemade porn channel of the two of you.

Miguel was reluctant at first, he always recorded your fucks but it was for personal use, O'Hara used your sex tape to masturbate while traveling to some bullfights and missed you but never thought to post such videos online, until you talk and convince him to do it, then he decides to give in.

"-Okay, mi cielo, let's do this together" -Miguel spoke in a husky voice with desire and anticipation as he adjusted his cowboy hat.

You smiled contentedly, watching your husband pick up his cell phone and open it on the camera, while you two undressed, Miguel seemed a little embarrassed at first but soon forgot the feeling when he saw you completely naked and vulnerable to him.

"-Mmm, that's it, mi precioso, show them what's mine" -Miguel insisted, his voice full of desire and heat, He moved closer to you, his large hands moving to caress your bare skin.

"-I want everyone to see how beautifully you submit to me, how you offer to be fucked by your husband."

He lifted the phone, moving closer to capture every detail of your body, making sure to focus on your wet, inviting pussy.

"-Yes, my sweet boy, I want to record every moment I'm fucking your tight, dripping pussy. Show them how much you love it, how much you love being my devoted whore."

"-You're mine, mi vida, Your body was made to take my cock, I'm going to fuck you until you can't take it anymore... And you want that, don't you? You're my good boy, my devoted whore, and I'm going to use you for my pleasure."

Miguel's fingers entered your pussy, moving skillfully, in and out of your tight pussy, drawing moans of pleasure from your lips.

The sight of your skin and the contrast of his tanned fingers exploring your delicate folds made him mad with desire.

Miguel savored the way your body responded to his touch, feeling your wetness coat his fingers as he pushed them deeper, easily finding his way to your womb.

Miguel moaned hoarsely with the conquest, his voice full of a mixture of possession and longing.

"-You grab my fingers so well, so perfect, (Y/N)." He adjusted the camera to capture the explicit view of his fingers plunging into his wet, needy grip, capturing your moans and expressions of pleasure.

"-This pussy is mine to fuck, stretch and claim as mine." -Miguel couldn't help but let out a low grunt of satisfaction as he felt his walls tighten around his fingers.

"-You're mine, bitch" -Miguel hissed smiling cocky between fleshy lips. "-This pussy belongs to me, and I'm going to fuck you until you're throbbing and dripping with my cum. You're my little pleasure angel, my only."

Miguel's eyes maintained a fierce dominance as he continued to work your pussy with his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to coming in his fingers.

"-You're doing so well, mi niño bonito, keep moaning for me, show them, look at the camera and show the world how much you love being fucked by your cowboy husband."

As you begged for his cock, he couldn't hold back any longer. Growling in need, Miguel pulled his fingers from your throbbing pussy, his gaze dark with primal desire as he positioned himself behind you, the head of his thick and huge cock, pressing against your entrance.

"-Damn, mi cielito, you want my cock so bad, don't you? You want to feel me filling your tight pussy, stretching you like hell."

In one smooth movement, Miguel entered you, burying himself deep in your eager heat. The intensity of the sensation had him letting out a low, throaty moan as he filled you completely.

"-You are mine, my angel" -Miguel spoke dominantly and with a hoarse voice in your ear, his hot and irregular breath tickling your senses, his hips starting to move with a deep and relentless rhythm.

"-I'm going to fuck you until you can't take it anymore. And you want that, don't you? You're my good boy, my devoted whore, and I'm going to use you for my pleasure." -Miguel held the camera in one hand, capturing the on-screen view of his cock thrusting into you, the sound of skin hitting skin permeating the room. He couldn't help but lose himself in the raw pleasure, his thrusts becoming faster and desperate.

"-Sí, mi putito. Eres mío. Your body belongs to me" Miguel gripped your hips firmly, his movements becoming even more intense and possessive.

"-Let them hear how much you want my dick, how you love being fucked by me, you cowboy, you love having my dick inside that naughty pussy of yours don't you? Fuck (Y/N) you're a fucking one prostitute."

His thrusts grew harder and faster, the sound of his moans filling the room. Miguel couldn't contain himself any longer. He could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure in his body peaking.

"-I'm going to fill you up, mi amor and You're going to take every drop of my cum right inside you, you're going to love it mi carinõ."

His thrusts became stronger and more urgent, each one taking him closer to release. The feel of your pussy pulsing around him only heightened his pleasure.

Miguel could feel himself reaching the precipice, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With one final deep thrust, Miguel let out a guttural groan as he released his hot load deep inside you, filling you with his essence. Your body shuddered with pleasure as he emptied himself, his release marking you as his once more.

