#atsv imagine

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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[spiderg0th]

Established or mutual pining with Hobie Brown 🥺 maybe he's teasing the reader who is also a spider person (maybe include a kiss fake out or a chin tilt, something cutesy that gets the reader flustered). Maybe they're working together to capture an anomaly, and the reader is playfully annoyed?

(Hope that made sense!🥺)

can i kiss you?

hobie brown x spider person! reader

desc you visit his world for the first time.

wc 925

warning contains small spoilers from atsv (though it takes place before the events of the movie) and a mention of an injury.

Squinting as your eyes adjusted to the flashing array of colors from the portal, you removed the hand that shielded your face as an entire new world came into view. Taking a moment to take in your surroundings, you stood in awe at the vast landscape before you: large buildings featuring colorful billboards dominated the landscape. Everything flickered and changed shape every couple of seconds—it was unlike anything you had ever seen before. That was saying something because despite your short time in the Spider Society, none of the other worlds you had visited came anywhere close to this.

“Impressed?” Hobie questioned smugly, and even though you couldn’t see his facial expression due to his mask covering it, you knew that he was probably smirking.

“You were right, it’s certainly something.” You responded, pressing a few buttons on your watch, letting headquarters know that you both had safely traveled to Earth-138. An anomaly of Kingpin from another dimension had shown up in Hobie’s, so naturally, Miguel paired you together to handle it. Not only did you work well together, but Miguel trusted you to make sure that Hobie would get the job in a timely manner.

“I know exactly where it is. Just grab on so we don’t have to waste anymore time.” He spoke before bending over slightly so his lanky frame was closer to the ground.

“You’re joking right?” You asked incredulously, attempting to hide the uneasiness from your voice. If you were being completely honest with yourself, being piggybacked around by your crush sounded more than pleasant, but you didn’t want to give him any indication of your feelings. Besides, wouldn’t “fraternizing” like this be breaking some sort of Spider Society rules? Relationships between two spider people from different dimensions didn’t exactly sound like something Miguel would be in favor of. Then again, you rarely agreed with his policies anyway.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked again, turning to look at you over his shoulder. “You scared or something?”

“What? No?!” You said agitatedly before reluctantly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Alright, hang on.” You knew from spending so much time with him that Hobie’s style of swinging around was more erratic than most, but you weren’t expecting it to be this wild. It was taking every amount of restraint within you to not let a scream rip from your throat. It was bad enough that you were sure he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

“Hold on, hold on.” He stopped on the top of a nearby building and you set yourself back on the ground.

“Are we here already? The watch says he’s much farther from here.” You state, looking around at the bustling streets below.

“No. You’re almost strangling me with your arms. We’ll get there soon.” Not even giving you a moment to protest, he places your left arm around his shoulder and his right around your waist. Securing a web on another skyscraper, you were off. Although this position was far more comfortable, it was also more embarrassing. Even though you were thankful he couldn’t see your expression beneath your mask, you still felt the need to hide your face in his neck. When you eventually reached the location where Kingpin was, you couldn’t deny the disappointment you felt when his arm slipped away and he set you on the ground.

Setting yourself down next to him on the ledge, you let out a sigh of relief because Kingpin was finally caught. He would have to settle for being tied together with webbing for now, as Miguel and Jessica weren’t there to physically take him back to the Spider Society Headquarters. He put up one heck of a fight, but it wasn’t something neither of you couldn’t handle. That didn’t mean you escaped the battle unscathed though. You caught Hobie examining your features when you slipped your mask off your face. If you weren’t so tired you would actually be embarrassed at the attention.

“Wait, look at me.” He said quietly, tucking a finger under your chin so he could look at your face more closely. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning your cheek.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He didn’t have a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which was kind of alarming to you. “It’s just a cut… gonna look sick once it’s healed.” You felt disappointed again, he was just looking at an injury on your face, nothing special. Assuming that he was done, you attempted to move your head back forward but his voice stopped you.

“Can I kiss you?” That’s not what you were expecting at all. Not thinking much, you immediately nodded your head and you could’ve sworn that you saw him smile before he leaned in. Unfortunately for you both, your watches decided to go off when your lips were only about a few centimeters away from each other.

“We’re here.” Hobie rolled his eyes as you stood to your feet. “Send the location of Fisk and meet us there.” As usual, Miguel had terrible timing. Before you could utter a word to Hobie, he swung to a building below and turned back to face you.

“You coming down here or do you need me to come back up there and grab you again?” He shouted jokingly.

“Shut up!”

While the day didn’t end up going exactly how you wanted it to, you were happy because one thing was certain: Hobie liked you back, and that was all that mattered.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobart brown #hobie brown imagine #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x /n #spider punk imagine #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagine #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse

[indecisive-capricorn]

Weekend Mornings || Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant Wife Reader:

WARNINGS: Fluff and a worried Mama O'Hara but nothing bad happens!

SUMMARY: After waking up, you got a little worried when you couldn't find Miguel beside you.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first imagine in a really long time, so there might not be a lot of details but I do hope you like it either way! Also, I apologize if the translations are wrong and please feel free to correct me if they are wrong.

MASTERLIST: Feel free to check out my other works! :)

"Morning, mi vida," you hear your husband speak gently behind you, before he kisses your shoulder. His hand slips underneath the warm blanket protecting your body from the cold air, gently caressing your swollen belly.

You hum back softly in response, your eyes remaining firmly shut as you refuse to open them just yet, still feeling quite sleepy.

Throughout your pregnancy, you are the type of person who loves to sleep in until nine o'clock in the morning during the weekends, but you can't say the same about your husband who always wake up at dawn. It becomes a small routine for the two of you. As soon as Miguel wakes up, he immediately pulls you into his embrace— if not already or if you had unintentionally moved away from him during your sleep —and spends some time cuddling you while he admires your baby bump. Sometimes, Miguel will even start talking to the baby if he feels them kicking.

As always, you find yourself drifting back to sleep in Miguel's embrace. You're not a heavy sleeper, but the calm silence and Miguel's comforting touch lull you into a peaceful slumber within a few minutes into the cuddle. There is just something about being wrapped in his strong arms that makes you feel utterly safe and content, as if nothing in the world could disturb it.

After an hour of cuddling and making sure you're not on the very edge of the bed out of a fear that you might fall off it because it has happened once and Miguel wouldn't leave you alone for weeks after that accident, Miguel gets out of bed. Knowing you'll still be asleep for a few more hours, he quietly gathers his belongings and prepares to head to the gym but not before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Miguel slipped out of the bedroom after that, careful not to wake you up with too much noise, gym bag in hand.

. . . .

Your eyes slowly flutter open as you stretch your arms to the side, instinctively reaching for your husband, only to furrow your eyebrows when you don't feel his touch and look over to find it empty.

Assuming Miguel was still at the gym, you dismiss the worries of his absence. However, as you take your phone from the bedside table, you realize it was past nine o'clock, a sense of unease appears in your stomach. It was unusual for Miguel to be at the gym for so long since he is always consistent with his routine on returning back home by half past eight. Peeling the blanket from your body, you carefully slide out of bed, a hand cradling your eight-month-old stomach protectively.

Your heart was racing with concern as you quickly check the empty bathroom, finding no sign of Miguel there. You hurriedly went out of the bedroom and down the stairs, your footsteps making loud noises. Hurriedly, you dart out of the bedroom and descend the stairs, your footsteps echoing loudly in the house. As you enter the living room, your senses are greeted by the scent of pancakes and the sound of sizzling from the kitchen.

Instantly, a wave of relief washes over you, calming your worried heart. Despite the scent and the sounds coming from the kitchen, you feel the need to see Miguel for yourself, to reassure yourself of the love of your life's safety. Hurrying to the kitchen, you find him there, flipping one of the pancakes over with a spatula, and a sense of peace settles over you as you realize he's safe and sound.

Miguel looks over to you with a frown. "Mi vida, ¿qué te dije de bajar corriendo las escaleras? Hay tantos casos de gente que se cae por las escaleras y—" he begins in a scolding and worried tone, but it fades into silence as you approach and envelop him in a tight hug. Although confused, Miguel senses your need for reassurance and wraps his arms around you, holding you close and soothing away any lingering worries with his touch.

