*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol
*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?
Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.
It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.
Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”
Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”
“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’
Honestly example:
“La neta, Im tired”
Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”
In the case it means “really?”:
ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”
I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish
example “ de que idk it won’t work”
I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:
The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”
Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.
“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”
When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be
*insert random startling noise
“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol
“Chingada madre, where did that come from”
Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.
Edit bc I thought of this the morning after
In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.
Example “ Me vale madres”
Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.
Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like
“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”
“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”
“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”
There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.
Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.
“Aguas, there’s car coming”
The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.
“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”
“No mames wey, look at this”
Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever
“How was the party?”
“Estuvo equis”
Another example
“ now was she dressed?”
“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”
*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab
If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.
But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.
Some bad Spanglish examples would be
“ why didnt you eat your comida?”
Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives
“ you look cansada” also just no.
*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in
If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol
Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”
Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”
The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol
Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.
“Pásame el deste”
*passes them x ítem
“No I meant the remote”
*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to
Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny
“Que sad” “Que cute”
* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own
Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.
“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”
“Que asco, gross”
“WOW, que bueno”
Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.
Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.
Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.
Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.
Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.
Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.
Examples:
“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.
“Ponchó” For Alfonso
“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra
Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like
“Haz visto a mi mamá”
Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol
I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.
If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples
process: after a mission, a group of spider-people come back bruised and for the most part injured, all including a seemingly unbothered miguel. miguel offers a first spanish lesson, one that ends with the reminder of something in return—I wonder where your new home is…
contains: learning spanish (I don’t speak spanish, so please correct me if I’m wrong with anything here); non detailed mentions of injuries; male masterbation
step one step two
YOU HEAR THE CRASH AND COMMOTION OF A GROUP ARRIVING. You watched as medical spiders’ rushed towards the injured. They were all practically injured in some way. You quickly stood, making sure everything was out of the way, like rolled away chairs and random cords.
Your brows creased in concern as you spotted different spider-people holding their wounds, their suits ripped. You shift your gaze to the only one standing, appearing fine, besides his cut up suit and bloody face, bruises forming by his cheek. Before you know it, you're walking up to him. "O'hara."
He turns his head, his chest still breathing heavy. "You should sit." You suggest, watching as the rest of the group heads towards the large door, most likely heading to the medical room.
Miguel just walks past you, heading to the space you barely see him away from—by the big spider that teleports. You watch him walk, noticing the continuing tear of his suit, that gives you a good look at fractions of his bare muscled back.
You turn, quickly heading towards the exit, remembering something that might be helpful.
"Where are you going?" Miguel's sudden voice makes you slow as you briefly glance back. You catch his gaze. "You should be working." His general solemn expression is present, and oddly that makes you feel settled. Familiarity is always nice, especially after a clearly hard mission.
"I'll be back." You say quickly, before you rush out the door.
When you arrive back, Miguel is looking at his cuts, some clearly deeper than others. You tighten your hold on the large spider suit as you near him.
He instantly notices your presence, most likely a 'spider-sense' thing. His gaze shifts to the material in your grasp. "I know you'd rather someone else's help, but I know for a fact that we don't have spare spider suits, which is kind of stupid considering how dangerous your guys' job's are."
You near him, now noticing the way he's sitting, legs slightly spread, his body leant back in a swivel chair. And as you look closer, you realise that it's your swivel chair. You extend your hand with the suit, which he takes, eyeing the matching material and design of the worn-out one he has on now.
"I made a replica when I first arrived—when I was learning about how things worked here. Your suit is rather unique and I wanted a closer look. Not to mention that the design correlated to data I have saved on all of you."
Miguel raises a brow. "Data?"
"Lyla's data, to be exact. Since I'm working with her, she had to show me."
You watch as he runs the material between the pads of his fingers, his tongue coming out to lick his cut lip. A shiver runs down your spine as you notice his fangs. You'd noticed them before, but was never confident enough to ask him about them. No other spider-person had teeth like that.
You begin to step back. "Wear it if you want. I'm just heading to lunch."
And that was the nicest conversation you think you’ve had with Miguel. Mainly because you did all the talking.
Miguel watched you go, a nervousness very obvious to him practically flowing off you. Nerves he noticed heightened when you gave him the new suit.
He brings said suit into view, tilting his head in observation. He's thankful nobody was there to witness the small smile that had begun to edge his lips.
. . .
"I'm sorry, when did you ever think that the patriarchy wasn't something terrible?" You ask Hobie, who had decided to join you for lunch. He had just showed you a new song on his guitar, the lyrics completely different from what you knew Hobie to be.
"Oh, society’s fucked. But I want to keep up an element of surprise." He says, continuously eating most of the food on your plate. "Can't stay predictable, now can I?"
You chuckle, slightly shaking your head, snatching some of the food out of his greedy hands. "Did you know what that mission was about, with all those injured spider-men?" You suddenly ask.