"-You are mine, mi vida", he whispered, with irregular breathing as he held you and the cell phone tightly "-I marked you, made you completely mine, and now, the whole world will be able to see your submission to me, and how your pussy belongs to me."

You thought it wouldn't work, even forgetting about such a post in a week, but soon Miguel decides to check it seeing that it got 400 thousand views monetizing quickly, to the joy and shock of your husband and you, but that's where the journey begins of you for this world.

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - who wears a black balaclava when he needs to appear to suck your pussy, lifting the black fabric slightly as the camera was positioned a little distance from you, showing your naked body and Miguel's, the muscles of the Mexican and O'Hara's hard cock dripping onto your floor as he ran his tongue over your pussy and clit, making you moan loud and needy.

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - who positions the best angle to show your pussy being fingered by his two thick fingers, while holding your neck and going to your breasts and squeezing hard, making you moan sweet and submissive as he pulls you praised.

"-Yes my boy, good boy, take my fingers in that tight pussy of yours and cum on my fingers, cum soon..."

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who makes you come over and over again, until you're a shivering, overstimulated mess beneath him, with your aching clit and cunt glistening from your juices, as he smiles cocky and captures your trembling body on camera , recording your beautiful reactions as he made you suck on his fingers, wet with your own fluids.

"-Yes suck like a good boy, such a pretty mouth for me, you're so fucking handsome (Y/N), my handsome and submissive husband."

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who always makes a point of sucking you first, passing his tongue over your clitoris and trying to stick the tip inside your pussy, teasing your sensitive flesh while recording you, exposing his tongue and Miguel's half-covered face between your legs, giving you a quick kiss on your clit with a smirk between his fangs continuing the attack on your sensitive area.

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who after recording the foreplay will make you ride him for some couple videos of you, he will literally write in the title -"Save the horse, ride the Cowboy" with you riding him, with your cowboy husband... dressed as a cowboy, as your pussy was stretched to his thick length on camera, and he spread your ass cheeks even wider to show the camera your beautiful pussy milking his cock while you both moaned on tape and Miguel would slap your ass forcing you to ride faster.

"-Fuck my boy, keep it up, mount me like the good bitch you are and milk every drop of sperm from your husband" -Miguel said smiling giving you a strong slap on the ass while he smiled cocky with your reactions above him.

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who loves shooting porn videos with you Totally cute for him, he thinks it's so cute when you wear his favorite outfit for seconds later he literally rips the fabric while fucking you senseless and your pussy juices fall slightly on the camera that was below you, he doesn't particularly mind re-recording with you, you are his submissive husband and he will love to eat your pussy until you can't even talk anymore from so much pain in your throat, just moaning his name.

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who loves to record your pretty face sucking his dick, while you gasped to hold the 23 centimeters long of his dick in your tight mouth, he moaned and threw his head back, holding the camera with his left hand and with his right guided your head, praising you for looking so beautiful choking on his dick like that.

"-Yes mi angelito, keep rolling your tongue around my cock, you are so beautiful (Y/N), my good boy, my cute husband, my naughty little bitch desperate for cock, smile while you suck me, you look beautiful like this on camera , I want to get your best angle."

★𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 - Who fucks you in every possible position, in every hole you leave too, your husband Miguel got even more libido after you started recording porn videos, so be prepared, if you let him fuck your ass, pussy, mouth, hands, breasts (if you still have them), between your thighs, even if he masturbates and cums on your stomach, he will endure 5 rounds in a row, just pausing to see if the recording was good and if you're fine, giving you kisses and hydrating you with water.

[moh-cas-oio]

Miguel: *Moans in English* (Slight NSFW)

I swear I laughed so hard when this reply dropped.

[oharamwah]

♡☆— a secret ? : your life-long partner has been keeping a big secret from you about his career. → 2.3k

read pt. two → it’s not a onsie

husband!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

contents : au!miguel, florist!reader, sliiiightly ooc (he never had gabi), slight gore? (i kinda just describe injuries miguel has),

posted july 22nd - to be edited !

© oharamwah , please do not steal my work

like any other day, you sat in your living room mindlessly listening to the tv blaring a brain frying romance reality show. you already ate dinner, though today you ate alone. despite the tv playing and the dishwasher running, the house was quiet.

‘he’s usually home by now, this is the fourth time this week.’ you thought.

your husband, miguel, worked at alchemax, the biggest scientific research company in all of new york. he was always so dedicated to his job, always giving it his all, but you are his wife. he always made time for you. you are his world. right?