"I thought something happened to you," you sniffle in the hug and Miguel's grip on you tighten slightly as he immediately understand the reason for your worries.

In the third trimester of your pregnancy, Miguel made sure to minimize his missions, only going on them to assist the trainees or if there was any emergencies when necessary. Despite being relieved of the measures he has taken for you and the baby, the fear of something happening to him during his duties as head of the Spider Society lingers in your mind. You understand and respect his role as a hero, but the mere thought of him sustaining any injury on a mission fills you with dread. A single wound is enough to disrupt your sleep for days, as the concern for his safety weighs heavily on your mind.

"Nothing will happen to me, mi vida," Miguel speaks gently, his voice laced with reassurance as he lovingly strokes your cheek, wiping away the few tears that have escaped down your cheeks. "I promise to do everything in my power to keep us safe and to return to you, always." He swears to you, his gaze unwavering as he looks down at you with a determined yet assuring expression.

You sniffle again, finding solace in Miguel's words. It has a calming effect on your heart, and your breathing gradually turning back to normal. Resting your head on his chest, bask in the peaceful silence that surrounds the two of you. There's no need for words to fill the air as the simple touches between you and Miguel speak loud enough for both of you to understand.

The sweet moment is abruptly interrupted by a burning smell that filled the kitchen. "¡Ay, coño!" Miguel cursed under his breath, remembering about the forgotten pancakes, swiftly moves to turn off the stove before the food has a chance to catch fire.

Grimacing at the sight of the burnt pancakes, Miguel turns to you with a sheepish expression. "Eggs and bacon?" he offers as an alternative since it's one of the quickest meal he can whip up for you.

You hum and nod, liking the idea of eggs and bacon. "And orange juice?" you question, your stomach grumbling in hunger at the thought of the delicious meal.

Your cheeks turn pink in embarrassment, but Miguel just chuckles, finding your reaction endearing. "Anything for mi reina." He replies back affectionately, planting a kiss on your cheek before heading to the fridge to retrieve the eggs and raw bacon.

Translations:

Mi vida, ¿qué te dije de bajar corriendo las escaleras? Hay tantos casos de gente que se cae por las escaleras y— = My love, what have I told you about falling down the stairs? There are so many cases of people who fall down the stairs and—

Mi vida = my life

Mi reina = my queen

#spiderman #marvel #spiderman 99 #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #might delete later #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #pregnant reader #pregnant #pregnancy #breakfast #fluff #imagines #atsv imagine #spiderman atsv #second chances

[th0ti-th0ts]

just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

#hobie x reader #Miguel x reader #hobie brown x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv x reader #atsv imagine #lmao this was fun to write #I was a little iffy about making hobie too flirt tho so I tried to tone it down hoduhodushfd

[spiderfunkz]

going to a concert with 1610 and 42 miles?

✧.* WHILE THE NIGHTS ARE YOUNG.

— characters : earth 1610!miles morales & earth!42 miles morales.

— a/n : helloooo thank u sm for this request!! sorry this took a bit but i hope u like it <33 both art are from pinterest i can't find the exact artist but credits to them. sorry this is very short btw oops 🙃🙃

✶ earth!1610 miles morales :

surprises you with red roses and concert tickets to your guys' favorite artist!! gets super excited when you give him a kiss to thank him and starts hugging the life out of you. you spend the day listening to your favorite artist and karaoke-ing.

the day of the concert you two are screaming your hearts out with the biggest smile on your faces. before the concert, you & miles picked matching color coordinated outfits that fit the artist's vibe along with matching bracelets he also got for you!!

"this is probably the best night of my life! i'm so glad i can spend it with you, mi princesa."

✶ earth!42 miles morales :

he is the biggest fanboy ever, secretly. his eyes immediately lit up when he saw that you got two tickets to see his favorite artist, one for you, and the other one for him. "thank you! *kiss* so! *kiss* much! this is why you're my everything, mami." and he'll give you the biggest smooch and hug ever.

he'll sing until his voice gets raspy & sore. when it gets to your guys' song he'll get excited and start singing — "come on ma, this is our favorite song, i wanna hear your pretty voice sing!" he gives you the biggest smile, twirling you around.

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x you #across the spiderverse #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv #atsv fluff #miles atsv #atsv miles

[phyrestartr]

The Intern | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

#NSFW, Age Gap (mid 20s and mid 30s), reader's a homewrecker, Miguel's a cheater, mentions of toxic marriage, male!reader, bussy loading, porn with feelings, Miguel's a bit of a dickhead, top Miguel (for now), bottom reader (for now)

Note: I can't write anything without making it into a series lol I'm writing another part right now leave me alone!!!

-- The Intern --

[ How it Started: 1/2 ] [2/2]

Miguel didn't take interns. He hated them, actually; the way they'd needle him with too many annoying questions, the times they tried flexing their unimpressive knowledge of genetics, the way they'd fail to flirt and catch his eye–all of it ticked him off, made him snap and snuff out their bright, curious flames. He didn't mean to. He didn't want to make future scientists lose steam. But he had a limit, and these day, it was hit way too fucking often.

That didn't change when the tours came through. Actually, between his wife pushing his buttons and the young, bright-eyed scientists eyeing him over, everything just pissed him off more, shortened the limit exponentially. 

And he saw you there, listening to someone with a better temper talk. You didn't look all too impressed. You were maybe a little bored, actually. Your eyes swept across the room in wide arcs, looking for something interesting to land on. That was a feeling Miguel could relate to all too well. 

But your eyes eventually landed on him, somehow. You pursed your lips slowly, like it'd make too much noise otherwise, while your cheeks lifted in amusement. You glanced back to the speaker and back to Miguel, eyebrows gesturing too perfectly: get a load of this guy, eh? 

Miguel's expressionless mask slipped for a moment, and he twitched a smirk. He shook his head and looked back to his work. 

He did, however, glance at you on your way out. You didn't look back at him. 

–

He and Dana agreed to separate. It'd be a momentary thing, a way to work out the kinks in their marriage without more random accusations and hurtful words being thrown at each other on the daily. Miguel didn't want that. He didn't want Gabi to be subject to it, most of all. 

The separation calmed things down quite a bit, down to the point where Miguel wondered why they were arguing so much in the first place; until Dana did a very Dana thing and decided, for some reason, she couldn't take care of Gabi by herself while they were separated. Probably a ploy to get them back together under the same roof. Probably a scheme to manipulate the situation. 

But Miguel could play hardball, too. 

He'd pick Gabi up every day after school, and take her to the lab, but sequestered off in the cafeteria where a security guard was always present. She'd get to snack, she'd do her homework, and Miguel could work knowing she was safe. Not ideal, and maybe a little lonely for her, but easy. 

Checking up on her was another good excuse to walk away from his work, too. And one of the times he passed by, in desperate need of a cup of coffee and boost from his little girl's warm smile, he saw someone sitting with her. 

He watched for a moment as he stirred his coffee. Then, he realized it was you, that random intern from the tour a few months back. You were sat across from her, munching on whatever your late lunch was, and nodding emphatically to whatever his little girl was going on about. Her arms gestured wide and her giggle resonated brightly in the room, drawing some annoyed glances and cooing comments, but you didn't miss a beat, matching her laughter and big gestures. It was nice. 

Miguel's shoulders relaxed a little for once. 

He saw you there more days than not. And the days you weren't there, he often spied Gabi looking around, no doubt wondering where you were. It hurt his heart a bit to see her pout, truth be told, and he started to realize he should probably get to know you if you were inadvertently babysitting his kid. 

So, the next time he found you there, he walked over. 

You were beside her this time, both hunched over her usual tablet full of homework. You were the one gesturing wildly this time, talking too much with your hands as you explained fractions and common denominations and the sort in a way that truly only kids could tolerate and understand. Miguel had to put an end to it if he wanted to talk with you. 

"So, for this one, the little bitch on the bottom is–" 

"Sorry, 'little bitch'?" Miguel interjected, smirking when you jumped and Gabi gasped in delight. "Don't think that's proper terminology. Just a hunch." 

"Daddy!" Gabi called, happily turning in her seat to hug her father. Miguel's mean smile softened into something kinder and gentler.

"Hey, mija. Doing your homework, huh?" He asked as he brushed back his girl's hair. "He's not giving you all the answers, is he?" 