Hobie pauses, before shaking his head. "Though I did hear it got cleared from the database. Miguel asked Lyla to scrap it."
Your brows furrowed. "Why? I wasn't stationed for that mission, so, I was a little surprised to see the bloody fists and faces. Usually when Miguel leads a group things go so..."
"Smoothly?" Hobie fills in, to which you nod. "I don't know, mate. Maybe they lost, and poor Miguel's embarrassed."
Your lips curve up in a smile, as Hobie snickers at the thought.
"And weren't you just saying that you'd kiss my non-existent boots the other day?" Miguel's voice abruptly makes both you and Hobie swivel in your seats.
You instantly catch on to Miguel's clean suit. You hold back a smile threatening to surface at his semi acceptance of your help. Miguel notices your expression. "Don't take it personally, y/l/n."
You forming smile drops as you try to display indifference. "Did you need something, boss?" Hobie partially jokes.
"Not from you." Miguel looks back to you, before tilting his head to the side, silently asking you to follow him, as he turns and walks away.
Nerves crawl up your spine as you stand. You slide your plate closer to Hobie, as you speak. "Don't worry, you can finish it." Your sarcasm in your assurance is obvious, knowing he would have helped himself anyway.
Hobie places his hand over his heart, touched. "You're honestly an angel, y/n."
You scoff, quickly following the now disappeared Miguel.
When you near the tech and teleportation room—or in other words your office—you spot Miguel bringing up a second swivel chair to be placed beside yours.
When he catches your confused expression, he speaks, leaning back into the chair. "I have some spare time now for your first Spanish lesson. And Lyla is occupied, as of now."
You're quick to take a seat, a slight determined shine in your eyes that makes Miguel's throat tighten, which only sets a more prominent scowl on his face. "Te ves como una niña ansiosa mirando los regalos."
You blink, eyes narrowing as you try to decipher any of what he just said. "You look like an over eager child staring at presents." Miguel translates.
The shine in your eyes shifts to a glare of your gaze as you click your jaw. "As I said: I like this job."
"Mm." Miguel hums. "You've made that clear."
You lean back in your chair, trying to match his relaxed posture. "Can we start with something more simple?" You ask, wetting your slightly dry lips. Your nerves seem to do that to you.
"Don't worry, I don't think you're a genius or anything." His tone makes your nose twitch as you take a breath. You'd love to tell him how infuriating he can be.
"Repeat after me: Me llamo…" Miguel says.
"Me llamo."
Miguel is surprised by your rather accurate accent, his gaze shifting to your lips. "Me llamo y/n."
Your body becomes stiff as you hear your first name spill from his lips. You gulp, your throat now feeling dry. "Me llamo y/n."
"I'm sure you can guess what that means." Miguel says, his dry humour shining through.
"My name is y/n." You prove.
"Good." He says.
"Gracias." (Thank you.) You say the one word you do know, a hint of pride filling you as Miguel's eyes meet your own without the usual spite hidden behind.
"Since you know a basic word, let’s learn another." He rests his arm against the armrest, your eyes betraying you as they flicker to the tense of his muscles. "Por favor." (Please.)
"Por favor." You repeat.
Miguel's lips slightly curve up in a smirk. "You sound good being polite."
You narrow your eyes, before realising what 'por favor' means. "Please." You sigh.
Miguel's smirk hasn't dropped. To which you quickly speak. "Next word."
"Let's try a sentence using 'por favor'." He says. "¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" (Can you help me, please?)
"¿Me puede ayu..." You drift off, unsure.
"Puede ayuder..." Miguel helps.
"¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" You say, with a small smile.
"You're gonna be using that one a lot." Miguel says, licking his lips. What you don't know is that Miguel made you use the formal 'you', just adding more onto his layer of superiority. That's when you get reminded of his cut lip, which looks like it hasn't been tended to, most likely on his call.
"Are you sure you don't want to make sure that that doesn't get infected?" You ask, gesturing loosely to his bottom lip.
He raises his hand to it. "It's fine."
"Yeah, now it is." You say with a slight scoff. "It might not be—"
"It's fine, chiquita." (little thing/small.)
"What does that mean?" You ask. "You've said it to me before."
Part—no, most—of Miguel doesn't want to tell you. Sure, he could play it off as an insult, but the way he can't help but let his tone drop to one of softness when he says it would give away the fact that he uses it as a form of endearment rather then one of hatred. He can't have you knowing that.
His silence makes you speak. "Fine, I'll just search it up then." You go to grab your phone—which sits rather far behind you—when he intercepts, using his web to snatch it up, pulling it back into his awaiting palm.
Miguel stands, taking the device with him. "Hey!" You call after him. "I need that."
"No you don't. Nothing of work importance is on here." Miguel calls back. You scoff, staring after him. Just as he's about to disappear through the exit he speaks. "Oh, and y/l/n?"
You wait in annoyance but also expectancy. "Don't forget you owe me something in return." Then he's gone, leaving you to lean into your chair, feeling heavy with all the different heights of nervousness you had just felt.
. . .
It was dark, only a few spider-people wandering around headquarters. You’re preparing to teleport back to your universe, holding the wrist band you were given, when a certain voice stops you.
“Y/l/n.” You spin to see Miguel. You can’t help but let your gaze drop down his body. He wasn’t in his normal spider suit, wearing instead, grey sweatpants, and a loose (very large) shirt.
You had planned to say something, maybe ask what he wanted. But all you could muster was the open and close of your mouth.
You let your gaze shamefully drag back up to his face. His red eyes seemed to stand out more with the monotoned colours of his clothes. You gulp, refraining from shaking your head to clear your…interesting thoughts. You force a smile, maybe one too wide.
Miguel watches you, wishing he didn’t feel so amused by your confusing display of emotions.
You cough. “Did you need something, O’hara?”
He lets his gaze drift down your body, making you stiffen. And of course, he notices, holding down the curve of his lips. He wouldn’t smile in front of you. Though, he’s sure that self-made rule has already been broken by today’s Spanish lesson.
“Stay.” Miguel finally speaks, meeting your gaze.
“Stay?” You repeat.
“Mhm.” He hums, crossing his arms.
“What do you mean?”
Miguel raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What do you think it means?” He asks dryly.
You narrow your eyes at his tone, running your tongue along your teeth. “I thought only spider-men and women can stay in headquarters?”
“I thought you wanted to do anything to prove your worth?”
Realisation hits you. “Oh, this is part of the deal? Your end?”
“In return for today’s lesson, yes.” He replies, walking closer to you.
He grabs your teleporting wristband, pocketing it in his sweatpants before he’s turning and heading towards a side door.
“Come on.” He orders.
You hurry your steps catching up to him.
Soon you’re beginning to walk up what looks to be the stairs to heaven. So. Many. Steps. You glance up at them, then shift your gaze to Miguel. “We’re walking all the way up there?”
“Feel free to web your way up instead.” The jabbing hasn’t left, which sets a small scowl on your face.
You wave your hands in the general direction of the higher steps. “You can do that, I’ll catch up.” You say as you begin to mount the stairs.
Miguel watches you for a second, pressing his lips together to hold back an unwanted laugh at the preparing deep breath you took.
He follows you up the stairs. You reach halfway when you realise he’s behind you. You spin, your chest slightly heaving. You’ve always felt jealous at all the spider variants’ fitness.
“Why aren’t you swinging?” You ask between breaths.
“Last I remember, you report to me, not the other way ‘round.” Miguel answers.
You scoff while trying to slow your breathing. “It was just a question.”
“Maybe we should switch lessons—do fitness instead of Spanish.” You watch as Miguel passes you, continuing up the stairs.
Your eyes are narrowed as your gaze follows him. “You’re funny.” You call after to his leaving form.
“No tan divertido como que estes sin aliento, chiquita”. (Not as funny as you being breathless, little thing/small) Miguel calls back.
“What?” You ask, breathlessly.
Miguel just chuckles. Your brain halts. Miguel just chuckled? Miguel seems to be thinking the same thing as his face returns, rather quickly, to its normal moody expression.
You’re both soon at the top, Miguel having reached it in a decent amount of time before you. Just as your bent of your knees, breathing heavy, Miguel turns, walking away again.
“O’hara.” You call, placing your hand over your rapidly beating heart. He doesn’t answer, continuing to walk.
“Miguel!”
At the mention of his first name he freezes. He doesn’t like the fact that his mouth goes dry, forcing him to gulp. He hasn’t liked the fact that you’ve made him ‘chuckle’, smile and actually forget about his morning’s mission.
“Your room is to the right. Be awake before six.” Miguel says monotonously, as he turns towards you, passing your now straightened body to assumably head to his own room.
You watch him go, your breathing slowing as a small frown forms. But it soon goes, grateful that this new room means O’hara is warming up to the fact of you staying.
. . .
When Miguel reaches his room, he slams the door shut, some of the wall’s plaster crumbling off in sprinkles. He was mad. How dare you make him feel that many emotions in one day. One. Day. That’s all it took.
But what he hated more was the fact that underlying his anger towards you, was lust. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, your face and your voice was the thing that helped him late at night.
He hits back against the headboard of his bed, not caring about the creaks and groans of the wood. Because all he could think about was the way your chest looked heaving up and down. The way your mouth opened in pants.
He hated you. His hand slipped down to his pants, sinking into his sweatpants. He hated the way you smiled. His fingers wrapped around his hard on, beginning to stroke, his eyes shut as his head stayed pressed against the wall.
He hated the way you looked at him—big eyes staring with a mix of curiosity. His breathing began to hitch, as his pace quickened, a small groan falling from his lips. He hated the way you smelt—cherry following you everywhere you went. His hips began to thrust up into his palm.
He hated the way…
He hated…
“Mierda.” (Fuck.) He whisper-hisses, his cock throbbing with the want to release.
His other hand gripped tight on his messy sheets, as he bites down on his lips, his eyes beginning to roll. His abs contract as his mouth hangs open in a pant. “Oh, chiquita—dios.” (god.)
Miguel O’hara hates the fact that only you can can bring him to an orgasm that makes him desperate to feel another.
Fuck you—he thinks to himself. Fuck you, y/n.
I’ll admit— I didn’t expect this to get so much love, thank you so so much all of you angels, MWAH
I promise more parts are to come!
also some words/how things work in the ‘spider-multiverse hero crew’ might be different then how you picture it—certain details I just made up, hope you all don’t mind
process: after a mission, a group of spider-people come back bruised and for the most part injured, all including a seemingly unbothered miguel. miguel offers a first spanish lesson, one that ends with the reminder of something in return—I wonder where your new home is…
contains: learning spanish (I don’t speak spanish, so please correct me if I’m wrong with anything here); non detailed mentions of injuries; male masterbation
step one step two
YOU HEAR THE CRASH AND COMMOTION OF A GROUP ARRIVING. You watched as medical spiders’ rushed towards the injured. They were all practically injured in some way. You quickly stood, making sure everything was out of the way, like rolled away chairs and random cords.
Your brows creased in concern as you spotted different spider-people holding their wounds, their suits ripped. You shift your gaze to the only one standing, appearing fine, besides his cut up suit and bloody face, bruises forming by his cheek. Before you know it, you're walking up to him. "O'hara."
He turns his head, his chest still breathing heavy. "You should sit." You suggest, watching as the rest of the group heads towards the large door, most likely heading to the medical room.
Miguel just walks past you, heading to the space you barely see him away from—by the big spider that teleports. You watch him walk, noticing the continuing tear of his suit, that gives you a good look at fractions of his bare muscled back.
You turn, quickly heading towards the exit, remembering something that might be helpful.
"Where are you going?" Miguel's sudden voice makes you slow as you briefly glance back. You catch his gaze. "You should be working." His general solemn expression is present, and oddly that makes you feel settled. Familiarity is always nice, especially after a clearly hard mission.
"I'll be back." You say quickly, before you rush out the door.
When you arrive back, Miguel is looking at his cuts, some clearly deeper than others. You tighten your hold on the large spider suit as you near him.
He instantly notices your presence, most likely a 'spider-sense' thing. His gaze shifts to the material in your grasp. "I know you'd rather someone else's help, but I know for a fact that we don't have spare spider suits, which is kind of stupid considering how dangerous your guys' job's are."
You near him, now noticing the way he's sitting, legs slightly spread, his body leant back in a swivel chair. And as you look closer, you realise that it's your swivel chair. You extend your hand with the suit, which he takes, eyeing the matching material and design of the worn-out one he has on now.
"I made a replica when I first arrived—when I was learning about how things worked here. Your suit is rather unique and I wanted a closer look. Not to mention that the design correlated to data I have saved on all of you."
Miguel raises a brow. "Data?"
"Lyla's data, to be exact. Since I'm working with her, she had to show me."
You watch as he runs the material between the pads of his fingers, his tongue coming out to lick his cut lip. A shiver runs down your spine as you notice his fangs. You'd noticed them before, but was never confident enough to ask him about them. No other spider-person had teeth like that.
You begin to step back. "Wear it if you want. I'm just heading to lunch."
And that was the nicest conversation you think you’ve had with Miguel. Mainly because you did all the talking.
Miguel watched you go, a nervousness very obvious to him practically flowing off you. Nerves he noticed heightened when you gave him the new suit.
He brings said suit into view, tilting his head in observation. He's thankful nobody was there to witness the small smile that had begun to edge his lips.
. . .
"I'm sorry, when did you ever think that the patriarchy wasn't something terrible?" You ask Hobie, who had decided to join you for lunch. He had just showed you a new song on his guitar, the lyrics completely different from what you knew Hobie to be.
"Oh, society’s fucked. But I want to keep up an element of surprise." He says, continuously eating most of the food on your plate. "Can't stay predictable, now can I?"
You chuckle, slightly shaking your head, snatching some of the food out of his greedy hands. "Did you know what that mission was about, with all those injured spider-men?" You suddenly ask.
Hobie pauses, before shaking his head. "Though I did hear it got cleared from the database. Miguel asked Lyla to scrap it."
Your brows furrowed. "Why? I wasn't stationed for that mission, so, I was a little surprised to see the bloody fists and faces. Usually when Miguel leads a group things go so..."
"Smoothly?" Hobie fills in, to which you nod. "I don't know, mate. Maybe they lost, and poor Miguel's embarrassed."
Your lips curve up in a smile, as Hobie snickers at the thought.
"And weren't you just saying that you'd kiss my non-existent boots the other day?" Miguel's voice abruptly makes both you and Hobie swivel in your seats.
You instantly catch on to Miguel's clean suit. You hold back a smile threatening to surface at his semi acceptance of your help. Miguel notices your expression. "Don't take it personally, y/l/n."
You forming smile drops as you try to display indifference. "Did you need something, boss?" Hobie partially jokes.
"Not from you." Miguel looks back to you, before tilting his head to the side, silently asking you to follow him, as he turns and walks away.
Nerves crawl up your spine as you stand. You slide your plate closer to Hobie, as you speak. "Don't worry, you can finish it." Your sarcasm in your assurance is obvious, knowing he would have helped himself anyway.
Hobie places his hand over his heart, touched. "You're honestly an angel, y/n."
You scoff, quickly following the now disappeared Miguel.
When you near the tech and teleportation room—or in other words your office—you spot Miguel bringing up a second swivel chair to be placed beside yours.
When he catches your confused expression, he speaks, leaning back into the chair. "I have some spare time now for your first Spanish lesson. And Lyla is occupied, as of now."
You're quick to take a seat, a slight determined shine in your eyes that makes Miguel's throat tighten, which only sets a more prominent scowl on his face. "Te ves como una niña ansiosa mirando los regalos."
You blink, eyes narrowing as you try to decipher any of what he just said. "You look like an over eager child staring at presents." Miguel translates.
The shine in your eyes shifts to a glare of your gaze as you click your jaw. "As I said: I like this job."
"Mm." Miguel hums. "You've made that clear."
You lean back in your chair, trying to match his relaxed posture. "Can we start with something more simple?" You ask, wetting your slightly dry lips. Your nerves seem to do that to you.
"Don't worry, I don't think you're a genius or anything." His tone makes your nose twitch as you take a breath. You'd love to tell him how infuriating he can be.
"Repeat after me: Me llamo…" Miguel says.
"Me llamo."
Miguel is surprised by your rather accurate accent, his gaze shifting to your lips. "Me llamo y/n."
Your body becomes stiff as you hear your first name spill from his lips. You gulp, your throat now feeling dry. "Me llamo y/n."
"I'm sure you can guess what that means." Miguel says, his dry humour shining through.
"My name is y/n." You prove.
"Good." He says.
"Gracias." (Thank you.) You say the one word you do know, a hint of pride filling you as Miguel's eyes meet your own without the usual spite hidden behind.
"Since you know a basic word, let’s learn another." He rests his arm against the armrest, your eyes betraying you as they flicker to the tense of his muscles. "Por favor." (Please.)
"Por favor." You repeat.
Miguel's lips slightly curve up in a smirk. "You sound good being polite."
You narrow your eyes, before realising what 'por favor' means. "Please." You sigh.
Miguel's smirk hasn't dropped. To which you quickly speak. "Next word."
"Let's try a sentence using 'por favor'." He says. "¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" (Can you help me, please?)
"¿Me puede ayu..." You drift off, unsure.
"Puede ayuder..." Miguel helps.
"¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" You say, with a small smile.
"You're gonna be using that one a lot." Miguel says, licking his lips. What you don't know is that Miguel made you use the formal 'you', just adding more onto his layer of superiority. That's when you get reminded of his cut lip, which looks like it hasn't been tended to, most likely on his call.
"Are you sure you don't want to make sure that that doesn't get infected?" You ask, gesturing loosely to his bottom lip.
He raises his hand to it. "It's fine."
"Yeah, now it is." You say with a slight scoff. "It might not be—"
"It's fine, chiquita." (little thing/small.)
"What does that mean?" You ask. "You've said it to me before."
Part—no, most—of Miguel doesn't want to tell you. Sure, he could play it off as an insult, but the way he can't help but let his tone drop to one of softness when he says it would give away the fact that he uses it as a form of endearment rather then one of hatred. He can't have you knowing that.
His silence makes you speak. "Fine, I'll just search it up then." You go to grab your phone—which sits rather far behind you—when he intercepts, using his web to snatch it up, pulling it back into his awaiting palm.
Miguel stands, taking the device with him. "Hey!" You call after him. "I need that."
"No you don't. Nothing of work importance is on here." Miguel calls back. You scoff, staring after him. Just as he's about to disappear through the exit he speaks. "Oh, and y/l/n?"
You wait in annoyance but also expectancy. "Don't forget you owe me something in return." Then he's gone, leaving you to lean into your chair, feeling heavy with all the different heights of nervousness you had just felt.
. . .
It was dark, only a few spider-people wandering around headquarters. You’re preparing to teleport back to your universe, holding the wrist band you were given, when a certain voice stops you.
“Y/l/n.” You spin to see Miguel. You can’t help but let your gaze drop down his body. He wasn’t in his normal spider suit, wearing instead, grey sweatpants, and a loose (very large) shirt.
You had planned to say something, maybe ask what he wanted. But all you could muster was the open and close of your mouth.
You let your gaze shamefully drag back up to his face. His red eyes seemed to stand out more with the monotoned colours of his clothes. You gulp, refraining from shaking your head to clear your…interesting thoughts. You force a smile, maybe one too wide.
Miguel watches you, wishing he didn’t feel so amused by your confusing display of emotions.
You cough. “Did you need something, O’hara?”
He lets his gaze drift down your body, making you stiffen. And of course, he notices, holding down the curve of his lips. He wouldn’t smile in front of you. Though, he’s sure that self-made rule has already been broken by today’s Spanish lesson.
“Stay.” Miguel finally speaks, meeting your gaze.
“Stay?” You repeat.
“Mhm.” He hums, crossing his arms.
“What do you mean?”
Miguel raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What do you think it means?” He asks dryly.
You narrow your eyes at his tone, running your tongue along your teeth. “I thought only spider-men and women can stay in headquarters?”
“I thought you wanted to do anything to prove your worth?”
Realisation hits you. “Oh, this is part of the deal? Your end?”
“In return for today’s lesson, yes.” He replies, walking closer to you.
He grabs your teleporting wristband, pocketing it in his sweatpants before he’s turning and heading towards a side door.
“Come on.” He orders.
You hurry your steps catching up to him.
Soon you’re beginning to walk up what looks to be the stairs to heaven. So. Many. Steps. You glance up at them, then shift your gaze to Miguel. “We’re walking all the way up there?”
“Feel free to web your way up instead.” The jabbing hasn’t left, which sets a small scowl on your face.
You wave your hands in the general direction of the higher steps. “You can do that, I’ll catch up.” You say as you begin to mount the stairs.
Miguel watches you for a second, pressing his lips together to hold back an unwanted laugh at the preparing deep breath you took.
He follows you up the stairs. You reach halfway when you realise he’s behind you. You spin, your chest slightly heaving. You’ve always felt jealous at all the spider variants’ fitness.
“Why aren’t you swinging?” You ask between breaths.
“Last I remember, you report to me, not the other way ‘round.” Miguel answers.
You scoff while trying to slow your breathing. “It was just a question.”
“Maybe we should switch lessons—do fitness instead of Spanish.” You watch as Miguel passes you, continuing up the stairs.
Your eyes are narrowed as your gaze follows him. “You’re funny.” You call after to his leaving form.
“No tan divertido como que estes sin aliento, chiquita”. (Not as funny as you being breathless, little thing/small) Miguel calls back.
“What?” You ask, breathlessly.
Miguel just chuckles. Your brain halts. Miguel just chuckled? Miguel seems to be thinking the same thing as his face returns, rather quickly, to its normal moody expression.
You’re both soon at the top, Miguel having reached it in a decent amount of time before you. Just as your bent of your knees, breathing heavy, Miguel turns, walking away again.
“O’hara.” You call, placing your hand over your rapidly beating heart. He doesn’t answer, continuing to walk.
“Miguel!”
At the mention of his first name he freezes. He doesn’t like the fact that his mouth goes dry, forcing him to gulp. He hasn’t liked the fact that you’ve made him ‘chuckle’, smile and actually forget about his morning’s mission.
“Your room is to the right. Be awake before six.” Miguel says monotonously, as he turns towards you, passing your now straightened body to assumably head to his own room.
You watch him go, your breathing slowing as a small frown forms. But it soon goes, grateful that this new room means O’hara is warming up to the fact of you staying.
. . .
When Miguel reaches his room, he slams the door shut, some of the wall’s plaster crumbling off in sprinkles. He was mad. How dare you make him feel that many emotions in one day. One. Day. That’s all it took.
But what he hated more was the fact that underlying his anger towards you, was lust. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, your face and your voice was the thing that helped him late at night.
He hits back against the headboard of his bed, not caring about the creaks and groans of the wood. Because all he could think about was the way your chest looked heaving up and down. The way your mouth opened in pants.
He hated you. His hand slipped down to his pants, sinking into his sweatpants. He hated the way you smiled. His fingers wrapped around his hard on, beginning to stroke, his eyes shut as his head stayed pressed against the wall.
He hated the way you looked at him—big eyes staring with a mix of curiosity. His breathing began to hitch, as his pace quickened, a small groan falling from his lips. He hated the way you smelt—cherry following you everywhere you went. His hips began to thrust up into his palm.
He hated the way…
He hated…
“Mierda.” (Fuck.) He whisper-hisses, his cock throbbing with the want to release.
His other hand gripped tight on his messy sheets, as he bites down on his lips, his eyes beginning to roll. His abs contract as his mouth hangs open in a pant. “Oh, chiquita—dios.” (god.)
Miguel O’hara hates the fact that only you can can bring him to an orgasm that makes him desperate to feel another.
Fuck you—he thinks to himself. Fuck you, y/n.
