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Miguel’s Reaction to You Calling Him a DILF

Warnings: Implied Smut, Dominant Miguel, Profanity, Use of ‘Daddy’, Lyla Trying Her Best <3, Fem Reader.

Despite spending every day with Lyla, an absolutely chronically online AI, Miguel knows little in the way of internet jargon.

Thus, this term - DILF - is one he’s never come across before. Namely because Lyla has never seen it fit to implement it into a conversation.

But, when Miguel overheard you calling him your “Favourite DILF; just a gorgeous, scrumptious specimen,” he had to ask Lyla to translate for him.

Miguel swore he could see her eyes widen, her brow stiffen and crease.

“It’s…it’s — uh — well…”

Lyla scratched the back of her head, her stare sloping off to the side — away from Miguel’s cattish stare. Her teeth gritted, a gateway, a preventative measure to ensure your safety and wellbeing. The only barrier between your open secret and miguel’s discovery of it.

“Oh, come on, Lyla,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, as if to inhibit the anxiety starting to bloom there. He doubted that you’d ever bad-mouth him, especially given how close the two of you were, but Lyla’s apprehension was starting to spark some doubts. Regardless, he persevered, kept his stare hard and neutral. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It..it means…” Lyla sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. She didn’t look up at Miguel, instead finding you in her mind’s eye and cursing you. And wishing the best for your safety.

“Dad I’d like to fuck.”

She came out with it, the words almost poisonous and sour on her tongue as they passed through. And the fact that she’d had to say them to Miguel of all people didn’t help.

At first, Miguel didn’t think he’d heard Lyla correctly, his posture and face remaining unchanged in the fallout of his discovery.

It was only after three seconds passed, four, five, that he truly heard — understood — what Lyla had said.

“Oh.”

A warmth bled across Miguel’s face, a creeping blush hidden only by the console’s yellow hue. Without another word, Mifuel turned tail, unfurling his arms, unravelling to his broadest potential. He began his descent, his destination clear as day in his mind’s eye.

Lyla’s’s eyes widened further, almost bulging from her head. She called, stammering: “(Y-Y/N) probably didn’t mean it! Not like that! So-so don’t go too hard on ‘er, okay?”

Miguel searched the entire facility for you, his face a concoction of emotions nobody (save for yourself) had ever seen before, thus making his mood indecipherable to all that were not you.

He eventually found you, isolated, in a room. Practically begging for what was to come next. He slipped inside, closed the door behind him.

You turned and smiled, sensing Miguel’s presence; the impression of authority.

“Hey, Miggy!” you chimed, eyes crescents. You turned back to checking off your stock list, paying little heed to the shadow advancing on you.

“Playing innocent, I see,” Miguel’s voice swooped and glided as the greatest bird of prey does, coming to stand mere centimetres behind you, his warmth at your back; a dark sun.

“I thought you’d be at home, caring for our child.” His hands came to sit on your shoulders, heavy and large. For a second, you were befuddled, believing Miguel to be spinning you a riddle. Then, realisation. Your heart dropped; you knew Miguel could feel it. Oh my God, Lyla.

“We…don’t have a child, Miguel,” you laughed, humourless and breathy. You knew you had to play your cards right. Carefully. Miguel gave a heavy, brief chuckle.

“Not yet,” he squeezed your shoulders, hands slipping down the length of your arms, the feeling of spiders creeping along your skin. “But seeing as you’re so keen on calling me daddy, I see no harm in pretending.”

His lips came to your neck, pressing deceptively soft kisses there. 

You were frozen, though a fire stoked within you. One you couldn’t bring yourself to put out.

“After all, I am your DILF, aren’t I?”

You bit your lip, eyes squeezing shut as Miguel’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your back to his front where you felt something thick and large and bulging against your tailbone.

“A baseless accusation, don’t you think ?”

Your breath shuttered. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing—“

“It doesn’t matter how you meant it. What matters is it’s inaccurate,” Miguel spoke with a stoic logic you’d seen one too many times. He pulled you to him, tighter, closer, his heart pounding against your back.

“But, luckily for you, I’m in a giving mood. I’m not going to punish you for your little transgression. Instead, I’m going to give you an out.” He descended upon your skin again, nipping it between his blunted teeth, the threat of his fangs in your periphery.

“What…what’s that?” You almost didn’t want to ask, your heart creeping up your throat as if to muffle your words.

Miguel’s hand slipped from your waist, sliding sharp fingers down the expanse of your back, leaving trails of goosebumps. You felt his hand come between where the most prominent part of himself and you connected, his knuckles digging into the small of your back. He ran a hand over himself through his suit, palmed himself. His eye twitched. “You just have to be a good girl and lay down and take whatever I give you until I say we’re done.”

His grip on you tightened. You could feel how dark his gaze had become, weighing heavy on you like a robe.

You said nothing – could say nothing.

“Now, you wanna say that again,” his voice was muffled by your skin, his kisses becoming wetter, languid. He pushed himself against you, taking you by the hips and pulling you so he caught you just right. You spied his eye twitch in the reflection of the filing cabinet across from you as you cracked an eye open, a steady redness overtaking Miguel’s stare, his lips turning up at the corners, revealing his fangs.

“Or are you gonna keep that pretty little mouth shut and make me into a real daddy ?”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

authors who write fanfics with angst, PLEASE, indicate this well in the tags or notices, I love fanfics with angst but the tumblr filter is not so good so I can't find them (by the way, leave your recommendations below, pls)

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

Pls do one where The reader is like chubby and self conscience about her stomach and miguel convinces her that its okay and like fucks her 😋

I may have gotten carried away lol

Word Count: 1205

NSFW below the cut.

...

"Amor," Miguel called from the bed, "c'mere."

You ignored him, staring at yourself in the full-length mirror in your bedroom. You frowned, poking and prodding at your stomach, grabbing the soft skin in your hands and squeezing.

You hated it. You hated the plumpness of your body, the roundness of your hips, the thickness of your thighs.

Something about the day made you more self-conscious than usual, your eyes searching for every detail of your body to detest.

"Hey," Miguel called out again, "you coming or what?" You didn't turn around to acknowledge him, choosing to look at him through the mirror. His thick brows were raised, and his body relaxed as he lay comfortably on your bed with nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He patted the empty space beside him, ready for the movie night you promised him.

“¿Qué te pasa, hm?" He stood, stretching his limbs before padding over to stand behind you, pressing his chiseled body against your back. His hands fell on your shoulders as he towered over you. You couldn't see his face, the mirror not long enough to reveal anything above the middle of his chest. 

You leaned back against his warmth, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn't really explain where all these emotions were coming from. You felt ugly, even more so with Miguel's perfect form standing behind you. 

His large hand skimmed your chest, fingers dancing over your collarbone and up your neck, gripping it gently before tipping your chin up, forcing you to look up at him. Your watery eyes met his determined ones, and he could see the uncertainty within. 

"¿Qué pasó, amor?" He asked again, stroking the delicate skin of your throat. You sniffled, a few traitorous tears slipping down the sides of your face. 

You hated crying—and over something so trivial, too. You felt ridiculous, ripping yourself from his grip to furiously wipe your face free of the salty streaks. 

"You gonna talk to me?" He pursed his lips, arms now crossed over his broad chest. 

"Look at me, Miguel!" You cried, pointing at the mirror with an open hand. He grunted, bending down comically to be at your level, gazing at you through the mirror.

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" He asked, his eyes raking over your form. You were in your sports bra and panties, skin bare and glowing from your recent shower. 

"Ugh!" You dropped your face in your hands, almost in hysterics. Your words were muffled, and Miguel sucked his teeth, standing to his full height again, yanking your hands away from your face. 

"Hablame claro." 

You sighed, biting your lip. Your hands went back to your stomach and down the sides of your hips, sniffling. “Look at me,” you repeated softly, your fingers pressing into your skin, “I look…”

“Beautiful?” Miguel offered, pulling you flush against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you. You scoffed, turning your head away when he tried to place a kiss on your temple. “Hey, basta,” he warned, pinching the meat of your thigh. You yelped, slapping his hand away.

“But, my stomach,” you continued, almost whining, more tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

“What about it?” Miguel tightened his hold on you, one of his hands laying over the plumpness of your abdomen. He brushed his thumb back and forth over your soft skin, finally able to place a kiss on your temple like he’d been wanting to. Your shoulders sagged and you looked away from your reflection, laying your cheek against the warm skin of his arm.

Miguel wrapped his fingers around your jaw, forcing you to look back toward the mirror.

“Look at you,” he whispered, holding you close, “look at how beautiful you are. Hermosa.” His hands moved down the sides, gently groping along the way, “And all this for me, hm?” One of his hands snaked down your front and past the waistband of your panties. With two skillful fingers, he parts your lips, swirling them against your clit before swiping down toward your entrance. He tapped his fingers there, once, then twice, before slipping them inside.