You balked before interrupting yourself. "Woah, hey, no, no, no, I'm makin' her do the stuff 'n the things, don’t worry 'bout it." Woah. Okay. That was a heavy Nueva York accent. Not what Miguel expected. 

"Yeah! I'm doing all the work! Mr.(Name)'s just helping when I get stuck 'n stuff!" Gabi's brows knitted together in concern. "Don't get mad at him!" 

"Yeah, don't get mad at me, Doc–she’s a smart kid, she don’t even need me to do this stuff for her, y’know?” 

“Well, I already knew that.” Miguel smirked as you huffed. He sat down on the other side of Gabriella and peered across her tablet at you. “You’re an intern, right? You were at the–”

“The tour, yeah.” You nodded a bit and propped your elbow up on the table before resting your cheek against your palm to watch Gabi solve her equations. “Saw you, too. You looked pretty pissed.”

“Intern day isn’t my favourite day,” Miguel offered with an unbothered shrug. 

“Yeah, I figured. You looked like you wanted to light ‘em on fire." 

"I could've, but then I'd be out a free part-time babysitter."

You laughed lightly, and Miguel caught the charming dip of dimples light up your face. "Oh, so that's how it is, huh? Guess I ain't mad at that. Gabi's a good kid, reminds me of my niece." 

Miguel raised his brows a bit. A niece. "Huh. Guess that explains a lot." 

"Dunno what you mean by that, but I'm gonna hope it's a good thing." 

Miguel smiled a bit. "It's a good thing." 

You smiled, too, though a bit more smug and proud. "Yeah? Good." You glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed, the cute tilt to your lips suddenly vanishing. 

Gabi caught on and sent a powerful pout your way. "Already?" 

"Yeah, sorry, chica. Gotta get back to work." You stood up and offered your hand to Miguel. "Didn't introduce myself. I'm (Name)." 

Hm. Miguel liked how that sounded. 

"Miguel. Miguel O'hara." But you probably already knew that, though you had the decency not to point it out. 

"Nice to meetcha, Doc." 

You shook his hand and ruffled up Gabi's hair before seeing yourself out, a sudden haste in your scrambling steps as you checked the time again. Hah. You must've been late for something. 

"He's nice," Gabi said. Miguel's eyes fell back to her. 

"You think so?" He's not bad-looking, either. "You're okay with him? You feel safe?" 

"Ah-huh, ah-huh. He's not mean." Her big brown eyes sparkled up at Miguel, then. "I like 'im! Are you gonna be friends with him?" 

Miguel glanced back your way, surprised to see you standing by the elevators and glancing back at him. You looked away when you got caught, but turned back again with a little wave, like you’d realized turning away looked awkward and suspicious and had to rectify it. 

A light smirk tugged at Miguel’s lips. “Yeah, maybe.”

–

It started with chatting at lunch. Then, it turned into light touches on the shoulder and your thieving hands plucking whatever sort of drink or snack Miguel held in tired hands. And then, well, it just got worse. 

Miguel growled into your ear as he held you pinned against the wall, his hips slamming up against yours, driving himself deep into your core. To your credit, you held your voice well, only letting the slightest peeps and squeaks out when the older man happened to hit your soft spot in his wild momentum. It’s not that it would’ve mattered, though; the Halloween party’s music blared too loudly in the cafeteria for anyone to hear you getting fucked braindead in Miguel’s office. 

“Mmmmnnn–Doc, wait, wait, ow, ow, ow–” Your thighs constricted around his waist in a panic as you hissed and dug your blunt nails into his massive shoulders. 

Miguel paused his cruel tempo and finally took a second to breathe. “I–what? You okay?” He asked, brushing some of your messy hair from your face. The corner of his mouth quirked with amusement as he was reminded of the dried fake blood trailing down your mouth, and the glue-on fangs you had set to your canines. You looked quite cute as a fucked-out vampire intern, he had to admit. 

You nodded weakly as you panted. “Y-Yeah, ‘m good, you’re good.” You tilted your head back and bonked it on the wall behind you, no doubt influenced by the alcohol in your veins. “This wall sucks. Hurts my back.” 

Ah. Miguel probably shouldn’t care. This was just a fling, some stress-relief from his frustrating marriage.

But he was too weak, apparently. “Tch. Picky,” Miguel scolded into your ear before pulling you off the wall. 

“Picky?” You repeated, clinging to him desperately. 

“Incredibly picky.” He walked a few steps, carrying you with his cock still buried deep inside of you, and rested you on his pristine desk instead. “Better?” 

You sighed and pulled your shirt down more while you both got situated. “Yuh-huh.” You looked at him with that infuriating, lazy smile and wriggled your hips against him. “Continue.” 

Miguel’s eye twitched. He couldn’t help but feel like he was accidentally subservient to you for that split second. He was supposed to be in control, not you. 

“Smug brat,” Miguel scoffed before hoisting your legs over his shoulders and pistoning into you cruelly. 

His core ached with want as you arched beautifully off his desk, and through the buzz of booze, he admired you; your own heavy cock wept against your stomach as your diaphragm stuttered with each needy dive into your messy heat. Your face flushed a captivating crimson while your eyes fluttered and shone with unspent tears clinging to your lash line. Then, your stupid costume teeth bit into your lower lip as your voice started to break free from its restraints and pushed by your bobbing Adam’s apple, letting new whimpers and clipped moans fill his office. 

“Doc,” you whined, screwing your eyes closed and fisting your hand around your length. “Doc–” 

Oh. Oh no. You were cute. Really cute in the way you started letting out bubbling praise and babbled wants, in the way your free hand clawed at his arm to just touch him and hold him while your high threatened to push you off the edge and into that endless spiral. Miguel hadn’t felt this wanted in a long, long time. He hadn’t been showered in praise, told how good he was, given someone’s full attention for even longer. 

He couldn’t remember the first time he came first, either. 

Because he did, with his teeth clenching, his thrusts breaking down into something erratic and out of tempo, he spilled inside of you. Electricity pulsed through every synapse of his nerves, bringing a wash of cool, prickling energy to his palms and curling fingers as he gripped on you harder, tighter, jamming himself inside of you with a reckless abandon. 

“D-Did you–?” You asked. Miguel caught your gaze, and another gush emptied out of him–your eyes, wide and doe-like in surprised amazement, were too captivating, too endearing. And when you realized that, yes, you’d made him cum first, you were quick to reach the same peak. 

Miguel was the one to moan this time. Your body clenched down around him in desperation to hold him still while your own white-hot bliss ripped through you. Pearly strands of white roped across your trembling hand and your stomach, one after the other, until there was nothing left to give. But with a sharp slap to your ass, Miguel found there was just a little more you could both give. 

“Good boy,” Miguel mumbled, voice thick and full where it trilled. He gave you another good spank. “Good boy.” 

Miguel slowed his hips gradually, slowly catching his breath in tandem with your wild panting as the afterglow stayed where the too-hot sear faded. His nerves relaxed with his body. His mind soon followed suit, too, which was a problem and a relief; a problem because he didn’t feel a shred of guilt, but relief in the realization of how simple this exchange was. Just sex. With someone he could tolerate.

“Shit,” you breathed. You glanced down at the mess you’d become, and grimaced. “C-Can a good boy get a, uh, a tissue or, like, five?” 

Miguel rolled his eyes. He popped open one of the drawers to his desk and pulled out a tissue box and set it beside you before, like the bastard he was, he pulled out of you without warning and watched your hole clench around nothing before glossy whiteness oozed out of you. He ignored your sharp complaints in favour of enjoying the show and meanly stuffing his cum back into you before, for a third time, giving you a slap on the rear like you were a good ol’ used truck. 

Miguel snatched the first tissue to clean himself up and tossed it away, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his clothes out like nothing happened, before turning and walking away. 

“Hey, wh–seriously?!” You cried (or whined, or complained) at his back. 

Miguel smirked to himself before calling over his shoulder, “Make sure you clean my desk up, too. I’ll get you kicked out of the program if it’s not in perfect condition tomorrow morning.” 

But he almost crumbled under your sweet, cooing pleas for him to come back, to stay a little longer, but thankfully, a whirlwind of petty insults were thrown at his back when he reached the door. And he found the strength to keep going, to subject you to his little game. 

