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moon-rivr · 6 months

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Miguel being a nerd by blabbering all about smart stuff and reader just adoring him blabbering. Miguel gets a bit shy with the way the reader looks at him but the reader just tells him to continue ;]

barbenheimer

pairing: nerd miguel x fem reader

warnings: fluff mostly, smut, riding (yeehaw), and cum eating 🫡

author’s note: a bit of a short one, hope you don’t mind <3 (ik the movies came out in july but this is the first thing that popped up when i read the request 😭) anyways, nerd miguel 🔛🔝 (he’s really a bottom but you get the point)

word count: 1.8K

** for more nerd miguel fics, highly recommend @nymphomatique (they’re so good 👩🏻‍🍳🤌🏼)

To be fair, you probably should've expected this. You'd asked Miguel if he wanted to join you for the Barbenheimer event, the Oppenheimer part mostly just being the purpose of seeing Cillian Murphy on the big screen again. Unlike most of the movies you asked him to watch with you, his eyes lit up as soon as you suggested the idea.

The two of you headed back home from watching Barbie, still having about an hour before the next showing of Oppenheimer started. "Baby, why're you so excited? It's just about a bomb," you asked him as the two of you walked home, clad in the pink attire that you'd chosen to wear for the Barbie movie. "It's more than just a bomb, mi amor. It's about the first atomic bomb and how it affected warfare after that," he responded, letting out a small chuckle as you two walked inside your shared apartment. You noticed his eyes drift over at the clock on the wall, clearly anticipating the 'Oppenheimer' part of the marathon. "Hopefully it'll hold up to Barbie, I mean that movie is just so raw and emotional. The peak of cinema, really," you decided to tease him a bit and the way he turned to look at you proved that it'd worked.

"Hold up to Barbie? Don't get me wrong, that movie was great, mi amor. But Oppenheimer is on a completely different level, it shows the complexity of J. Robert Oppenheimer’s repercussions after creating the atomic bomb. It's so much more than just a bomb going boom," he spoke and you couldn't help but let out a little laugh at how easy it was to rile him up about the subject. His cheeks flushed red after he realized that you were just teasing, sitting down next to you. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like a smartass," he mumbled, rubbing the side of his neck.

"Don't worry, I like hearing you talk about something you're passionate about," you respond, placing your hand on top of his knee. He held your hand in his, slowly rubbing circles on your palm. "Do you want me to tell you some more about it? Just so you have some information before we head inside the movie," he offered and you nodded, mostly because you liked the way that Miguel sounded when he explained things. He was always eager to teach you new things and he did it in a way that didn't make you feel dumb, which you greatly appreciated.

"So basically, Oppenheimer’s career was in the gutter before the creation of the bomb since the government was convinced that he was working with communists and he'd actually been opposed to the creation of a hydrogen bomb," he started off and you looked over to see him already staring at you as he talked. He continued to tell you about the history of the bomb and why it was developed, and you tried to pay attention to what he was saying, you really did, but you found yourself getting lost in how beautiful he looked at the moment. His eyes were sparkling behind those glasses he wore as he spoke, clearly passionate about what he was sharing with you and his hands were frantically moving with his words, struggling to keep up. You were snapped out your thoughts when you realized that Miguel had stopped speaking and was now facing you with a frown on his face.

"Am I boring you?" He asked softly, his hand still resting on top of yours. You hadn't meant to make him feel that way, you had just gotten lost in the way that he spoke and the way that he had the look of a kid in a candy store when he shared something he found interesting. "No, please continue. You just look so pretty when you talk about things you like," you responded, pressing a small kiss on his cheek afterwards. "You're sure I’m not boring you?" He asked, a little worried since he'd divulged that most of his ex flings didn't like him when he got all nerdy. "Nothing you do is boring, Miguel. Keep talking," you responded, rubbing small circles on his hand with your thumb.

He looked at you a little warily before he started to speak once more, going back on the points that you'd missed. You settled on his lap, clinging to him tightly as he spoke as you left small kisses on the side of his neck. He stuttered a bit as he spoke, looking down at you as you started moving your hips against his. "Did my sweet girl get turned on by this?" He whispered, his hand slowly tracing circles on your inner thigh. "I didn't tell you that you could stop with your explanation," you responded, your lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. He continued speaking as you moved against him, his cock tightening up in his pants as you did. He abruptly stopped speaking when he looked to the side, seeing that the sun was already starting to set.

"Hey, how much time do we have until the movie starts?" He asked you, letting out a small whimper when he felt your lips on his collarbone once more. "It started an hour ago, actually," you replied, and he could've sworn that you were joking with how calm you said it but quickly realized that you were right when he turned to look at the clock on the wall. "Why didn't you say anything, mi amor?" he asked you, not mad but just a little upset that he would have to wait longer. "Well, like I said, you just looked too excited to interrupt you. And I mean, you have quite the nuclear weapon in your pants, Miguel. Is the movie really necessary?" You asked him, deciding to tease him a little bit but his face told you he wasn't having it. "Okay, okay, we can catch the next showing in a hour. Now what do you suggest we do with this free time?" You responded and he got up from the couch, your legs clinging around his waist as you held onto him. "I have a couple ideas on what we could do."

"You know, this isn't exactly what i had in mind when you said you had ideas," you mumbled as miguel turned on the tv, putting on an Oppenheimer documentary. "Oh? And what did you have in mind, bonita?" He asked you with such faux innocence you couldn't help but let out a little giggle as you rolled onto his lap. "Was thinking of something more like this," you responded as you started kissing his neck, leaving small bites in your wake. He grabbed the tv remote, turning off the documentary as you continued to grind your hips against his. You grabbed the glasses from his face, putting them on before quickly putting them on the nightstand. "Jeez, Miguel, you're really blind," you mumbled, taking off his pants. "Ah, yes. nothing turns a man on more than being told how blind he is."

You took his cock out of his jeans, slowly stroking it with your hand as it hardened with your touch. You slide down the pink pants you had on and rub his cock against your folds, getting it lubricated with your juices. He let out a soft moan as you did so, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your thighs. You slowly started to sink onto his cock, holding his shoulders for some semblance of balance. It was moments like these that you were glad no one really approached your boyfriend, since despite him being a nerd, he could have you screaming and gripping the bedsheets as he pounded into you.

The two of you let out a hiss as you sank onto his cock completely, your walls engulfing him. "Always filling me up so good, Miguel," you whispered as you leaned in, pressing small kisses onto his neck before you planted your hands and feet on the bed. You slowly started to move up his cock, always having a bit of trouble adjusting given how big and thick he was. You sank onto his cock once more, eliciting a whimper from him as you did, his fingers digging into your thighs. You set a slow pace while you were still adjusting, your hips swiveling with every move you took.

You sped up after the pain in between your legs dissipated into pleasure, your cunt clenching up to engulf Miguel’s cock as much as possible. He let out a soft groan as you did and leaned in, peppering your chest with kisses before he attached his mouth to one of your nipples. He kept his eyes on yours as he played with your nub, his teeth gently pulling at it while his other hand followed the same ministrations. "Am I making you feel good, mistress?" He asked with a small whine escaping his lips when you pulled at his hair. "So good, Miguel," you responded, a small moan escaping from your lips as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipples.

You felt a soreness in your thighs a while after you'd been riding his cock, your movements slowing down. Miguel quickly came to that realization and planted his feet on the bed, thrusting into you at a rapid pace. Your back arched as his cock brushed up against your g-spot, loud moans escaping from your mouth. He put his fingers to good use and started rubbing small circles that went in tandem with the rhythm of his thrusts. You felt a coil tightening up inside you with every thrust that he took, almost at the point of snapping.

You came with a moan of Miguel’s name, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you did. If he felt any sort of pain, he didn't show it as he continued to chase his own orgasm. You let out soft whimpers as he continued with his thrusts, starting to feel a little too stimulated before he came, painting your walls white in the process. You reached down and scooped some of the cum on your finger, sucking it dry as you tasted a combination of him and you. He pulled his softening cock out of you before he leaned in, kissing you deeply as his tongue tasted the remnants of you two combined.

You two did end up watching a little bit of the documentary that he'd picked out beforehand before you two got re-dressed to go to the movies. He was quick on getting ready this time, not sparing a second since he was aware that this would be the last showing for today. "C'mon, let's go," he pleaded, shifting from foot to foot as you put your shoes back on. "We still have twenty minutes before the movie starts," you responded, letting out a small laugh as you wiped away the sweat from your forehead. The two of you did actually end up making it to the movie on time, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread throughout your chest as you saw the smile on Miguel’s face when the movie started.

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wh1sp3rr · 10 months

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an: i’m tired and depressed and am in need of a big, irish-mexican man to put me to sleep

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

miguel brushes your hair, however curly or straight it is, as you snuggle up into him, nose kissing his neck, breath fanning him comfortably, legs adding the perfect amount of weight and pressure to his hips as he click clackity clicks away, smooching your benign features lovingly. when someone barges in and you perk your head up suddenly as to not be caught in this vulnerable position, he shushes to you so sweetly, caresses your hair once more, smoothing it down, and whispers:

“it’s okay, baby. relax. go back to sleep, okay?”

he glared at whoever the disturber of his precious was and discusses anomalies galore all the while gently shifting his chair side-to-side to rock you, his love to sleep.