I’ll admit— I didn’t expect this to get so much love, thank you so so much all of you angels, MWAH
I promise more parts are to come!
also some words/how things work in the ‘spider-multiverse hero crew’ might be different then how you picture it—certain details I just made up, hope you all don’t mind
process: miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.
contains: I translated all Spanish on google, so please if anyone knows if I fucked up tell me!; enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; Spanish term of endearment ‘chiquita’ (little thing/small)
step one step two
MIGUEL WATCHED AS YOU FIDDLED WITH THE DIFFERENT TECH MACHINES, TAPPING SCREENS WITH A FOCUSED GAZE. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.
He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.
You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.
He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.
So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.
You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."
Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.
When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.
Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.
"How's your bloody boring shit going?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.
"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.
He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."
You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"
Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start calling you boss, and kissing your boots?"
Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."
Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."
Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.
You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.
You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.
Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)
You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"
He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.
He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)
"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.
"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....how annoyingly caliente (hot) you make me,
chiquita." (little thing/small.)
You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"
"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.
"To prove I'm helpful."
"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"
"Of course."
"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.
"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"
He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then jode (fuck) something up."
You knew what that word meant.
"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.
You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.
. . .
You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.
Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.
'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.
You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.
"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.
Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."
You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."
Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."
You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.
"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.
"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.
Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.
You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"
"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"
You nod.
"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."
You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."
He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working for me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."
You eye him. "Like what?"
"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chiquita." (little thing/small.)
You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.
i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…
also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment
warnings: dubcon-ish?, enemies with benefits, handjob, edging, implied intercouse towards the end
a/n: i know this is very out of the blue but i watched atsv and i cant get miguel out of my head
wc. 1.1k
“untie me,” hissed miguel, fangs jutting as his blood-thirsty eyes followed you.
you let out a hollow laugh the second those words escaped his mouth and met his penetrating stare. to say you and and miguel were enemies would be an understatement. there was something about this guy that irked you in the worst way, but could also turn you on like no other.
the feeling was mutual. you’d never admit a word of this if it wasn’t - not even to yourself. you and miguel had a weird thing going on, the sort of thing where the line between hate and lust grew thinner with each dark, loathing stare he shot you.
maybe you’d had his cock in you a couple of times. twelve, to be exact, though not that you were counting (because you totally weren’t). not your proudest moments, but the sight of him on his knees, tangled in a weaving of webs made you forget it. his muscles bulged with every endeavor to free himself from your little trick. which was hilarious, because if they were any tighter, they’d burst right through his spandex.
not that you were complaining.
“hm, let me think about it,” you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “no.”
“i said - untie me. now,” miguel roared, as if it would make any difference.
you crouched before him, pouting. “what’s the matter, spider-man? can’t handle other people telling you no? you don’t get to be the boss of everyone, cariño.”
you waved your finger in his face, to which miguel responded to with a lean forward as if he were going to bite your wrist off, but you were too quick.
“woah there, bitey,” you taunted. “get it? that rhymes with spidey. hilarious, don’t you think?”
miguel spat, “you annoy me.”
“it’s a pleasure,” you said, merely grinning. then, you pointed to the extended talon behind his back where his hands were tied, asking, “can i borrow that? thanks.”
you used his talons to poke a hole in the lower half of his suit, promptly tearing at the spandex until the hole expanded. miguel wasn’t exactly pleased, not yet anyways, barking, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“more than you deserve,” you whispered, widening the gap until his half-hard cock was freed. that you inevitably already saw. for obvious reasons, it was difficult for spider-men to conceal their hard-ons. “you guys freeball under these suits? that’s crazy. i mean, not that you’re gonna catch a hard-on fighting the spot, but you never know. i mean, what if some really sexy villain just hits… the spot. get it? the-”
“the spot. yes, i get the joke. shut the hell up,” miguel grumbled, irritated.
you giggled. his annoyed face was too hot. of course, you were riling him up on purpose.
licking a line down your palm, you gently grabbed his cock, stroking him in his hands while looking him in his angry eyes. you saw his features tense, the part that didn’t want to be angry surfacing. the part that wanted to be relieved.
that was all that was wrong with this cranky guy. he just needed some relief in his life, and who better to provide it to him than you, the spider-person he never wanted on this team in the first place but took in because jess had insisted you could be useful. and you were, in more ways than one. not that miguel would ever admit that, though.
“fuck,” miguel grunted, writhing again, though not in an attempt to escape. you knew how to pleasure him and that was your saving grace, but you also knew how to tease. “could you be any slower with that?”
“i could, actually. watch this,” you retorted, now pumping him in no particular hurry. you had time to waste.
your leisure movements were killing miguel slowly. literally. he groaned, “well, could you go any faster?”
“i could,” you repeated with a lilt. “but you’d have to say the magic word.”
“go faster!”
you gave him a mocking frown. “i don’t think that’s it, o’hara.”