A cruel game of torturing his favourite intern.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

[kairiscorner]

my headcanons masterlist

YO, so here are the headcanons i've made so far :>

the atsv babes with an ambiverted partner

miles morales x filipino reader headcanons (part 1)

miles morales x filipino reader headcanons (part 2)

miguel o'hara x filipino reader headcanons

gojo satoru x filipino reader headcanons

noir x filipino reader (1930's era)

noir x filipino reader (modern era)

noir slow dancing with you

miggy's ass part 1

miggy's ass part 2

spider noir with an aroace s/o

drunk miggy headcanons

drunk noir headcanons

miles g morales headcanons

miles 42 x filipino reader

the atsv when you lose your glasses

hobie brown x filipino reader

miggy and how he loves the little things about you

pav x filipino reader

gwen x filipino reader

noir gets dragged in a mosh pit

miguel o'hara in a noli au

spider noir in a noli au

miggy with a black cat reader part 1

miggy with a black cat reader part 2

spider noir with a drunk reader

peni parker with a magical girl friend reader

miguel x filipino reader headcanons tito version

spider noir x spider dude headcanons

teenage miggy x filipino reader (hs enemies to lovers part 1)

teenage miggy x filipino reader (hs enemies to lovers part 2)

miles 1610 x filipino reader (celebrating your bday)

teen miggy at your debut

spider noir with a newbie spider person partner

spider noir helping you with your braces

ben reilly x reader headcanons (when you two watch the barbie movie)

going to amusement parks with noir

ben reilly x filipino reader (crackheaded hcs)

overworked salaryman miguel o'hara (part 1)

overworked salaryman miguel o'hara (part 2)

hobie brown x deaf partner

noir comforting you at the barbie movie ending

spider noir x autistic!gn!reader

atsv characters in a fantasy au

spider noir with a travelling partner

dating model au miguel o'hara (as an ordinary person)

whatever else you guys request ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯(send me a req thru my asks !!)

#atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagine #atsv x filipino reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spider noir x reader #peter b parker x reader #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader

[augustinapril]

ATSV: TWEETS PT. 4

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Sorry it took so long to get out a part 4!! Thank you for all of the love these have gotten 🫶🏻I hope to get more Noir and other characters from itsv like Peter Porker and Peni into these. :D

#atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv incorrect quotes #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #spiderpunk x y/n #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy imagine #pavitr imagine #pavitr x y/n #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader

[reiketsunomizunomegami]

ATSV boys reaction when their s/o pukes on them

Feat: Miguel O'hara, Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, The Spot

Warning: Mild Cursing, SFW, Fluff in the end

Miguel O'hara

-Peter and Hobie Asked to you drink with them even though Miguel tells you that you couldn't, and that's because you can't handle yourself being drunk

-But of course you still do it and let your two super good Friends Drown you with alcohol.. And after a couple of hours you were so drunk and couldn't think nor walk straight anymore so Hobie and Peter had decided to take you home

-And when you got there you Immediately See your Annoyed Boyfriend who was hovering over you “I think We should go” Hobie said before dragging Peter with him.. Miguel Sighs in sight of you “Dios mío Y/N” He said before Pinching the Bridge of his nose

-Slowly Miguel Takes you outside and place you on the Sofa “Didn't I told you not to drink?” He scold you and suddenly in the middle of his Scolding “Mi-Miguel.. I-I” You puked all over his Shirt making him Stunned “What the F*ck?!” He Continously cursed in Spanish

-But in a minute he will patiently clean you up and make you drink some water before putting you into bed “Im sorry” “Its Fine Mi Amor” He said before placing a kiss into your Forehead

Miles Morales

-He takes you home after your Friends called him

-He will carry you in a piggy Back style.. He will even scold you a little for getting yourself drunk until suddenly something wet yet warm touches his neck

-After knowing that you puked all over his back Miles Will Immediately try his best to not also puke and continue to walk towards your Apartment

-“this is the last time you will ever drink.. Yuck!” He said after putting you Forcefully to bed

Hobie Brown

-At First Hobie was calm and fine with you drinking with him

-Until he had finally noticed how drunk you are at the moment.. He will try to sober you up but instantly failed so he will just pick you up and take you home

-And when you both got there “Hobie?” You call while Clinging on his Torso “What is it Doll?” He sweetly ask when Suddenly you gagged out and puke all over his Waist

-Hobie was staring at your Sleeping state before letting out a deep sigh “Well Guess I have to be careful next time you get drunk” he said before heading inside the bathroom “Oh My God its disgusting!” He said after he accidentally Touch it

Pavitr Prabhakar

-Pav was liked Miles.. After Knowing that you got drunk he will immediately go to you and take you back home

-He will also scold you but he will do that once you sober up

-This Boy will Make you drink some water to sober you up and if that doesn't work at all he will just lay you down

-But Of Course you're very stubborn so you didn't listen to him and keep sitting on your Bed until you had started to get Dizzy with your surroundings and puke on his shoulder.. Pav will instantly get disgusted by the look and by the smell of your Puke

-He will run towards the bathroom to get some clean towels to clean you up and then he will put you down to bed along side him so that you will not get up

The Spot/Jonathan Ohnn

-Aweee My sweet Boy

-He will take care of you liked the first four

-He will try his best to change your Clothes and put you to bed

-And when you puked on him will instantly puke also all over the sink

-After that Jonathan will make you some tea or Coffee to sober you up and if you're too tired to get up he will just lay and cuddle with you until you fell asleep

#Spiderman across the spider verse imagine #Spiderman across the spider verse canon #atsv #atsv x reader #Atsv x y/n #Atsv imagine #Spiderman #miguel o'hara #miles morales #Hobie Brown #pavitr prabhakar #The Spot/Jonathan Ohnn #Miguel o'hara x reader #Hobie Brown x reader #Miles Morales x reader #Pavitr Prabhakar x reader #The Spot x reader #Jonathan Ohnn x reader #Reiketsunomizunomegami writing #Reiketsunomizunomegami blog

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕀: 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 - (variants | softdark!miguel o'hara x reader)

complete masterlist | dark miguel o'hara masterlist

words || 𝟙.𝟠𝕜

series masterlist || variants

summary || in which the miguel feels like he deserves something better

a/n || starting a writing schedule. let's see how long i stick to it.

➵ part of a series; check the masterlist ^!

➵ ask if you wanna be added to a taglist

➵ heed the warnings in said masterlist, this series is 18+, and inherently dark

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || angst/dark content/slight blood

ping!

miguel looked up from his food. lyla had gone off for her ... beauty sleep, or whatever the hell she called it, so he was greeted with the unfamiliar sound of a notification. usually, they would filter through her, and she'd disclose the information to him with her chattery intonation.

his eyes were a bit red. it was another late night in his apartment - well, barely an apartment. the whole thing was practically an office, he didn't even have a bed. just a couch, that he'd sleep on the one day out of the week he didn't pass out on his office chair.

he looks up at the notification.

earth-trn1042.

he hadn't heard of it before - it was one of those him and lyla had yet to visit and accumulate data on. this might be his chance.

he looked around for his suit. dammit. he'd told layla to start running the new suit prototypes, one that would cling to his body like a second skin. whatever.

he looks around the cramped, cold apartment. how sad. how lonely. he sometimes thought about what his alchemax colleagues did in their time off. with their pretty wives, their well-mannered kids. and then him. doing something... so important, but so hard. whatever.

he fits on the suit, and looks to his watch, the only thing seemingly going right for him. he looks back at the notification, checking the name before he inputted it into his watch.

earth-trn1042. here he comes.

the anomaly was shockingly primitive, considering it had managed to figure out interdimensional travel. it was a simple fix. miguel clung to the alleys of this new york - similar enough to his own but... warmer - as he caught his breath after neutralizing the threat.

there's a noise - what is that?

a grunt, a shout, a... gun shot?!

miguel sneaks through the alleyways, coming upon the scene.

"oh, what the hell..." he murmurs to himself, seeing the mugger run away down the alley. it's too late to chase after him, and the mugger's victim is already on the ground.

miguel crouches to determine if the situation was salvagable. the fingers he pressed over the victim's neck came back coated in blood and - as he believed, cynically - his pulse was nonexistent. his lips purse. what a shame. he shakes his head, exhaling deeply, as he looks up at the man's face.

his blood runs cold.

jolting back, he forgets to breathe for a moment, and when he remembers to, it comes in a sharp gasp.

it's... him. eyes glassy, cold, dead, looking back up at him, almost feeling as though they were following his movements.