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spdrvyn · 1 month

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thinking about living a simple, domestic life with miguel. you aren't even intertwined with any of them through blood or dna, you were some babysitter that miguel had spotted on the playground, but your life hasn't been the same since then.

you were just looking to get a quick buck from the whole gig, but the charm and warmth that just radiated from their family had completely pulled you in. there was no way that you could back out from this now, absolutely no way in hell you were.

you'd never felt so much love and light from only two people before, you could forget about the pay entirely. it's pure, utter bliss. if it was a dream then you never wanted to wake up.

even when you're completely worn out from playing test matches with gabi, even when you still had to carry her up the stairs to tuck her in after she passed out as well.

your remedy was miguel, he cured all of your ills, quelled all the sores you had from chasing an overly-energetic 6 year old all day. he tried to be subtle about how much he actually loved you, but he knew for a long time that his heart would always be safe with you. only you.

you didn't even think you could be called a babysitter anymore, you greeted miguel at the door with a chaste kiss (one that you make sure gabi won't notice or tease you for later), you make him dinner while he distracts you by dragging you to dance with him to the music you were playing, then cuddling together on the couch and falling asleep to a cheesy romcom after gabi was tucked in.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderman 2099 fluff

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salsakiyoomi · 10 months

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miguel doesn't ask for comfort, even when he desperately needs it.

it's a game of guessing with him, really — you have to look out for the subtle changes in his body language to tell if he's upset or stressed, like the slightly more deepened furrow of his eyebrows or the clench of his jaw, the constant sighing and grunting when he does anything, the way he runs his hand through his hair or across his face as he works — nobody but you would really catch on to these kind of stuff they’d just think he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed again — but not you, you know miguel, you know when he’s out of it.

tonight is another night of patrol for miguel — he knows that you don't sleep unless he has made it home, so it was no surprise that when he’d gotten in through the balcony of your shared apartment, he found you, sitting on the couch even though it was three in the middle of the night an you had work early morning.

he murmurs a quiet ‘i’m home’ under his breath — and you notice it, the slump of his shoulders, the slight frown on his face as if he’s thinking about something, not to mention the way he just walks past you to the bathroom, without even a hello or a kiss, as if you weren’t there, or maybe he just didn’t want to acknowledge you.

you leave him be, you know when he needs his space, you can't imagine how rough patrol can be on him, he probably needs a moment of peace in the shower. so, with that, you head towards the bedroom, and get comfortable under the sheets.

not long after, the door to the bedroom opens and miguel steps in, wearing a loose white shirt and sweatpants, his damp hair brush back, and you notice just how heavy his eyebags are, and the growing bruise on the side of his jaw.

he heads towards the bed and sits on the edge of his side, his back turned to you and his head hangs low and you notice that he’s breathing somewhat heavy, his usually inaudible inhales loud this time and you wonder if he’s having another one of his panic attacks.

you sit up, leaning over to him, your fingers gently touch his back, and his muscles are tense under your caress — he turns his head slightly over you, just so that your gaze can catch his, you give him a soft smile “hi.”

the frown on his face eases slightly, “hey.” his gruff voice is unusually quiet and raspy.

“you okay?” you ask softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“yeah.” he lies, cause of course he does, he knows that you know he’s not okay, and even though he knows you're the first person he should be honest with when it comes to his well being, he can’t break the habit of spilling meaningless and false, ‘i’m fine’ from his lips.

you hum in response and he craves your touch when you pull away from him and lean back on the bed — you spread your arms slightly, as if inviting him in for your embrace.

he doesn’t hesitate much, he leans over to you, letting your small arms wrap around his broad shoulders as you place a soft kiss to his lips, and another one to the bruise on his jaw, your lips so gentle before he buries his face in your chest and wraps his arms around your waist, the rest of his body lays comfortably between your legs and you let out a soft laugh when he lets out a deep hum.

“how was patrol today?” you ask him, your fingers running through his hair.

“don’t wanna talk about it.” he grumbles, nuzzling his face further in your chest, inhaling in your familiar scent.

you don’t ask him about it again, instead just opting for the comfortable silence that falls over the two of you, you notice the small blue and purple blotches that littered his neck and shoulders and you notice how his breathing has calmed down too.

your hands move from his hair to his nape, your fingers pressing down lightly on his skin to massage it, and he lets out a grunt of content in response.

he’s always liked that about you, how gentle your touch is, how carefully you handle him, it wasn’t something he was used to or allowed himself to get used to with anyone, before you anyway.

“i like it when you do that.” he mutters as your hands trail down to his back, massaging it as well, caressing his muscles, your touch so tender.

“i know.” you hum in response, a small smile tugging at your lips when he looks up at you with an unamused expression, but nevertheless he can’t help but lean into your touch more.

“relax, miguel.” you tell him, your hands move up to his face an you cup his cheeks, leaning in to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose, “how about some sleep, yeah?”

you've always been so gentle with him, your touch so mellow that he can’t help but melt from it, and your voice so soft that his heart leaped every time he heard it and he couldn’t help but give in to everything you told him.

he nods and rolls on his side, his arm still wrapped around your waist and he holds you close — your presence a comfort to him, and he wants to stay like this forever — just the two of you, alone, sharing this moment of delicate touch and tranquility forever.

he kisses the top of your head and asks, “can you call in sick for work tomorrow?” because tomorrow is his off day, and he wants to spend it with you, just a lazy sunday in bed.

you chuckle, the sound muffled by your face buried in his chest, “‘course.”

“good.” he hums in response and despite all of todays stresses and fights, he can’t help but feel at ease with you in his arms.

#atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara comfort #spiderman 2099 fluff #spiderman 2099 comfort #atsv x reader #atsv drabbles #atsv fluff #atsv comfort #miguel spiderverse #miguel drabble

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reveluving · 9 months

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oh! another fluffy miguel x shy!reader! (ft lego!peter!)

Thinking about Miguel feeling warm and fuzzy and always having a hard time hiding his smile whenever he sees you and Lego!Peter interact!

When else is he going to see his supposedly scary shadow-manipulating s/o coo over his best man in the society?

(Well, you always do i.e. Meows Morales, Spider-Cat, the Spider-Gang, including Miles much to Miguel's chagrin, but he's not spoiling your fun. C’mon now, he's better than that.)

He just finds it really, r e a l l y cute okay.

You just have this soft smile on your face, listening to Peter like a mother would with her child who just went on an adventure, and it's taking everything in Miguel not to just burst.

And well, much like everyone in the society, he just has a lot to share once he's talking to the right person. From the hells and juicy gossip of working with the Daily Bugle to questions like how your powers worked.

Plus, other than being one of the best ones in the team, you enjoy his company! Just holding little Peter on your open palms or letting him stay on your shoulder—Bonus if it's the villains/anomalies are unfortunate enough to hurt the both of you.

Oh, they will never see the light of day again.

Basically, just two fearsome parents, going up to the cafeteria cashier before Miguel being like "he asked for no pickles" (But let's face it, Miguel's doing the talking, he'll reassure you. You'll just be next to him holding Peter, who's silently begging you and Miguel that it's really not issue).

Other Miguel x Shy!Reader works ;; 1* – 2

#— reve's reverie 🌹#in honor of atsv's digital release #even if my noodle is not noodling #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x shy!reader is back!#miguel o'hara x fem!reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fluff #what is this bro honestly #a miguel crack fic ngl

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guilty-pleasures21 · 15 days

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Best friend's brother Miguel

I'm sorry it took me so long!!! But I've finally finished!

Part 1 - the past

Part 2 - the present

Part 3 - the future

Warnings: mentions of sex, but no explicit descriptions.

_______________________________________________

“And this is my girlfriend,” Miguel said to his teammates, gesturing to X by his side. She clutched a little tighter onto Miguel's hand as she gave the boys a little wave, nervous to know what her boyfriend's new friends would think about her. But she didn't have to be worried.

“Ah! The famous X!” Miles teased her, a friendly grin stretched across his sharp features. “You’re even prettier than all the photos Miguel always shows us.” X grinned and lowered her head to hide her embarrassed smile. But she was secretly thrilled by how much her handsome boyfriend loved her.

“Thanks, Miles,” she replied softly before chucking her shoulder against Miguel's arm and giving him a little glare.

“Wow. You really are cute,” Eddie agreed. He glanced at Miguel quickly, then moved closer to X, flashing her a devious smirk as he did so. “You know, it would be a shame for you to close yourself off to just one experience while you’re in uni. You should keep your options open: get a little taste of everything.”

“Lay off, Eddie!” Miguel warned him immediately, moving to stand in front of X protectively. He fixed Eddie with a threatening glower and Eddie held his hands up in surrender.

“Whoa! Hey! Just messing with you, man.” Eddie reached out to give Miguel a light punch on the arm, but Miguel huffed at him. Eddie shrugged, unbothered, and X tugged on Miguel's hand to catch his attention.

“It’s fine, Miguel. He was just joking,” she reassured him when he'd turned to face her. She stretched onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek and Miguel relaxed slightly. “You know I love you, mi Miguelito. ¿Sí, mi amor?” His expression softened as he looked down at her, their fingers still intertwined tightly.

“Sí, mi cupcake. Te amo también, mi amor. (Yes, my cupcake. I love you too, my love.)” He bent over to press a kiss to her forehead, then shifted his hand to her lower back to guide her to a seat on the bleachers. Unfortunately, it was that moment that a group of girls chose to walk in, causing Miguel to groan in irritation. X twisted her head to look up at him, confused.

“Are those some of the other guys’ girlfriends?” she asked, oblivious to the disgruntled glares that were being thrown her way. Miguel sighed and Eddie walked over to explain the situation.

“Oh no. That’s Miguel’s fan club.” He gave the girls a little wave as they took their seats and those who weren't too busy whispering about X behind their hands giggled and waved back at him.

“Just ignore them, mi cupcake,” Miguel told her, pushing her towards a seat far, far away from his alleged ‘fan club’. “Unfortunately, we have open practice sometimes, so anyone’s allowed to come watch.”

“Hey, Miguel!” Miguel winced at the sound of his name in a voice that he'd begrudgingly come to know all too well. Felicia walked onto the court, her heels clacking against the wooden floor like she was strutting down a catwalk. And she might very well have been with the layers of designer clothing she'd draped over herself. She stopped in front of Miguel and bit her lip as she let her gaze drift down his body appreciatively. “I missed you over summer. Didn't you get any of my messages?”

“No, I was too busy hanging out with my girlfriend,” Miguel replied quickly, pushing X in front of him as if she were some sort of shield. He still didn't know how Felicia had gotten his number - though he had his suspicions. He glanced over at Eddie briefly, then returned his gaze to the small blonde. He'd considered blocking her number, but then X had pointed out that she seemed like the kind of girl who'd only be spurred on by such an act. So he'd just put her on mute, forgetting all about her as he spent the holidays relaxing with the people he loved. It was too bad summer only lasted so long. Felicia appraised X carelessly, her nose scrunching in disappointment as she sized up her competition.

“Hmph. Cute.” She lifted her gaze back to Miguel's, studiously ignoring X now. “Anyway, I got you your favourite.” She held out his favourite sports drink - the one X or Gabe would always make sure was packed in his bag before a big game - but he just stared at it blankly.

“Don't you have actual things to study?” Miguel suggested, getting tired by her persistence now. Felicia let out an exaggerated groan and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Ugh! Why would I waste my time on any of that when you're so much more interesting?” She fixed him with a naughty smile and narrowed her eyes seductively. X twisted around, glancing between her boyfriend's irritated glare and this new girl's beckoning gaze.

“I'm gonna have to agree with her on this one, mi Miguelito,” she decided, turning around in his arms and reaching up to cup his face in her hands. She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks gently, admiring his sharp features. “You're so interesting! A testament to the human form.”

“An art student?” Felicia snorted, unimpressed. “I thought you'd have done better than that, ‘Miguelito’.” X turned back to Felicia with a wide grin on her face.

“Actually, I'm studying biomed,” she corrected her calmly. “But there's nothing wrong with art students! I think they probably have one of the highest workloads of any degree, actually, considering their projects and everything.”