##

new york, new york - 2089

6:03 pm : you run a small floral shop in new york right on the edge of broadway street. flowers are your favourite thing in the world — they’re so beautiful without even trying. you sat down, ready to take your first break of the day. a bad storm had hit the city the previous night and completely ruined your outdoor setup. what used to be a lovely arrangement of wooden shelves bathing in different floral collections you gardened became a mess of buckets, paper wrappings and loose flower petals. so, you spent the entirety of the day cleaning up and gathering the remains of your flowers.

you dusted your hands off on your apron and collapsed into your chair, a deep sigh following after. you closed your eyes and settled into relaxation, but suddenly..

door chime

your eyes jolt open. ‘seriously? the shop is open all day and no one comes in until now?’

you got up anyway. before your eyes at the entrance of the shop is a man. a tall man, nearly as tall as the door itself. he must’ve had to crouch to get in. he had messy brown hair, reddish-brown eyes, and a small scar on his left cheek.

you greeted him sweetly as he walked towards the counter and flashed a handsome smile, his canines slightly pointy. “evening,” he said politely, leaning one elbow on the counter. “i need a bouquet.” he said. duh. “well, you came to the right place,” you replied. “what kind of flowers are we looking for?”

the man thought for a second before sheepishly asking for advice.

“actually, they’re for my mother. i’m not very good at flowers or gifts, but it’s her birthday tomorrow.”

you gawk at this. ‘awww how sweet. does this mean he’s on the market??’ you thought. “oh, well, do you know her favourite colour?” you ask. “hm.. i know she likes pink. and yellow.”

you nod and walk past the counter, past the tall handsome man, and take a look around the shop. you come across a patch of pink dahlias and an idea pops into your head.

“might i suggest these lovely things? they make lovely centre pieces in assorted bouquets.” you say, your mouth curving into a smile as you make eye contact with the beautiful stranger. he smiles back. you hold up one of the flowers and he takes it into his hand, inspecting it as if it were some oddly creature — it was a flower. he rose the flower to his nose to smell it and his eyes closed in delight. he opened his eyes and looked into yours. ‘god his gaze is intense.’

“perfect.” he said with a small smile.

he had a certain look to him. not skeevy, not overbearing, he just looked good. now, not in an attractive sense (although that was definitely something that was on your mind) but in a human way — something about this man and his demeanour screamed “i’m a good man with a good heart who loves deeply.”

and at the time, little did you know, but the man thought nothing less of you. he knew for certain the second he saw you: that first visit to your floral shop would not be the last.

##

by the time miguel got home, it was already 4 o’clock in the morning. to say you were upset was an understatement.

yes, you were still awake, but only a little. you lay in bed scrolling on your phone as your eyelids weigh down on themselves, your brain fighting to keep them open. the idea of making sure miguel got home safe was the only thing keeping you up. and then, you hear the familiar sound of the door unlocking, followed by the kicking of boots and the dropping of a briefcase. miguel grunts.

in this moment you are livid. your husband has come home late in the past, yes, but never this late. before you know it, you’re on your feet again, awake as ever.

“miguel?” you call out as you leave the bedroom. the more you near the front door, the more you hear him panting. you get closer, and there he is. your husband is leaning against the wall, his scrunched up face showing nothing but pain. he has a few blood stains on his shirt, his hair is a disheveled mess, and the entirety expresses a deep exhaustion.

“oh my god, miguel,” you say in a sigh, rushing to him, your heartbeat picking up with every second. you grab onto his shoulders to support him from falling. “miguel, dios mío what happened to you??” you pleaded. “y/n,” he said in an exhale, “you should be asleep, my love.”

you couldn’t believe him. first, he comes home late. second, he’s clearly injured. and third, he’s completely ignoring the fact that he is injured.

“miguel..” he refuses to look at you. he can’t. “miguel look at me.” you say sternly, your voice slightly louder than normal.

miguel is convinced that in your entire marriage, and in the whole 11 years of you two knowing each other, you never raised your voice when you don’t have to. parties? sure. calling miguel down for dinner? of course. but when you’re upset with him? never.

miguel looks up at you, breathing heavily. his eyes are worn and weak. in this moment, he feels ashamed.

“what happened, miguel?” you said in a whisper, cupping his face in your hand. “who hurt you..” your other hand reaches his chest, his quick heartbeat along with the warmth of his skin seeping through his blood stained shirt. your faces were inches away, miguel could feel your breath on his nose. he only looked at you.

“miguel, please. talk to me.”

by now you were more desperate than upset with him. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. you and your husband aren’t the kind to keep secrets from each other. anything and everything about yourselves, the other could recite the fact in their sleep. so what happened this time? what’s been happening this week to make miguel think he had to hide and come home at ungodly hours? let alone covered in his own blood?

you reached for the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them, and what was revealed shattered you. miguel’s chest was painted with scratches, and one big gash right across the middle. he could only look down with embarrassment. it was hard for him to know you were seeing him in this state.

the most that’d happen to him at work is a small cut on his hand that he’d play off as a paper cut, or even red eyes that he’d blame on being around too many chemicals. he was your strong husband, your miguel who never felt any pain, or showed it. him being this vulnerable infront of you made his heart clench. he never wanted you to see, to know. but this was inexcusable. he knows today is the day.

“y/n,” he said, breaking his silence. “cariño.”

he looks at you, for the first time in what felt like hours.

“i haven’t been good to you, and i know that.” he admits. “and i know that i’ve been coming home late, and dismissing your concerns when i do,” he takes your hand and gently holds it. “miguel-“ you start, but he interrupts you.

“my love, i hope you know i mean well. i only want to be good to you.” he assures you, almost begging for you to hear him out.

“i know that baby but-“ “but today is different, i know.”

you’re at a loss for words. on one hand, you’re extremely confused; where on earth is he going with this? but on the other hand, all you want is to kiss him, clean him up and go to bed.

“mi reina, i haven’t been 100% truthful with you. about my job.” he states. “i..”

miguel pauses, trying to think of the tamest way to tell you the truth without sugar coating it. “you..?” you say, getting impatient.

“i’m not just a scientist at alchemax.” he looks at your lips and back into your eyes. “what, you’re a shitty hit-man too?” you say, half joking, half serious. ‘dios bueno is going on..’ you think. “no.” he says in a sigh, “no i’m.. i’m..” “what is it miguel please..”

and then he says it.

“i’m spiderman.” he looks at you.

“you know, that guy that’s always on the news?”

“oh.. you’re.. you’re… are you serious?” you let go of him. miguel nods. he isn’t surprised, he knew this wasn’t easy information digest.

the news stories didn’t exactly show is best side either. sure, he helped people, but he’s killed people too. out of malice? no, definitely not. but for the sake of the civilians? give or take a few. and miguel knew exactly what you thought of vigilante types.

“i just wish they didn’t hurt anyone at all,” he recalled you saying one evening. “this spider guy would be a lot better in my eyes if he just saved a kitty stuck in a tree once in a while.” to which miguel would get defensive and argue that “maybe he’s doing his best not to hurt them, honey.”

it all started to make sense.

“please let me explain.”

“explain..” you say in disbelief. “oh yeah take a minute to explain this huge secret you’ve been hiding for how long?!” you exclaimed. here comes the anger once again.

“y/n, please just hear me out.”

you look at his face, and then at his wounds, and suddenly you remember who you’re yelling at.

he was stupid to lie to you. really stupid. but you love miguel, you’ve loved him since you met him that one evening in ‘89. so you cross your arms and stay quiet.

“i wanted to tell you, my love. i did. and i should’ve. but.. you just don’t understand.”

“understand what, miguel?” you ask, so quietly you’re almost certain he didn’t hear. your heart hurts.

“i kept this from you to keep you safe.” he explained, and you scoff. he can’t be serious.

“miguel-“

“i know you, cariño. i know that if you knew, you would find a way to get involved and end up getting hurt. i could lose you.” he takes a step forward and reaches out for your waist, pulling you closer. you give in.

“i’m involved regardless, miguel. i’m your wife.” you explain, desperate to show him that you care. “we’re supposed to be a team, remember?”

you’re looking up at him with teary eyes, the same eyes that miguel fell in love with years ago. miguel’s got many weaknesses with you, but your eyes have proven themselves fail proof. the way you’re looking at him makes his entire brain go fuzzy.

miguel sighs. he knows you’re right. all of a sudden, his shoulders feel 10x heavier with all the guilt he’s carrying.

“you’re..” you pause. you have to think.

“you’re spiderman,” you whisper nervously, “but you’re my miguel first.”

miguel is taken aback by this. the anger he expected, but this? he did not prepare for.

“i don’t want you to feel as if you have to hide who you are.” you gently trace the scar on his cheek. “if this is who you are,” you say, gently touching around his injuries, “i still love you miguel.”

the weight on his shoulders is lifted. he knew you loved him, but the confrontation inevitably led him to think that might not last.

he sighs, “i just don’t want to let you get hurt, my love. i could never forgive myself if i did.” he looks at you longingly.

“if i promise to stay out of it,” you grab his hand, “to stay as far away from all the danger you face..” he gives you a sorry look. “would you just trust me?”

“i love you y/n, i do trust you. you are my entire universe and more.” his usually furrowed eyebrows are softened and his heartbeat had calmed down. “and i.. i’m sorry for not telling you. for making you feel like i don’t trust you. i really do,” he leans his forehead against yours. you can feel his breath again, but this time, it’s breaths of relief.

“i forgive you, miguel.”

his eyes are deep, but you’re close enough to see that his pupils dilate at the sound of your mercy. miguel felt his body regain strength, rejuvenating itself. he leaned in to kiss you softly, so soft in fear that if he was too rough then you’d crumble away and disappear. the kiss was gentle and loving, but the feeling that lingered after was begging for more.

your eyes remain gazing at only each other and you both smile wistfully.

“whaddya say we get you cleaned up and in bed,” you say, comfortingly rubbing his shoulders. miguel chuckles.

“only if you’re gonna help me,” he said, looking at you in a way that showed he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

you jokingly roll your eyes, smiling.

“lead the way, mi héroe.”

spanish glossary :

dios mío - oh my god

dios bueno - good god

cariño - my dear, sweetie, honey

mi reina - my queen

mi héroe - my hero

[lacedinweb22]

Miguel babies you when you’re sick ⁺‧₊˚ boyfriend headcanons Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader  

nsfw 18+ towards end

⊹ At the first sign of a cold, he’s on it, forcing you to stay on the couch, drink water, and take zinc supplements every three hours. You tell him to stay away, but he insists that his immune system will fight it off, which always proves true. He wraps you up in blankets and cuddles you. 

⊹ You’ll dig your face in his neck, groaning and complaining about the aches you feel all over, while he massages your neck dipping his fingertips up into your hair, massaging your neck, then tracing down to your back. His hands are so strong, he effortlessly gives you the best massages of your life. He whispers into your hair, “Sana sana colita de rana. Dame un besito para hoy y mañana” (Heal heal little frog's tail. Give me a little kiss for today and tomorrow).

⊹ He’ll make you soup, bringing it to you in a mug so you can sip on it as he wraps you up in his arms while you watch your favorite comedy together. He’ll give you endless kisses on your head as he holds you. 

⊹ As you’re curled up against his chest, kissing his neck gently, he’ll massage your thighs, which eventually progresses to his face in between your thighs as he wants so desperately to make you feel good when you feel so shitty. 

⊹ He’ll drink you up. He’ll place gentle kisses around your heat, before going straight to town, lapping at your core as you arch your back against the blankets under you, moaning and whining from the pleasure, the much-needed release of tension from your body. As he sucks gently on your sensitive bud, his hands explore your thighs then go up under your t-shirt and onto your belly, as he squeezes, and massages your warm flesh. His fingers massage your lower belly, making you more sensitive, bringing you your orgasm, the first of many. 

⊹ He runs you a hot shower and joins you, carefully lathering soap all over you, his big hands massaging your aching body. He sits down on the ledge, rubbing soap onto your thighs, hips, and stomach, then tracing his big hands up to your breasts, gently massaging as he looks up at you lovingly. He gets back up and urges you to turn around so he can rinse the soap from your hair. He gently combs his lengthy fingers through your locks then moves your hair, giving himself access to your neck, kissing and sucking gently on wet skin. “I’m sorry you’re sick, cariño,” he mutters into your neck. “Make me feel better,” you whisper back, pressing your ass against him. He does just that, turning you back around so he can kiss you, and press you up against the tile wall. He holds your thigh against his hip, opening you up, and thrusting up into you slowly, gently, providing endless kisses, endless words of encouragement, “Like that, baby. Does that feel good, princesa? Am I making you feel better?” he’ll whisper, brushing your wet hair from out of your face. Your nails dig into the back of his biceps, as you look up at him, head thrown back against the tile, moans and heavy breathing echoing through the steamy bathroom. His tip massages up into your g-spot, his slow strokes bringing the blissful ache in your stomach down to your thighs, as you begin to c*m around him, throbbing as he bottoms out into you, muttering cuss words as his lips brush against your forehead. 

⊹ After your shower, he'll massage vaporub onto your neck and chest, then help you put on your pajamas (one of his t-shirts and sweats), then he’ll give you some hardcore cold medicine, the kind that is quick to knock you out. He insists you get in bed, but you want to watch more of your show. So he’ll oblige and spoon you sideways on his big couch as you both watch TV, his hands running all over you, under your t-shirt, massaging you, feeling you, actively trying to find ways to make you feel better. He’s propped up on one elbow as you lay in front of him. He eventually sees you’ve succumbed to the medicine and so easily carries you to bed.

[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."

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

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)