"fucking hell." he mumbles, swallowing harshly, as he steps closer again. a hand goes to his mask-covered mouth.

this had to have happened sooner or later. meeting a ... variant of his. but like this? it felt too odd, it made his stomach churn in discomfort. but it wasn't like it was him. he didn't know this guy - regardless of the similarities they likely shared. he sighed - for all intents and purposes, this man was a stranger.

but that made him curious. what was similar about the two? did he work in alchemax like he did? investigate the multiverse like he did? have a lyla, like he did?

he gritted his teeth, but the curiosity got the better of him. he looks at the man's briefcase. yup, a worker at alchemax - in fact, he'd been working there longer than even miguel had. there was a lunchbox, packed diligently and some papers - from colleagues and friends alike.

his expression soured.

this miguel wasn't lonely.

he looked to the man's wrist - no dimensional travel watch. a normal wrist watch, gold frame, smooth gears. normal - and quite exactly the opposite of miguel.

his eyes caught onto a locket on the man's neck. he pulls it into his palm, shockingly careful with the delicate silver chain. he clicks it open, and he's sure the most beautiful woman he's ever seen pictured inside, along with an adorable young girl. they've got the brightest smiles, and she's cradling the girl.

he can't tear his eyes off it, an anger bubbling in his chest. this... this miguel - weak enough to die to a fucking petty thief - didn't deserve this beautiful wife, this adorable daughter. he didn't deserve more than the strong, smart, capable man that he, the real miguel, was.

there's a strange tug at his heart. and he feels his morality, his sympathy, and his empathy to the man in front of him wane. taking the locket, he grips it a little tighter in his broad palm.

he deserves it.

he's a good man.

he didn't need to be lonely.

slowly, deliberately, he clasps the locket around his neck.

her evening had been packed. since picking up gabriella, she'd shuffled around the kitchen cooking dinner, mopped the floors, called miguel, served gabriella dinner, tucked her into bed, called miguel, washed the dishes from dinner, cleaned the kitchen counter-tops, and called miguel.

she bit her nail anxiously.

this wasn't like him at all - staying late at work was a recurring trait of his, but he always picked up his phone when she called. her fingers nervously dance over her contacts, trying to call him once more.

nothing happens, and the phone rings out, until she hears his voicemail.

she rubs her cheeks fervently, feeling a deep sense of unsettlement wash over her, and she decides to take a shower to calm herself down. the warm water always seems to melt her worries away. sighing softly as the steam builds, she listens to the playlist of soothing songs she'd put on to bask in familiarity.

humming to herself, and attempting to keep all her senses engaged so she didn't have to think, she didn't hear the front door open.

miguel walks into the unfamiliar house, looking around. it's... homely. decorations, throw pillows, pictures hung on the walls. of the family, beaming. he inhales the scent of lemon disinfecting cleaner - as opposed to the one he used at home, full of chemicals, and with just as rancid of a smell.

he walks up the stairs to the bedrooms slowly. he passes ... what he must assume to be the daughter's room. it's got decorations on the front, little stars and hearts littered around fancy calligraphy of her name. gabriella.

the light's on in the next bedroom. following it, miguel steps into a room with a king bed, large closet. he looks down at his spidersuit, turning to the closet to change into a pair of the man's slacks and a white button-up.

there's humming and music overshadowing the sound of dripping water. someone's in the shower.

then, the water stops.

she steps out of the shower, oblivious to the man in her and her husband's room, beginning to dry herself off. still humming to herself, she doesn't notice miguel until she glances up to look at the mirror, which happens to catch him from his position just outside the bathroom door. watching her.

she squeak in shock, whipping around, and her heart rate returns to normal when she sees who it is. miguel! he's here! very sullen, and tired-looking, but there.

"miguel!" she beams, "oh my god, you've not... returned my calls, i got worried..." she murmurs, sighing in relief. his face remains stoic.

"i... lost my phone." he mutters, and she hums, starting to place lotion on herself, so relieved he's here, she's not giving his impassive demeanor much attention.

she doesn't notice his lingering, memorizing gaze along her body after she places her towel to dry. "can you do my back?" she asks casually, handing him the lotion and turning away from him. he hesitates, and she smiles, "everything okay?"

he snaps out of it, and she hears the squirt of the lotion out of the bottle, as he smears it over her back, his touch lasting longer than necessary, but that's usual.

"i'm fine." he mumbles, before pausing, "how's the... our daughter?" she knows his phrasing is weird. he must be very tired.

"gabi? she's fine, my love. she's sleeping, she had a great day at school." she begins to list off about gabriella's day, starting to slip her pajamas on, "and how about you? how was your day?" she finally turns to look up at him. after putting on her shirt, her hands go to cradle his cheeks, thumbing his seemingly more prominent eyebags. his nose is sharper, hair shorter.

"did you get a haircut?" she giggles, and he doesn't respond right away.

"yeah." he finally forces out, and she sighs, taking it at face value. his stubble is gone too. he must have gotten it shaved. she pouts.

"grow it out again, it looked good." his lips seem to quirk in a smile, and she ghosts her thumb over them. after a moment, she goes on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. it's meant to be chaste, but he chases her touch, pulling her back in for a longer, hungrier kiss. laughing, she gently presses against his chest before he can go too far, "it's been a long day for you, baby. let's go to bed." she whispers.

he hesitates for a long moment - deeply reluctant - as he stares intensely into her eyes. finally seceding, he moves out of the way so that she can step into the bedroom. she helps him out of his shirt, grabbing a pair of sweats for him as he peels off the slacks he'd just... essentially stolen.

as she lets him change, she snuggles into the covers, scrolling on her phone. he soon joins her, and she puts her phone away, rolling to hug his warm torso as he lays next to her. she runs a finger lazily over his bare chest, groaning.

"you got rid of your chest hair, too? i didn't even know barbers did that..." she sighs, "will you consult me before you do things like this?" she grumbles, and she feels the low rumble of a laugh in his chest.

"alright." he murmurs. he says her name once, and he says it slowly, like he's sounding it out.

"how sleepy are you?" she teases, but that doesn't deter him as he repeats her name a few times, "you're being weird." she murmurs into his chest affectionately.

"you've got a pretty name." he finally says.

"took you this long to figure it out?" but it makes her heart flutter, even the small compliments she receives from her husband always elating her.

after a moment, she starts listing off what they need to do the next day, and he just stares at her, thumbing the locket. suddenly, he pulls her into a kiss to see how she'll react. she's surprised, but kisses him back.

she figures he's needy, but she forces him to sleep.

"i love you," he hesitates

"i love you too, mi amor."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara series #dark!miguel o'hara #dark!miguel o'hara series #marvel #across the spiderverse #atsv #astv #atsv imagine #atsv series #oscar isaac #I: deserving #variants

[standatsvthoughts]

HEY MUTUALLLL😋

CAN I REQ A E42 MILES FIC WHERE THE READER LIKE CAME TO VISIONS AS A NEW GIRL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE YEAR AND THEY BECAME LIKE BEST FRIENDS BUT THEN THEY BECOME THE BORDERLINE OF BEST FRIENDS OR DATING??!!! (they end up dating duhhh)

i need it bc this is the trope i have for my oc🙏🏽🙏🏽 and I also just think its super cute 🫶🏽

HI MUTUAL! And of course you can!

I hope this will be to your liking and what you pictured :))))

Pairing: 42!Miles Morales x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, slight angst, overall nice feelings (somewhat) enemies to friends to lovers, second person POV, angst if you squint

Warnings: bullying, Miles is a dick to begin, autistic coded character because I’m autistic so shh, school (yes school is a warning), implied shorter then Miles reader, cursing, slight violence (Miles punches a guy, pushing, no blood), protective Miles, slight mutual pining, kissing

Not proofread or edited! I repeat, not proofread or edited!

Story Below the cut ⬇️

Your POV

Moving in the middle of the year will never be a fun thing. Especially if you’re enrolled into a new school in the middle of the year. Which you just so happen to be.