She paused to meet Felicia's gaze, her expression rearranged into one of innocence. “But you wouldn't know what that's like, right? Considering how much free time you have to chase after guys who clearly aren't interested in you.”

Eddie's jaw dropped in shock at X's response, not expecting such cutting words to come from someone so naive-looking. But she wasn't done - X took a step closer to Felicia and tilted her head, fixing her with a reassuring look.

“But don't worry: I'm sure all that free time will give you plenty of opportunities to find your own boyfriend someday.” She turned back to Miguel and grinned up at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Have fun, mi Miguelito! Let me know if you need anything.”

She stretched onto her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips, then she glided her hands down his chest as she lowered herself back to her feet. She bit her lip as her eyes traced the outline of his muscles beneath his shirt, then she fixed him with a naughty smile. “I know how much you love my massages.”

Miguel grinned, delighted by her response - especially when he noticed the way Eddie's and Felicia's eyes had widened at her suggestive tone. He pulled his little girlfriend towards him and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a deep kiss in front of everyone. Dios, he loved her. He loved her so, so much, his crazy little girlfriend. X pulled back from him, slightly dazed from his intense response, and he reached a hand up to cup her cheek.

“You, me, after practise, ¿sí?” he murmured to her, his voice just loud enough for Felicia and Eddie - still standing close to them - to hear. “You're not going anywhere tonight, mi cupcake.”

X giggled, then pulled back from him to address the room. “Sorry for the disruption, guys! Go team!”

She flashed them a sheepish smile, then punched her fist in the air as she walked over to the bench. Miguel clapped his hands and straightened his expression, going into captain-mode. “Let's go, guys! Warm-ups! You know the drill!”

Felicia clenched her fists, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. She glanced between X and Miguel, her lips parted in shock as she tried to form a response, but the guys carried on with their practice, ignoring her completely. She swallowed her pride, not wanting to embarrass herself any further, then she stalked over to the bleachers and took a seat.

He squeezed his girlfriend's waist impatiently as he waited for her to open the door. Hopefully none of their roommates were in their shared apartment - then he wouldn't have to wait until they got to his bedroom. Or hers. Or even the bathroom, he wasn't picky - to ravish her.

She felt a rush of warmth flood her chest at his eagerness. She'd been nervous about starting uni - it was a huge change after all, even if Miguel would still be there with her. But he'd been so excited about it, grabbing all her clothes from her mum and all her furniture from her dad when they'd come over to help her unpack. He'd helped her a lot when she'd struggled with adjusting to her schedule in the initial days, but she hadn't felt right dumping all the responsibility on him, so she'd started seeing the university counsellor. She'd been seeing the one at their school for a while already and she found it always helped to have a professional outside perspective on the problem. It had also ensured that she wouldn't put a strain on their relationship, alongside teaching her how capable and independent she really could be. She unlocked the door and headed to Miguel's bedroom knowingly.

He followed close behind her, listening carefully to figure out if anyone was home, but it didn't seem like anyone was. He shut his bedroom door behind him quickly and dropped his bag on the ground before pouncing on his girlfriend. X laughed as he pulled her into his chest and showered her face with kisses. “Miguel! You're all sweaty!”

“Then clean me up, cupcake,” he teased. They'd had sex a few times already - they'd finally gone all the way last summer, before X had begun the stressful process of packing up all her stuff and making sure all her documents were in order. Then they'd had to hit pause for a bit until she'd fallen into a daily routine and gotten used to the new lifestyle. But he hadn't minded too much - not too much - as long as she was all right. “That was so sexy earlier, cariño, how you told off that p*ta.”

X gasped at his language. “Miguel! That's harsh!”

“Whatever.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and squeezed her against him. “I don't want to waste any more time on her. I just want you, mi cupcake.” He straightened to cup her cheek in his hand and grinned at her before bending over to kiss her. She snickered as he pushed her back onto his bed and lay down on top of her so she couldn't escape.

“Miguel. You're going to dirty your bed sheets, cariño,” she lamented, slinging her arms around his neck.

Miguel pressed a kiss to her cheek, then quickly began making his way down the length of her throat. “Then I'll wash them.”

X raised an eyebrow at his nonchalant response.

“You just washed them last week, querido,” she pointed out. Miguel sat up and shrugged.

“Well, I'm going to wash them again,” he decided. “So let's just have sex on them.”

X pushed herself up to a seat and bit down on her shy smile at the word. She gazed up at him, her tall, muscular, sweaty boyfriend and her stomach flipped at the sight. “Okay.”

Ay, Dios, she was cute when she was shy. Miguel leaned over to press his lips back to hers and slide his tongue into her mouth. X gripped onto his shoulders as he slid his hand beneath her shirt, his fingers wandering all over her bare skin as she kissed him back. He was just about to take her shirt off when suddenly, her phone rang. X's eyes widened in surprise and she pulled her phone out of her pocket to find her mother’s name flashing across the screen.

“It's my mum!” She pushed Miguel away and scrambled off the bed, rushing to leave his bedroom before she picked up the call. “Hello? Mum?”

Miguel sighed and sank back onto his bed, disappointed. Maybe he should just go take that shower after all.

He stood at the end of the aisle, shifting in position nervously. He hoped his turban was all right - he’d had to ask X’s dad to re-tie it for him because it had been too tight the first time. He glanced to the side and saw his brother and brother-in-law flashing him encouraging thumbs-ups. Miguel released the breath he’d been holding, then turned to his other side to sneak a peek at his sister-in-law and the mother-in-law who’d been more of a mother to him than his own ever had. The two of them smiled and Miguel’s own features broke into a wide grin. Finally! His wedding day! To his pretty little cupcake whom he loved so very much! He’d asked her every time they’d hit a milestone whether she was ready to get married yet: graduation, his first job, her first job, getting their own apartment together. Sometimes, he’d come home after a long day at work and joke about how much more relaxing it would be to come back to his pretty little wife and their precious little children just waiting to tell him all about their day. But she hadn’t seen the point in getting married unless they wanted to have kids and she didn’t want to have kids until they were financially stable. Then finally, she’d agreed, and he’d proposed to her on the anniversary of their very first kiss. They’d set their wedding for a year to the day - a traditional Punjabi wedding that X had always wanted - and now, that day was finally here. The entire room sucked in a breath and Miguel turned around to face his bride.

She wore a red salwar kameez, the soft cotton material decorated with intricate gold thread and tiny shimmering crystals. Her hair was half-up beneath her scarf, her soft auburn-dyed curls tumbling over her shoulders and framing her features sweetly. Her anklets and bangles jingled as she walked towards him, the gold chains matching the jewellery hanging around her neck and from her ears. She’d been so prettily made up, but the most beautiful part of her was, as always, her smile. Miguel felt his heart stop in his chest as he saw her features lighting up with happiness when her gaze landed on him. She gave him a little wave and Miguel returned the gesture, his own lips curling at the ends as he looked at her. Dios, she was beautiful.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw her fiancé standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for her. He looked so handsome in his white kurta and his red turban, the colour matching her outfit perfectly. She took her place beside him and refrained from reaching out and brushing her fingers against his as the gyani began reciting the prayers. But she couldn’t help herself from sneaking glances at her handsome groom as the minutes ticked by. Her lips curled everytime she caught Miguel’s eyes shifting over to her as well and her stomach fizzed at the thought of how far they’d come. She could still remember when all he’d been was her best friend’s super hot, super smart, secretly-a-big-softie-after-you-made-him-feel-safe-enough-to-let-you-in older brother. And now she was getting married to him! The prayer ended and X almost fell over in her haste to stand up, so eager was she to go home with her husband - her husband! She couldn’t believe she got to call him that now! But Miguel grabbed her elbow quickly and a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he steadied his adorable little wife.

“How are you feeling, querida?” Miguel murmured into her hair once they were in the car back to their apartment. He cuddled his pretty little wife against him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, impatient to get home and ravish her before they needed to get ready for their dinner that night.

She curled up against his side, her stomach flipping over as she inhaled his warm and familiar scent. “Great! What about you?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him and Miguel’s smile widened at the pure joy on her face. He bent over to press his lips to hers, soft, quick kisses that had her giggling against his mouth and a warm feeling filled his chest at the sound. Then finally, they were home, the both of them smiling giddy at one another as they stumbled to their bedroom.

“Miguel,” X giggled as he pushed her onto the bed and began climbing on top of her. “We still have our dinner tonight, querido.”

She slung her arms around his neck and fixed him with a sweet smile and Miguel groaned before bending over to press his lips to hers.

“Exactly,” he mumbled against her lips, his hands running up and down her body and tugging at her clothes. “So you’re going to have to take your clothes off anyway, mi esposa.” F*ck, his wife! She was his wife now! His perfect, pretty little wife who’d stay by his side forever. He could still remember when all she’d been was his younger brother’s cute little best friend, always showing up with a smile on her face and always making sure he knew she was there for him. And ay, p*ta madre, now she was his wife! X laughed as he tugged on the waistband of her pants forcefully, but she lifted her hips obediently, allowing him to pull them off of her.

“I still have to take a shower, Miguel,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward so he could peck her lips repeatedly. “And change my clothes.” Miguel pressed a few more kisses to his beautiful wife’s lush lips. Then he stood up and lifted her into his arms.

“So do I,” he agreed, walking her over to their bathroom. “So I guess we could just do it together, right, mi esposita?” X giggled, delighted, and curled herself tightly against her handsome husband’s broad chest.

“Bien, mi marido.”

“¿Mamà?” X glanced up quickly to raise an eyebrow at her son.

“Hmm?” she hummed, wiping the remaining cake flour off of the kitchen counter. Rio took a seat in front of his mother and chewed on his lip, gathering his courage.

“Is it okay if Sera comes over tomorrow?” he asked nervously. “After school? Just to hang out for a bit?”

X stopped in the middle of her movements, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of how old her son had suddenly become. He was sixteen now - almost the same age at which Miguel had wanted their relationship to start becoming a little more physical - so she had to tread carefully. She slid the cloth aside and leaned forward on the table, meeting her son’s gaze.

“I’m fine with it, but I’m going to have to set some rules, papito.” She paused for a moment so he could understand the gravity of her words and he nodded quickly, knowing his mother wouldn’t be so unreasonable. “You can close the door, but not all the way. I don’t mind if you guys kiss and stuff, but I don’t want you doing anything that would involve you locking the door.”

She fixed him with a meaningful look and Rio shifted in his seat, embarrassed at having to discuss the topic with his mother. “Okay …”

X straightened and went over to take the seat by her son.

“Okay, I know you probably feel really weird discussing this with your mother, but you need to have at least one person know what you’re doing at all times,” she explained to him seriously. “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me - or your father - then I’m fine if at least one of your friends knows where you are. Of course I don’t want you to start having sex at sixteen, but I’d rather you be safe and aware of all the consequences than run away somewhere and half-ass it.”

Rio winced at hearing the word ‘sex’ come out of his mother’s mouth. Ugh. He never wanted to associate those two concepts together. “Mum, I’m not … We’re not gonna have sex …”

“Good,” she declared, delighting in the uneasy look on his face. “But if you do, always make sure you’re using a condom. And never do anything you feel uncomfortable with, even if someone else thinks it’s uncool. Who cares what others think? The only person who has to-”

“Live with the consequences of your decisions is you,” Rio recited dutifully, sighing at his mother’s catchphrase. “I know, I know.”

X grinned and ruffled his wavy hair affectionately. “Bien. And just as a reminder, papito, one of the consequences of having sex is having children.”

“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Rio exclaimed, ducking out from under his mother’s touch. He huffed and folded his arms across his chest and X felt a warm feeling wash over her at how much he looked like his father when he was annoyed. But then his expression turned uncertain again. “But … Mamà. At what age did you … you know … do it?” He slid his gaze over to her, hesitant, and she flashed him a reassuring smile.

“I was eighteen,” she replied calmly. “And my boyfriend and I had already been together for five years at that point, so …”

Rio’s eyes widened at his mother’s revelation.

“What?! Your boyfriend?! Wait, wait, wait.” He shook his head, trying to process her statement. “You had a boyfriend?! Besides Papà?! Does he know?! Who was it?!”

X bit her lip, trying to hide her smile as she let the suspense drag on for a little longer. Then she grinned. “He’d better know! It was him, after all!”

“¡Mamà!” Rio rolled his eyes as his mother laughed with wicked delight.

“What’s happening?” Miguel asked, coming up behind his wife and son at the kitchen island. He ran his fingers through his son’s hair, then wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and bent over to rest his chin on the top of her head, fixing his son with a curious expression as he did so.

“Nothing!” Rio assured him a little too quickly - it was awkward enough talking to his mother about the subject, he wouldn’t be able to stand it if his father started talking about it too! “I was just asking Mamà if my friend could come over tomorrow.”

Miguel looked down at X in question and she flashed him a meaningful look.

“His ‘friend’,” she repeated knowingly. She snickered as her husband’s expression turned into one of understanding, then placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “No te preocupes, querido. I talked to him about it.”

“Good,” Miguel agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of his wife’s head before lifting his gaze back to his son’s. “I’m not ready to become a grandfather yet, papito.”

“¡Papà!” Rio scoffed, horrified by the very thought. X grinned and tilted her head back to look up at Miguel.

“You weren’t so hesitant when you were asking me to make you a father,” she teased him, prompting Rio to leap out of his seat and away from them.

“Ew! Ew! Ew!” their son exclaimed, covering his ears with his hands so he couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. “You know what? Maybe we’ll just go to her house instead!”

He rushed up the stairs and to his bedroom, desperate to escape his unnecessarily affectionate parents. But X called after him before he could make it safely to his door. “Okay, but make sure you stay safe, papi! Your dad can always help you buy condoms if-”

“No no no!” he yelled quickly, slamming his door shut so he didn’t have to hear them anymore. Miguel snickered at his response, then turned his attention back to his lovely little wife.

“Querida,” he mumbled in her ear, his low voice sending a shiver down her spine. “What do you say about making me a father again, mi cupcake?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and X laughed as he cuddled her against him.

“Miguel!” She twisted around to look up at him, a pretty little smile on her face, and Miguel felt his heart swell at the sight. Dios, how was it possible for her to become even more beautiful as she aged? “I’m very happy with our three kids, querido. And I’m not going to have a baby that’s sixteen years younger than his oldest brother!”

Miguel sighed in disappointment. “That’s too bad. You look so cute when you’re pregnant.”

X tugged on his arms so he’d loosen his grip on her. Then she stood up and turned around to face him. “You know, I’m not going to get pregnant again, but … we can always still have fun.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and Miguel grinned as he started backing her towards the stairs. “Oh yeah? What kind of fun do you want to have, mi cupcake?”

X giggled at the delighted smile on her husband’s face, then smacked him lightly on the arm. “The kind of fun we’re not supposed to have when our kids are around!”

“Well, Rio’s the only one around,” Miguel pointed out, shrugging off her concerns. “And he barely even counts as a kid anymore!” He lifted his pretty little wife into his arms and set her on his hips so he could carry her up the stairs.

“Miguel!” X laughed, trying to keep her voice low as her eyes flickered over to her son’s closed bedroom door.

“Silencio, querida,” Miguel mumbled into her ear. “You don’t want our son to hear us ‘having fun’, do you?” He grinned and nipped her ear before pulling back to press quick kisses to her lips.

“Te amo, mi cupcake,” he told her, walking into their bedroom and closing the door behind them. X ran her fingers through his wavy hair and kissed him back softly.

“Mi también, mi amor.”

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cosmiic-world · 9 months

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it’ll be okay — miguel o’hara

welcome to yet another angsty work inspired by shit i’m going through just so i can cope because i don’t have anybody else to go to! AND REMEMBER!! there is nothing wrong with doing nothing for days, i’m just venting my feelings about myself.

tw: feelings of being ignored and loneliness, self deprecation. i tried to not use a ton of spanish 🥲

all you wanted was to hang out with your friends. all you did was go to work, come back home and do absolutely nothing. your social media was filled with documentations of all your acquaintances hanging out and having the best times of their lives.

they were the same age as you but you felt otherwise. they were living out their best years and you were… at home, as usual. doing absolutely nothing. wasting away in your bed. you’d thought you had a deep connection with your friends, yet there was not one invite to go out, despite the countless posts of them being out.

what were you doing wrong? did you not talk enough? did you talk too much? were you just annoying? maybe that was it. who knows??

as thoughts raced inside your head, you felt your heart clench unbearably. it felt like it was going to tear itself apart. you gripped your chest and squeezed your eyes shut, your body curling into itself as you sobbed into your pillow, your breath shaking. you couldn’t hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend coming down the hallway of your house over your sobs.

miguel heard your cries and quickly opened the door, shutting it and tossing everything he had in his hands aside. his head turned frantically for any sight of you and found the door to your room was closed, which was rare. he called your name out, immediately walking to your door and opening it quickly, letting out a soft sigh of relief at the sight od your shaking form underneath the covers.

“miguel?” you managed to hiccup out, your head peeking out from underneath the blankets. your bottom lip quivered as your heart yearned for him. “miguel!” you cried, throwing your arms around him as he approached the bed.

“what’s wrong, cariño? why are you crying?” he said, worried as his arms wrapped around you, his heart breaking as he felt your body quiver with each shaking sob.

“am i boring?” you cried out as you held onto him tightly, your face burying itself into his neck.

“amor.. never.” he said, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back. “you’re perfect my love. what’s the matter?”

“i-i feel like i’m missing so much..” you said, almost choking on your own saliva as you tried catching your breath. “feels like.. i have no friends.. a-and everyone else is enjoying themselves.. but i stay here.. doing nothing!” you began to cry more.

“querida.. you are perfect. just because you don’t want to do anything, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” he said softly, his tone as gentle as his touch.

“i feel useless..” you mumbled.

“you’re not useless, my love.” he kissed your temple, his lips lingering against your skin. “you’re just struggling.. and i’m here to help you. through your struggles, and your efforts. i know you’re trying, and you’re doing so well. trust me.” he said against your head, his eyes closing as he inhaled your scent, the smell bringing him comfort. he hopes he can be the same comfort that you are for him.

“i love you, mi amor.” he said softly.

“i love you t-too..” you mumbled, sleep hazing your mind and taking over your body.

“go to sleep, i’ll take care of you. i’ll always be here for you.” he said softly as he gently rocked you to sleep.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel fluff #atsv miguel angst #atsv miguel angst to fluff #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 fluff #spiderman 2099 angst #atsv angst #atsv fluff

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giulscomix · 8 months

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Give this man some happiness, I beg you ❤️💙

10K notes · View notes

moon-rivr · 7 months

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falling behind

pairing: college!miguel x inexperienced spanish speaking fem reader (translation provided 🫡)

warnings: established fake relationship (i honestly mixed like three tropes into this) and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: this was somewhat inspired by ‘falling behind’ by laufey (highly recommend 🙏🏼) and a lil bit by the spanish love deception. anyways i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope y’all enjoy :3

word count: 4.6K

You always seemed to be behind when you compared your life to your classmates' lives, almost like you were sitting in the backseat waiting for your life to begin. A part of you secretly wanted what they had: to get asked out, to experience teenage dating, but you never had the courage to seek out and go get it. Sure, your family made some smart remarks about how your cousins were already dating but you pushed those away since you didn't want to make a big deal. You honestly thought that it wouldn't come back to bite you until you got back home from your class one day.

You got back home from your chemistry class to see your roommate, Miguel O’Hara, hunched over at the kitchen table reading some envelopes. You set your bag down on the couch and walk over to the table, sitting down next to him. "Hey, anything good come in the mail?" You asked, visibly startling him as he looked up at you. "Just our utility bills. Oh, and you got something from back home," he responded, handing you an envelope with your sister's name on the sender address. You wanted to put off reading the letter, but you decided to bite the bullet instead.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, holding up the wedding invitation as you let out a small sigh. "C'mon think of all the leftovers you could bring," Miguel suggested, raising his hands up in defense when you looked over at him. "I'll probably just say I'm sick or something," you spoke, more so to yourself as Miguel’s brows furrowed. "It's just, if all my aunts and whatnot see me at the wedding without someone, they're gonna start commenting on it. How I'm the only one alone," you explained, hoping that it would ease the confusion on Miguel’s face.

"So I'll be your fake boyfriend for the night," he suggested, like he was asking what type of cereal he should get. Your brows furrowed as you sat down at the table, folding your arms. "What about your girlfriend? Dana? or Xina? Whichever one you're dating now," you countered, looking up at him. "Well.. That's actually where you come in. Dana broke up with me so I was kinda hoping that if she saw me and you together, she'd come back," he replied, sitting down across from you.

"And what about if this blows up in our face and I end up homeless, Mig?"

"First of all, this isn't gonna blow up in our face. And second of all, I think we can separate our façade away from our home life."

"You're forgetting I've never dated anyone. I have zero idea how this all works."

"I'll teach you about what to do. Plus, you'll be able to have some experience when you actually do date someone."

You wanted to continue arguing with Miguel, tell him how farfetched this idea sounded but it seemed like for every argument you had, he had a counterattack. Your mind couldn't help but race with everything that could possibly go wrong with this arrangement, but you decided to trust Miguel’s confidence in it. "Since it'll be beneficial for the both of us, okay," you said after a moment of deliberation, extending your hand out. "Are we in the mafia or something?" he muttered, rolling his eyes as you glared at him and shook your hand. You were expecting him to pull away after a while, seeing how resistant he was to it but he didn't. He simply stroked your hand with his thumb, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Our first lesson's handholding," Miguel elaborated and you were about to explain how you didn't need his help but he interrupted you. "Look, I know you know how to do it. But you would've started to overthink if I told you beforehand," he stated, keeping your hand with his.

The next few weeks before the wedding had been pretty uneventful, you had been telling Miguel about your family members and which ones to look out for and he had been teaching you all the basic parts of being in a relationship. The two of you were currently sitting at a Starbucks, helping each other study for a chemistry exam when you heard Miguel’s name being called from behind you. "Migs! I haven't seen you in such a long time, how are you?" Dana asked once she appeared in sight, completely ignoring you as she went to go stake her claim. "I've been good. Been busy with my girlfriend and all," he replied, his gaze locked on you as he smiled. You could've sworn that Dana's eyes turned into little daggers as she faced you. "Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Dana decided to say, starting to talk about some frat party she wanted to take Miguel to.

You couldn't help but notice that the entire time that Dana was talking to Miguel and batting her lashes at him, he kept his gaze solely on you. You decided to push it off, assuring yourself that he was doing that to make her jealous. "I thought the whole point was to get her back, why didn't you agree to the frat party?" You asked when Dana left, taking a sip from your coffee as his brows furrowed. "Oh, the frat party, yeah. I mean, she says she wants to spend time with me but who gets back together at a party, y'know?" He responded, shrugging before going back to his school work. You decided not to push the subject any further and continued to study with Miguel.

You and Miguel had spent the following weeks going on study dates or just little dates between the two of you that didn't feel like research anymore. Eventually, the wedding approached the two of you and you were pacing in your living room. Miguel stood at the corner of the room, watching as you talked to yourself and freaked out. "What if this goes all wrong? I’m gonna be such an idiot," you muttered to yourself, continuing to walk around the living room. You didn't notice when Miguel walked over, placing his hands on your shoulders as he held you still. "Hey, calm down, you're gonna make a hole in the floor. On a serious note though, you're not gonna look like an idiot. We rehearsed this through and through and you're a natural when it comes to being affectionate," he remarked, massaging your shoulders gently.

You took a few seconds to calm down and stop your pacing, wrapping your hands tightly around Miguel’s body. "Thank you. For getting me out of my head and for even agreeing to this shenanigan," you spoke up after Miguel wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your body in his. "Don't worry about it. Go get dressed and we'll get going. We don't wanna miss the food," he replied, pulling back from the hug as he smiled reassuringly at you. "And what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" You asked, a brow raised as you referred to the Spider-Man pajamas you were wearing. "Nothing, but I just think those pajamas should be reserved for my eyes only, mm?" He responded, winking at you as you rolled your eyes.

You put on the dress that you picked out with Miguel a couple days ago, the material fitting around you snugly. You sat in front of the mirror, following the makeup tutorial your sister had sent you. You were in the middle of doing your eyeliner when suddenly you poked your eye. "Motherfucker!" You grumbled, putting your hand against your eye as you felt it watering. Miguel walked in after hearing your yell, stopping in his tracks when he took a glimpse at you. "I know it looks bad but I'll be ready in about thirty minutes," you assured him, wiping off the smudged mascara as you suppressed the urge to groan. "Bad isn't necessarily the word I would have used," he mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

"Maybe you're taking too much at one time. Makeup's a journey and shit, so just do what you know how to do while you get better at the other stuff," he suggested, rubbing small circles on your back. You looked at him through the mirror, nodding as you took off your makeup to start fresh. "I don't know how you always do that. Say all the right things to make me feel better, i mean," you admitted, deciding to turn off the makeup tutorial and go by what with Miguel said. Miguel lingered by the door frame, crossing his arms together as he watched you do your makeup before eventually going off to get dressed himself.

You and Miguel arrive at the reception hall at a pretty decent hour, since it wasn't too early but the caterers were barely starting to pass out the food. You jump a little when you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning around to face your mom. She leaned in, kissing you on the cheek as she embraced you. "Hola mami, ¿cómo estás?" you greet her, watching as her eyes immediately drift over to the man next to you. (hi mommy, how are you?) "Bien ¿y tú? ¿Y quién es este?" she asked, cutting the formalities short to find out what she needed to know. (good and you? and who’s this?)

"Este es mi novio, Miguel." (this is my boyfriend, Miguel)

"Ay mija, pero que guapo esta. Y que alto, casi llega al techo. ¿Porque no me lo habías presentado?" (oh daughter, he’s so handsome. and he’s so tall, he almost reaches the roof. why haven’t you presented him to me?)

You were about to speak up when Miguel suddenly cut you off, extending his hand towards your mom. "Un placer, señora. Y bueno, usted sabe como es su hija y lo tanto que le gusta ser privada," he responded, your mom’s eyes widening a bit. (a pleasure ma’am. and well, you know your daughter and how much she likes being private) "Un placer también. Usted es mas aceptable que el poster que ella le daba besos," your mom remarked, laughing as Miguel joined her. (a pleasure too. you are more acceptable than the poster she used to kiss) You grabbed his hand, pulling him away to avoid any other embarrassments. "You kissed a poster?" Miguel asked in between laughter, wiping at some imaginary tears from his eyes. "We're never speaking of this again," you grumbled, watching as his eyes sparkled with your reaction, laughing even harder. "I'm never dropping this."

Your mom pulled you and Miguel over to the table where all your aunts were so you'd say hello and make pleasantries with them. You could tell they wanted to say something about Miguel, surprised to see you here in public with a man by your side but they chose to bite their tongue back. Well, all but one. "¿Y tu eres su novio?" One of your least liked aunts asked Miguel, pointing a fork at his direction. (and you’re her boyfriend?) "Si señora. Apenas empezamos con la relacion pero la quiero mucho," he responded, looking at your aunt as she laughed. (yes ma’am. we just started with the relationship but i like her a lot) "Pero que bueno. Pensábamos que se iba morir virgen la pobre," she remarked, her eyes glinting with amusement as your other aunts laughed. (oh, how good. we thought the poor girl was going to die a virgin.)

You were used to these kinds of remarks and you knew that it was best to keep your mouth shut and let them glide through. "Disculpe señora, con todo respeto, pero a usted ¿que le importa? ¿Es que no tiene vida para andarse preocupando de lo que ella hace? Lo que usted deberia estarse preocupando es sobre su marido," Miguel replied, keeping his tone even as he grabbed your hand. (excuse me ma’am, with all respect, but what do you care? do you not have anything else going on in your life to be worrying about what she’s doing? what you should be worrying about is your husband.)

You and Miguel sat in the car at the venue parking lot as he stroked your hand softly. "I'm sorry if I stepped a line in there. It's just.. What does she even care about who you're dating or what you're doing?" He spoke up after a couple seconds, looking directly at your eyes. "I really appreciate you doing that, Miguel. Every time I tell my mom about it, she takes their side and tells me to keep quiet about it. I mean, yeah, they're probably never gonna wanna talk to me but that's cool," you said with a small laugh, meeting Miguel’s gaze. he tilted your chin towards him, his lips meeting against yours tentatively.

His touch was featherlight as he leaned into kiss you, almost like he was scared you weren't going to reciprocate. You felt your heart beat hammering as you tried to recall the kissing techniques you'd seen in YouTube videos, shutting your eyes as you leaned in. "Ow," you mumbled, opening your eyes to find out that you accidentally bumped into Miguel’s nose. "It's okay, chiquita. I know it's your first time," he assured you, holding your cheek as he tilted his face to the side. (little one) "Just keep your eyes open until our lips connect and then just follow what I'm doing, don't overthink it," he told you, leaning in once more to kiss you.

The moment you felt your lips connect against his felt like fireworks, even if it was a little awkward. Your lips were stiff as he kissed you, unsure of what to do before you remembered his advice and decided to follow his lead. You felt comfortable shutting your eyes so you did, your hands reaching up to his hair like you wanted to pull him closer. You'd heard from your friends about their first kiss stories, how it was an awkward clash of lips but it felt more like a synchronized dance with Miguel. He deepened the intensity of the kiss when he felt that you were comfortable, his hand moving to your cheek in doing so.

You two pulled away a couple seconds later to catch your breath, the realization that you'd not only kissed your fake boyfriend but your roommate hitting you hard. You could've sworn that Miguel read your mind because he said, "I saw someone coming out the door and I figured we might as well sell it since they were looking this way." A fiber of your being hoped that your first kiss wouldn't have ended up as just something to prove, but you knew that it would lead you to uncharted territory with Miguel so you nodded along.

The ride home was mostly quiet, the music on the radio filling up the atmosphere. You thanked Miguel once more for helping you with the wedding dilemma before locking yourself up in your room. You didn't have the energy to figure out what was happening between the two of you and quite frankly, you thought you were probably being delusional, thinking too hard about things that would be normal in a fake relationship. You pushed those thoughts away as you changed out of the dress, hoping that you'd be able to get some peace of mind.

After a couple minutes of tossing and turning on your bed, you decided to go talk to Miguel since you had a feeling you wouldn't get some clarity until you did. You knocked on his door, hesitantly, as you swayed from foot to foot while you waited for his answer. Your jaw almost touched the floor when he opened the door, wearing no shirt and a low-clinging pair of grey sweatpants. You had to force yourself to look up at him when he let out a small cough, noticing the glasses he had on. "Is there something you needed?" He asked, a brow arched as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. In your defense, you tried really hard not to look, but it was impossible to resist the way he biceps flexed when he did that. "You."

Your eyes widened as you realized what had come out of your mouth, Miguel’s face one of amusement as he started to laugh. "What I meant to say was, I wanted an explanation from you. What did that kiss mean tonight?" you asked, a brow raised as you folded your arms. "I told you chiquita, to sell it to the person walking out of the party," he spoke, but you noticed that his eyes wouldn't meet yours. You pressed your lips together but decided not to push it any further, walking away. You turned around when Miguel grabbed your arm, he looked like he wanted to say something more. "I want more than just kisses with you." Your mind began going haywire at what he was saying but what you managed to blurt out was, "Because we're fake dating?"

Miguel let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. "No, not because we're fake dating," he spoke up after a while, tilting your chin up. "I want more than just kisses with you too," you told him, watching as his eyes darkened a bit. "I'm not gonna sleep with you until you're certain that my feelings for you are real. None of this fake dating shit," he whispered, leaning in as he kissed your cheek. You felt a bit disappointed as he spoke, but you realized where he was coming from though that didn’t stop the desire igniting in you. "I need you, Miguel."

Miguel let out a small sigh, almost like he was conflicted on what to do. "Lay down on the bed, chiquita," he finally relented and you laid down on the bed, awaiting for his next move. He set down his glasses on his bedside table before he laid down next to you, his hand moving to your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you. He continued doing that until you two were a panting, breathless mess and he played with the hem of your sleep pants. "Are you okay if we go further?" He asked, not wanting to intimidate you by doing too much too soon. "Y-Yeah," you whispered, wishing your voice sounded more affirmative than breathy, but you felt overwhelmed by everything Miguel was doing.

He slowly took off your pajama pants so he'd be able to stop himself if you got uncomfortable at any point before he settled in between your legs. Before you got a chance to ask what he was doing, he began kissing his way from your calf to your inner thigh. He gently nipped at the skin, his teeth grazing it slightly as he continued with his movements. He hooked his arms underneath your legs, putting them on his shoulders before leaning in to your clothed pussy. You felt embarrassed by how much wetness had accumulated since he'd barely even kissed you but that was quickly pushed aside when Miguel started to lick you through your underwear.

He slid off your panties after a while of you wiggling to get more from him, his lips curled in amused smirk as he took them off. He started off slow, collecting the slick that was clinging to your folds before delving in. He ate you out like a man starved and you couldn't help but moan out at the strange sensations. He let you close your thighs around his head, letting out soft grunts into your pussy as you tightened around him. The vibrations from his mouth shot straight to your spine, making your back arch from the bed. He held you still as he started to suck on your folds.

His mouth enclosed around your clit, looking up at you as he flicked his mouth. "Keep your eyes on me," he whispered when he saw you looking away, slowing down his movements. He continued once more once your eyes met his, having you watch as he kept his mouth connected with your clit. He took one of his fingers, gently probing them inside before sticking it in. he curled his finger, making way to stroke your g-spot with every movement. "So tight," he spoke against your clit, putting another finger in as he started moving them in a scissoring motion. Your mouth parted into a 'o' shape as he continued, overwhelmed by the sensation. His two fingers curled, finding your g-spot as they brushed up against it every time he thrust his fingers in.

You pulled on his hair, pushing your pelvis closer to his mouth, almost drowning him with your pussy. And you could tell that he wouldn't have minded it that much with the way he groaned in your pussy, slurping the juices that were leaking out. You felt a strange sensation building in your lower stomach, like a knot just waiting to unravel. "Mig! Stop, I'm gonna pee," you blurted out, feeling a bit embarrassed by the admission. You had expected Miguel to slow down but he continued with the same vigor, if not, only more motivated. The knot unraveled in you quickly and you released against miguel's face, feeling embarrassed at the thought you might've peed on him. He took his fingers out, sucking your juices off them as he looked straight into you. "You didn't pee on me, don't worry," he assured you, grabbing a wet wipe to clean you up.

You and Miguel had been threading a delicate line throughout the course of a week, only talking to each other when it came to basic chores and what to get for dinner. You were in the middle of doing classwork on the dining table when Miguel came over, sitting on the chair across from you. "Hey, I know things have been weird between us, but do you still want to head to that Halloween party with me?" He asked, reminding you of the Halloween party that he'd asked about two weeks ago. "Well I already have the costume, so it'd be a shame not to," you responded, not willing yourself to look up at him. Partly from the fact that you weren't sure where your late night rendezvous left you and from the fact that you'd looked up porn after that night, using Miguel as the object of your fantasies when you got yourself off.

You came back from your classes about five hours later and you noticed that Miguel was in his room blasting music, probably getting ready for the Halloween party so you decided to do the same. You managed to find a simple makeup tutorial for the bruises you were doing, given that you and Miguel were going as Tyler and the Narrator from Fight Club. You put on the suit and grabbed some of the bars of soap that Miguel had gotten for the two of you before stepping out of your room. "Hey, do you think you can help me with the bruises? I just can't get them to look realistic, y'know?" Miguel asked when he came out of his room, the bruises on his face looking like blotches of purple.

You had Miguel sit down while you blended the colors in his face, trying not to pay mind to just how much it affected you having him this close to you. You finished up a little while later and grabbed some fake blood, dabbing it in with your finger around his mouth and the cut you'd made on his cheek. "Has anyone told you how good you look covered in blood?" You asked absentmindedly as Miguel burst out into laughter. "Must be why everyone was so eager to help me out after a fight in high school," he replied, standing up once you finished. He thanked you for the work you'd done and you two quickly headed out to the dorms.

The party was in full swing when you two arrived and you couldn't help but notice that a lot of people were coming to say hi to Miguel. You'd always pictured him as the quiet genetics student, but seeing him out in public with his friends was a decent experience. You'd half expected him to leave you to go entertain them, but he grabbed your hand and led you to the back where there was more space to talk. "If at any point you want to leave, just let me know and we'll go, okay?" He told you, waiting for you to nod in affirmation before he took you to hang out with his friends.

He introduced you as his girlfriend, which struck you as odd since you would've thought he'd tell them about your arrangement, but you liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. His friends were nice enough, they included you in the conversation and they were pretty nice to talk to overall. "So how long have you two been dating?" One of his friends asked, looking over at you. You looked up at Miguel for help and luckily, he answered that plea. "We've been dating for about two months now, I'd say. But I've been liking her for a bit longer than that," he replied with a small laugh, and you couldn't help but feel your heart beating faster at his comment. Even if it was something he added to make the story sound more believable, you wanted to believe so badly that he actually liked you.

The rest of the party was spent in a blur of talking with his friends, dancing, and getting shots. Even when you stopped by to get shots, Miguel’s gaze never left yours. You could've sworn that you saw his fists clench up when a guy in a Spider-Man costume tried to talk to you, but as soon as you blinked, it was gone so you decided to push it away. You excused yourself to the bathroom a little after, and Miguel insisted on helping you find your way through the large house. His friends had a weird look on their face but you didn't question it too much out of the need to pee.

You came out of the restroom and you were a little surprised when you noticed that Miguel hadn't stayed behind to wait for you. You walked down the large hallway, stopping when you saw Miguel walking into one of the rooms with a girl in a devil costume. You decided to look through the creak in the door, seeing what Miguel was up to and quickly came to the realization that it wasn't just a girl in a devil costume. It was Dana and she had her arms all around miguel. "Please miguel, I've missed you so bad and I can tell that you do too. Come on, you can't seriously be happy with that inexperienced virgin?"

You decided to leave the party after witnessing Dana talk to Miguel, feeling a burning sensation in your chest. You knew that this was the whole objective of the arrangement that you and Miguel had going on, but you didn't expect it to hurt this much when it ended. You'd grown used to being miguel's 'girlfriend' and spending time with him, that you hadn't anticipated it would come to an end so soon. You locked yourself up in your room, feeling completely angry at yourself for being so foolish about the circumstances as you scrubbed away the makeup of the night. You were thinking about what to do about healing the burning you felt in your chest, listening to Frank Ocean and having a good cry seemed like the best one, when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened your bedroom door, seeing Miguel standing there with a solemn look on his face. "Hey, I heard what Dana told you earlier. I bet you're happy that she came back to you so i think we should end this. I'll find someone else and.. use the experience you taught me," you told him, attempting to muster a smile as his gaze darkened. "You're not gonna do that, okay?" He responded, his brows furrowing as he spoke. "And why not?" you asked, feeling your own smile falter as he spoke.

"Because I don't want you to find anyone else."

1K notes · View notes

intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

15K notes · View notes

moonlesslights · 10 months

Text

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

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salsakiyoomi · 10 months

Text

“is it me or have you gotten...bigger?”

miguel's question makes you whirl around to face him with a scowl on your face, insulted, “the hell's that supposed to mean?”

you know what it means though, you know what he means — with the morning sickness and the weird, godawful cravings, your body is…changing — you’ve missed your period this month and you've put on a little weight — your breast have swollen and your belly has bloated with a few stretch marks over your abdomen — you thought the changes were subtle at first but you guess you were wrong.

miguel shrugs, gesturing dismissively to your body, “you know, you’ve gotten bigger.”

you glare at him — he has always been a little too blunt with his words and comments — you put your hands on your waist, “you know, that’s not exactly a very nice thing to say.”

he shrugs again and you want to punch him with how nonchalant he is about this, “‘m just saying the truth.”

“there is this thing called sugarcoating.” you shoot back, “and you don’t tell your wife that ‘she’s gotten bigger’ or any woman for that matter.”

you’re more snappy than usual — if this has been a passing comment on any other day, you probably would have laughed and scolded him, not today though, not with your hormones high on edge.

he chuckles, but it sounds more like a scoff almost as if he’s making fun of you, “come on, amor. it’s a good look on you.”

you frown at him and shake your head, sighing, “i'm not in the mood for your shit right now, miguel.”

you turn away from him, going back to folding the clothes — you haven’t told him about your pregnancy yet, unsure of how he would react, the two of you never really talked about having kids in the start of your relationship nor marriage, so finding the test stick positive was a dreadful surprise for you — although you should've known the two of you had too much fun a few weeks ago.

his arms wrap around your waist from behind, and he nuzzles his face in the nape of your neck, “you're so grouchy these days.” he murmurs, his deep voice so close to your ears makes you shiver and his hands trail lower and you tense when they slip under your shirt and his rough fingertips press gently against the soft skin of your swollen abdomen.

“and you’re so bitchy these days — all days.” you immediately retort.

he chuckles and he turns you around to face him and he has a shit-eating grin on his lips that you oh, so badly want to slap off of his face, “how are those avocados and chocolate going for you?”

“they taste really nice, thanks.” you roll your eyes, attempting to squirm away from his embrace.

“did you get your period this month?”

his question makes you pause and you look at him with squinted eyes — sure, he knows your cycle. sure, he knows when you're moody and on your period but he’s never really asked if you got it during a month or not.

“yes.” you lie, speaking after a beat.

“you sure?”

you groan, “what do you mean i’m sure? of course i am.”

“i’m just askin’, amor.” he hums, his thumbs press against your baby bump and you can’t help but wonder if he is doing it deliberately

“miguel, what do you want?” you sigh, exasperated.

“nothing.” he replies smugly, and you’re sure he’s teasing you at this point as he leans down to kiss your jaw, “is there anything you wanna tell me?” he whispers.

you lean away and narrow your eyes at him, “what?”

“what?” he echoes innocently.

“is there anything you aren’t telling me?” you ask back, tone accusatory as you raise an eyebrow at him.

at this point, he’s rubbing circles with his thumbs on your swollen abdomen, “not as much as what you're not telling me.”

you frown at him, “okay, you know what? i’m done playing with you here.”

you attempt to pull away from him again but his hands now grip your hips to keep you in place, “miguel!” you groan — you usually liked it when he was in his playful moods but not today though, he’s just getting on your nerves.

“come on.” he laughs, “just talk to me, okay?”

“i would if it wasn’t such an insufferable task!”

“calm down.” he hums and his hands find your waist again, and he’s once again rubbing small circles with his thumbs on your bump, “are you sure there isn’t anything you wanna tell me?”

you shiver at his touch and your eyes narrow at him as it clicks, “you know, don’t you?”

“know what?” he asks, feigning confusion.

“asshole.” you groan, covering your face — you know he knows because of course he does, this was miguel, nothing gets past him.

“come on, you seriously thought that i wouldn’t find out?” he says with a laugh — he noticed when your body started changing because he damn well knows every inch of you, he noticed it in the way you constantly hugged yourself as if to hide your growing tummy and then he saw the pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, “avocados and chocolate? you don’t even like avocados.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, voice muffled by your hands as you peek at him through your fingers.

“i just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me first,” he answers simply and you groan again and he laughs, pulling your hands away from your face and placing a kiss on your lips, “no need to hide now, amor.”

“you’re such a dickhead.” you mumble against his lips, and his hands are on your swollen belly because he thinks that he probably won't be able to get them off of it in the next few months, because despite how unprepared he is — how unprepared the two of you are, he can’t help but feel excited, can’t help but be eager for the day his and yours baby comes — so he laughs at your comment, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips once more.

“your dickhead."

a/n : i got inspo from this drabble by @liliacamethyst i loved it sm 😭

#no bcz i dont usually write preggo fics but #ive been reading too many ones #so i had to write one #this is lowkey an alternate universe too #cant imagine our og miguel being happy #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel drabbles #miguel fluff #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 fluff #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #atsv x reader #miguel spiderverse #also this is so cheesy help

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ichorai · 11 months

Text

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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guilty-pleasures21 · 14 days

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I have stumbled upon the idea of Gomez Addams-Miguel and I think it'd be so cute to get reader to convince him to dress up as the two of them in one of my fics! I LOVE the Addams family!

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scoobysnakz · 6 months

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Older

||* Maybe it's because he's safe and keeps you warm in times or need. Or maybe it's because he has those unruly salt and pepper hair and worry lines. Either way, you want him and maybe he wants you.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

pt2

||* dilf!miguel, vaginal fingering, praise kink, eye contact, perv!miguel, college-age reader, lap sitting, slight hair pulling, one shot, Daddy issues, Dom/sub, smut written by a virgin, not proof read

You're young. And oblivious. So painfully oblivious.

At first, Miguel had just assumed it was a defence mechanism. Don’t give them a reaction and they’ll leave you alone. But the more you smile at the guys flirting with you, the more you lean into their non-platonic hugs, the more certain he becomes that you’re just unaware.

And- in all honesty- he's jealous. He doesn't want to feel the shame that weighs down on his shoulders each time your expression softens at his praise. He doesn't want to feel guilt for watching your hips sway as you walk away. He doesn't want to be like them but he craves the audacity to leer at you in broad daylight.

Maybe it's his morals or maybe it's because he's a coward.

Either way, you’re young and oblivious. And deep down, he loves it.

It's worse in HQ, these men are meant to have morals, good morals, and yet they treat you like a fuckdoll to the eyes.

Your perfect, untouched, college body just for them to perv at.

And Miguel hates it. He hates how he has to ignore your pretty eyes staring up at him as he talks, how he has to scold every Spiderman for being a pervert, and he hates how he's just as bad.

Maybe if you weren't so bubbly sweet he wouldn't have to spend each night palming himself to the thought of your perky body, every shower spurting his hot cum on the misty glass and every moment alone with his office with the doors locked and hand muffling his moans.

“Migs?” that nickname, that only you can use, that only you dared to think of.

He turns to face you, a lazy smile drawn across his painfully perfect lips. “Princessa?” And you immediately try to hide the blush that threatens to bloom on your cheeks.

You hold out your hands, a tray holding a ‘spidey spectacular’ on top. In reality, it's nothing spectacular- a beef burger with barbecue sauce, large fries and a medium drink.

“Got you some lunch,” you grin.

He hops down from his podium, cringing at how your body tenses at the loud thud. “Why?” his tone is harsh, cold, forced.

He knows why. You care, you check in on him when no one else does, you randomly ask him if he's drinking more water than coffee that day, if he actually went to sleep the night previous- unknowing to the thoughts of you that kept him up.

“You haven't eaten today,” you stick your arms out, a playful smile on your face and he doesn't ask how you know. You just do, “and you can't capture those nettlesome anomalies on an empty stomach!”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nettlesome?”

You laugh, a soft one that makes his core ache with need. “My literature professor has permanently engrained fancy words into my brain.” your shocking professor. Probably some perv who keeps you behind to help you with your tests and oggles at your perfectly shaped ass when you bend over to pick up a pen.

And a painful reminder that as mature as you may be, you’re still young. 18 years too young.

He takes the burger from the tray, gaze lingering on the second as he tries to decide if it's for him or not.

“I’m eating with you,” you answer his question without him asking.

“No, princessa.”

You huff at him, soft, rounded lips falling into a pout. It's a habit you've made- bringing him lunch and sitting with him to make sure he's actually eating the food you've bought no matter how hard he protests.

“Fine. I won't eat with you, I'll just sit and stare and probably piss you off,” you smile smugly at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, turning away from you and throwing the paper from the burger in the bin.

You hum in response, not even caring for his grouchy attitude because it doesn't bother you. Because you're young, and you don't understand how men work yet.

He pulls himself up to his podium, glowing red webs dangling from the large metal disk where you soon follow.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

You pull yourself close to him, hand resting just between his thigh and yours. So soft and delicate and he wants to ruin the innocence within them. Wants to see your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock, wants to see how you use those digits inside of yourself while- hopefully- thinking of him.

“How’s school?” he feels like an awkward uncle at an even more awkward Christmas party. Is this what it's come to? Him having to ask about your college life because that's your main focus because you’re young… er.

A small scoff escapes you, and you immediately cover up with a cough.

“I’m not seven,” you tease, hand held out to shove him but you immediately withdraw it which makes him frown.

“You look it.” it's your turn to frown.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“You’re an ass,” you fold your arms across your chest, nose scrunching in feigned irritation.

Miguel clicks his tongue at you, head cocking to the side in disapproval. “Language, princessa.”

You mutter a feeble “sorry”, a forced waver to your voice that makes him chuckle lightly.

You turn your head to face him, his dark, almost curls illuminated by the neon orange of his numerous monitors. His eyes meet yours, deep maroon paralysing you in place, peeking fangs slowing your breathing, chiselled features pinking your cheeks.

And you smile. A sickly sweet, beautifully innocent smile. Any other person would look away, grow red with shame, and maybe say something embarrassing. But you? You just smile.

Because you're painfully naive.

“Really?” you turn your head to face him, neck craned back so he gets a perfect view of your soft skin. “Do I look seven?”

Of course, you don't look seven. You look twenty, which you are. But you're mature and not in a creepy way. No one else would think twice about seeing if he's okay, and no adult would have their panties organised by colour like you do either.

The sound of his chewing eventually fills the bleak room. You can see him looking straight ahead through your peripheral.

“No.”

“A man of few words,” you grin.

“A girl of far too many.”

You aren't a girl. You’re a woman. You don't spend time chasing boys, you enjoy literature, and you have your whole life planned out. Kids don't do the things you do. Kids don't want a life with a decent man, with him.

“School’s boring,” you cut through the silence, voice soft, quiet, shy.

Relief washes over him like the first rainfall in the Sahara. He swallows- quickly, and brings his attention back to you- not that it ever really left you.

“It shouldn't be, you're smart, princessa, and if your professors are doing their job you should be engaged with their subjects,” he hates that he sounds so parental and demanding when he speaks to you but it's like a default setting. He expects the best from you because he knows you can achieve it.

You scoff and this time you don't bother hiding it at all. “Thanks,” you mutter dryly, “I’ll keep being smart and then school will be more exciting.”

He grimaces at your dull tone. He's used to your sparkly side, the smiles and the giggles and now you're acting your age, all attitude and sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his voice harsher than before.

“What did you mean then, Miguel?” you press on.

“I meant that you're smart enough to entertain yourself, unlike other people.”

And in its own strange way, his ‘complisult’ makes you smile. He sees who you are, that you aren't some immature child.

It feels nice not being viewed as a child for once. A slow, steady warmth travels through you. He's being nice to you, not a rare occurrence but uncommon enough to mean something.

Slowly, you edge your hand closer to his, fingers gently nudging against his own. You pause for a moment, knowing you’re pushing it and waiting for his reaction but when he doesn't pull away you give his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” your gentle voice making his cock harden beneath his suit, “in its own way, that was sweet.”

And you grin at him again. Soft lips beaming up at his plain expression as he tries not to think about how badly he needs some relief.

Against his better judgment, he squeezes your hand back. And the soft, nervous, almost squeak that escapes you makes it all worthwhile.

“It’s true. When I went to your universe,” not to jack off while you shower, “I saw your study notes. You work hard, princessa, and it's good, admirable,” hot.

All your life you be craved words so sweet. Someone to tell you that all those years of dedication to being the best and coming second is too, better than good. Someone to tell you that when they saw your study notes they didn't see you as dumb you have to revise but studious enough to want the best.

You don't even think twice about him being in your universe, just putting it down to an anomaly or another perfectly innocent reason.

He can smell it again, that dopamine rush. You pull yourself closer to him, taunting him unknowingly and let your head rest on his shoulder.

You do this often, allow yourself to lean against him, intertwine your fingers with his, plant endearing kisses to his stubbly cheeks when he helps you out. And you do it so secretly that it's almost sexual but the innocence you perform these acts with makes it feel painfully platonic.

All he can do is ride out this moment of pure torment. Cock stiff and thighs burning.

Deep down he knows he shouldn't be like this, savouring your innocence that he can so easily capture on cameras he can use later. You're so pure, sacred almost, that it feels wrong to even have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Migs?” that nickname that only you get to use because if he gets to call you princessa its only fair.

Your hand slips off of his and moves to rest on his thigh. “Migs?” you say a little louder this time. He hums dully.

“Princessa?”

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how wet his voice makes you. The low rumble that passes through his chest, the silky smooth movements of his lips, the slight tinge of an accent that makes your cunt flutter.

You let your thumb travel over the ridges of his fingers, smooth over the peaks of his knuckles.

His hand is so big compared to yours, something that the two of you haven't ignored.

He wonders how the rest of you feels, past the tight lycra of your suit as it covers your wrists, against the fresh cotton of his bedsheets, flush against his chest.

The dull humming of the monitors accompanied by your heavy breathing and the subtle whirring of the random machinery warms up the silence between the two of you.

You shift yourself to face him, pretty lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Maybe it's because he's so safe right now. Or maybe it's because you failed your paper and his praise is all you need. But he looks painfully handsome.

Broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Soft lips parted in hunger. The sea of deep sepias and carmines that is his eyes.

Miguel has always been there for you. Well, maybe not always, but often enough. Your roommates being assholes? You can sleep at HQ. Suit ripped? He’ll make you a new one.

And in this moment, you can't see past that. He may be older, grey strands peppering his umber locks and worry lines framing his features, but that doesn't matter.

So you lean up close to him, faces inches apart. Just to smell him, just to see him, just to be near him, just to feel him.

He flinches at first, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. His gaze runs up and down your figure, trying to figure out what you're doing, your innocent expression leaving far too much up for interpretation.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other, arousal burning white-hot in your core and bodies thrumming with desire.

A calloused hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Miguel lets out a low sigh, hot breath tickling your face and making your nose scrunch in a way that can only be described as perfect.

Your breathing slows and your heart hammers. He's so close, soft lips just within reach.

“Can I?” his voice is almost a croak, a desperate plea.

He can't tear his eyes away from your quivering lips. He wants to feel them against his own, taste you, have your mouth in his possession.

You don't get time to finish your feeble “please” before he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's soft at first, the two of you gradually warming to the sensation of each other. But when you let out a soft sigh something inside him switches. All morals and guilt go completely out the window and his senses are filled with you.

His tongue probes hungrily at your lips, seeking access to the warmth of your mouth and you happily agree. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh crudely hidden beneath your suit.

“Need you,” you groan, hands gripping his chest with desperation. He silences you with another kiss, tongue immediately attacking yours, too impolite, too hard, too impatient to wait for your sanction.

He's blinded by lust, a desire that's been building up inside him for too long. His arm snakes to the small of your back, protruding talons catching on the material of your suit. He pulls you into his lap and you nearly gasp at the sensation of his erection brushing against your clothed cunt.

You lean back slightly so you can look at him, chest rising and falling with each pant. “Say something,” you pout, his mutism making your head swarm with confusion, “let me hear your voice.”

The neediness of your tone makes him smile, a boyish, cheeky one that makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you want me to say?” he questions, fingers tracing up and down the bridge of your spine.

“Just… talk me through it,” you pause, cunt fluttering and thighs tensing, “it’s my first time,” you admit quietly. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It's something you've never admitted, viewing virginity as a burden more than the blessing men do.

“Who said I'm gonna fuck you?”

Oh.

You purse your lips, your smile faltering and skin prickling with embarrassment as you fidget on his lap. His cock strains against his suit, hips threatening to buck up when you unintentionally grind against him.

You look down and a smirk forms on your face. You press the heel of your palm against his erection, eyes widening with arousal at the whine that escapes him. “This did.”

You swear that for a moment you can see a glint of red in his eyes, much darker, meaner, than his usual cool mahogany.

“Don't,” he grunts, hand gripping your wrist.

The excited grin on your face brings him back. He can't do this to you. He can't take your innocence, be the one to steal what makes you so pure. He's done things he's ashamed of, killed, lied, hated. He isn't deserving of the sweet bliss that’s you.

Your lips fall into a disappointed pout. Have you done something wrong? Maybe you’ve been too eager?

“I… I'm sorry?” you pose your apology as a question, unsure of what's actually going on. You’re inexperienced but this… this isn't normal.

“No, mierda, no, princesa,” and his hands back on your cheek, thumb tracing over the curve of your vermillion. “No digas lo siento.” your brow furrows in confusion but he doesn't elaborate.

He wants to ruin you, corrupt your pretty pussy with his hot cum and watch it seep out in think dribbles before he can stuff it back in with his fingers. But he can't.

That sweet innocence in your eyes, lashes fluttering with arousal from a simple kiss. He can't do this to you.

“Look at me,” he commands and on instinct, your eyes meet his.

“Good Girl,” he croons.

“I'm confused, Migs,” you push his hand off your cheek softly, head cocked to the side, “you’re confusing me.”

He brings a hand to your cunt and he cups it, the heel of his palm digging into your cunt. “Let me do this instead, hmm?” you nod in agreement, head too fuzzy with the strange mixture of arousal and bewilderment to even process the jolt of pleasure that shot down your spine.

The sound of ripping draws your attention down to your arousal-slick folds but he clicks his tongue. “Eyes on me, chica,” his tone is slightly harsher now but his eyes are still warm.

You don't know what he's doing. If he's coming or going. If he's teasing you or allowing this to go further.

“Mi-” he presses his index finger to your lips, not that he needed more than his intense gaze to silence you.

“You said this is your first time?” you nod again.

“No one else has touched you?” his fingers part the tear in your suit, your damp panties on show for him.

“No one.”

His thumb starts to slowly circle your cotton-clothed clit eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princessa?”

Your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs but he doesn't flinch. A sharp talon nips at your weeping bud and you nearly cry. It sends a jolt of pain fused with sickly sweet pleasure coursing through your veins. “Asked you a question didn't I?”

You nod your head again, not knowing how to answer.

“Use your words.”

Your cunt is dribbling its juices all down your thighs- and he can smell it. His mouth is practically drooling at the scent it your arousal. He's trying so hard not to rip your suit all the way and split you open with his cock. But you're gentle, soft, sweet, delicate. So he has to be as well.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you nod your head again, “I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

“Muy bein, princessa,” his thumb slips under the waistband of your panties and comes to rest on your clit but he doesn't stimulate you. Just leaves it resting on the hardened nub.

You whine at the lack of friction, hips trying to grind against his hand but his free hand holds you down.

“Migs, please,” you know you sound pathetically needy but you don't care. The man you've been lusting after since he first recruited you has his hand in your pants.

“Then keep looking at me,” he instructs, “wanna see your pretty face. Can you do that for me?” he grins at the twitching in your cunt caused by his words. That's all the confirmation he needs.

His thumb begins its slow pattern around the hood of your clit while his other hand rests on your waist, keeping you planted firmly on his lap. And maybe so you can feel how big he is.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. You've seen him kill before, seen the plethora of blood he can draw from someone with one fell swoop. Yet he's always been so careful with you, right now being no exception. Maybe that's what’s drawn you to him, the idea of him viewing you as something so sacred that he can't bring himself to damage your fragile body.

The tedious speed he's using is purposefully slow. He wants to draw this out for as long as possible, keep you a squirming mess on his lap, your sweet nectar running down to his thighs. But you want more; you’re too shy to ask for it but you want it.

You press your lips to his again, tongue slipping into his mouth almost sloppily. He's taken aback at first by your sudden burst of confidence but he doesn't protest. The hand that was resting in your hip moves to the back of your head to press you deeper into the kiss.

You whine hungrily and he rewards you with a faster pace. Your thighs clench around him, not actually expecting your plan to work. Your eyes flutter for a moment but he grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“Princessa, I'll stop,” his warning is heed enough.

Your mind’s a foggy blur of arousal and pure bliss. He keeps toying with your clit, slowing down when your gaze falters but speeding up and rewarding you if you've kept eye contact.

“Please, I'll be good, so good for you,” you mewl, craving his kind words of praise again.

“Will you? Will you let me see those pretty lips of yours smile so sweetly for me while I make you feel good?” you nod your head excessively, mumbled “yes I will”’s and “good for you”’s spilling from your lips.

The hot coil of pleasure tightens with each flick of his distal. More and more sweet moans spew from your loose hanging mouth which are just music to his ears. Your leaky hole clenches around nothingness but you're too shy to ask for more. Miguel’s thumb is good enough but what you really crave is that hard cock that's pushing up against your stomach.

Soft, sticky clicking sounds mellow in the warmth of the rooms atmosphere, arousal blending in smoothly along with the scent of your nearing climax. He can sense it, your hips stuttering and your nails digging into the meat of his chest. But he can't let you go just yet.

“Hold it for me,” its a command, not a request.

You bite your lower lip, eyes nearly watering as you try you hardest to hold back. Your poor cunt throne needily while it continues to pump hot juices all over his hand. “I-I don't know how,” you blubber, thighs trembling and hands twitching.

Your body runs white hot with pleasure while your mind teeters on the edge of climax.

“I know you can, be a good girl, princessa,” he pressed earnestly, two-toned lips falling into that signature smirk.

You let your head come to rest in the crook of his neck. He flinches at the warmth of your breath and grabs the back of your hair roughly. You whine at the sharp tug but don't protest further.

“Fuck did I tell you ‘bout looking away?” his voice is almost harsh but you don't care. Your whole body is tingling with so much euphoria, blood pumping hot with pleasure, that you don't even care about his talon catching on your clit.

You’re so close to cumming, to reaching that paradise he's dangling in front of you like a carrot on a stick. “Let me, I-i can't, Migs.”

He frowns.

Once you're done that's it. He has to let you go, push off his lap and keep you at arm's length. But he can't bring himself to do that, get rid of your warmth and tiny frame.

“Migs? Please, let me…” you cut yourself with a silent moan.

Your mouth falls slack, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed. Warmth washes over you, trickling down your spine like honey from a jar. And for a moment you think you've gone deaf because Miguel’s lips are moving but you can't figure out what he's saying.

Your arousal spills from your cunt and all the way down his hands in a warm, blanketing trinket of your pleasure.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment but lets you ride out your high with his thumb remaining on your pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking in a way that only makes his cock harden.

“Mmmm, did my princessa enjoy herself?” you look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

Your orgasm took enough energy for you to be exhausted now. You can barely lift your head let alone reply to him. When you try to smile your eyes just roll back slightly, your lashes fluttering and your nose scrunching.

You’ve come before, plenty of times, but this feels different. This time it feels all warm and gooey like it's going to stick to you forever. Maybe it's because it's Miguel’s fingers instead of your own toying with your cunt or maybe it's because you got to hold onto him. Either way, you've just cum all over his hands and can't form a proper sentence now.

Miguel smiles down at you, revelling in your blissed-out expression. Knowing that he's drawn this pleasure from you makes his insides churn.

“Pretty Girl,” he coos, hand smoothing your spine, “so pretty for me, hmm? Cumming just from me playing with her pretty pussy.” as if to prove a point, he spreads your sticky folds open with his thumb two middle fingers, a soft gooey sound catching your attention.

“Wonder if your cunt is just as pretty?” be slides a harsh finger inside with a grunt, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, “want me to fuck your tight hole, princessa?”

And you nod. Too fucked out, too tired, too needy, too in love with him without either of you knowing it yet, to push him away.

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