“M-Miguel,” your voice hitched, hands gripping his forearms. You whined when he began thrusting his fingers, holding your squirming form by your stomach, “w-wait, what are you—”

“Showing you how beautiful you are,” he growled, spreading your juices over your clit and your lips, “Look at yourself, look how fucking beautiful you look like this,” again he forced your head to face the mirror, “abre los ojos, amor.” 

By that point you had your eyes screwed shut, but he repeated his command, and you opened your blurry eyes, focusing them on your face, flushed and with a sheen of sweat. Your panties had a large wet spot from Miguel working you, his hand digging deep into the meat of your belly, gripping you firmly as he worked to bring you pleasure. 

“Mira,” he marveled at you, watching your body move against his fingers, grinding your hips as he circled your clit, “you see what I see?” You whimpered when he shoved his thick fingers inside you again, moaning as you threw your head back.

“Uh-uh,” Miguel chastised, “don’t you dare look away, keep looking—mhm, that’s it, feels good, right?”

“M-mhm.” You were mewling now, Miguel’s fingers stretching you deliciously. Your eyes were glued to the mirror, and you watched his hand move under your panties, noting how the wet splotch grew larger, your slick spreading between your thighs. You looked so good in Miguel’s hands, your body seemingly made just for him to hold and play with. You felt his length pressed against your ass, large and hot, ready for attention. That aroused you more than anything, knowing that he enjoyed you just the way you are. 

He was going faster now, an unrelenting pace that had moan after moan pulled from your throat, until finally, you released a moan that informed Miguel you were coming undone, and seconds later, you were gushing all over his fingers and palm. 

“Damn, mama, never made you do that before, huh?” Miguel chuckled, smooching your sweat-slicked hair. 

“Huh?” You pant, finally dragging your eyes away from your reflection in favor of glancing down between your legs. You were absolutely soaked. Your panties were soaked through, your juices running down your trembling thighs. That’s never happened before. 

Miguel pulled out his hand from between your heated legs. He was coated with your slick up to the wrist, his digits and palm shiny with it. 

“You’re a squirter,” he grinned when you attempted to elbow him in the stomach, “that’s my girl.” 

He released you, using his dry hand to pull down his briefs while the other coated his cock with your slick. He pumped himself a few times, pulling back the skin to reveal his large tip, weeping with anticipation. 

“You ready for me?” He muttered with a tilt of his head, eyes heavy with arousal. 

You attempted to get on the bed but he stopped you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against his chest once again. 

“Not the bed,” he said hotly, “in front of the mirror. I want you to watch.”

....

Amor- Love

Qué te pasa- What's the matter

Qué pasó- What happened

Hablame claro- Speak clearly

Basta- Stop it

Hermosa- Beautiful

Abre los ojos- Open your eyes

Mira- Look

Tiny Spider

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Your daughter has a few questions, and you suspect Miguel might just open a portal to another dimension.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O'hara x spider-woman!reader

FLUFF. No warnings. Just ‘how are babies made’ and 'where do babies come from’ with Miguel and his daughter :)

"I can sense you, tiny spider."

Your eyes darted upwards only to find your daughter of six dangling from the celining by a single thread, wobbling slightly from side to side.

She stuck out her tongue, visibly distraught that she got caught.

"It's time to eat something. Come down now," you urged, pointing to the empty seat at the table.

As stubborn as her father, she wasn't easily convinced and merely dropped a little lower until she eye-leveled with both of you.

"I think Mayday is a terrible influence," you said. "Don't you think, Miguel?"

He was giving her the glare, but it wasn't enough. "No webs at the table."

"But, papá—”

Miguel remained unmoved. She wouldn't win this battle, but he wouldn't either unless you interveened.

"Eat your breakfast," you told her once again, sipping your herbal tea.

She was getting the hang of physics and motion, but it would take her a while to do so effortlessly and gracefully.

Swinging lightly, she managed to flip her feet down and land on the chair nearby.

Now the three of you could finally enjoy breakfast peacefully.

"Where did I come from?"

Miguel instantly frozen and you nearly dropped your cup of tea.

You offered her an understanding look, unsure of how to approach the topic. It's a topic that is bound to be brought up sooner or later, but one that both you and Miguel would rather have to touch later rather than sooner.

"What do you think?" you asked, exchanging a glance with Miguel who looked like he was one second away from imploding.

"Uncle Hobie said a big spider brought me here," she said excitedly. "That mamá and papá wanted me, so a big, big spider came here!," she gesticulated enthusiastically, arms up in the air to emphasise the proportions of said creature.

Miguel grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle Hobie... of course."

"Well..."

Her eyes darted from you to Miguel, waiting for confirmation.

You went first. "That's not what happened. Uncle Hobie isn't to be trusted with stuff like this, little spider."

"Or trusted at all," you heard Miguel mumble more to himself.

The thing with children is that they tend to be very expressive and transparent, so the moment you watched her smile drop, you knew something was wrong.

"You... didn't want me?" she whispered, bottom lip quivering into a pout.

"No! I mean - we did!" Miguel promptly rectified. "No big spider brought you here..." his eyes met yours seeking reassurance. "We did."

"That's it?" she asked, resring her elbows on the table and placing her jaw on both palms of her hands.

She looked... unimpressed.

Miguel nodded, chopping an apple into slices with one of his talons so she could have a bite.

"Pffff," she groaned. "Boring!"

Miguel O'hara wasn't one to be left speechless very often, so you figured this had definitely caught him off guard.

"Sometimes the truth can be boring," you said with a chuckle. "But we both really wanted you and that's what matters."

Your daughter didn't seem to care much about that and, in that moment, the flash of defiance and arms crossed in front of her chest reminded you of Miguel.

"So how did you bring me here?"

"Huh..."

Miguel glanced out the window as he cleared his throat.

Did he expect you to tackle this by yourself? He should have known better.

"Your father will be more than glad to explain," you said, leaning back in your seat, earning a death glare from him.

She was growing impatient by the second, eyes fixed on him as if awaiting a bedtime story.

"Go on, Miguel," you teased with a devious smile.

"Tell me, papá!" she suddenly banged both hands on the table. "I want to know!"

Miguel frowned. Deeply. If looks could kill, you reckoned you'd be six feet under by now.

But he wasn't getting off the hook easily.

"When two people like each other very much... that can happen," he said, not bothering with details.

"But how? How?" she was bouncing in her seat at this point.

You gave him an encouraging smile.

He sighed in defeat. "Hmm... I placed a tiny seed inside your mother one day," his voice was gentle and he seemed more confident now. "You grew and grew and, many months later, you were here with us."

It was an easy enough explanation.

But...

"Inside mama?"

"Yes. Like an egg," he said warmly, wrapping his large hand around her tiny one.

"A chicken egg?" she gasped, turning to you and you immediately noticed a front tooth missing already. Kids. "But... I'm not a chicken."

Her genuine innocence was so endearing that you couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Miguel..."

"Maybe I should have said spider egg?"

"Woah! Now that's cool!" she beamed and her eyes widened like a kid who had just been told they could have unlimited supply of candy. "So I'm really a spider!"

"A tiny spider, yes," he said with a faint smile.

Warmth filled your insides at once. Miguel was always meant to be a father. He was just a natural when it came to children.

He suddenly shot a single string of red web to land on the chair where your daughter sat, sliding it closer to him. She burst into laughter from the motion before putting on a forced serious face.

"No webs at the table!" she tried to mimic his tone, her index finger in front of her face.

He planted a soft kiss on it before bringing her into a tight embrance.

"No more hanging around Uncle Hobie unsupervised," he whispered into her ear.

Masterlist

🤭🤗😉

They deserve some kind of Award

and i want it back, i want the old me.

Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1072

A/N: Prequel to this. Angst, implied!established relationship, argument. Will not be doing another part so please don’t ask.

You storm into Miguel’s office, furious after having caught wind from Peter B. and Gwen about the chase with Miles. You were away on a separate mission at the time and weren’t there for the whole ordeal but you heard the general gist from your two friends. It’s dark in Miguel’s office as he stands atop his platform, staring at his monitors with his back turned as usual. “Miguel!” You yell, anger spilling out of every pore of your body.

Miguel simply sighs in annoyance at hearing your voice, turning around in obvious frustration. “Whatever you’re going to say…just don’t,” he threatens, his voice bitter and exhausted.

“Don’t?! DON’T?!” you laugh, outraged at his words and the audacity to dismiss you. “Tell me Miguel…what exactly went through your mind as you violently chased a 15 year old boy and told him he was a mistake?!” You were shaking at this point, voice trembling as you let out all your rage towards the man above you.

“He’s not supposed to be Spider-Man, he’s an anomaly! A threat to his universe!” Miguel raises his voice, dripping with anger.

“And you think he asked for this? You think he asked to be bitten by some spider that was never supposed to be in his universe? There has got to be a better way of handling this than by treating him like some monster.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” Miguel bursts, jumping off his platform to loom over your form. He gets close to your face, baring his fangs and eyes red with fury. “Don’t lecture me when I’m the only one keeping things together. I’ll be damned if I let some stupid kid ruin it all.”

You flinch slightly, his large stature appearing very threatening. Nonetheless, you glare back at Miguel, refusing to step down. “I understand how important your job is but this is not the way to do it,” you say, clenching your jaw. “I know you’re angry at Miles but of course he’s going to want to save his dad. He shouldn’t be punished for that.”

“Being Spider-Man is about making sacrifices.” Miguel begins to lecture. “And if he can’t accept that then he puts his whole universe at risk.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, looking around in disbelief at his words. You cross your arms and tilt your head at him. “Is that all you think being Spider-Man is about? Deal with sacrifices and just accept that?! Have you really forgotten why we do what we’re supposed to do?” You yell, waving your finger back and forth between him and yourself.

“Save me your useless lecture and just stay out of the way (Y/n),” Miguel rolls his eyes, moving to turn away from you.

“No Miguel, I’m sick and tired of you never taking me seriously,” you quip, webbing his feet to the ground. You move to stand in front of him again, maintaining eye contact. “None of us chose to be Spider-Man, okay? Yes our lives are hard and yes we lose so many people but the point of us is that we keep going. We keep fighting and keep helping as many people as we can because we have the power to do so. Miles believes he can save his father and his universe so of course he’s going to try to do that. Of course he’s going to go against all odds that it doesn’t work because despite it all, he knows that if there’s even the slightest chance he can save both then he has to try.”

Miguel glares at you with a pointed glare before moving his face close to yours. “And that’s what’s going to get him and everyone in his world killed. You can either help me stop him or get out of my way,” he threatens, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t say anything, maintaining eye contact. You can feel his breath on your face with how close he is and part of you can’t help but flicker your gaze to his lips. Miguel notices this and smirks, standing up straight and breaking out of your webs with ease. He goes to wrap his arms around you. “Come on (Y/n), let’s go-”

You move out his grasp and shake your head in frustration. Miguel is slightly surprised, you’ve never rejected his affections before. “You're not going to change your mind, are you?” you ask, looking down at the ground. You already know his answer but you’re struggling with the decision you now have to make.

“I can't.” Miguel replies curtly, observing your body language. He sees how tense your shoulders are and how you turn away from him after his answer.

“Then I quit,” you sigh, looking over your shoulder at him. You can’t see him but you can hear the fabric of his suit as he clenches his fists and his small grunt of frustration.

“Are you serious?” Miguel growls, eyes red as he looks at you. You two have known each other for years and the last thing he needs is your betrayal.

You turn and face him, nodding your head. You look at Miguel up and down and frown. He barely even looks like a hero with the way he’s looking at you, as though you were some horrible villain. “I can’t support what you’re doing.”

Miguel sneers at you and his breathing gets heavier with frustration as he grumbles. “I should have never wasted my time on you.” 

You feel your heart break as he says this, memories of all the time you’ve spent together flooding your head. The times where he used to look at you with so much love and now you can't find a trace of that in him. You feel tears of both anger and sorrow build up as you watch him go back to his platform. 

You open a portal with the device on your wrist, preparing to go in before you look at him one last time. “Goodbye Miguel,” you spoke, one last time.

Miguel grimaces and doesn’t even look back at you as he scoffs. “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

You feel a tear fall down your cheek as you sigh. You take the device off your wrist and throw it to the ground, hearing it clatter as you walk through the portal.

The portal closes. Miguel is left alone in silence, the smallest mix of doubt and regret planted in his chest.

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Tags: @anidiotwhoreads

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

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

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

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

Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending

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

–

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

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

Continuar lendo

thinking about lyla hiring you as miguel's in-person assistant because as good as she is, she can't stop miguel from throwing chairs across the room. she introduces you to miguel on your first day and he immediately tries to fire you, insistent he doesn't need someone to "babysit" him, let alone someone with half the muscle mass and twice the mortality. except lyla's the one paying you, and even if it's miguel's money, lyla has made sure he can't stop the checks from clearing. so you're here to stay.

he does his best to ignore you at first and for the most part, you rarely get in his way. he goes about his duties and you shadow him, only ever speaking when spoken to if ever at all. but then one day, he's had a particularly difficult time with an anomaly and suddenly his fangs are splitting his lip, his claws are punching holes into his desk, he's snarling and the rage is taking over him again.

he grabs the thing and flings it across the room-

and you catch it. you set it down, calmly, safely, and it's so shocking to miguel because he's never seen you exert more force than needed to open a door, and you caught it.

miguel's anger melts away just like that. he watches you exhale, watches you drag the heavy thing back over to him where he stands dumbfounded and feeling. silly. he didn't think- "instead of throwing things, you can take your anger out on me."

miguel goes blank. he sounds so pathetic when he fumbles for a "w-what?"

you smile, the first time he's ever seen you do so, "I'm a good partner."

this had to be a. prank, right? lyla had put you up to this? he knows it's been a while, and she'd made the joke plenty of times before, but. were you. really? miguel clears his throat, ready to rebuff you, but he thinks about it and...

I mean, it has been a while. "you work for me." he reasons. it's not a refusal, you notice.

"it's okay," you assure him, stepping closer, "this kind of thing's in the job description."

and god. miguel doesn't know, is it actually? had lyla really. done that? he'd muster up the embarrassment if you weren't standing right in front of him and smelling so good and this whole time he'd been convinced that if he even dared to touch you he might break you but you'd caught it without breaking a sweat. what else could you handle? what were you offering to take?

you step even closer and then-

your fists are up. you're crouching and your fists are up. miguel stares.

"come on, then," you taunt, smiling wider, "I've fought bigger."

sparring partner.

now miguel's really embarrassed. he doesn't even have it in him to actually take you up on your completely innocuous, innocent offer. you wanted to spar. you wanted him to take his anger out on you in a fight. you'd sapped the anger right out of him just from this conversation. maybe it'd be better if he took a nap instead. he hadn't had one of those in a while either.

when he continues to just stand there, staring, red hot in the face, you raise an eyebrow and your smile becomes a little... mischievous. "what? did you have something else in mind?"

part two

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun. You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere. When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward. Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange. The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens. Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off. “That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected. “You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened. “You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned. “Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive. He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!” He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.” You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.” He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself. Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury. 

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground. 

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just… I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells. 

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you. 

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did? 

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead. 

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.  

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

Miguel por favor but he’s been hunting down reader for MONTHS bc he made his own lil dimension traveling watch and is fucking around- he finds the chase incredibly annoying but also kinda 😏😏😏

miguel o'hara who's been obsessed with you from the very start, dark eyes lingering for merely a second too long. miguel o'hara who loves the thrill of a chase, he's more than aware of the risks that come with jumping dimension. miguel o'hara who can't help but think of you 24/7, he didn't know what it was that got him so hooked. maybe it was your smile, how pretty those lips would look wrapped around his cock, or maybe it was how soothing your voice was when you apologised for bumping into him, what would you sound like moaning out his name whilst underneath him?

miguel o'hara who uses one of his inventions to assist his tracking, sneaking around in order to find out your main locations. it really wasn't that hard, especially with the small chip that he'd managed to attach onto your suit. miguel o'hara who knows that you're aware of his interest in you. oh but you were so cruel to him. you played into this game of cat and mouse, scratching your nails lightly down his chest as you teased him with flirtatious promises.

miguel o'hara who caresses the flesh of your ankle before yanking you towards him, theres no way he'll let you run away from him again. not after he's finally won. miguel o'hara who will worship your body like a god, mumbling praises into open mouthed kisses and nipping down to cover you with deep hickies. miguel o'hara who will rub his cum into tender flesh, he's possessive so of course he wants everyone to know who claimed you. "all mine, baby"

mentions. @loversreligion @truetogaia @ronwestbreeze @moxtailz @fleursbending @stargirlrchive @ateezinmymind

★⌗ vesp's thoughts . . . this is all i could write bc i'm like half asleep but let me know if u want this as a full fic, enjoy!!

© 2023 dilfverz. ─ please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

miguel o'hara is so successful. God bless whoever put Oscar Isaac to play him, I'm in love with him. thanks to all the fanfiction writers, you keep me alive 🙏

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

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

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

♥︎ — DOUBLE PERSPECTIVE OF YOU

MIGUEL O'HARA + FEM!READER

SYNOPSIS: miguel finds a better use for the mirror sat in front of your bed and makes sure you know of his new discovery.

WARNING: eighteen content only, minors do not interact. vaginal penetration, overstimulation, intercourse in front of a mirror, praise kink, use of feminine terms (girl, princess, etc.)

MIGUEL O'HARA with his hand pressed to the base of your spine, letting out a hiss as you rolled your hips back onto him. his cock slipped in and out of you with every smooth, slow stroke, only sliding into your cunt deeper by the last.

he was amazed by how much of him you could take in one night, surprised that you insisted to play on for more than a round. your drive was just as hard as his. if not, even better.

"f-fuuuck.. you treat me s'good." his voice was raspy. his hand gripped your hip tighter, his other pressing down harder onto your spine to make you arch even lower. "all tight 'nd warm for me. love this pussy s'much."

now, he was the one to start stuttering. after making you finish one too many times, it's only fair to help him out, right? miguel believes in pleasuring his partner first and foremost, until you've had enough, of course.. but where's the relief for his sudden ache when he needs it. it's you.

"look at yourself, baby. look at me when i fuck you." the mirror in front of your sweaty bodies almost pushed him over the edge: watching down on you while you gripped onto the sheets, face deep between the mounds of pillows, you looked fucked out and he loved it. not to mention, how your ass would grind onto his front.

your moans could barely be heard from between the cushions, his hand gripping at the back of your neck and pushing you deeper into it. you probably wouldn’t even be able to hear it with your head up, miguel’s groans were much louder.

the increased volume of his whines sent a shiver down your spine, your body succumbing to the way your name fell from his lips so delicately yet so dirty at the same exact time.

“i said, look up.” sliding his hand further down, it wrapped itself around your throat tightly in a single firm grab and pulled to make your back arch perfectly. “there we go, mama. that’s it, that’s my girl.”

a throaty cry fell from your lips once you felt yourself lift off from the pillow, sucking in a heavy breath of air finally. his cock never stopped rocking into you, the speed of his hips only growing faster as you struggled to keep yourself up.

“look at how pretty you look. all wet, all messy.”

the light shining through the curtains didn’t help your vision as your eyes slowly became accustomed to the dimly lit sight happening right in front of you; the two of you in the mirror.

Could you make a fic where Miguel gets the female reader pregnant and they're happy but he's worried about her safety? Maybe have a villain find out? Cause some angst?

A/n: Yesss!

Warnings: blood/ death.

Miguel couldn’t believe that you were pregnant with his child, while he may never admit it he did let a few tears fall when you told him and of course that was not going to stop him from being protective over you, maybe a bit over protective.

He kept a watchful eye on you, he always did his best to make sure that you were by his side. He loved to watch you, you had this glow about you. You were so beautiful.

Placing a hand on your growing belly he had to kneel down to caress your stomach due to his height. “I can not wait to meet you.” It was a whisper but you managed to hear it.

“I know they can’t wait either…and neither can I because boy am I exhausted.” You muttered.

Snorting, Miguel placed a kiss to your belly then looked up smiling. “Would you like for me to give you a message?”

Rolling your eyes you let your fingers run through his hair then playfully pushed his face away. “I know that look in your eyes Miguel, it’s how I got pregnant in the first place. Besides don’t you have..oh I don’t know. Work to do?” You teased lightly.

Groaning, Miguel stood up letting his teeth run over one of his fangs. “I wasn’t going to suggest right away…I was going to weight a bit….but fine yes you’re right but please don’t leave the house.” He hated the thought of leave you alone but he knew he had too, just for a moment.

“I love you.”

Smiling you ran your hand over your belly. “I love you too.”

•

Miguel did his best to return home as quickly as possible though his stomach dropped when he realized that the door was opened. Panic rushing through him, he started to frantically look around the house.

Blood, a small amount of blood including a note. Hand shaking he picked up the paper, eyes flashing red clenched his hands into fists. So they thought that they could take you?

His beloved, his soulmate?

They will not get away with this, he will kill every last one of them.

•

Groaning, you winced feeling a sticky substance on the back of your head. Reaching up you pulled your hand away spotting blood. “Of course…fuck where am I?” Your head was still spinning but from what you could see you were locked in some room.

Gritting your teeth you slowly sat up wrapping your arms protectively around your belly though your stomach dropped when it finally hit you, you were kidnapped.

Miguel, god you hoped he was alright, prayed nothing happened to him though your body tensed hearing screams.

Terrified screams, your heart was pounding as you slowly stepped away from the door. You did your best to stop yourself from shaking as the door flew off it’s hinges.

“Miguel.” His name was a whisper, it seemed like he barley recognized you. You could see blood on his claws, his fingers flexing, chest heaving as his eyes scanned the room until he locked eyes with you.

Your name falling off his lips as his eyes slowly returned to normal, as he took a few shaking steps towards you and soon you were on his arms. He did his best to cheek you over. A small growl escaping his lips seeing the blood. Placing your hand on his cheek you gave him a weak smile. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not…this is.” Shaking his head, Miguel fell to his knees as he wrapped his arms around your elastic drawing you in close. Tears fell down his cheeks as he hugged you close. “I’m sorry…this is all my fault you got hurt,you got hurt because of me.”

Shaking your head you let your fingers run thrift his hair to calm him. His tears soaking your shirt, you knew he would blame himself but you couldn’t blame him.

It was bound of happen, someone was blind to take you.

“Miguel…I’m alright…it was just a little bump.I’m okay now….let’s go home…..you can give me that message okay.”

Chuckling weakly, Miguel blinked away his tear as he slowly stood up. Placing a kiss to your temple he then held you tightly against his chest, hugging you protectively. “Keep your eyes closed until we’re out of here.”

He didn’t want you to see the bodies, he did not want to traumatize you any further.

“Promise me you won’t look?”

Cupping his cheek, you let your thumb glide across his cheek. “I promise.”

Nodding his head he lifted you up as you pressed your face in his neck, keeping your promise you kept his eyes close as Miguel stepped away from the scattered remains of the men that took you.

With you safely in his arms he kept his head high, nothing will keep you from him and with a child on the way.

That was another one he will protect at all cost.

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

agent whiskey would go WILD for a chubby/plus size gf pLEEAAAASEEEE tell me im not the only one who thinks that

Anon, this made me go feral- you're definitely not the only one, my love!! All bodies are beautiful, but let's be honest. Everyone has a preference. And Whiskey? Oh, you know he likes his women THICC 💅

Idk if this is an ask or just a shared opinion, but I'm making hcs- Idc loves 💗😩

(MDNI 💀😉)

Listen, Kingsmen missions can be lengthy and tiring. The man travels around whipping people's ass's all day. Literally. So, he loves coming home to you sitting on the couch, legs open and blanket waiting for him. He always plops down on the cushion next to you and dramatically falls into your open arms and legs, rubbing his head against your belly as his hands slide under your thighs to hold you as close as possible. "Missed you, sugar.. Gosh, couldn't sleep a wink all week without my favorite pillow." He'd mumble, already half asleep. You'd roll your eyes with a smile on your face, draping a blanket over him as he drifted off to sleep.

Summer is Jack's favorite season purely because you always wear those cute little sun dresses that hugged your curves perfectly. He was especially fond of this one little black dress you owned that had mini purple flowers all over and a built-in corset. You liked to tighten it more in the middle to accentuate your natural hourglass frame, which made Jack give you constant hugs from behind, obsessed with the way his hands fit along the dip of your waist and flared as they ran over your hips.

Listen, face riding was something you and Jack both thoroughly enjoyed, but it always made you super nervous no matter how many times Jack tried to tell you that he was more than willing to suffocate for your pleasure- Once, as you were about to gently lower your yourself onto his face, Jack hollered out, "Tell my mama I died a happy man!" and then wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you down onto his face without hesitation...

People are assholes; there isn't anything anyone can really do about it. You know this and so does Jack. That doesn't stop him from teaching them to mind their manners when they make a snarky remark about your weight- After all, manners maketh man.

poor baby (18+)

joel miller x fem reader (no use of y/n)

summary: everyone knew joel's wife was cheating on him, and you were going to help him feel like a man again if it was the last thing you did. (aka, your best friend's dad/neighbor can have whatever he wants from you)

word count: 2685

tags: explicit sexual content (18+), no outbreak, age gap (college graduate/late 40s), dirty talk, free use kink, a bit of misogyny for the sake of sexiness (sorry!), masturbation, no penetration but maybe a part 2? ( 👀), degrading language, cum play, cheating (sorry to Mrs. Miller)

[edit: part 2 here]

Everyone knew that Joel’s wife was cheating on him. It’s not as though the two had seemed like a real couple in over a decade and a half, but it was still sad to think about. Even Sarah didn’t have the strength to make a fuss about it, scared to rock the boat of her parents’ marriage. If you asked her, what was the point of divorce after twenty years of marriage?

The situation was not lost on Joel, and it was hard to watch. He wasn’t the man you remembered. The old Joel knew he was the hottest dad in the neighborhood. He attended PTA meetings and school fundraisers with his perfectly fitted t-shirts, showing off his tanned, toned arms and flexing subtlety when he knew the moms were watching. He walked around with a certain pride, knowing that he was the perfect mix of devoted father and caring husband.

You and Sarah were back in your hometown for the summer after graduation, wasting away a few months while you both tried to decide between grad school and finding a starter job. You hadn’t seen Joel in a few years, and the transformation was shocking.

Sarah explained everything to you the first night there, how she knew that her mom was secretly having an affair with a man at her work.

You weren’t proud of it, but Joel had always been your biggest fantasy. You had first met him in your late teens when your family moved to Texas, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. Of course, your friendship with Sarah was more than just a way to get more facetime with her criminally attractive father, but it certainly helped motivate you.

That’s what made it all so much harder now seeing him walk around like a shell of the man he once was. There was a part of you that knew exactly what he needed, but it was unfortunately that part of you that was raised on your mom’s old copies of Cosmopolitan and watching her Sex and the City boxset when she wasn’t home.

You needed to make him feel like a man again. You wanted to help him give into his own desires. You wanted to fulfil his needs, even if that involved a bit of self-degradation. The thought simultaneously turned you on and also made you want to apologize to your old Women’s Studies professor.

You understand very well the lack of morality in your plan, and you just had to pray that Sarah would never find out. In your mind, though, you were doing this in part to help her, to help her father get his lust for life back.

There had been several preliminary attempts to get his attention. Wearing skimpy little outfits every time you went over to see Sarah, asking to ‘take a dip in the pool’ in your cutest swimsuits, and always finding ways of cornering Joel in one-on-one conversations.

You flirted with him shamelessly. Instead of joking back with you or even seeming flattered, Joel seemed… shy? After every compliment you gave him, he would look down at the ground and mumble something self-deprecating. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The star of all of your most depraved sexual fantasies was… bashful?

The best he gave you was a comment on how much you had changed since he last saw you. It was spoken quietly, with an inscrutable look on his face as he avoided your needy gaze. But it was the way his eyes fell down your body—wrapped only in a strappy sundress—that gave you the motivation you needed to keep going.

You knew you had to act soon, but the right moment was failing to present itself.

That was, until your parents held one of their painfully-cheesy-but-always-fun neighborhood game nights, and the Millers walked in. You wouldn’t have expected to see them participating in things like this as a couple anymore, but they had always been regulars in the past. Keeping up appearances, you figured.

You had the homefield advantage finally, and you didn’t have to worry about Sarah, as she was out on a date with an old crush from high school.

After Joel and his wife were greeted by your parents at the front door, they stepped inside. Your parents were busy asking his wife something borrowing their fishing poles next weekend. He looked up and saw you standing at the top of the staircase with a smile, and his eyes immediately adverted, looking to the ground. Then, he gave a small awkward smile as he looked back up for a moment. He was acting like a shy little schoolgirl for you.

Everyone ended up outside on the patio, enjoying the summer night while playing whatever new boardgame someone had brought over. You doubted anyone had noticed when Joel slipped away, entering back into the house. As far as he knew, you were still out of the house after your parents sent you on a quick grocery run to get some more tortilla chips. He didn’t see that you were already back home, in the living room tucked behind one of the couches, flipping through an old issue of Esquire.  

So, you watched him ascend the staircase, looking around like a nervous child about to steal candy from the local convenience store. Your heartrate quickened when you heard the familiar squeak of the door to your room opening and closing.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to decide if you should go meet him up there right away or give it a few minutes. You were so excited about the possibilities of what he may be up to in there that you couldn’t hold yourself back for very long.

Before quietly padding up the stairs, you took a moment to assess yourself in a hallway mirror, applying a bit of lipstick and running your fingers through your hair. Even if he did have some legitimate reason to go in there (which seemed unlikely), you at least wanted to look good for him.

The stairs were wooden and notoriously noisy, which you liked because you could always hear when someone was coming. Over the years, however, you had mastered the art of walking upstairs silently, knowing exactly where to step to avoid the loud noises.

So poor Joel had no warning when you burst through the door and caught him red handed. Well, maybe his hands weren’t red, but the pair of panties he held in them certainly was. The look on his face was priceless; all shock and terror as he tossed the underwear to the side and tried to force his painfully erect cock back in his jeans.

He began spilling out apologizes. “I-I didn’t think you were going to be back so soon,” and “I just couldn’t help myself.”

You had closed the door again, now leaning against it with a small smile as you watched Joel grovel with a flushed face. You were so desperate for him you could have gotten off right there at the sight of it. You couldn’t believe you were getting what you wanted.

“P-please, sweetie, don’t be mad at me for this.”

Your heart broke at the pathetic sorrow in his voice. To see the man you had fantasized about for years, your teenage dream, reduced to this? To acting like some common perv, sniffing your dirty panties in secret?

What he needed became so clear to you in that moment. He needed permission. And you knew that he deserved more than just a quick jerk-off session in your bedroom. He deserved to get exactly what he was dreaming about: being the hot older man fucking his daughter’s best friend.

Maybe it was cliché, but it was fine as long as it worked in your favor.

You pulled up at the bottom of your dress, your hands moving underneath it to grab at the waistband of your panties. As you pulled them down your legs, you were glad you had the foresight to select another one of your sexiest pairs. Joel just watched, mouth agape, as you stepped out of them and walked over to where he was sitting on the bed, hands still covering his crotch in shame.

“Try these,” you whispered with a small smile.

He looked from you to the panties, then back at you. He must have thought he had fallen and smacked his head on something hard, that this was all a desire-ridden hallucination.

“I want you to have them, Mr. Miller.”

There was a war going on inside him. He had been a good man for so long, not only devoting his young adulthood to raising a baby he hadn’t planned on but also marrying the woman he got pregnant, even if they weren’t a perfect match. He had worked hard to be a role model for his daughter, always making the moral choices.

But his wife hadn’t made the moral choice when she first fucked her coworker, and you would be damned if Joel didn’t let himself make the same choice for himself now.

“Please.”

He quickly grabbed the underwear from your hands and held it like he didn’t know what to do with it, even though you had just seen that he knew exactly what to do with it.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, eyes closed in shame. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, right?”

You smiled sweetly, falling to your knees. “It’ll be our little secret.”

He stared at you with those big brown eyes as you nestled between his legs.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes finally meeting yours.

“Whatever you want,” you told him, and you believed it, too.

He let out a labored sigh as he unzipped his jeans again, pulling out his cock, which was still hard and leaking. As he did, he muttered something under his breath about how he was going to hell.

You weren’t worried about his eternal damnation, though. You were just happy to finally get a good look at his cock.  

“I always knew it had to be huge and beautiful,” you murmured as you stared lovingly at it, not totally realizing that you were speaking out loud. Joel chuckled.

“You were thinking about my cock?”

You were so happy to hear the teasing lilt in his voice, something to show you that he was gaining back his confidence already.

You looked up at him with a smile, and suddenly you were the bashful one all over again. “Of course. I used to wake up early just to catch a view of you across the street getting your mail in your boxers.”

He smiled, hand returning to his cock, enveloping it in your panties once more and giving it a slow stroke. “I had no idea you…”

His voice trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?”

His eyes met yours and he grinned. “I had no idea you’d turn into such a fucking slut.”

Your mouth fell open and you had to bite your bottom lop to stop the smile from spreading across your face. He really was going to make your dreams come true.

“I shoulda known you were up to something,” he mumbled as he stared at you, still stroking himself languidly. “Every time I’ve seen you since you got back… your tits out, wearing those little dresses.”

Your heart swelled. He had noticed.

“All those things you said to me… I thought you were just making fun of me.”

Poor baby. This past year must have really done a number on him.

“I just wanted to give you a view you could enjoy,” you whispered, trying to urge him on. “Show what you could have if you just allowed yourself to take it.”

His breath hitched in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Me. You can have me—to use, whenever you want.”

That look in his eyes—carnal desire burning. You could have died right there.

His hand started moving faster.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered as he stifled a groan.

“We have all summer, Joel. Maybe even longer.”

He bit his bottom lip, his breathing getting faster.

Your hands moved to the back of your neck, where the halter top of your dress was tied together. You may have picked something that covered up your chest to avoid suspicion from your parents, but that didn’t mean Joel had to be deprived of a better look. You untied the strings and pulled the top of your dress down, showing off your sheer mesh bra.

Joel looked downright mesmerized.

“I’m right across the street, probably already dripping wet for you anyways. Just come on over and take me however you want. We can go back to yours and you can watch me swim naked in your pool. I can suck your dick on the patio. But what I really want is for you to fuck me in the bed you share with your wife.”

“Shit,” Joel choked out, eyes moving from your tits back to your face.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Let her smell my cunt on the sheets, let her know just good you made some little slut feel.”

He reached out to touch you, and you expected him to go for your breasts. He didn’t, though. His hand grabbed your chin, gripping it tight, causing your mouth to fall open for him again. You were surprised by how rough he was, but not surprised by the fresh pang of arousal it caused inside you.

“Don’t promise shit unless you can deliver, sweetie.”

You smiled as best you could while in his clutch. “I’m willing to deliver on much more than that.”

He let out another strangled noise, and you knew he was getting close.

“Whatever fantasy you have, I’ll fill it.”

He smiled. “Not picky, huh?”

“It all turns me on.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes shut in pleasure. “I’m gonna cum, sweetie, where do you want it?”

You couldn’t believe he still wasn’t getting it.

“Wherever you want.”

He kept your face grasped in his and pulled you closer to his crotch, and you shut your eyes just in time as he began to cover your face in it. The feeling of it on your face, hot and sticky, as he groaned above you turned you on in a way you could have never anticipated. You couldn’t wait to get yourself off.

His breathing finally evened out, and he let go of your face. Slowly, you opened your eyes, pretty sure that none of it was covering your eyelids. The image you were greeted by was too fucking good, and you wished you could take a photo to remember it forever.

Joel, mouth still open as he tried to calm himself down, spent cock still in his hand, wrapped in your panties, staring at the piece of work he had just created.

You could have stayed there staring at each other for longer, but you were both called back to reality by the sound of your mom calling your name from downstairs.

Joel looked terrified, quickly cleaning himself up and putting himself away.

“Dare me to go downstairs like this?”

He scoffed with a disapproving look on his face. “Don’t be insane,” he muttered, looking around for something to clean you up with.

“Fine,” you replied with a giggle. “I’ll just have to take care of it.”

You dragged your thumb along your cheek, collecting it on your finger before popping it in your mouth. Maybe it didn’t taste amazing, but you knew it was just another way to remind Joel of how much you wanted to give yourself to him.

He watched eagerly as you continued, pushing it all in your mouth. You couldn’t imagine doing something like this for any other man you had ever known.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, sweetie.”

You gave him a sweet smile, pulling your fingers out of your mouth with a ‘pop.’

“We have a long summer ahead of us, Mr. Miller.”

(read part 2 here!) (you know, if you want)

Nothing Stays the Same Forever: Chapter 5

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It was difficult to walk to work the next day. She wondered every time anyone glanced at her if they had been at the bar the previous night.  Logically, she knew that no one was paying any attention to her.  She didn’t have much of a relationship with most of the Jackson residents so they probably just knew her in passing.  But she still felt vulnerable and exposed, and by the time she made it to her quiet little work room she was overwhelmed with the wish that she had just stayed home.  Still, now she was there, she had made it.  With a sigh, she began to set up for her day.  

There were a few bags to be looked through that a group had brought back from a scavenging expedition.  She busied herself going through the clothing; sorting what could be washed and used right away, what needed patching or repair, and what was only good for scraps or rags.  It was all in good condition, including several pairs of mens jeans that still had store tags on them.  It was a great find, they rarely came across anything that was still “new” after twenty years of post apocalyptic living.  

After taking everything to the laundry and starting a few loads in the washers she was startled when she ran, quite literally, into Ellie who was coming out of her work room as she was going back in. 

“I’m so sorry!”  She said, when she realized what had just happened.  

“S’no worry,” the girl said.  “I wasn’t paying attention.”  

“Were you looking for me?”  Y/N asked, gesturing at the doorway.  Ellie nodded and followed her inside.  

“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”  The girl stuck her hands in her pockets and scuffed her boots against the floor.  “Heard people talkin’.”  Y/N felt her heart drop into her stomach.  She sat down and scrubbed her hands over her face.  

“I was afraid of that.  Word spreads fast I guess.”  

“It’s mostly about Joel.”  Ellie told her.  “Some of the kids at school heard he killed a guy.”  

“What?” Y/N’s head snapped up in shock.

“Of course he didn’t,” she rolled her eyes.  “Tommy told me what really happened.  Didn’t want to, but he did anyway.  Joel just broke the guy’s arm, but people are idiots.”  Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.  He broke his arm?  Ellie must have seen her confused expression.  “Oh, I guess you didn’t know that.”  She shook her head.  

“I didn’t.  I left pretty quickly.”  Ellie hopped up to sit on the work table, nudging Y/N’s knee with the toe of her boot.  

“But you know why Joel got so mad.  Tommy wouldn’t tell me but he let it slip you were there with him.”  

“Please, Ellie.  I really don’t want to talk about it.”  Just thinking about last night had tears prickling at the back of her eyes.  

“Well… The thing is,”  Ellie began, sounding uncomfortable.  “It’s my fault.”  

“Huh?  You weren’t there, of course it’s not.”  The girl chewed at her thumb nail.  

“I cut the lining in Joel’s coat.  So he would have to come see you.”  More confusion

rolled around in her head.  She thought back to the jacket, and how the seam had looked like it had been cut, instead of ripped like most of the repair jobs she received.  

“Why?” 

“Because he looks at you, watches for you.  And he listens when Maria or Tommy talk about you like he’s interested.  He pretends he isn’t but he is.”  Y/N didn’t know how to respond, too many thoughts happening all at once.  

“It still isn’t your fault, sweetheart.” She finally said.  “You didn’t make anyone say those horrible things to me.”  

“Ah-HA!”  Ellie jumped down.  “I knew it was something about you!  See?  Joel likes you and he like, defended your honor.  Like those dudes in your books.  But you got hurt and if I hadn’t ripped his stupid coat you wouldn’t have.”  Her fists clenched at her sides.  

“Ellie, sweetie,” she sighed.  “It would have happened sooner or later.  It’s something I’ve dealt with my whole life.  Maybe I thought Jackson would be a different kind of place, but the fact is there are folks that are gonna be nasty no matter where I go.”  She took one of Ellie’s hands into her own and loosened the girl’s fingers.  “You don’t need to carry that on your shoulders.”

“I heard Tommy tell Maria you looked so sad and hurt.  I would have broken more than that guy’s arm.”  For the first time since the whole ugly incident, Y/N laughed.  

“You know I really like you, kid.”  

“You don’t hate me?”

“Nah.  Can’t hate someone when they wanna break bones because some dumb guy was mean to you.”  Ellie’s face broke into a lopsided smirk.  

“Does that mean you like Joel?”  Busted.  

“You’re really sneaky.”  Ellie just shrugged and smirked more.  “I guess it does.  Is that okay with you?”  Another shrug.

“I mean, he’s grumpy as fuck and kinda old but I’m not stoppin’ ya.”  Y/N laughed again, and gave Ellie’s hand a gentle squeeze.  

…

She ended up working until all of the found clothing was washed, sorted, labeled, and stored.  Ellie had left her with a tangled web of thoughts, doubts, and confusion.  What did she mean that he looked at her?  Joel was nearly always on high alert, he watched everyone.  She couldn’t help but wonder if the teenager was setting her up, and the intrusive thoughts shamed her.  Ellie was rough around the edges, but she wasn’t malicious.  Still lost in her own swirling mind, she tidied up and left.  

The days were growing longer as spring edged winter out of Wyoming but it was still mostly dark for her walk home.  The dining hall was still crowded with people, so despite the hunger rumbling in her belly she decided against going there for dinner.  What if the man from last night was there?  She couldn’t stand the idea of running into him.  She was sure she had some bread and cheese left in her kitchen so turning away from the busy town center she started her commute back home.  

It was quiet on the street.  Some of the homes had lights on but they were mostly dark and silent.  She stopped in the road for a moment and looked up into the clear evening sky, the moon was only a sliver, but the stars were endless, and would only grow brighter as darkness fell more completely.  Something about the sight relaxed her, and she felt most of the tension of the last twenty four hours drop away.  Jackson was different, it wasn’t just like every other place in her life.  It wasn’t a cutthroat city, moving so fast you couldn’t stop even for a moment to take a breath.  It wasn’t a rapidly crumbling world, dissolving into disease and war.  It definitely wasn’t the QZ, full of men abusing their positions of power.  Jackson wasn’t perfect, but it was somewhere she was safe enough to pause and look up at the night sky to drink in its beauty.  

“‘Evening.”  Joel’s low voice called out from his porch.  She turned from the stars and smiled at him, leaning against a post and looking every bit the rugged cowboy from a story.  

“Hi.”  She noticed he was by himself.  “Ellie out with her friends?”  

“Movie night.”  For some reason his brief answers charmed her.  She really did like the man.  

“She came by to visit today.”  Y/N took a few steps towards him.  

“Yeah?”  She nodded.

“Had some interesting things to tell me.”  

“Did she?”

“Mmm-hmm.  Apparently that asshole left the bar with a broken arm.”  Joel’s stance went from relaxed to arms crossed across his broad chest.  

“Told you.  He got what he deserved.”  She stopped at the porch step, and tipped her head back to look up at him.  

“You know…no one’s ever stood up for me before.  I mean, I did my best before the world went to shit, but people like that…they like it when you react.  They want to see you get upset, so they know they have some kind of power over you.”  

“People like that are weak.”  His voice was hard.  “Gonna give me a hard time for bustin’ that guy’s arm?”  He looked ready for an argument.  

“No.”  Joel hadn’t expected that response.  

“Hmm.”  

“I don’t usually like violence, I’ve seen enough of it the last twenty years.  But I do like

you, Joel.”  The look in her eyes hit him hard and almost knocked him back on his heels.  “Ellie seems to think you like me too.”  She watched the muscle in his jaw tick.  

“She tell you that?”  

“Well, she says you look at me.”  

“You’re friends with my brother and his wife, you’re around.  Be rude to not look at you.”  

“So you asked me for a drink to be polite.”  He grunted.

“Not what I said.”  

“What are you saying, Joel?”  

“Why do you keep sayin’ my name like that?”  She put one foot up on the step.  

“Like what, Joel?” He gripped her arm and hauled her up to his level, but then seemed to regret the action and let her go like she had burned him. 

“I didn’t mean to…Sorry.”  He took a step backwards.  

“Joel.”  She reached out and touched his wrist.  “You don’t frighten me.”  

“I should.”  He looked at her with blazing eyes.  “You don’t know what I’ve done.”  She nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, I don’t.  But you don’t know what I’ve done either, what I’ve had to do to survive.”  Her right hand clenched and relaxed a few times at her side.  “I’m not here to ask you about what you had to do, and I’m sure as hell not ready to tell you everything about my past either.”  

“Then what are you here for?”  

“Just you.”  She looked down, suddenly shy.  “If you want me to be here, anyway.”  He lifted her chin with his finger.  

“I hate to prove that girl right,”  he said quietly.  “But I do.”  Y/N couldn’t help the nervous giggle that bubbled up in her throat.  

“Well here I am.”  Joel nodded and drew her closer.  

“You really are breathtaking, sweetheart.”

“I want to believe that,” she murmured.  “I’m trying to.”  She could see him looking at her lips, his tongue flashed out and wet his own.  “Please, Joel.” Her whispered plea broke him and he pressed his mouth softly against hers.  She clung to him like a burr, and for a brief moment he felt like a young man again, like they were just two ordinary people sharing a sweet first kiss on a spring evening.  It scared him, but the fear couldn’t overpower his desire to sink further into her embrace.  Something about this timid woman had wrapped around his heart and he didn’t want to try and unravel it.  After all he’d been through, maybe it was time he let himself finally try to find a little peace.  He gently pulled away and stroked his thumb over her neck where his hand had come to rest.  

“Would you like to come in?”  He asked her.  She smiled at him with a dreamy look in her eyes.  

“I’d like to say yes…”  

“But?”  He braced himself for rejection.  She cupped his cheek.  

“I’ve never…done this before.”  She felt her face heat up with embarrassment when she 

saw the meaning of her words sink in.  “I need a little time.”  He looked lost, like for the first time in a long time he couldn’t pretend he knew exactly what to do.  Y/N tugged him back down and kissed him again.  “Ask me again.  Maybe tomorrow.”  Joel’s lips quirked up in a half smile.  

“I can do that.”

Nothing Stays the Same Forever: Chapter 4

fContent Warning: fat/body shaming.  Joel and Tommy aren’t having any of it, but proceed with some caution it is pretty mean. Also, Joel might be a wee bit ooc but I can’t help it.  I’m weak thinking about that gruff man being soft and sweet.

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It had been about two weeks since he had last seen her.  According to Ellie she had been by the house a few times to visit.  He wanted to tell the girl not to wear out her welcome, but it sounded like Y/N was happy to sit and listen to whatever the teenager had to say.  And Joel knew she had a lot to say.  So he figured that if it got to be too much Y/N would nudge her along.  It did make him happy to see Ellie had a woman she trusted, though he kept that thought to himself.  Not that she didn’t have a good relationship with Maria, but it was different.  

He might have gone longer, until the next “family” dinner, but that morning he realized there was a large tear in his most worn jacket.  The lining flapped open exposing the fibrous filling, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember when or how it happened.  He asked Ellie and the teen had just shrugged and said something sarcastic before going off with a group of kids.  So after helping out with some of the livestock he cleaned up and headed over to the building Tommy told him Y/N worked out of.  

He heard the sewing machine going when he stepped through the doorway, and she was hunched over, all her focus on the stitches.  An old tape deck played what he thought was an old Patsy Cline ballad from a corner.  There were neat stacks of clothing on shelves and boxes labeled ‘scraps’.  He didn’t want to startle her so he waited patiently until the machine stopped and she pulled her project away, neatly snipping a thread.  She held it up and he saw it was a sweet little quilt, the squares sewn into a heart pattern.  He tapped his knuckles on the door frame to get her attention and she turned sharply, her expression wide eyed.  When she realized it was only him she relaxed a fraction.  

“Oh, hello Joel.  I was a little worried you were Maria or Tommy.  This is a surprise for them.”  She gently set the material aside.  “Is there something I can help you with?”  He nodded and walked over to hand her his jacket.

“I saw this big rip this morning.”  She took the garment from him to examine, a little furrow between her brows.  

“Huh, it almost  looks like the seam was cut.  Maybe the thread came loose and you snagged it on something.”  She looked up with a soft smile.  “It’s a quick and simple fix.”  

“I can wait.”  He said.  Y/N blinked a few times and her hands fumbled a bit.  

“That’s fine,” she finally replied.  “There’s um, an extra chair right there.”  She got up to look through her supply of thread to see if she could match the original color.  “This isn’t an exact match, but it should blend in and it won’t be noticeable.”  She heard the chair scrape across the floor.

“That’s fine.  As long as it’s fixed.”  She was a bit surprised when she turned back to see he had moved the chair to sit more or less directly across from her at her work table.  Refusing to let him see that she was even a little bit rattled she quickly regained her composure and sat back down.  He carefully pulled the little quilt closer to him so he could look at the pattern.  Watching his dark eyes take in the details of something she had worked so hard on was nerve wracking.  He traced his calloused fingertips over the heart that made up the center of the blanket.  

“It’s for the baby.”  She told him in a quiet voice.  “I have a little teddy bear at home too.  Tommy came back from patrol one morning with his flannel all torn up after he stumbled into a pricker bush.  I salvaged enough to use so the baby has something made at least partly from something that belonged to their daddy.”  

“Very thoughtful of you.”  He told her.  “This looks nice.”  He tapped the unfinished quilt.  She ducked her head, but he saw the pleased grin on her face.  

“It’s not much, but sometimes I have a lot of down time.  I never made many blankets or quilts before…well, just before.  But I hate to see anything go to waste so I try to recycle any ruined clothing and stuff and turn it back into something useful.”

“Gets cold.”  Joel wanted to smack himself for his stilted small talk but she didn’t seem to mind.  

“It’s nice to give people something new, even if it’s made up of old parts.  There isn’t much that exists anymore that didn’t belong to a whole lot of other people first.”  He followed her nimble fingers with his eyes, watching her quickly and carefully stitch the lining back together.  Every once in a while she would pause and coax the fiber fill back in.  All too soon, she was finished, and if Joel hadn’t seen the damage himself it would have been impossible to tell that it had ripped at all in the first place.  

“You do good work.”  He said after inspecting it.  

“It ripped along a seam, really no trouble.”  She looked down and away again and he frowned.  

“Don’t sell yourself short.  I don’t see anyone else in here doing the work.”  She shook her head.  

“There’s lots of people in Jackson doing a lot more than I can.”  She wrung her hands together.  “Keeping us all safe, hunting for food…I’m just here with my needle and thread.”  

“I hunt.  I patrol.  I definitely can’t pick up a needle and thread and do this,”  he held up his jacket.  “Or take scraps of fabric and turn it into that.”  He gestured at the baby quilt.  “Jackson doesn’t only need hunters and guards.  It needs people like you that keep us all clothed.  That are thoughtful enough to make a blanket and teddy bear for a friend’s baby.  Or a quilt to keep someone warm at night.”  

“That’s kind of you to say, thank you.”  She replied after a few moments.  

“Thank you for the repair job.”  He said, putting the jacket on.  “Seems it’s about quittin’ time, buy you a drink?”  The invitation surprised him as much as it did Y/N.  

“Oh, that’s not necessary…” She began.

“Maybe not.  Still offerin’.”  He could see the struggle in her face, and he wondered why he wanted her to accept so badly.  

“Well, okay.  Thanks, that sounds nice.”  She finally answered.  “Just um, let me tidy up everything real quick.”  She hoped that setting her work space back to a clean slate would calm her frazzled nerves but she was no calmer when she finished putting things away.  She carefully folded the tiny quilt and tucked it into a box with spools of thread.  Taking a moment to press a hand to her chest to soothe her thumping heart, she steeled herself and turned to leave with Joel.  

…

She hadn’t stepped foot into The Tipsy Bison before then.  Alcohol tended to erode away people’s filters, and in Y/N’s experience that led to her needing to dodge insults and cruel critiques.  But Joel’s presence gave her a slight feeling of security.  He wasn’t the type of person people went after, he was the type of person that cleared a pathway through a crowd with an air of intimidation.  He was however, still a southern gentleman at his core and pulled out a bar stool for her.  She awkwardly climbed and slid onto the seat.  Joel sat next to her, his arm nearly touching hers.  It made the side of her body closest to him tingle just from his proximity.  She was happy to see Tommy behind the bar.  Seeing another familiar face was comforting in a place where she was more or less completely out of her element.  

“What can I get you two?”  He asked them with an open smile.  

“Usual.”  Joel grunted.  Y/N hesitated.

“I’m not much of a drinker…”  

“How about a glass of mead?”  Tommy suggested, pouring whiskey into a glass for his brother.  “They use honey from our own hives to make it.”  

“Sounds good, I’ll give it a try.”  

“Didn’t know people still made mead,” Joel said.  “Guess when the world ends you figure out how to keep getting drunk.”  He took a sip from his glass, savoring the smokey flavor of the whiskey.  

“Guess so.”  Y/N replied.  He sensed her tense up beside him when a few men wandered up to the bar.  Tommy set a glass of golden liquid in front of her and turned his attention to the new arrivals.  She was silent, her left hand clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she took a sip.  “Pretty good.” She muttered.  Joel turned his head when a table across the room erupted into raucous laughter leaving his bad ear facing her.  So he didn’t hear what was said that had Tommy furious and yelling; and Y/N looking like she had been slapped.  

“The fuck is wrong with you?”  Tommy demanded, pulling the drink he was about to serve back from a man with a smug grin on his face.  

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen a land whale since the world ended.  Figured with it being the fucking apocalypse they would have all gone extinct with nothing to eat.”  His buddy beside him laughed.

“Didn’t know Jackson let bloaters move in.”  Joel’s vision went red and hot with anger and he suddenly found himself with his hand wrapped around the first man’s throat.  

“Excuse me?”  He hissed through gritted teeth.  Tommy started to make his way around the bar.  “The fuck did you say?”  The man swallowed nervously but refused to back down even in his precarious position.  

“Hey man, I get it.  Chubby chasing was fun back in the day, but she’ll eat you out of house and home before the novelty wears off.”  Joel’s fingers constricted and the man’s face started turning red.  

“Joel, Joel!”  Tommy gripped his forearm and tugged.  “Let ‘im go.  He’s not worth it.” 

“Imagine getting so worked up over the little piggy that went to market.”  The buddy laughed, the sound sharp and cruel.  Joel threw the first man aside.  He hit an empty table hard, landing on the bar floor.  He pushed past Tommy and caught the other man by the shirt and watched his expression turn downright afraid with a decent amount of satisfaction.  

“If either of you ever dares to even breathe in her vicinity I will break all the bones in your hands.  If she offends you so much, don’t fucking look at her.”  He shoved the man away and shook his head, looking around to see where Y/N had gone.  

“Guess the fat bitch has a guard dog.”  The first man muttered as he picked himself up.  

“Joel…”   Tommy started, reaching out to try and hold his brother back.  But the older man was far quicker and the sound of snapping bone reached his ears before he could pull Joel away.  The man let out a shrill scream and fell back clutching his arm.  

“You broke my fucking wrist!”  He shrieked, and Tommy saw his hand hanging at an unnatural angle.

“You’re lucky he didn’t break more than that,” Tommy sighed and signaled for some of the other residents to come pick the man up.  “Take him to get patched up.”  He told them.  He knew the headache wasn’t over, but he couldn’t honestly fault his brother for his reaction.  Joel’s chest was heaving, the fury beginning to leave him.  He turned a few times, looking for Y/N.  “She left, Joel.”  His brother shoved past him, the door slamming closed behind him.  He let out another sigh and got to doing his best at damage control.  

She was nowhere to be seen in the town but he figured she would most likely head to her home, her safe place.  His pulse rushed in his ears, the adrenaline of anger still pulsing through his veins.  It shouldn’t have shocked him, to see that people still had the capability to be so vicious to a person that had never harmed them or anyone else.  His only worry right then was that he had frightened her, but in the moment he couldn’t help the violent rage that had bloomed in his chest.  Y/N was one of the kindest people he had ever met, even before cordyceps had plummeted the world into chaos and catastrophe.  

The further he walked with no sign of her the more frantic he found himself getting.  He broke into a quick jog, not stopping until he was on her porch and banging on her door.  He continued until it was wrenched open and his heart twisted to see her tear stained face. 

“What is it, Joel?  I’ve had enough of this night.” 

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said, out of breath.  “But I guess that’s pretty foolish, you clearly aren’t.”  

“I’m fine.”  Her voice was tight, she was trying not to start crying again.  “I’m used to it.  Everyone always has something to say about my body, how I look.  The end of the fucking world didn’t change that.”  She turned and stomped further into her house, leaving Joel to follow.  

“Those things they said, they’re fucking idiots.”  

“You think saying that changes anything?”  She cried.  “I’m the fucking idiot, Joel! I

always think it’s gonna be different, that I’ll find some place that just lets me exist in goddamn peace but I’ve finally learned I’m never going to.  But at least here I won’t be turned into a fungus zombie or be forced to-”  She broke off and looked up at him, shocked at what she was about to say out loud.  He took a step towards her.  

“Forced to what?”  He said quietly, his soft tone dangerous.  She shook her head violently and her face crumpled, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.  “Shh, it’s okay, darlin’ you don’t need to talk about it.”  He stepped closer, and laid his hand on her shoulder.  “Come on, now, you don’t need to cry.”  Tears had always been his weakness.  Moving slowly so he didn’t upset her more, he gently pulled her closer, holding Y/N’s trembling form.  She gripped at his shirt like it was a life line.  “Let it out, it’s gonna be alright.”  He tried to soothe her as she cried herself out.  When she quieted back down he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping her face back.  The pure misery in her eyes was like a gut punch.  “You didn’t deserve that tonight, and you didn’t deserve all that shit in the past either.”  Her eyes closed and another tear slipped down her cheek.  

“I’m so tired.”  She whispered.  Joel wiped the tear away with his thumb. 

“You’re so beautiful.”  He murmured, taking them both by surprise.  Y/N’s eyes opened again in shock.  “I wish you could see it.”  

“Don’t.”  He could feel her trying to pull away from him.  

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N.”  He cupped her cheek.  The way she looked at him with her big, sad eyes had his stomach twisting in knots.  “Prettiest lady in this whole damn place.”  She closed her fingers around his wrist, her fingers sliding across his pulse point made his knees feel weak.  

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”  

“I’m not a particularly nice man.”  

“No, you’re not.”  She dropped her arms.  “But you aren’t mean.” Joel chuckled lightly with a sort of grim smile. 

“I can be, but not to folks that don’t deserve it.”  When her bottom lip trembled again he soothed his thumb over it.  “And you don’t deserve mean from anybody.”  The gentle kiss he pressed to her forehead made her heart ache.  “You go on and mop yourself up and get some sleep, Y/N.  If you need anything you know where I am.”  She nodded, looking mildly dazed.  He turned to leave.  

“Joel?  I heard some commotion before I got too far away.”  He made a sound of affirmation.  “Did you fight that man?”  He paused in the doorway.  

“Wasn’t nothing he didn’t deserve.”  He said finally.  “Goodnight, Y/N.”

next

taglist: @boofy1998 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

Deserve It - Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 620, sorry chapters will get longer!

Warnings: Weight insecurity, anxiety, angst, age gap, loss, eventual smut. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: There is nothing wrong with being plus sized. As a plus sized woman I’ve dealt with and am still dealing with insecurities and this is pretty therapeutic for me. This is my first time writing any of my ideas down. Helpful criticism is always welcomed just please be kind because I will cry lol.

Continuar lendo

Deserve It - Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 620, sorry chapters will get longer!

Warnings: Weight insecurity, anxiety, angst, age gap, loss, eventual smut. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: There is nothing wrong with being plus sized. As a plus sized woman I’ve dealt with and am still dealing with insecurities and this is pretty therapeutic for me. This is my first time writing any of my ideas down. Helpful criticism is always welcomed just please be kind because I will cry lol.

Continuar lendo