It’s not like you chose this. No, that was all your parents decision. So now, here you were, suffering the consequences of their decision by being subjected to a new wave of bullies, annoying teenagers and mindlessly learning.

That’s what for you here, walking through the new hallways of your new school, keeping tightly to yourself as you pushed through the people, doing your best to keep to yourself and not touch anyone.

But their piercing stares are hard to ignore as people whisper and gossip about the new girl. Which now happened to be you. They’ve probably already created thousands of rumours about you, if you know teenagers.

You walk into the office and see the secretary talking with another student. He had dark brown hair that was braided back into two French braids and was wearing a dark purple hoodie with black pants. He seemed less then pleased to be there. The secretary noticed you enter and gave you a friendly smile.

“Oh hello Miss. L/N! Glad you were able to find your way here. Welcome to our humble school,” she greeted you with an overwhelmingly positive attitude. It made you wonder if she was new because no regular secretary would be this happy with dealing with teenagers every day for eight hours.

You wave awkwardly, glancing back at the boy who was also there. He had a scowl on his sharp features and didn’t seem happy to meet you like the secretary was.

“This is Mr. Morales. He had happily volunteered to help show you around the school for your first day so you don’t get lost,” the secretary laughs. Looking back at this ‘Morales’ guy, he clearly didn’t volunteer and he definitely didn’t do it happily.

“Have a good first day Miss. L/N!” She gives you and the boy a small little push towards the door as the first bell rings, signalling the day beginning and you can see students begin to clear the hallways.

You follow as the boy walks quickly out of the office and you have to jog a couple steps to keep up with his long strides.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’m-“ you start to introduce yourself, thanking him once he stops to wait for you but he cuts you off.

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I have to. So don’t talk and let’s just get this over with,” he says, his tone is cold and snappy as he scowls down at you. You falter, huffing in annoyance.

‘Off to a great start Y/N’ you think to yourself bitterly. You’ve been here less then five minutes and someone already hates you. Great. Just great.

“Can I at least know your name. Unless you want me to call you ‘Mr Morales’,” you say back, not sparing to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to you and give him a hard look back. He huffs, clearly annoyed by you.

“Miles,” he answers shortly, not caring that he’s coming off rude and begins walking again. It’s almost like a workout with keeping up with him.

He shows you through the school with very little words, only saying the names of the places before ending off at your first class.

“There. Now don’t talk to me again. If you have questions, go bother someone else,” he says and walks off, leaving you in the middle of the hallway alone.

“Well this day is absolute shit and it’s barely just begun,” you mutter to yourself in annoyance and confusion. It was all so overwhelming and there was nothing you could do about it.

Begrudgingly, you head into your first class, awaiting the judgement, confusion and more overwhelming situations that are likely to come.

- - - Time Skip - - -

It had been a week since you started at the new school in your new town and safe to say, it has been complete shit.

The main bully’s of the school had a field day with having a new victim to pick on. They would laugh at your attempts to defend yourself, which only made it worse.

You had barely seen Miles since your first interaction with him, and you were fine with that. He had been a bit of an asshole to you so it’s not like you were dying to see him again.

Every time you tried to approach him, he glared and walked off without another word to you. It was clear he didn’t want to be friends with you, and you were fine with that. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

However, your week become even worse when you got cornered after school one day by the people who had been tormenting you. And there wasn’t a single person in sight. Just your luck.

They were teasing you, ridiculing you and belittling you, but you weren’t listening. You weren’t saying anything. Just staring ahead, not looking at them. That is, until one of them pushed you.

“I’m talking to you! Listen to me when I talk to you new girl!” One of the older jocks demanded as he pushed you into the lockers. You groaned but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Answer me!” He yells again, pushing you again and you tried to fight back. The jock was ready to hit you when a voice interrupted.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls. You turn your head and see none other then Miles Morales standing there in all his intimidating glory.

“Leave her alone,” Miles demands, pushing the jock away from you and standing in front of you.

“Oh, what’s this. Emo Morales talking. Never though I’d see the day,” the jock teases Miles who just glares at him.

“I said, leave,” Miles demands again and the jock laughs.

“And why should I? What are you going to do?” The jock laughs and you glare at him from behind Miles. Miles looks down for a second, giving the jock a false sense of security and he goes to talk again, but is swiftly cut off by Miles punching him in the jaw.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” he remarks with a smirk. You stifle a laugh at how shocked the jock and his friends looked. It was amusing to you.

The jock slowly looks up with anger and Miles’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he mutters and grabs your hand quickly, running away from you before the jock can get any hits in.

“Yeah you better run Morales! You coward!” The jock yells back and you can’t hold back your laughter anymore as you and Miles hide in an empty classroom.

You both look at each other before both of you burst out in laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face? That was priceless!” You say through laughing.

“I know!” Miles agrees through his own laughter. It’s a moment or two before you finally calm down, still having a wide smile on your faces.

“Thanks for that,” you thank once you stop laughing.

“Don’t mention it,” Miles brushes off. Another moment of silence passes.

“Let’s start over, shall we. Just ignore everything that happened this past week,” you suggest and hold out your hand to him. “I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduce yourself.

“Miles Morales,” he says after a beat, shaking your hand firmly in his. His hands were rough and calloused, yet had a feel of gentleness to them at the same time.

“Sorry for being so mean. I’m not good with people, especially new people,” Miles admits sheepishly, pulling his hand back and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s fine. I get that. I’m not the best with people either,” you assure and he gives you a small smile.

“So… friends?” Miles asks hesitantly and you nod.

“Friends.” You agree with a smile.

That’s how you created your best friend in this town. The one thing that actually went well during your first few months in the town. And possible your crush. Ok, maybe more then possibly, but it’s not like you could ever tell him. You couldn’t ruin the one friendship you had.

“You going to prom?” Miles asked one day after school near the end of the school year. You had been at the school for a few months now and the thrill of having a new kid died down and now you were just a regular student.

“I don’t know. No one’s asked me. And loud dances aren’t exactly my idea of fun,” you answer back. He nods.

“If someone… were to ask you… would you say yes?” He asks slowly. It makes you wonder what he could possibly be planning.

“That depends who it is,” you shrug.

“Do you like someone?” He asks quietly. You look over at him as you answer, your kind filled with thoughts of just him.

“Yeah… yeah I do,” you answer. Miles looks up at you and you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he looks back down. He clears his throat, looking back up and smiling with his so called ‘rizz’ he likes to tease you with.

You giggle at how silly he looks when he makes that face. To any one else, it would have been intimidating, but to you, it was more funny then scary.

“Y/N…” he says your name and you nod, mimicking his tone.

“Miles…” you repeat but with his name.

“Would you go to prom with me?” He asks hopeful and you feel your heart skip a beat. You glance between him and his lips with a smile.

“I would love to go to prom with you,” you answer happily. He leans forward and gives you a small peck on the lips, just a small one to gauge your reaction, hoping he isn’t ruining something.

You smile and lean forward, connecting your lips to his in a longer kiss. You’ve waited for a while to do that.

He pulls back. You both didn’t need to say anything. Your feelings for each other were clear. Through your longing, loving looks to each other, it said more then your words ever would.

“So… dating?” He asks and you laugh, giving him a quick kiss.

“Dating,” you agree. You’ve never been happier.

Finished :)

Hope you enjoyed this and hope it was to your liking!

Feel free to send as may requests as you want!