“do i have to?”
“do you want to cum?”
miguel winces his eyes closed, heaved a huge sigh, and huffed, “please, go faster.”
“wow, you hit the lottery,” you said, quickening your pace. you loved watching his brows furrow with pleasure, sweat beading at his face.
miguel bit his lip, wanting to be mad at how you satisfied him. it reminded you of when he was buried balls deep inside of you, his weight resting on top of your chest while his teeth clamped into your shoulder, not for the purpose of extracting blood but to smother the sounds of pleasure that escaped him when your cunt was squeezing his dick. almost like he would rather die than let you know you were good for something.
it didn’t matter, though. the telltale signs of arousal manifested themselves in plentiful ways from his body, like the taut ache in his pants when you turned him on a little too much. he got so hard for you, it was ridiculous.
and you were having a ball (you were tempted to make a joke, but resisted for his mental sake). there was something about having an insanely large, strong man who could potentially crush you to smithereens squirming at your mercy. it made warmth spread through your chest and the slyest grin curl onto your lips.
miguel’s hips were thrusting into your palm, an obvious sign that he was on the brink of climax. you’d come to know it by now - he started to lost control, the reins slipping out his hands. and you loved it. you loved how he was a slave to his urges and not the other way around.
“you almost there?” you asked, in spite of being fully aware.
miguel offered you no words, but the look on his face and his unstill, restless body said enough.
that was when you got the bold idea to withdraw your hand at the very last second, depriving him of what could have been. his wrath was instant. you saw his hips flail in a desperation you’d never seen of him before, his fluttering eyes snapping open to cut at you.
“oopsies,” you sang, smiling innocently.
that was the very last straw for miguel and he broke out of your restraints, having enough of playing weak. you gasped, caught off-guard when he switched on a dime, throwing you against the ground and hovering over you. you parted your lips to speak, but he was quick to shoot a web over your mouth.
“you talk too much,” miguel growled, cutting your own spandex with his talons, and was pleased to find you were very wet. he fixed himself between your thighs, leaning into your ear to whisper, “and for the record, nobody decides if i cum, cariño.”
cw: 18+ no minors!!, marking, blood kink(?), biting, mean dom!miguel, breeding, afab!reader, big dick miguel, possessive
miguel would definitely bite the inside of your thighs right next to where you needed him most, leaving his mark there in case any future lovers dared to think that you belonged to anyone else. he’d relish in reopening the scar with his fangs, licking up your sweet blood before feasting on your slick cunt. you were always so fucking sweet. your noises, your taste, your ministrations as you babbled for him to kiss you. miguel loved how gone you were for him, how you’d let him bruise your skin, bite your neck, make you cum until you couldn’t breathe or think or move. he loved when you insisted he was too big but begged for him to fuck you nonetheless. he was no better, he was feral for you, his dick hardening even at the mere scent of you. he’d do anything to spend all of his time fucking you, breeding you like the slut you were, but he did have lives to save.
Filipinos have supported many movements such as the “Eat the rich” campagne, BLM movement, LGBTQA+ movement and many more. Now all we ask of you is to try and spread the word that we need help too. All we ask is you stop cooping up in your houses and donate or at least sign petitions and share the word that WE EXIST AND WE NEED HELP.
my home town was one of the greatly affected areas of this typhoon and my mom is literally ASKING patients for used clothes to send to the philippines because we can only give so much. there’s a literall tree over my mother’s childhood home that has stood over for 40 years and was brought down by the typhoon. my grandmother’s home has no longer a roof to provide shelter. pls, i’m asking you, do whatever you can, donate, share the news, whatever to help the cause back home
Hey folks, this is not your typical post about incorrect quotes.
I want to address a serious issue today, and most of you probably know what’s been going on in the US.
The killing of George Floyd started another serious and necessary debate on Police brutality in the states. (And I think not just there. Every country is affected in some way or another.)
My heart doesn’t ache, no. My heart is bleeding and crying out of pain about what has been going on for days now. What people have been going through for years and years. This is not the first case of police brutality against POC, nor the second, and it probably isn’t the last one.
It happened so many times already that I can’t count them all. Our world has lost so many beautiful souls to this never-ending issue. Additionally to this, we lost so many brothers and sisters of color who were part of the LGBTQ+ community too. Even though it is pride month, I can’t enjoy and celebrate it as much as I want to.
But now is the time to act. Now more than ever!
We all have a voice, and I’m sure as hell using mine.
And I want you to do the same.
40 Ways you can help right now shows you different techniques and approaches to support the #blacklivesmatter movement in various forms.
Everyone’s able to do something. Even if you don’t have the money to donate, or you’re not from the US, share articles, draw attention to it in some way. Being silent about this puts you on the side of the offenders.
I understand that I will never understand. However, I stand with all of you!!!
Credit goes to @sfbucketlist on instagram for these 40 ways you can help right now.