#ace's posts #fem reader #miles morales #42 miles morales #42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #request #imagine #x reader #fem!reader #fanfic #mutuals #please give me asks #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miles #atsv imagine #atsv miles morales #Spiderman across the Spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse x reader

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

#miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel/reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

[the-s1lly-corner]

Prompts 7-11 with Spot

As much as I love the body swap trope I know that's not everyones cup of tea (and also i feel lazy with keeping the cause vague SOBS)

Speed running the first group of tropes for spot LMAO

UNREQUITED LOVE

He couldnt face you now that hes.. become this.. thing. Hes not even sure hes still allowed to call himself human. The fact that he had been shunned by just about everyone only reinforces that he keep his feelings for you to himself. Its unfair, it's terrible. He wants nothing more than to be by your side and continue on the life the two of you had together before the collider incident. He stays up most nights wondering if you'd welcome him into your life if he let himself in.. hes considered inviting himself into your home on at least one occasion. He sticks to the background watching you live out your life in peace without him

MUTUAL PINING

Except you werent living your life in peace, as far as you knew the man you had harbored feelings for died in the explosion that night. You've heard whispers that he was still alive, just no longer.. someone you'd recognize. You never tried to see if the rumors were true, too scared to get your hopes up only for them to be shattered. You used to work together, coworkers. You beat yourself up for not telling him how you felt before everything. Unbeknownst to you, Ohnn would feel the same as he kept tabs on you, never quite finding the right time to reveal himself to you. He loved you more than anything but you're the last person in his life who still loves him.. even if hes unaware. Youre his only friend who hasnt turned their back on him, simply because he never gave you the chance to do so

DRUNKEN CONFESSION

His crush on you was no secret, by the way. If it wasnt obvious that he had the hots for you, he had confessed it to one of his friends when the pair went out to get drinks to celebrate the success of the collider. He had gone out with a group of people actually, and you were there. At least for some point and perhaps out of ear shot as he rambled on about how much the poor man yearned for you. He seems like the type to cry when drunk, hes probably getting his tears all over the counter and he has to be sent home before he can try to make any moves on you

SHARING CLOTHES

Sometimes he likes to steal your clothing. Sure he doesnt need clothes but wearing them makes him feel a little bit more normal. Usually he takes jackets and hats, but if you go behind his back and get clothes that are more his style and size hes going to be over the moon.. whether it be brand new clothes or thrifted, hes going to stop walking around the house nude/hj

He totally doesnt keep stealing your clothes because you smell nice...

DOMESTIC

Spot isnt the neatest person, living in a sort of chaotic state although at least his messes usually have a system. So unless you already live like that you better be ready for your home to get a little less tidy. Not to worry because it's never going to get gross.. hes never going to leave food out or anything like that. A bit of a stickler when it comes to your end of the chores being done, you're allowed to return the same energy when he doesnt keep up with his share.. he can be a bit of a hypocrite sometimes..

#the spot x reader #spot x reader #spot imagine #the spot x you #spot x you #Jonathan ohnn x reader #Jonathan ohnn x you #Jonathan ohnn imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagine

[thattiredanimator1t0mblr]

There are some cute fluff fanfics where Miguel would call Miles “Nene” which is Spanish for “baby” or something like that. So just imagine Miguel constantly calling miles “nene” along with other cute nicknames!

OH MY GOODDD, YESSS. ALSO PLEASE SEND ME THE LINKS OF THE FANFICS, I CANT FIND ANY WHERE MIGUEL IS A FATHER FIGURE TO MILES :(

He would totally call miles nene or 'baby', I personally headcanon miles as one of the youngest in the spider society, so miguel would be really overprotective. And miguel is 6'9 and miles is 5'8 so miguel jsut sees this tiny red and black spiderman and is like "my kid now." Lemme put a comparison for height difference

As you can tell, miles is quite literally a baby to miguel, miguels in his early 30s to late 30s and miles is jsut a 15 year old boy who's like two feet shorter then him.

Miguels father instincts just go "BRRRRR" every time he sees miles cause its like, that's his kid, yep. Jefferson Davis? Who's that? nope, only miguel here. I like to imagine miguel calling miles adorable Spanish nicknames that he knows miles wont understand cause they're either uncommon or is really quiet about it so miles cant really hear him but knows he said soemthing and miles either just being oblivious or thinking that miguel is cussing him out/insulting him will never not be hilarious to me.

#miles morales & miguel o'hara #random tired rants #random tired answers #hcs #headcanons #headcanon #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miles morales hcs #miles morales headcanons #miles morales #miguel o'hara headcanon #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel ohara headcanons #miguel ohara hc #miguel ohara hcs #atsv hcs #atsv headcanons #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv miles #random tired writings

[spiderfunkz]

hii! can I request a 1610!miles, hobie brown x reader? ( separately ) like mornings with them?

if you can’t, don’t worry about it! have a good day 😸

𖦹 ˖ ࣪ mornings with them

— characters : earth 1610!miles morales & hobie brown.

— a/n : hi thank u sm for the request! sorry this took a bit but here it is now <3 i found the header fanart on pinterest so credits to whoever the artist is!! this kinda a blurb kinda headcanons idk sorry its messy 😭 not proofread

✶ miles morales :

he loves spending mornings with you, but he isn't a morning person at all. he rests his head on your chest and wraps his arm around your waist so you can't get up. "miles i have to get up, it's already 9!" — "five more minutes, mami." it has probably been 20 minutes, he does not want to get up. he loves early mornings with you where the two of you just lay in bed until the skies become pink and purple. but when you do eventually get up, he'll help you with making breakfast, sometimes his mom will cook for the two of you.

you mostly spend most of your mornings together in his room. music playing in the background, the sun is shining, you're rambling about the crazy dream you just had like usual, and he was drawing. a few minutes went by and you notice miles' face is focused on his sketch book. "what'cha got there?" you'd tease, snatching the book from his hands. "wait no i wasn't done!" — "is that me?" you ask as you see the breath-taking drawings miles has made of you. "no! i mean yes that's you but, oh don't look at the other pages!" he'd get embarrassed and give up on stopping you. "these are amazing, miles." :) you smile as his cheeks turn all flustered and pink.

✶ hobie brown :

he wakes up immediately after you. his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyebrow piercing leaving you a small mark, his lips twitching into a smile as his eyes flutter open. "morning" you'd smile, "morning, my darling." he'd reply. small moments like this is the most important parts of your relationship, he loves waking up remembering you're beside him, he loves waking up to your morning voice, he loves waking up to your smile and laugh. the two of you would stay in bed for a bit, talking about random topics before discussing what to have to breakfast, you'd cook, he'd help out & set up the table.

"food's good, y/n." — "it's just toast with some greens and potatoes, hobie. i think if i gave you a rock and some sauce you'd still eat it." you'd tease. "if it's made by my one and only, i'd still eat it." he smirked.

#atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales headcanons #miles morales #hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown headcanons #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #hobie brown imagine #miles morales imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #hobie brown imagines #1610 miles morales #miles morales imagines #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales blurbs #hobie brown x reader fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown blurb

[phyrestartr]

The Intern [2] | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

#NSFW, Age Gap (mid 20s and mid 30s), reader's a homewrecker, Miguel's a cheater, mentions of toxic marriage, male!reader, bussy loading, porn with feelings, Miguel's a bit of a dickhead, top Miguel (for now), bottom reader (for now), blowjob, reader gets lectured and likes it, reader has daddy issues

Note: heheheheh

-- The Intern --

[ How it Started: 1/2 ] [2/2]

Miguel had to admit, he was surprised–he didn’t expect you to carry on like nothing happened.

Most people he’d fucked around with in the past, be it in school or during his tenacious dating life, would stomp their feet and quit whatever club, sport, or job they’d joined just to get close to Miguel, just to get a shot with him. He couldn’t blame them. He saw himself as a pretty good-looking guy, a smart man, one that took care of himself and could turn on the charm without even trying; he got what he wanted more often than not, and that included the people who threw themselves at him. He always wondered why they thought they’d somehow cement themselves into his life after just one night. 

But then there was you. You, who still sat with Gabi when you had the time. You, who still helped her with her homework, who still listened to her long-winded rants about whatever movie she obsessed over that week, who still got the shy little thing to talk and smile and laugh. It made something weird and thick weigh down Miguel’s chest, like molasses found a way to suffocate him from the outside. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be fucked and forgotten like the rest. 

And he found you there, still, on a day where Gabi was busy with a playdate at the Parker’s household. Maybe this was the best chance he’d get to talk to you again. 

“Alone, huh?” Miguel asked before sitting across from you, a cup of coffee warming his hands. “Kinda sad.”

You sighed and looked out the window, filled to the brim with drama. “You’re tellin’ me. I got abandoned by a kid. This is worse than bein’ stood up, let me tell ya.” 

Yikes. Was what Miguel did the same as standing you up? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to think about it too much. 

"Right, right." Miguel cleared his throat and leaned in a little. "About the other night–" 

"What?" You asked, looking a little too dumb for your internship spot suddenly. 

"Halloween." Miguel looked at you meaningfully and your lips pursed slowly, just like the day he first saw you. Miguel gave a tight-lipped smile. 

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. "I, uh, dunno if this is the right place to talk about that. Dunno if there is a right place to talk about that, if 'm bein' honest." 

"Let's talk in my office," Miguel said, not offering room for argument or questions as he stood and started walking. 

"Wh–now?" 

"Yes, now." 

–

Well, you were supposed to be talking, not blowing him under the desk. Thank god the department heads got their own private spaces. 

One of Miguel's big hands fisted in your hair, holding back your soft locks so he could get a good look at your face as it twisted in concentration. You took him too easily for how big he was, each languid dip of your head welcoming him down your tight, hot throat until–until–

"Mierda–" Miguel pushed your head down to his base, forcing your nose flush up against his well-trimmed hair and blushing skin. You groaned and gagged as he bucked into your mouth and unloaded thick, sticky strands of cum down your throat. You swallowed around him, doing your best to take it all down. 

A harsh bite from you had Miguel letting go and leaning back in his seat. He panted and rubbed his face, but his eyes snapped back to you as you took your time getting off of him. He expected you to pull off and make a mess while you snapped and scolded him, but you went slowly, not rushing. 

Your tongue worked him through the aftershocks, rubbing under his length and thoughtfully tracing the thick veins and sensitive muscle still pulsing from your pampering. Miguel's fingers carded through your hair again as he watched you work; your hand slipped up and gripped his base once enough was out of your mouth to hold. You ran your tongue around him once, twice, thrice, before sucking on that thick, darkened head for much longer than necessary. Maybe you just wanted to be thorough. Maybe you just couldn't get enough of him. 

"Gonna get me worked up again, 'f you keep doing shit like that," Miguel warned, something of an excited laugh fluttering through this soft panting. 

You took a second to swallow (Oh, God, you were torturing him) before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Do you want me to get you all worked up again, Doc?" 

That pesky hand around his shaft tightened before stroking him firmly and fully. Miguel sighed and melted into his chair. He could probably let you pamper him for hours, if his sex drive were to be trusted. Maybe he could–

"Kidding," you said with a mean wink. You kissed the tip of his cock before letting go and parking your ass on his desk. "So. About Halloween?" 

Miguel blinked away the whiplash and scrambled to tuck himself away. "I, uh–yeah. Halloween." He nodded to himself in thought, definitely remembering what he wanted to discuss. 

You stared at him, so expectant, before leaning in and resting your elbows on your knees. "N'awe, did I suck the brain cells right outta your pretty head, Doc?" You fake pouted, and Miguel scowled. 

And he blushed. Just a little. "I just–I was just–y'know what? Maybe you deserved it."

"Pft. I deserved what?" You asked, leaning back onto your palms then. “Bein’ hit then quit?” 

Miguel frowned. His brows drew together and his jaw set uncomfortably while he looked away. It seemed to make you a little uncomfortable by the way you moved to reach toward him before deciding against it. Your hand combed through your hair instead and you sighed, surrendering. 

“Look, I–if I seriously expected the royal treatment from a guy totin’ a wedding band on his pretty lil’ finger, I’d be a shockin’ moron, alright?" You sighed and rubbed your face with both hands. "I mean--it's just s'pposed to be sex, man. Sex ain't complicated like that." 

Miguel narrowed his eyes at you. "I’m–what are you–sex is complicated." His palms landed on your thighs as he leaned in. “You don’t actually think–”

"Sex is busting and moving on with life,” You interrupted sharply. You grew tense for a moment, but forced a relaxed laugh. “I'm kinda surprised you didn't get me fired, if I'm being real."  

The realization hit Miguel fast and hard, knocking the goddamn wind out of his stupid lungs--you were the type of guy left in the dust, the sort that shit heads like Miguel hit and quit, fucked and forgot. The sorry dregs of an exciting sex life filled with names he didn't care about and some he couldn't bother to remember. But Miguel knew your name. But did that even matter to you?

"But, uh…I should get goin', so. Yeah. Good talk." You made your move to shuffle off the desk, but Miguel's hands on your thighs didn't budge. "Oy, I gotta go, old man. You hard of hearing already? Should I call the nursing home or–" 

"Santa Muerte, do you ever stop talking?" Miguel sighed and shook his head. "I haven't said my piece yet, kid." 

You pursed your lips, probably holding back some cursed joke about giving him a blowie, and nodded. "Okay. Say your piece." 

"I will. And you're gonna shut up while I talk, got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Good." Miguel took a deep breath to calm the storm in his chest. "First of all, you've got the wrong idea about sex. It matters. Even if you're just sleeping around, it's because you're looking for that connection. It's a good thing. A beautiful thing. So, I don't want to hear you say all this shit about sex not mattering. Especially when you're talking about sex with me." He looked you up and down, and the fond feeling curled up his chest stretched and lazed like a cat sunbathing. "Got it?" 

You nodded, a vibrant dusting of red saturating your skin. That doe-eyed look was back on your face, just like the first time you'd hooked up with him in his office. He really did adore it. He maybe kinda adored you. 

"Good." He fidgeted with your slacks, pulling on the crisp material with busy fingers as he thought about sentence structure and syntax and connotation and–and– 

Just say it, Miguel. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." 

You laughed shyly. "I--what?" He watched you rub your cheek like you were trying to rid yourself of the scarlet blush staining your skin. Miguel had to admit, your reactions were doing wonders for his ego. 

"I said," He started, leaning in a little, lowering his voice. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." After a pause, a beat to get you to say something, he continued, "I'm sorry, alright? It's not happening again." 

Another laugh (more like a giggle) bubbled out of you, just as nervous and shy as the last. Your hands fussed with your hair and your tie, your lab coat and your cuffs, until your nerves calmed a bit, the slow circles rubbed into your thighs helping to ease you down from hysteria. It was embarrassing. You were embarrassed. But you were happy.

"Y-yeah, alright. Cool. Neat." You coughed. "Awesome. Uh, I just–you–I have to–" and you leaned down, almost tumbling off the desk, and kissed him. 

Miguel hummed deep in his chest–a heartfelt welcome to your needs and wants. His chair shifted slightly as you haphazardly slipped off the desk and into his lap, expertly never breaking the kiss, and getting comfortable; your arms looped around his shoulders, your hands fisted and carded through his hair, your thighs rested on either side of his slim waist. 

“You’re shockin’ hot when you’re bein’ nice t’ me,” you mumbled against his lips, maybe a bit into his mouth. “But in that, y’know, authoritative dad kinda way.” Your breath stuttered when a mischievous hand slipped into your slacks and cupped your toned ass with a firm squeeze. 

Miguel smirked. “Daddy issues, huh?” Your small scoff and the firm tug of his hair answered him. His smirk warped into a grin. “Want me to scold you more, huh? You get off on that?” 

“You keep talkin’ shit and I’m calling you papi in public, dickhead,” you mumbled as you fumbled with the zipper of his pants. You paused though, and looked up in thought. “But you could help me with my taxes. That’d be really sexy of you.” 

Miguel blinked stupidly for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised you’re shit at taxes?” God, you were cute. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not shit at them, I just hate them.” You shrugged before very casually slipping his hard-on out of his pants and giving it a few preparatory strokes. “Could use some tips.”

“Or an accountant,” Miguel offered. It was your turn to blink dumbly. “You think I handle my own money? I pay someone to do it.” 

“Huh. You’re seriously in a different tax bracket.” You squeaked when Miguel somehow managed to rip down your slacks down to your mid-thigh. “Hey–” 

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He helped the pants off of you while you half-stood to get the damn things off, letting them hang off one leg in your haste to get the party started. “And I’ll get my accountant to take care of your taxes.” 

That had you beaming. “I think we’re entering sugar daddy territory, Doc.” You grinned between the sweet kisses you dotted along his jawline. Miguel felt the barest scraping of teeth against his skin, and his cock swelled more. What he wouldn’t give to let you bite and marr him as you wanted. 

But he couldn’t, not with Dana’s skeptical eyes and Gabi’s naive glances watching him from every angle. 

“It’s our little secret,” Miguel whispered with a kiss left against your cheek. 

Your lips found his again, letting your  impish smile sear his skin with sanguine intent, like a contract signed with the devil. 

Miguel would do anything to keep extending that contract. 

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut