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iloveemoboyss · 9 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

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♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips.

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today.

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings.

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move.

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did.

But you’re no longer letting it win.

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity.

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope.

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind.

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart.

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move.

Would he be proud of you now?

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve?

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay.

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm.

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage.

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys.

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him.

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least.

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around.

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car.

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town.

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key.

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys.

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today.

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him.

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala.

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing.

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!”

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?”

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car.

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?”

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.”

“Wait what… What hidden gem?”

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly.

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?”

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?”

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner.

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile.

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face.

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.”

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you.

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt.

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.”

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him.

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods.

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.”

“Well, aren’t you humble?”

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you.

You only shake your head in response.

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house.

The smell of weed already lingering in the air.

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?”

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted.

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for.

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.”

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle.

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends.

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins.

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you.

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face.

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.”

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.”

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.”

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily.

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room.

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace.

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about.

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats.

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you.

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.”

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?”

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop.

“It’s better than mine.”

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet.

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!”

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.”

“Correction, my parents were rich.”

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile.

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.”

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.”

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington?

“Just admit it, we’re rich.”

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already.

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though.

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door.

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly.

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him.

“Buckley, why so angry?”

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically.

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came.

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her.

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles.

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend.

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips.

Your heart drops.

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago.

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday.

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?”

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe.

What were you thinking?

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you?

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry.

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you.

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like.

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does.

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends.

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone.

But you can’t go, not now, not yet.

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him.

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger.

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations.

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go.

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too.

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet.

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry.

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too.

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now.

You don’t even want to think about him.

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now.

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment.

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways.

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge.

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic.

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip.

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it.

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful.

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started.

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it.

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away.

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you.

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair.

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now.

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times.

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion.

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking.

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in.

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent.

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before.

The knocking continues, filling you with anger.

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man?

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you.

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever.

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion.

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it.

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release.

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head.

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you.

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless.

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet.

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one.

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him.

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?”

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger.

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

But his scoff stops you.

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?”

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something.

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.”

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him.

What does he want from you?

Why did he come here?

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you?

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning.

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you.

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He catches you off guard completely.

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger.

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak.

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with.

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time.

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters.

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel.

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult.

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?”

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.”

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along.

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know.

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat.

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own.

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before.

Steve is kissing you.

Steve Harrington is kissing you.

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity.

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you?

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in.

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time.

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall.

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend.

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here.

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his.

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch.

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room.

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to.

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight.

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more.

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.”

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words.

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips.

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you.

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before.

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach.

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel.

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.”

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with.

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you.

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again.

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off.

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans.

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake.

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.”

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?”

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know.

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this.

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips.

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you.

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely.

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with.

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him.

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this.

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them.

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers.

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch.

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks.

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly.

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height.

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you.

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe.

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive.

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again.

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you.

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound.

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously.

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth.

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously.

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him.

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that.

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight.

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again.

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him.

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him.

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again.

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple.

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head.

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes.

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver.

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time.

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper.

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you.

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan.

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face.

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him.

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now.

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly.

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him.

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again.

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you.

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you.

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth.

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans.

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him.

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do.

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again.

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over.

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine.

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing.

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now.

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck.

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back.

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see.

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck.

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling.

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness.

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?”

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket.

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still.

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips.

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you.

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing.

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

1K notes · View notes

iloveemoboyss · 9 months ago

Text

Period pains (NSFW Version)

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (+18)

Contents: Comfort + smut, Period sex, Use of sex toys, Cooling lube, Multiple orgasms, Aftercare.

Word count: 3947

Notes: I'M BACK and im going through it let me have this please god. I'll be updating my other stories soon i promise <3

It was 7:30am at your apartment, and Miguel was checking his hair in the bathroom mirror.

He’d gotten up early to make coffee and eggs for you both, so you’d hopefully at least eat something before you headed out for work. he’d seen you accidentally miss breakfast one too many times.

He brushed back his hair and grumbled a little, noting the little shadow of stubble around his jaw and the flick of what might be a grey hair on his head, only to pause.

Where were you?

You were always awake by now. You’d been unresponsive spare for a few grunts when he woke up at 6am to get in a few pull-ups and a cold shower, but, that was pretty normal. By now though you’d always be at least listening to videos on your phone.

But… he couldn’t hear a thing. He slowly left the bathroom and headed down the hall.

‘Mi amor?’

Miguel pushed your bedroom door aside and whispered for you. The light inside seemed to be off, with only your bedside lamp on to illuminate the space, which surprised him further.

He pushed into the room and allowed his dark red eyes to adjust to the gloom with ease.

‘Mi amor? You- oh, mi alma.’

He dropped that soft, sympathetic nickname as he spied you utterly buried in the sheets of your bed, your face barely noticeable beneath the soft folds of fabric. He knew that face.

‘Mi alma, shh, it’s okay.’ He whispered soothing little words as he tutted and dropped down to your side, his knees bent into a squat so he could stroke the hair from your face. He watched you sniffle.

‘You’re cramping again, aren’t you?’ Miguel whispered.

‘It’s really bad, Miggy’ you whined. You looked unbearably tense, your nose creased from straining against some unseen hand squeezing your lower abdomen like a cruel god. He could see the exhaustion, the pain, the way your lips were slightly nicked from being bitten.

Miguel maintained his soft expression, gently running a worn hand down his face. ‘Shh, shh. No se preocupe, mi pobre angelito/a…’

He whispered that word over and over as he leaned in and kissed your neck. ‘Pobrecito…’ he purred, letting his lips linger up to your ear and temple and finally your head, where he tenderly breathed in your scent.

‘Pobrecito…’

‘I-I gotta go to work, Miggy, f-fuck… Ah, I don’t know what to do’ you whimpered, tensing as another tight cramp made you curl in on yourself. You looked utterly drained. ‘I used up all my sick days, and my boss sucks, ah…’

Miguel’s face changed immediately, from soft to angry. His thick brows lowered and his lip curled, revealing a flash of his fang. He looked so stern, so protective. ‘Absolutely not’ Miguel said, his voice taking on a firmer tone. ‘No. Not on my watch.’

‘They won’t let me take time off just to—’

‘Let me talk to them.’

‘W-Wait, what?’

‘I’ll talk to them! I’ll explain.’

‘Miggy, that’s not how this works—’

‘It’s how it SHOULD work’ he insisted harder, with his clawed finger now pressed to his chest. ‘You’re hurting, you shouldn’t have to work. It’s that simple. Please, just- I’ll take care of it.’

‘Miggy—’

Before you could even get a word in, Miguel got up and stormed over to the apartment landline. He scrambled in the dark for your little notebook of numbers before eventually realizing it was written on the kitchen whiteboard and not in there. He gave you another quick, tender kiss and then hurried to the kitchen to call your work.

You could only faintly hear him from inside the bedroom, but you knew he was heated. You could hear him arguing, spitting things in Spanish before dipping to remind the person on the other end just who he was.

‘¡Oye! What did I just say? I keep this city safe, and that includes you. Now, I’m keeping THEM safe. Do you understand?’

You felt your face getting warm at Miguel’s insistent whispered shouting.

‘Look, I’ll pay for an extra shift, whatever the hell you want. I’ll send in a note to HR explaining the situation. Do you want Spider-Man leaving a note to your boss? Or do you want to just be reasonable, and let them rest for just one day, because you’re sick?’

Your embarrassed heat grew deeper, rising to the point that it almost hurt.

It sounded like, in the end, he lectured your boss for so long on human anatomy and why you needed time off that they just caved and hung up.

When he reappeared in the doorway with that same soft, sympathetic smile on his rough, chiseled face, you couldn’t help but manage a soft chuckle.

‘They’re just gonna get rid of me now, so they don’t have to deal with you’ you mumbled up at him. Miguel approached the bed without concern.

‘Mm. They can try. I’ll remind them again that the protector of the city and the multiverse is overseeing your care’ he said in that smooth, rough voice, carefully parking himself on the edge of the bed once more. His weight caused the mattress to creak, nearly jolting your body with the size difference, but he steadied your hip with one hand over the sheets.

‘Okay, let me just…’

With his eyes trained on you Miguel reached beneath the sheets and groped around until he found your soft belly, and with a sigh, he started stroking it. His palms were warm, his fingers calloused and thick, his hand big enough to just fully envelop your lower abdomen no matter how bloated it was.

‘Shhh’ he cooed.

‘I’m not a- baby, Miguel’ you grunted back, though you were clearly enjoying the contact.

‘Mm. No. Wrong’ Miguel said with a soft chuckle. ‘You’re my baby. Mi alma, mi vida.’ He bent as he spoke to kiss your forehead, all while continuing the gentle strokes, letting the warmth of his hand soothe a little bit of the pain.

‘I’ll think, if I can, I’ll try to get in contact with Lyla in a minute. I’ll let her know that. if there are no big emergencies, I’ll be staying in today. Okay?’ he whispered against your temple.

‘Miggy, you don’t need to take time off as well just for me’ you grunted. You saw his playful red eyes crease, revealing the little lines by his cheeks. ‘Mm. I don’t need to, no. But unless the multiverse is falling apart at the seams… My job is to take care of people who need me, such as…’

He paused mid-sentence to bump your nose with his own. His skin was a little rough, so coarse and masculine. ‘Cute little civilians like you, eh? So, if the only person I save today is you, that’s my job done.’

‘You- dummy’ you grunted, laughing in spite of the pain as it made you wince. Miguel’s eyes softened with worry.

‘You stay there, and I’ll take over. Okay?’ he whispered. You sighed as the cramp loosened its hold on you.

‘Yeah… Yeah. Okay.’

From then on, Miguel was in full care mode.

He kept the lights low and brought in another blanket from the winter storage cupboard, just to make sure you were comfy and totally covered.

He went to the kitchen and ran the hot water, filling up the little plush hot water bottle shaped like a fluffy spider he’d got you as a gift a year or two ago when he found out how bad your cramps got.

He made hot chocolate over a pan on the stove, knowing you probably didn’t want bland tea or coffee since you were sleepy, but he added a bit of chili like he always did to give you something nice to enjoy while the cramps went down.

He brought it all in himself, his huge arms piled up with items. He was a little overkill, yes, but you let him pamper you. You were in no position to argue, and it wasn’t like the attention wasn’t welcome. You knew he thought of this domestic bliss as a privilege, not a chore, and so you’d gotten used to him spoiling you rotten.

‘Here, mi amor. Gently.’

He sat down and put the hot chocolate on the bedside table, and he watched as you quietly sipped at it with the sheets still huddled around your shoulders. It was a bit too hot and you almost burned your tongue, but it tasted so damn good. The satisfied little mumble you released was enough for him.

As you settled into the sheets, Miguel reached down and held up the little hot water bottle, waving it lightly. ‘Mm? You want this too?’ he whispered. When you nodded his smile widened, and he playfully walked the little fluffy spider up your belly and over your face before shifting it beneath the sheets.

‘Don’t! You know that thing terrifies me’ you said, spluttering slightly on your words as the spider-shaped bottles fluff got in your mouth.

‘Oh, no, scary’ he teased, pressing the warmth against your lower abdomen over your shirt. ‘Don’t be mean to him. He loves you so much, see?’

You rolled your eyes but did eventually relax, clutching the little plush to your navel. It was so warm, so fluffy. You could feel the slight dampness on the fur from condensation. It was soothing as you clutched it close.

Miguel’s eyes softened even further. ‘Good, good. There you go’ he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. ‘Now… Do you want your very handsome, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to crawl into bed with you?’

‘Oh my god, stop’ you giggled, admiring his charming but slightly goofy smile. You had to admit, he was a good distraction. ‘Yeah, come on, hero. Hop in.’

Without another word Miguel shifted beneath the sheets himself, throwing off his shirt until only his pyjama pants remained. He kicked the sheets up and yanked you close to him, squeezing you tight to his chest.

‘Mm… Mmm, mi amor’ he purred, pressing his sharp chin and jaw into your shoulder blade. He clutched you to him like you were a plush doll, spooning you hard from the back until you were squished against his pecs and belly and thighs, and he held you there as you tucked his chin above your head.

‘Miggy’ you murmured under your breath.

For a while you both lulled, half asleep and half awake, with your phone sideways on the bedside table quietly playing your favorite videos to keep you company. You were still in a bit of pain, but it was fading into a dull ache now, leaving you to enjoy the warmth and safety of Miguel’s body.

And… the stirring of hormones in your body.

You began to stir a little as time passed, in the warmth and darkness of your room. Even in the mild amount of pain you were in, with Miguel’s huge body at your back, it was hard not to feel a slight, familiar stirring in your aching loins.

His breath above your head, he occasional little gruff snores, the feel of his biceps rippling as he pulled you close. The slight sweaty sheen over his abs against your back… The feel of his bulge, with no real cover spare for his pajama pants, pressed right up against your rear… His claws on your skin, his thundering heart…

In that dizzy state, you murmured softly, letting out only the faintest noise of pleasure. It was barely a whisper, and yet-

Miguel’s eyes shot open like a hawk, the red glow visible on your pillow sheet, dancing like the reflection of water. You felt him grunt.

‘… Really? You want to?’ Miguel murmured. You flushed so hot it hurt. Oh god, how did he know? How did he seem to smell it on you?

‘I- No! I mean…’

You stammered on your words as he leaned into you, squashing you down into the soft mattress. You saw his claws braced on the sheets and nearly rolled your eyes back into your skull.

‘Are you not in too much pain for that?’ Miguel whispered softly against your ear. He felt your hips buck at the sensation of air against that sensitive spot, and deep down he chastised himself for being a horny fool, because he knew he did it deliberately.

‘Mm… I mean, it- aches a bit, but— Look its fine, I-I don’t want to like, make things awkward or gross you out—'

‘Mi amor…’ Miguel bent down and kissed your cheek, his lips ever so soft, before moving those same lips back to your ear. ‘Do you really think I could ever be disgusted by your body?’

You didn’t reply immediately. ‘No…’ you said eventually, mumbling the words, as while you did trust him it was hard to not feel insecure.

Miguel leaned in and whispered again, this time, more directly, showing how aroused he could be if you wanted him. ‘Quiero cogerte, mi amor?’

You did a full-body shudder at his words, and he grinned, sensing that he knew the answer. ‘Mi vida, let me help you with the pain…’

You whimpered at his soft, husky voice, at his burning eyes now half-lidded with desire. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t still a little nervous, but…

God, you wanted to try.

‘Okay, okay’ you murmured softly, ‘Oka—’

You couldn’t even get the third ‘okay’ out before his lips were on yours, gentle at first but soon turned ravenous. He pried your jaw down with his rough hand and traced his tongue around your mouth, letting it flick and hug your own tongue into submission, all while feeling you squirm and arch against the sheets.

‘Mmm! Mm…’

You practically melted as you tasted him in your mouth. He was still ever so gentle with your body, still petting your bloated belly as he kissed, but with your face he was as rough as possible. He bit at your lip, sucked on them, grunted when he pulled back and groaned while letting your mouth muffle the noise.

When he pulled back you were a mess, with spit hanging between your lips and your mouth filled with his taste. He looked down at you with a soft, breathy open mouth, and he grinned as he panted.

‘That’s my baby’ he purred. ‘On your front, lie down. Let me try something.’

You did as told, rolling onto your belly for him with the spider hot-water bottle still beneath you. You could hear him rummaging but couldn’t see what for.

You felt rather than saw him put a hand on your rear, easily tearing your pajama pants and panties down. He carefully folded them to the side for you to put on later, ignoring the pad so you knew he wasn’t fussed about your body.

‘There, mi amor. Shh. That’s it.’

His rough hands gently kneaded and massaged down from your lower back to your glutes to your upper thigh, relaxing your tight muscles all while enjoying the chance to get a handful of your ass as well. He loved the way you moaned softly, the way your hips shifted from the sensitivity, the way the warm flesh filled out his fingers when he squeezed.

It didn’t take a lot from you to get him as hard as possible, to the point his cock was straining against the fabric to get free.

He bent down and gave you a few teasing pumps, grinding his erect cock up against your ass cheeks until you squeaked, before quietly pulling down and kicking his own pants to the floor.

‘Okay angel, stay still for me. That’s my baby. I’m gonna try something’ he whispered, pressing the words into your back with a kiss.

‘W-What? Try what?’ you murmured, half delirious in a state of anticipation and dull ache.

‘The cooling lube’ Miguel replied in that husky voice. You could hear the soft, wet thwapping noise of him smothering his shaft with the stuff, the lube he’d got you with the added addition of a cooling sensation when applied.

He gave himself a few good stroked until his hand and cock were dripping with the stuff, unable to stop the urge to just fist it a few times while admiring your ass, but after one or two he found himself too desperate for the real thing.

As he mounted you from behind he let his weighty, slippery, lubed-up cock slip down to brush your entrance, holding himself up with just one hand until his bicep veins bulged, all so his other hand could grab something else. He pulled over the little bullet vibrator he’d got you, and with your belly on the bed, he slipped it down so it was comfortably squished against the mattress and your clit before clicking it on.

He bent and eagerly whispered in your ear. ‘Quiero metértela…’

The vibrations quickly melted you, but not before he made you tense again by slipping his whole cock inside you.

‘MM- MM, MM!’

Your muffled moans echoed through the room as Miguel slid in right to the base, his pelvis hitting your ass with a dull thud as he settled in your cunt. A heady, ecstatic groan escaped his lips, almost like a sigh of relief.

‘Mmm, Dios mio… uh- qué rico’ he whispered breathily, more to himself than to you.

You could feel his shaft stretching you out, bulging you a little with the sheer size, but all you could focus on was that cooling effect as it took over. Oh, fuck, it was amazing. It was so soothing, the mixture of pleasure from the vibrator on your swollen clit and his slowly, careful pumps gently numbing your sore insides.

It didn’t quite cover every ache but it was a heavenly relief. You moaned without shame, loud enough to fill the entire apartment, as you felt his huge body gently arching and rolling and pumping his hips against you. He breathed down on your neck as he moved, with one hand on the bed for stability and the other squeezing your hip and ass cheek in his claws, holding you in place as he slipped in and out.

The sound was obscene. The sensation was obscene. The sight of your bodies moving together, naked and sweaty in the dull red light of your lamp, getting faster and faster, was obscene.

And bit by bit, he got faster.

It was a mess, one that made you entirely forget about the state you were in. A wet, lurid mess of huffing and growling and hip slapping, of wet flesh squishing with each thrust and the mattress creaking like it would break at any second.

He had gone feral in this state. The feel of that wet, tight cunt was enough to make him lose all higher thought and function.

‘Mmf- that’s it, that’s it, take it, fuck you feel so good—’

Every soft pulse, every moment your cunt squeezed him, every time he heard the soft sound of his own cock penetrating, it made him want to scream.

He pulled back and stroked his member around the rim of your entrance, letting the sensation of that and the slowly humming vibrator make your toes curl and your cunt clench like a fist, knowing exactly what would happen.

The moment you peaked he thrust back in, filling you out as you orgasmed, letting you scream and shudder and quiver as the tip of his cock eagerly twitched against your g-spot. He held you there and let you get it all out, letting you slowly tense and then collapse as the pleasure numbed the pain, before starting all over again.

He was edging himself in this state, refusing to stop until he’d let you cum as many times as possible.

He kept going, pleading softly each time for another one, coyly pulling out and bucking his hips until only his thick, throbbing member was pulsing in and out of your soaked pussy, and every time you orgasmed.

He repeated this nearly four times, until you were an exhausted mess and your clit was so swollen that just nudging it made you spasm a little, and only then did he give in to his own needs.

He grabbed your hips and pulled back, using just half his shaft so he didn’t go too deep and hurt you, and he began rapidly humping in and out as he chased his own high. He was grunting hard, his breath hot and his biceps dripping with sweat, his abs tensed and rock hard, as he finally felt that release build.

He groaned out loud, filling the apartment with his cry of relief, as his shaft throbbed and pulsed that thick load inside you. He pumped low and deep, letting the warmth fill you up and soothe the soft ache, making sure he got every inch inside your creamy little tightness before gently pulling out.

‘Are you okay, mi amor?’ he asked between pants, as his first priority was still to be sure you were okay.

Your low, shell-shocked moan of pleasure was enough to give him a bit of relief. He kissed your lower back, letting you stir and relish in the sweet, numbing after-effect of all that pleasure.

But then you shifted, and you felt the sheets beneath you. They were wet. They were soaked.

‘Oh, shit- Miggy, the sheets—’

‘Oye. I can change the sheets later if need be, it’s fine. We can get new ones.’

‘I’m- sorry, I—’

‘You did nothing wrong, my carino’ Miguel whispered affectionately. He pet your hair until you lulled.

‘I’m sorry, fuck- I’m such a mess—’

‘¡Oye! Oye…’ Miguel nestled in close and squeezed you tight, kissing down your sweaty neck to your back and then back up to your forehead. ‘Shh. Mi amor. It’s natural. It’s okay. I’ll deal with it, you relax. I had a great time…’

You managed to chuckle at that, at the very least.

As you silenced your worries Miguel continued with the aftercare. He stroked your back and hips and kissed your cheek, telling you how good you did and how good you were, how much he loved you, and ensuring he didn’t go too rough.

Only when he was sure you were exhausted and on the verge of sleep did he start dealing with the bed. He lifted you up with one arm, holding you to his chest as he cleared the sheets away and got new ones from the laundry cupboard, all while still holding you close. He had to put you down for a moment just to put the new sheets on, but the second they were you were back in bed.

He came in with a fresh box of pads and made sure they were by the bed so you could handle that yourself, with your folded clothes beside the bed to put on when you were ready.

He then turned and let you get ready with his back turned.

You were exhausted, but even in this state you felt your heart swelling with love for the big, soppy idiot of a man. You got dressed quickly and then settled back in bed, and after hearing your soft mumbled ‘done’ Miguel turned and crawled back into the clean, fresh sheets beside you.

He let you fall asleep in his grip, his lips on your forehead and his head in your hair, stroking your back all through the later afternoon as he let you drift off in a state of mildly aching bliss.

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iloveemoboyss · 9 months ago

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Holy shit(this had me shaking)

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iloveemoboyss · 9 months ago

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Leon S. Kennedy NSFW Audios. 18+ only.

Based on the anonymous ask I received. ⚠️ means non-con, dub-con, or anything triggering.

RE2!Boyfriend!Leon admitting his kinks to you, and you try them out (includes: daddy and breeding)

RE4!Best friend!Leon has a movie night with you and eats you out

RE4!Boyfriend’s older brother!Leon fucking you while his girlfriend is right next to him

Pre-RE2!Rookie!!bully!Leon finding out he has to share a room with you (OOC)

RE4!Boyfriend’s brother!Leon moving away and things get heated with you before he goes

RE2!Virgin!Leon takes your virginity and he’s good at it

RE6!Leon getting jealous and fucking you in front of the neighbour

RE4!brother’s best friend!Leon fucks you at a party

Vendetta!Teacher!Leon fucks you, his favourite student on thanksgiving

RE6!boyfriend’s dad!Leon asks you to meet up

RE2!Roommate!Leon catching you masturbating in his bed

You suck sub!RE2!Leon’s cock while he’s playing games with his friends

Doctor!RE4!Leon gives you a ‘fertility test’

Infinite Darkness!Boss!Leon fucks you late night at the office

Death Island!Leon is your teacher and fucks you in the bathroom ⚠️

Infinite Darkness!Stepdad!Leon makes you his own personal fuckdoll

RE4!Leon breeding you

Married!RE2!Leon fucking you, his co-worker, while on the phone to his wife (cheating)

Death Island!Leon finally gets his much needed holiday, and you’re his little treat

Neighbour!RE4!Leon overhears you getting fucked and decides he wants a turn

More to be added….

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iloveemoboyss · 9 months ago

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⇁a snake in this garden | leon kennedy.

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x gn!reader angst

in which you find a picture of the woman he can't let go of.

content contains: angst, unrequited(?) love, hurt/no comfort, no use of y/n

937 words

song rec: "just like chet" by laufey

my first work here! this is short, as i am just trying to get a feel for how things work on here :] enjoy below the cut!

You've never once doubted Leon's love for you. You met him when he enrolled in STRATCOM after the Raccoon City incident, and you've been inseparable ever since. After so many nights staying up late over a cup of coffee together, you eventually confessed your feelings to each other after almost eight years of friendship

But things have changed.

Every since the blonde man came back from his mission in Spain, he's been different—Leon's been more distant, staying at work till the late hours of night, and he's even opted to sleep on the couch instead of with you. The bed has been void of his warmth for a few weeks now, and you've missed his touch every second he's away.

One night, Leon comes home earlier than usual. While you laze on the couch of your shared apartment's living room, you're reading a worn-out copy of Dracula, not expecting your dear boyfriend's arrival until later in the night. You look up from the yellowed pages of your paperback novel, eyes wide as you lay your sights on the agent's tired figure. He's slipping off his shoes and lazily unbuttoning his dress shirt, mumbling jumbled words beneath his breath that you can't catch.

"Leon?" You call, your head peeping above the couch. He looks up from his shoes, his ocean-hued gaze locking onto you. A faint smile paints his face.

"Hey, hon," he whispers. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. Leon looks exhausted, his eyebags worse than usual. You're heart ached as you took in his figure. After dating him for almost a year and knowing him for nearly a decade, you knew when he was sick of the world. Leon walks towards your spot on the couch sluggishly, flopping into you to lay his head on your lap. "Missed you..." he whispered, voice muffled into your thigh. You pet the top of his head, threading your fingers through his mildly greasy hair.

"M'right here, Lee," you hush him softly. You missed this—being with him, feeling him, seeing him. Silence filled the living room as you two sat comfortably.

Suddenly, the ex-cop gets up, tugging at your wrist as a silent suggestion for you to follow. You move without thinking, trailing his heels as you two walked to your shared room.

It looked like any other portion of the little apartment—minimalistic, but homey. This was your garden of Eden. The peace from the storm that was STRATCOM. You sit with Leon on the edge of the bed, the ivory sheets creasing beneath your shared weight. Your lover sighs, laying on his back as he relaxes into the mattress. Your hand feathers against his chest as his eyes flutter close, and you figure he's going to pass out in only a few minutes.

As your fingers fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, Leon's breathing steadies. As the seconds tick by, he falls further into sleep, and you can't help but smile at the domestic sight. Ever since his mission to save Ashley Graham, Leon has never looked so at-peace. The visual made your heart melt as a warm smile etched across you face.

"Goodnight, Lee," you murmured quietly, pulling your hand away from his resting figure. You gently get off the bed, body adjusting to the cold hardwood beneath you. You tiptoe out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a little click! before venturing back to the living room. You get back in your seat on the couch, but a little white paper catches your eye.

On the floor is what seems to be a polaroid. It's small, only the size of your palm. You pick it up when you sit down, flipping it around to check its contents.

A woman in red, smiling coyly at the camera.

There's a note written in thin, black sharpie at the bottom. "A gift for you," it says in neat penmanship. Your heart squeezes. You realize that there's a snake in your garden.

You know who this is. Ada Wong, the woman that captured Leon's heart almost a decade ago. You remember your lover saying that she was nothing, that it was just a moment of loneliness in a dark time.

It's clear that wasn't true.

You never considered yourself a strong person. Your duty as an agent was to give intel to your partner, whoever it was on the mission. Much like Hunnigan, you stayed in your office, talking to your mission partner over a communication line, and give them orders depending on the task at hand. It wasn't physically taxing, seeing how you had no military experience.

Ada had everything. She's intelligent and she can fight without breaking a sweat. It's no secret that she's beautiful, too.

"Is this what Leon wants?" You whisper, tears swelling in your eyes as you the picture between your fingers shook. Your lips quivered as your eyes traced the outline of Ada's body. Hourglass, toned, and so very alluring.

Any man in their right mind would want a piece of her, you think to yourself.

You're unsure of what to do with the picture. Do you throw it out, do you hide it, or do you give it back to Leon without question? You decide it best to leave it on the floor, just like you found it.

You get up from your spot on the couch, straightening up your casual attire before walking to the front door. The polaroid is on the floor, and your coat is in your hands.

A walk wouldn't hurt, you tell yourself, ignoring the ache in your heart. Keeping secrets won't hurt either, you lie to yourself.

no hate to ada tho she bad af.

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iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

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iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

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Utterly Enraptured

Pairing; Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

tags; breeding, little bit of overstimulation, Miguel goes into rut, creampie, wordcount 4k

Summary; Miguel seems to have forgotten about a certain side effect from having half of his genetic makeup being spider DNA

EXPLICIT - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

—

Wet, warm, perfectly molded to his length. Large palms pressing against thighs, his mouth quieting your little gasps and hiccups. His murmured praise, his filthy tongue pressing against your hole wetly, licking long stripes up your skin. Hungry. The twitch of his hips, the choked whimpers, he wants it. Needs it.

You’re gasping, trying in vain to muffle your moans into the pillow while he completely and irrevocably rearranges your insides. You’re so fucking sweet – god, he wants nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, pull out and admire the view of him seeping out from your weeping pussy.

He wants to push it all back in with spit slicked fingers, kiss away all of your tears and do it all over again until you’re sobbing in pleasure, begging for more, more, more –

Miguel wakes up feeling fire burn at the base of his spine and the undeniable hardening of his cock. He immediately wants to just roll over and go back to bed.

It’s 7:47, he has to get up in ten minutes, he’s way too hot but the floors are probably freezing, his blankets are so so comfortable and his dick is aching. So far, great start to his morning. Miguel turns to his side, finding your side of the bed empty. He resists the urge to groan.

Right, you have your early work shift today.

He mourns the loss of the warmth as he kicks off his blankets with one languid motion. For a moment he’s tempted to just indulge himself right now, right here. Your scent is still in the air, soaked into your pillow, heady and intoxicating.

Absent-mindedly he palms himself, cupping the sizable bulge and considers. Miguel wants you, to be completely honest. Always does. Like a thirst that will never be quenched, he craves you. All of you. Your hands, your flesh, your blood — if he could, he’d worship every single inch of you for the rest of eternity.

And you’re not here. Unfortunately. He imagines your hand, smaller than his, wrapping securely around his length, the other curled loosely around his hot, swollen balls, and slowly exhales.

He can wait. He has self control. He doesn’t have time to fist himself like a wild animal. He has an online meeting to attend since he, for once, is taking a break from the Spider Verse for a day or two.

Miguel heaves a sigh and gets up, stretching lazily. The chill seeps into his skin and he resigns himself to taking a cold shower.

(He ends up having to clean spurts of creamy white off of the shower walls anyway. He is so fucked.)

—

There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong with today. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Miguel can’t get you out of his head.

You usually don’t leave his mind regardless, but at the moment, all he can think of is bending you over the nearest flat surface, letting you slather at his tip, feeling your sweet, tight pussy clench around him while he whispers obscenities in your ear.

He thinks of you all day, but his thoughts are never this…vividly vulgar. Miguel will admit to having the stray passing instance but right now? He’s practically been a depraved fucking dog for the past three hours straight.

This morning didn’t help. That damn dream didn’t help. He’s been staring at his laptop for the past thirty minutes trying desperately to redirect his thoughts to something more productive, his board members are droning on and on about stock values and whatnot – he has work to finish, but jesus, he can’t think of anything but you.

Your taste, your heat, your everything. He’s hard as rock as he mumbles some bullshit excuse to his meeting members before shutting off his laptop with a definite click. It’s as if a fog has filled his head, keeping him drunk and dizzy. Miguel’s body feels unbearably hot right now, scorching, needing.

“Lyla,” his voice is strangled. “What’s the date?”

His assistant flickers to life next to him, drawing up a calendar.

“Mm…it’s the 8th,” she says, blinking down at him. “Ah, I see. Your uh, time of the month, y’know?” She wiggles her eyebrows and he growls, waving her away. She pops up a little ways away, putting her hands on her hips.“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, man,” Lyla frowns. “Just telling you,”

“Thanks,” He says bitingly, dismissing her and groaning into his hands. You won’t be home until later – and later means that he’s going to have to suffer for the next few hours, alone and unbearably horny. Wonderful.

Mentally, he berates himself with a low hiss, feeling annoyed that he didn't connect the dots earlier. His throat is dry and he swallows raspily.

He should’ve looked at the date, how could he have forgotten? Heightened sensitivity, overheating, inability to focus, the urge to fuck you into next week — all signs pointing to a very large neon billboard that says “SPIDER INSTINCT FUCKERY” in big bold letters. In other words, mating period.

It happens every other month through the 8th to the 10th when his body decides that it’s time to procreate and do nothing else for the next two days.

He sucks in a ragged breath slowly, trying to calm his fast beating heart. It doesn’t work, only serving to remind him of the pulsing in his chest and between his legs.

It wasn’t this bad before he started dating you. All he had to do was tug on his cock a few times and he was fine, for the most part. Anything else could be burned off by fighting criminals and doing his usual dimensional overseeing.

That was before you. You and your gorgeous smile, you and your honeyed scent, you and your burning touch. He’s so hungry — greedy. He wants your flesh in his hands, your slick on his chin, your hands on his body.

He doesn’t even realize he’s getting up from the couch and migrating to your shared room until his knees hit the mattress and his huge frame curls up on your side of the bed. His cock is stupidly hard, twitching and throbbing from where it’s formed a tent in his sweatpants.

Miguel can already feel the precum seeping out of him and staining his boxers. A whine rips itself out of his throat as he buries his head into your pillow, basking in your familiar sweet smell.

A heady mixture of your favorite shampoo, perfume and body, all swirling around him as he grinds his lower half into the bed desperately like a dog in heat.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

He needs you, craves you. His large hand snakes down to wrap around his weeping length, the other pulling down his sweat pants and boxers to give him some relief. It’s agony, waiting for you to come home.

He wishes you were here right now, wishes that he could pepper your face with kisses and croon apologies while he slowly bottoms out in your tight cunt while you writhe beneath him.

Or on top of him. He doesn’t give a damn. Any position you want, he’ll do it.

Just imagining your sweet whines and whimpers has his breath labored. He presses the heel of his palm against his stiff length, hissing at the jolt of pleasure and sensitivity that burns through him. It’s painfully dry, but he takes the slick precum dripping out of his tip to aid the tight slide of his fist over his fat cock. God, he just needs to pump you full of him and fuck it all back into you. The thought of you, all swollen and glowing with his kid makes him nearly feral.

His hips jerk upwards and he can’t help but imagine your hand instead of his, can’t help but imagine how much better it would feel.

He gasps quietly as his thumb presses against his slit, jaw tightening, fangs threatening to break skin. The hand currently not wrapped around his cock is clenching the bedsheets hard enough to rip.

He just needs to wait. He just has to wait a little longer. You’ll be home soon.

—

You slip off your shoes at the door, setting them aside on the rack near the entrance. The warmth from the apartment chases away the chill and you set down your bag, heaving a sigh of relief. You’ve been looking forward to spending time with your boyfriend all day since he has a rare day at home today.

You peek around the hall, letting your aching feet be comforted by the rugs near the living room. Where is Miguel anyways?

“Heyyyy,” Lyla pops up in front of you suddenly, grinning when you startle. “Looking for Miguel?”

You set a hand on your chest trying to calm your jackrabbiting heart, before giving her a small smile.

“Yeah. Is he here right now? I mean he said he would be, but I don’t know if he’s doing his Spider-man thing right now,” You tilt your head as Lyla’s expression flickers. She adjusts her glasses, glancing at your bedroom door.

“Well uh, he’s in there. Might wanna be careful though,” She mutters, checking out her bright pink nails absentmindedly. You raise an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

In lieu of explanation she draws up a calendar and materializes a glitching pen in her hands, circling the date. Your frown in confusion.

“The…8th?” You blink and she nods. Why would today be significant? It’s not your anniversary, the only thing that comes to mind at the moment is… “Oh.” You swallow dryly, remembering vague flashes from two months ago. Two months ago when he had fucked you silly for what was basically two days, interspersed with breaks in between. Then the sheepish explanation of what he calls "mating period" where his DNA practically drives him insane with rampant horniness.

Lyla nods empathetically.

“Yeah…well, good luck! I've heard that massages really help with soreness.” She vanishes with a pop of golden glimmers, leaving you alone in the hall.

You glance where she had been moments prior before sighing. Dating a man with half of his makeup being spider DNA came with its quirks. Your feet carry you down the hall and you open the door to find –

Oh fuck.

Miguel, in all of his bare glory, strong thighs spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination. His sweatpants and shirt are in a heap on the floor, most likely thrown in his haste. His heaving chest is gleaming with sweat, abdomen twitching, looking like a Greek God.

And there, his throbbing, swollen cock squeezed tightly in his fist, his hips working back and forth at a languid pace. Long and thick, the tip shining slightly with precum. It makes you salivate, sticky heat beginning to grow between your legs.

The room's atmosphere is heavy as you mindlessly draw closer. Fuck, his gasps and whimpers sound so pretty. Half of his large frame is hanging off the bed as you realize he's on your side, face buried desperately in your pillow.

"B – baby," His words stutter in his throat as your scent overwhelms him, his nostrils flaring. "Please, please, please —fuck, need you so bad," he quivers, taking his hand off of his face to look back at you. He's grimacing, gorgeous plush lips stretched into a pathetic pout and you hum in acknowledgement, putting a hand on his thigh. He twitches but makes no other move.

Your clit throbs in response to the pure neediness in his voice, high and whiny. He sounds utterly wrecked, squeezing his cock and waiting for you to touch him. You’re so close, your hand is on his body, but it’s not where he wants it.

“You’re so desperate, Miguel,” You croon, reaching out slowly and wrapping your hand around his base. He makes a choked sound, his hand falling away to run through his sweaty hair. “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer for a second, visibly trying to contain himself before he speaks, low and ragged.

“Yes,” He finally hisses, crimson irises foggy and clouded with lust. You hum in approval at his answer, squeezing lightly as you begin to pump him, going at a pace you know is wholly too slow for his taste. “Don’t t — tease me, cariño. Faster, baby, please,” He begs, his breath stuttering in his chest.

You rock back on your heel as you begin stroking faster, your thumb tracing the veins on the underside. Miguel’s eyes roll back as your deliciously hot mouth descends on him, your tongue circling his tip juuust the way he likes it. Fuck, you can feel yourself getting wetter with each trembling hiss and moan you pull out of this man — your man. You separate from him with a pop, licking pre from sticky fingers while he watches hungrily.

The smell of arousal — your arousal, invades his senses and his hands twitch and he lunges, pulling you up to him and flipping you over. You yelp in surprise as his hands immediately squeeze flesh, your hips, your thighs, your ass, anywhere he has access to.

You tilt up to kiss him and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and when you allow him access inside he moans quietly, fangs digging into your lower lip lightly.

Your shirt is practically discarded at the speed of light and you shiver for a second at the cold washing over your skin before Miguel's all over you again.

He leans forward to fumble with your bra, fingers struggling to unclasp the hooks on the back. You laugh and pull it off yourself, to which he rolls his eyes fondly before his mirth is devoured by desire.

Thick fingers nimbly pull at your pants waistline.

"Take these off too, sweetheart," He whispers, leaving wet open mouth kisses trailing down your neck. You shiver, obliging quickly and kicking them off. They land somewhere on the floor and you don't care enough to look for them. Not when Miguel is between your legs, staring down at your clothed pussy like it's his last meal.

He inhales slowly, leaning down to press his head against your thigh. You smell so fucking intoxicating, he wants nothing more than to bury his face between your legs and make you scream in pleasure. But first he has to get rid of your panties.

"Hurry up, Miguel, please," You whine, wiggling your hips as if to try and encourage him. As if he needs any sort of encouragement.

"Do you care about these panties?" He asks, quick and low. You blink.

"No…? –! " You gasp as he lowers his head and fucking rips them off of you in one quick motion with his damn teeth. "Miguel!"

"I'll get you new ones, baby. Promise." He kisses your inner thigh, holding you down with two large searing hands. "As many as you want. As long as I get to have this goddamn pussy, I'll get you anything."

Your glistening lips look absolutely delicious, all wet and soaked from watching him play with his cock in front of you. He wants to put his mouth on your throbbing, swollen clit until you sob, wants your pussy in his face, wants his tongue in you while you grab at his hair and urge him for more. You'd taste divine, and he nearly just decides to do it anyway.

But his cock is so hard it almost hurts and he's about three seconds away from getting blue balls, so instead he sinks one finger in your drenched cunt. Your breath hitches and you turn your head into a pillow as he begins to finger fuck you in earnest. The obscene sound of slick gushing out from your hole makes Miguel nearly feral, nearly has his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels your tightness squeeze and pulse around his thick digit. You hiss at the stretch, slow pain and growing pleasure intertwining as Miguel goes slow adding a second.

"You're doing so good, so good, baby. You feel so – fuck, so good. Can you take one more?" He asks breathlessly. "C’mon, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You nod amidst blurry vision, gasping as he slides another finger in. His pace is fast and punishing, and the final goddamn nail on the coffin is the way his fingers press into your g-spot, while his thumb rubs messy circles on your puffy clit.

"Cum, baby, you can do it, you can fucking cum for me, can't you?" He latches onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your nipple in such a way that makes your head foggy.

“Mig – guel!” You whine brokenly as he rolls it between his teeth, sharp points of pleasure burning up your spine like wildfire. Miguel can’t help but groan at the feeling of your sweet cunt clamping down on his fingers, and he increases his speed at the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. You're so so close and when the building coil in your lower stomach finally snaps, you sob, gushing all over his palm.

Your bare chest heaves as he murmurs sweet praise in your ear, telling you that "You did so good, cariño," and "Look at you, you're so gorgeous all spread out like this,". Miguel drags his tongue down your neck, pulling away for a second to suck your juices off his fingers in an awfully erotic display of tongue, saliva, and a flash of a grin.

He presses kisses to your face, trying his absolute damndest not to hump you like a fucking dog but he’s waited so long and he’s going to go fucking insane if he doesn’t get your pretty pussy wrapped around his cock in the next two seconds.

“C’mere, baby,” Miguel takes himself in hand, his other keeping your thighs spread so he can see your twitching hole all wet and ready for him. “Can’t wait any damn longer – I’ll fuckin’ – explode or something.”

Looking up at him from your position is absolutely deadly. His hair is disheveled, strands slipping from their usually neat positions, his expression is utterly and completely devoted as his chest heaves. Your eyes travel down to shamelessly stare at his massive package, complete with his proportionally large hand curled around the weeping length.

He’s so stiff that he splits your lips easily, and he groans at the feeling of your slick coating the underside of his cock. You can’t help but gasp as he grinds against you slowly before the head catches on your clit and pushes inside.

And oh god, he could die right here and be happy, he could fucking die with the tip of his dick buried in your tight pussy and think that his life is fulfilled. It takes everything in him not to cum and paint your insides in a creamy white. Your wet walls are so slick and he hisses as they clamp down on him.

“Fuuuuck… baby you — you gotta loosen up for me, relax — mnnshit — “ he gasps, and you cry out, shifting underneath him. He rubs sloppy circles on your clit, his breathing labored as a few more inches of his monstrous cock slide in, “There we go, there we — nnngh, okay, good, so fucking good, you’re such a pretty girl,” he babbles nonsensically, practically losing his mind in the warmth.

“M — Miguel,” You hiccup, nudging him out of his daze. “Move — please, s’not enough,” You want him in your guts, you want him to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is the shape of his cock.

And who is he to deny you?

He shoves the rest of himself in in one fluid motion, his throat closing in on itself as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush to yours. His mouth parts slightly as his lips form an o shape, and he thrusts once, caging you in his burly arms.

“Oh shit — I’m gonna move, okay? M’gonna move,” he warns you, before pulling out slowly only to slam his hips back into yours with wild abandon. You suck in a startled breath as he begins to absolutely fuck your brains out, fire igniting deep in your lower stomach again. There’s none of his usual careful approach, there’s no teasing, no smug remarks. He’s focused on one thing and one thing only: stuffing you full of his seed until he physically can’t anymore.

You can barely get anything out as he grinds against you, his dick so deep inside that you’re sure that he’s showing through your lower stomach. Fuck – he feels so good as he fills your tight pussy, rocking precisely in all of your sensitive spots. The head of him practically kisses your damn cervix, sending you rocketing towards your second orgasm of the night.

Your brain is so mushy and pleasure-drowned that it takes you a second to realize that he’s still talking and oh fuck.

“Let me fill you, le— let me cum inside, please, please, baby, I wan – nngh, I want you all round and swollen f’me,” he sounds utterly wrecked, desperate and hungry all rolled in at once, “Wouldn’t you look so pretty an’ gorgeous? Pleas – e, please? Need you full, all full of me,” Miguel begs, grunting lowly when you clamp down on him from the downright filth flowing from his mouth.

“Yes – Miguel, just –nnhgod, oh shit, oh fuck,” You lose the tail end of your sentence as your head melts out of your ears and pleasure sears through your veins. Miguel whimpers at your words, shoving himself deeper than you thought was humanly possible.

“Waited so long for you, baby, was so – was so lonely, needed you – need you – “ He hits a spot that has you keening, eyes rolling back and your head bumping against the headboard of the bed. You’re driving him utterly insane, your moans and cries sounding like a blended symphony of bliss pounding through his eardrums. He leans down to litter any inch of bare skin he has access to in dark marks, his burning mouth trailing wetly down the valley between your breasts.

“M’close, Mig – uel, I’m going to cum, baby –” You manage to gasp out before you’re overwhelmed completely and your vision erupts into stars as you gush around him for the second time in one day. It feels like someone has poured molten pleasure down your veins and you’re incandescent with it.

Miguel chokes, low and deep in his throat, feeling your slick pussy tighten around his girthy cock, slathered in your juices. It tears a downright animalistic sound out of him, a trembling snarl from somewhere in his chest as he thrusts once, twice, then finally pumps you full of creamy thick seed.

His mouth is agape, transfixed in a silent ‘o’ as his hips stutter and his balls draw up tight, every atom in his body devoted to filling you completely. When he’s finished, he rolls his hips a few more times, fucking his cum deeper inside of you despite his hiss of overstimulation.

Your limbs are putty in his hands as he slides out slowly and adjusts you into a more comfortable position, his eyes lingering on the way some of his cum drips out of your loose hole. He pushes it all back in with two fingers, giving you a small smile of apology at your choked mutter, before collapsing down next to you and dragging you close to his chest.

“...How long does this last again?” You rasp, voice sore from screaming. Miguel hums in contemplation, nosing your shoulder from where he’s draped over you.

“About a day and a half more to go,” He responds languidly after a moment. “Are you okay with that?”

You know you’re going to be so sore by the end of it. You know you’ll probably be feeling it for weeks on end after. You know you’ll probably have to take a few sick days to recover too.

“Mhm,” You answer, kissing his cheek. “I can handle it,”

“That’s good,” He replies quietly, and you stiffen, feeling his fat softened cock twitch against your thigh. He raises his head to give you a semi sheepish look and you gulp.

Maybe you can’t handle it, actually. It’s okay though, since Miguel will take care of you long after.

—

Man im so sorry this was pretty late. At least i managed to get it in before October ended. Also I’d let that man dick me down any day of the week, 24/7 😻😻

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iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

Note

Im going FERAALLLL

Okay… hear me out

Teacher Miguel giving extra credit to virgin student but she has to let him f her 😱

“Um mr O’Hara we shouldn’t be doing this..”

While she’s getting destroyed

“Oh and you act like you don’t love it”

OH I AM HEARING YOU OUT ALR

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

you have been failing your classes A LOT recently. you had terrible scores on all of the subjects, but especially spanish.

and it didnt help that your love life and everything else was a mess right now, how could you study in this situation?

but you really had to pass this time.

so what do you do? cheat of course.

problem is you werent sneaky enough and now your being called to your spanish teacher's office because he caught you cheating.

you nervously bit your lip and just stood at the door to his office, just standing there for a good while and you honestly were debating onto wither you should make a run for it or not however you decided you better meet up with him fast before you get into more trouble.

and so here you were, sitting on the soft cushions of the black couch in his office as you fidgeted with your fingers, scared to make eye contact with him because of the consequences of your actions.

and it definitely didnt help that he was silent the whole time, writing on a notebook calmly as he occasionally glanced over to the stack of papers on his desk that you assumed were test papers.

the very test that you cheated on.

perhaps he was writing reports on the test perhaps he was not but did he really need to do this right now? couldnt he have done it before or after he was done with you?

''ahem.'' rang a deep voice through out the room.

you snapped your eyes back from your lap, looking up at him startled.

'''now then, (name), would you care to explain as to why you decided to cheat on your spanish test, hm?'' he questioned with a raise of his eye brow and a nonchalant expression on his face.

you gulped.

''..uhm...i- i am sorry-! i wont do it again! i am sorry!'' you apologized desperately.

he shook his head, getting up from his seat and walking toward you. you almost backed away when he reached for your chin and lifted it up with two fingers.

''shh...'' he hushed you.

''thats not what i asked of you, now was it? i didnt want an apology. i wanted an explanation. i'll ask again...'' he paused as if to let you process his words in your dumb little head slowly.

''why did you cheat?'' he repeated.

you were silent. unsure of what to say or do. dumbly looking at him, frozen in place.

''answer me.'' he said a lot more firmly now.

and you knew if you didnt reply right now you would really regret it. so mustard up the courage to push out a few words out of your mouth, albeit coming out in stutters.

''Í had to- i am sorry- shit- i just really need to pass this time. i-i didnt- god- i shouldnt have! i really am...sorry.''

hearing your words, miguel o'hara smirked, letting go of your chin as he looked to you a smugly.

''ah, is that so? then you should've just told me so from the beginning, doll.''

his words confused you greatly. what did he mean by that? but you really didnt need any further explanation when he leaned down, placing beefy arms on both sides of your head as he leaned in to whisper in your ear in a low deep sensual voice.

''you could've just told me you were struggling...i would've helped you. all you had to do was ask, doll.'' he said as he brushed a hair strand behind your ear before cupping your face with his large hands.

''in fact i would give you extra credit and the best marks possible if only you did me a little favor...''

''...what?'' your heart was beating against your ribcage. you wanted to deny all this. no it wasnt happening right now. no this isnt true. is this going where you think it is?

but it was. it was very very real.

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

''fuck-- yeah... your doing great.'' he praised. one hand placed on the crown of your head, running his hand through the silky hair and occasionally tugging and tightening his hold on your hair when you your tongue swiped against the veins on his cock or if you deep throated him suddenly without warning.

''k---keep going...'' he groaned as he couldnt help but throw his head back, gritting his teeth because of the pleasure you gave him.

you took him out of your mouth slowly, licking his long member along the way and swirling your tongue on it when you reached the tip, sucking it into your mouth afterwards as you closed your eyes.

''eyes on me, muñeca.'' he huffed, running a hand through his hair. ''keep your eyes on me when you suck my cock. look at me.''

''yes professor...'' you mumbled with his tip in your mouth, causing your words to come out muffled and sent vibrations through his dick. he let out an whimper at the feeling and quickly sinks his teeth into his plush lips to prevent it from happening again.

it felt so good inside your mouth. warm and tight. the feeling of your tongue on his cock, the feeling of being able do something so sinful with you, not to mention how pretty you look taking his dick.

it all drove him insane.

''f-fucking hell, cariño...stop teasing''

you blinked up at him at his words. watching the way his cheeks were slightly flushed and how his eyes were slightly glossy as he breathed heavily, gritting his teeth.

as much as you would like to deny it...the sight was turning you on.

you didnt give him a verbal response. instead you took him in your mouth in one go, deep throating him. he gasped audibly. his hands tightening on your hair.

you bobbed your head up and down, though tears treathened to spill from your eyes from taking him in so deep you knew better then to do this half-assedly. your grades depended on it!

his eyes become shut as he cums with a loud groan. spilling his seed into your mouth. and you finally take him out of your mouth, and just when your about to spit out his cum--

''shallow. all of it.'' he orders sternly. and you end up obeying, because what good would it do you to disobey him?

''good girl...so obedient.'' he chuckled, his breath still heavy as he recovered from his orgasm.

''but..i am gonna have to test just how obedient you can be, doll.'' he smirked wickedly before grabbing you by the arm, lifting you up and pulling you close to him.

''let me fuck that pretty pussy, doll. let my cock be inside you. i'll fuck you real good, i promise.'' he whispered sensually as he used his thumb wipe your chin before running it along your bottom lip.

''this- this wasnt what we agreed on professor...'' you mumbled, averting your eyes from him shyly.

he laughed.

''oh my sweet little princess....did you really think i would just let you go without fucking your tight little cunt? did you really think i was that nice?'' he cooed, a smug smile on his lips.

''undress. right fucking now.'' he commended. it was stern and serious, you could tell he wasnt joking around.

you hesitated. not knowing what to do. should you just make a run for it? and tell everyone what he tried to do? no that would mean they would know what you did. voices rang inside your head, making you freeze in place.

what should i do what should i do what should i do what should i--

''listen here, princess.'' he began. his voice snapping you from your train of thoughts.

''you either let me do whatever i want with you obediently or....i take you right here and now, forcefully, and you lose your mind while taking my cock''

you shivered at the threat. yet it wasnt because of fear, no.

it was a different feeling. a feeling you so desperately wanted to deny. yet the wetness coating your panties proved you wrong all the more.

''s-sir...'' you looked up at him almost pleadingly, unsure of the situation and as much as you wanted this you were gonna stick to your will. your not some submissive little lamp. theres no way your gonna give in to him this easily, right?

''you said...you'll help me if i just..sucked your cock..did you lie to me?''

he chuckled. A dark eerily chuckle that made you shudder.

''princess...me? lie to you? no sweetheat...i am no liar. your just stupid.'' he kissed your cheek in an loving manner yet the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes radiated no such loving warmth.

''your just so stupid its cute. it makes me want to just devour you. its cute how you struggle, its cute how trusting you are, its cute how naive you can be, its cute how you squirm when your scared, everything about you..top to bottom, everything is just so adorable.''

he kept going on and on as you struggled, squirming like an desperate little prey.

''but you promised-! you cant just- professor...you really wont do this to me, will you? why would you...lie to me professor? why me?''

he smiled at your words.

''heres the thing, cariño...you shouldnt trust men.''

he caressed your cheek, a smile still gracing his lips as he spoke.

''not men like me...not men like me who are so desperately in love with you. because god how could i let go of you once i got the chance to have you like this? i just cant, mi vida.''

he leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours, slowly opening his mouth to deep the kiss and encourage you to do so as well by caressing your cheek softly.

''let me fuck you.''

''i promise...i wont hurt you. i'll be gentle.'' he spoke against your lips, kissing them desperately like he craved for every single bit of your body, mind, and soul.

turns out...you were an submissive little lamp. because what else would you be if you so willingly gave into all of this fucked up stuff?

nothing but a stupid little submissive lamp.

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

''ugh-- please--- mmfp-!'' you moaned as your hands dug into the softness of the coach.

''please what, baby? speak.'' he chuckled as he bounded into you hard, lifting your legs with his forearms and pinning them to your shoulder.

he had you in full nelson, continuously making you bounce up and down on his dick.

''f-fuck..your so tight...'' he groaned. ''are you a virgin or something? heh...''

you whimpered out a breathy ''y-yeah..o-oh''

''hm?'' he bounced you up and down on his length effortlessly as he breathed heavily against your ear.

''what did you say, cariño?'' he questioned, not because he was teasing, but actually because he didnt catch what you said.

''i s-said-- oh m-my god...'' you stuttered. your mouth hanging open from how good he was hitting you.

''you were so opposed to letting me fuck your cute little cunt minutes ago...look at you now. your just drooling for my cock, arent you baby?''

he smiled as he re-angled your hips. making him hit a certain spot inside you, you whimper in response.

''aw...so cute. your just fucked dumb on your professor's cock, arent you?''

he laughed before lifting you up higher then usual and holding you there for a little over 1 second and then slamming you back down making air get knocked out of your lungs.

''tell me you love my cock, cariño. that you want my cock to make you feel good. that you want me and only me to fuck you like this. you dont want anyone else to touch you like this, right?''

''n-no..'' you managed to let out. ''y-your the first person t-to fuck me like this professor...i-i love your cock professor..give me more-! i want more-! m-make me cum again please..!'' you babbled on.

''yeah? nobody fucked you as good as me, baby? thats a shame. but dont worry...you dont have to think about any of those guys that you fucked around with anymore...not when you have me baby.'' he pulled your head back to pull you into a messy kiss. slipping his tongue inside your mouth as he groaned at how tightly your cunt hugged his cock.

''n-no i- i never...mhmp-! did things like this before..'' you let out an in breathy voice, huffing and panting when he pulled back from the kiss.

''...what?'' he questioned. his hands on your thighs coming to a halt. ''you never did things like this before, cariño?''

''no..'' you confirmed.

''hey hey...but that would mean..'' his eyes widened at the realization and you simply gave him an hesitant nod.

''...did i just take your virginity, angel?'' you bit your lip in response as you squirmed in his lap, your head still turned behind to look at him.

''y-yeah..'' you mumbled.

he groaned at that. and you could feel his cock twitch inside you.

''your joking...no way..''

''i am no--'' you were cut off my your own moan as his grip on your thighs tightened again, as he thrusted in and out of you in an inhuman pace.

''w-wait-- slow down- nnhghh...''

he didnt listen. nor could he make sense of anything right now when his mind was going crazy by countless thoughts. he couldnt believe he was your first. and the thought made him completely lose it.

its not his fault though. you brought this upon yourself the moment you believed him when he said he'll be gentle with you.

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

ALR I AM SORRY THIS TOOK LONG I GOT THIS ASK WHEN MY EXAMS WERE GOING ON

and i am sorry i kinda switched things up a bit but i still hope you like it <3

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iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

Note

OMGGG I 🖤 THE WAY U WROTE OUT THE MESSY MIGUEL ASK SKSNDKSNDKED

What’s your opinions on full nelson?? 🤭

it’s a steamy night for wife!reader and husband!miguel since it’s been awhile since they had sex so Miguel makes it worth it all the way by spoiling reader

after many positions, he full nelsons her and has to cover her mouth so they don’t wake up their kids with their escapades <3

- 🧛🏾‍♀️

sooo hot 🙈

your nearly screaming. your mouth is opened as far as it could possibly go with your body covered with sweat and the slick of his pre cum rubbed over your naked body. after nearly a month of not feeling his cock in you - this was the perfect time to finally have the mind blowing sex you both needed and wanted. he holds your legs tightly, hips moving at a speedy pase and eyes rolled back in his head. his mouth attached to your neck as soon as he could and his mouth opened in a groan. he was so strong compared to you, basically holding you off the bed. eventually, you both hear a small cry and miguels hips still. he doesn't want to but hid children mattered more then his orgasm. then the cry stops and your baby is finally asleep again. you don't get to sigh in relief since his hips start moving again and you moan gently.

you eye the muscle just under your neck and your cunt gushes. fuck, it was hot. the thought of his veins bulging and his muscles working themselves made you even more wetter - if possible. he grinned once he notice your drool drip on to his toned skin and he raises a brow, angling his hips to the side slightly. "you like my arm, hermosa?" (beautiful) he thrusts up once again sharply. fuck.

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iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

Text

Shadows to Stars | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: One night, your seemingly perfect life with your boyfriend Miguel crumbles before your very eyes. It is then you must make a decision that will change the course of your life forever - as well as the course of the life growing inside of you.

Words: 12k

Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of death and abortion, pregnancy, Miguel is scary and a bitch. Spanish translations will be at the end. Do tell if I forgot something!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the super long oneshot I promised you all I would deliver! Since in both polls I made, the majority of y'all voted for one post, I'm posting this as one big drabble. Honestly, it kind of transformed as I was writing it, and I got carried away. Beware, Miguel is a monster in here, he is NOT a good person and I do not condone his actions in this work.

Also, quick aside, I'm using my own experience with toddlers and kids (namely my little sister) to shape some of the dialogue. Kids are very smart, and oftentimes we don't give them enough credit. I tried to keep this realistic!

The song mentioned is Querida by Juan Gabriel - I suggest listening to it!

Enjoy! :)

“This is such bullshit.” Was the first thought that crossed your mind. That’s not how gravity worked. The impossible stunt performed by the actor in the TV left you unimpressed, and you scolded yourself mentally for it. You sound exactly like him. Just enjoy the movie, will you?

You shake your head with a sigh, focusing on the screen in front of you. You’d been meaning to watch this one for a while, all your friends said it was simply the best of the saga just yet. “I can’t believe they’re making another one, just let the saga die!” You replied, but your best friend Miranda was quick to disagree. “How could they, after ending the last one in such a cliffhanger?” She was defending the movie as if her life depended on it. “Besides, Com Truise looks really hot in this one, he’s aging like fine wine”.

So here you were, trying to figure out how the hell Wethan Runt was gonna get himself out of this situation. This was the… Sixth? Seventh? Seventh Improbable Endeavor movie so far, and you wondered why they couldn’t just let the series die. It was simply too much at this point, a way to milk a famous franchise in order to earn money.

“Mommy?” A small, tremulous voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked at where it came from.

A small child looked at you from behind the living room door, his hand tightly clutching a teddy bear. Your son had just turned 4 and was the most precious thing the world had ever blessed you with. With soft brown curls and [e/c] eyes, he looked like a little cherubin, all chubby cheeks and dimpled smiles. You adored him.

“Yes, baby? What’s wrong?” You asked, furrowing a brow. However, there was no need for a reply. You knew what the answer was already. “Another one?”

Gabriel nodded softly, tears forming in his eyes, and fear turning in his tummy.

“The same?”

He nodded again, the tears now rolling down his round cheeks. The sight of your pouting son broke your heart. For a few months now he had been plagued with the same nightmare repeatedly: A brightly coloured spider sinking its teeth onto him, proceeding to devour him whole right after. It wasn’t a pleasant dream, and unfortunately, it felt too familiar. Not to you, but perhaps to someone who once used to be close.

“Oh honey…” Your voice was soft, as it usually was with Gabriel. You knew nothing else when you were with him. “I’m so sorry… C’mere baby, do you want to sleep near mommy tonight?”

Gabriel shook his head “yes” softly, a small breath leaving his mouth. He was glad you’d asked him that. He didn’t want to look like a baby, not in front of his mom. Not when she told him he was her brave boy all the time. He had to be a brave boy for his mama.

“Mama…” He breathed out, tears pooling at his feet. “Mama I’m sorry…”

“Honey?” Now you were worried. He looked so scared; your precious baby looked so scared. “Honey, c’mere…”

“I can’t…” He whispered, shaking his little head. “Mama I had an accident… I’m sorry… I made the bed wet…”

Your heart officially broke.

Motherly instinct was stronger than you, and within a few seconds, you had picked Gabriel up, shushing him and running your fingers through his brown locks.

“It’s okay honey, it’s okay…” You cooed as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, hiding away from all the troubles, from all the monsters and creepy spiders that threatened to hurt him. His mama always made the monsters go away. You were his hero. “You’re such a brave boy, it’s okay… I’m not mad at you, alright? You’re so brave for me…”

Your hushed words were quick to soothe him. He stopped crying, occasionally sniffling and rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

You took him to the bathroom, quickly washed him and gave him a new pair of underwear. Gabriel knew how to use the toilet – potty training was never a problem because to him, the toilet meant he was a “grown up”. He was quick to tell you when he needed to use the bathroom, causing you to leave the diapers behind. Unfortunately, nightmares didn’t care about that.

He looked at you while you got rid of his wet sheets, throwing them in the washing machine, and his eyes were full of adoration while you prepared him his favourite chocolate milk.

Once he had finished it, you turned off the TV – Com Truise would have to wait – and took Gabriel to your room in your arms.

He made himself comfortable on your bed, teddy carefully placed by his side, and you followed suit after quickly brushing your teeth.

“I’m sorry mama…” He mumbled once again. “Maybe I’m not brave enough…”

“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. It’s okay. You’re still my brave little boy. You’ll always be.” Bending over, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he smiled, which made your heart melt. For all the sadness and hurt you’d gone through and suffered, Gabriel was the best thing that had happened to you. He was an amazing kid: curious, kind to a fault, and oh so cute. Of course, it didn’t help that he was like a mini-version of his father, but you’d learned to live with it.

After all, he wasn’t a little Miguel O’Hara. He was simply Gabriel, your sweet Gabriel who marvelled at thunderstorms and loved broccoli but hated tomatoes. Who liked to play in puddles and splash around at the beach, who giggled uncontrollably when you tickled his little tummy.

“Can you sing the song for me?” He asked, voice laced with sleep. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to refuse your son in any way. You nodded and tucked his teddy closer and caressed his cheek.

“Of course, my love.”

You took a short breath and started singing.

“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

Miguel had taught you this song. It was one of his favourites, and you used to sing it to him when he felt stressed or tired. His head on your chest, on your lap, on your neck, your hands running through his hair, his heart on your palm, yours on his. The original song was meant for a girl. Querida was a woman. But you’d adjusted it for him, and never had the courage to change it back.

It was a song of heartbreak, of longing and hurt.

How fitting.

“Querido No me ha sanado bien la herida Te extraño y lloro todavía Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

Glancing at the little one, you chuckled to yourself. Gabriel fell asleep quite quickly, especially when you sang for him. This was his favourite song too, and you’d gotten used to singing it to him nearly every night before he went to sleep.

For a few minutes, you stared at your son. Soon enough, after he’d fallen into a deep slumber, you adjusted his rebellious curls and brought him close to you, his little hand instinctively coming up to wrap itself around your finger.

It’s impossible to describe the love you felt for Gabriel. You’d do anything for him, walk to the ends of the earth if it meant he would smile and look at you with his bright curious eyes. What was there not to love? You couldn’t figure that out. And you couldn’t shake away the memory of when you first asked yourself that question. Not when it used to play in your head every night, no matter how hard you tried to keep it from your thoughts.

The paper read “Test indicates the presence of hCG hormone, confirming pregnancy”.

Oh.

You were pregnant.

If the cheap pharmacy test wasn’t enough proof, now you were absolutely positive you were pregnant.

You. Pregnant.

A mother.

You were going to be a mother.

And Miguel was going to be a father.

Was it possible to die of happiness? You always felt like you were floating with Miguel, but this was different. The thought that you had a little human, a baby, a child, a mini-you growing inside of your uterus? It was too much. To say you were over the moon was an understatement.

That day, you cooked Miguel his favourite.

You got him his favourite wine, mentioning how you were “feeling too light-headed to drink”, but inviting him to do so anyways.

You wore the dress he loved so much, the one that, according to him, made you look like “a princesa”.

Before he arrived, you placed the paper sheet with the results inside an envelope. Taking the lip gloss shade he loved so much, you painted your lips and placed a soft kiss on top of the envelope, the red stain its only decoration.

And just as you hid it within your apron, the doorbell rang.

“Miggy!” You exclaimed, running towards him.

Miguel looked tired – eyebags ever so prominent, face tired and devoid of any emotion. But these features changed once he laid his eyes on you. The exhaustion almost as if evaporated from him, the tired look replaced by a warm smile.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, head coming to trail his lips over your collarbone, humming ever so slightly – if you didn’t know your boyfriend, you’d think he was silent.

“Amor…” He groaned, hands squeezing your waist, lips caressing your skin.

“Rough day?”

“Would sewing a bunch of kids’ mouths shut make me a bad person? Answer me honestly mi Cielo, I trust your good judgement…” Was his mumbled reply.

You laughed, skimming your hand through his hair, as the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“It wouldn’t be the most moral thing to do, no.”

“Mierda.”

Your laughter filled the room and it was healing. It lifted all his worried, carrying them to a place far, far from your soft touches and kind words. You were his safe space, his little secret. For all the technological advances he had access too, Miguel found the best remedy to be purely and simply you. And didn’t you look extra pretty today?

You were always breathtaking, but that dress… Surely you knew what his thoughts on that dress were. You had to be doing it on purpose.

So, he let you lead him to the shower, covering his body with sweet kisses and kneading the tense and sore muscles of his back and shoulders. He let you wash his hair, giggling as you played with it, turning his soapy curls into a mohawk. He let you cover his body with body milk, rambling on about “it makes his skin so soft and healthy”.

He loved you. How could he not? What was there not to love?

And you loved him back just as much.

The way Miguel smiled as he took bite after bite of your food. He refused to talk about his day, claiming it’d only make him angrier. He’d much rather hear about yours.

So, you did just that, telling him about the things you did, the places you went. The new supermarket that opened just down the street with fresh fruit, the old market where you got the meat he’s eating right now, etc.

You were always out and about, keeping yourself busy while he saved Nueva York, volunteering, working with children, helping elderly people, or perhaps, if you were feeling lazy and tired, maybe just lounging around with a book in your hand.

It was when Miguel offered to do the dishes that you realised it was now or never. Time to shoot your shot.

You waited patiently for him, leading them to the couch once the kitchen was sparkling once again, and sat him next to you on the couch.

“Miguel, there’s something I wanna show you…” Was how you started. Goodness, had you always been this nervous? Were your hands this clammy? Why weren’t any words coming out of your mouth? Your breath was quickening, and a million questions were running freely through your head.

You didn’t think this through, did you? What if he’s not happy? But that is impossible, right? You two spoke about this. Miguel wanted a baby. So did you. You knew of his past, knew of Gabriella. But you also knew he was healing. You saw it happen before your very eyes. First there were the small glances, the small comments about baby clothing, and then there were conversations of children, of family. And of course, there was the trying. In fact, Miguel was more than invested in trying for a baby. “Just give me one more,” He’d whisper in the intimacy of your bedroom, “Wanna make sure it takes.” And you were soft and giddy and in love and oh so pliant for him.

And yet, it could go wrong. So many things could go wrong.

“Mi vida, what’s wrong? You look worried…” Miguel furrowed his brow, hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way he did when he wanted to see your face more clearly. His face had “worry” written all over it, and it’d be funny, if you yourself weren’t shaking with anxiety.

“Yes, I… I’m fine, just… Give me some time.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

Nothing would go wrong. Miguel loves you. Endlessly, and he’ll love your child just the same. You’re sure of it.

“I need to show you something.” You said more clearly, looking him in the eye. “I… I love you, Miguel. So, so much. Unimaginably so. I love you. I love everything about you.”

He smiled. A genuine smile, one saved for you and only you.

“I love you too, mi vida. Te amo con todo mi ser. Eres la luz de mi vida.”

Shit, it did things to you. Him speaking Spanish, that was. You’d been learning, just for him, and while you weren’t yet a professional, you’d picked on his endearing phrases quite early. In fact, those were the first you learned – you wanted to be able to understand the sweet nothings he whispered to you in the comfort of your home.

“I… I’m scared you won’t… At least not anymore, when I show you this…” You confessed with bated breath, shrugging your shoulders ever so slightly. Communicating your worries and fears with Miguel had never been an issue. He was very open, telling you whatever was on his mind with no hesitation. It had taken a while, but now he trusted you fully, and your relationship was based on trust and understanding.

“Mi vida…” He murmured, fingers slowly cupping your jaw. “Unless you ate the last empanada in the cafeteria, there’s nothing you could do that would make me love you less…” It got a chuckle out of you, and a smile out of him. Good. It was all he ever wanted to see; you with a smile on your face.

“Well then…” The words were muffled by the ruffling of your apron.

You took out the envelope and sighed.

This was it.

It was now or never.

Fuck, you were going to puke. This was simply too much. You were so worried, so scared.

But before you could do anything, he had carefully taken the envelope in his hands and opened it, smiling at the lipstick stain.

Oh god. This was it.

He unfolded the paper.

There was no turning back now.

He read the words attentively, curious about what had gotten you so worked up. You observed his face, his calm demeanour, his brow furrowing, his lips parting, his eyes widening-

“What?”

It was nearly imperceptible, but it was there, and you heard it.

His eyes scanned over the words again.

And then again.

And then again and again and again and again, until his fists clenched the paper, and he was turning away from you.

“Estás… Estás embarazada…?”

“Miggy…?” You tried getting a glimpse of his expression, but he refused to look at you again.

“Is this true…? You’re pregnant?” There was something in his voice, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Grief, perhaps? Anger? Surprise?

His knuckles turned white, and the paper sheet was quickly torn in two.

“M-Miguel?” Your eyes went to his knuckles and the paper. Oh no. This couldn’t be good. There’s no way this is good.

“You’re PREGNANT?” He turned to face you, his eyes a dark shade of red. His voice boomed and you flinched. It was an instinct, truly. The paper was left forgotten on the floor as he balled his fists in his lap, as if he was restricting himself.

“Aren’t you happy?” The words left your mouth as a mere whisper, all of the confidence and bravado from earlier completely gone. What the hell was going on with Miguel? He looked angry, feral, like… No, you did not want to think about it. Surely, he was just a bit surprised, right? That must be all. “Miggy? Aren’t you ha- “

“How did this happen?!” He growled, and you could do all but scoff. Was he actually serious? Did he not know how pregnancies happened? Did he not know how babies were made? Wasn’t he there when you two were actively trying to get you pregnant?

“Gee, Miguel, I don’t know, maybe it happened one of the times you pushed me up against the kitchen sink or the couch as soon as you got home, claiming you ‘needed me so badly’. Maybe it happened because we’ve been trying for a baby, because you said you were ready to start a family with me.” Was he being serious right now? It’s not like birth control was 100% effective – you had always warned him of that – and it’s not like he always used protection – something you both discussed as well. So how come he was asking ‘how it had happened?’. “We don’t always use protection, you know, these things happen- “

“How could you let this happen?!” Miguel stood up, his frame towering over you. And for once in your life, you felt something you’d never even imagined you’d fear when with Miguel – let alone because of him: fear.

“What? Me?” Your eyes widened, refusing to believe the words that he’d just uttered. “How is this my fault? Last time I checked, it took two people to make a baby, Miguel. And you wanted one. Holy – Miguel, what is wrong with you? We’ve been wanting a child for so long!” It wasn’t until the tears hit your palms that you realised you were crying. It hit you shortly after, Miguel made you cry. “Honey, please, just… Aren’t you happy?” You forced a smile through the tears, hoping to get him as excited as you were.

“Happy?!”

“Yeah!” Tear after tear escaped from your eyes, tracing paths down your face. You’d been so excited to find out you were going to be a mother. Fantasizing about holding your child, caressing their chubby cheeks, watching as you and Miguel doted over the tiny human that was both a mixture of him and you. And now those fantasies were shattered as Miguel paced back and forth in your living room, giving you a look that could kill you by itself. “I thought… I thought you wanted a family with me…! You said so Miggy, you told me you wanted to start a family…”

He all but scowled and threw a punch at a wall, cracking the surface around his fist. You flinched once again, shaking your head repeatedly. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t your Miggy, no. This wasn’t the man that whispered the sweetest words in your ear, who woke you up with gentle kisses, who placed gentle hands on your stomach and wondered about the family you would once start.

“Clearly, I changed my mind.” Your boyfriend – no, because there was no way this man was your boyfriend – rumbled, removing his hand from the wall, and inspecting it. “I… We… [Y/N], we can’t. Perdóname. I’m sorry. I know what I said, but… No. This is out of the question.”

“I don’t get it,” You shook your head. This whole thing seemed so farfetched – Miguel wanted a child. He had told you as much. Hell, you two had been trying for a baby. On purpose. How could he just tell you “No”? “Miguel, we wanted this. I’m pregnant because we wanted to start a family, because you told me you were ready and wouldn’t love anything more other than me holding your child, Miguel, I’m pregnant because we wanted this! And you need to take responsibility for your actions, you can’t just blame me for this when we were bo-“

“I don’t have to do anything. This is completely out of the question. I thought I wanted a child, well, turns out I don’t.” He was spitting the words so viciously, you could’ve easily mistaken them for poison. “Having a child now would complicate things too much.”

“Complicate?”

“Yes, complicate. Our lives shouldn’t be changing too drastically because of a baby. I’m sorry, [Y/N], but we can’t. We just… No. “ He didn’t even have the decency of facing you. He was looking at the hole he’d punched into the wall, frowning.

“But Miguel…” You pleaded. You truly couldn’t understand what was happening. You could not understand why he wasn’t thrilled, excited, over the moon, spinning you around as he kissed your face and pledged his undying love to you. Undeterred, you take your hand in his and place it on your stomach, on the place your child would live for a few months before you had the joy of holding him (or her) in your arms. A smile, albeit a small one, graced your features once again. “We’ve been… We’ve been wishing for this…”

Miguel took a good look at you. He glanced up and down, taking your figure in. Your red eyes, your runny nose, your puffy lips. The tears, the hurt in your gaze. All because of him. He was hurting you. You truly wanted this, didn’t you? And didn’t he want the same? Hadn’t he told you time and time again how much he wanted to start a family with you? Weren’t you trying? Wasn’t he finally healing?

So why was it that the only thing he felt for the growing foetus inside of you was disdain?

He removed his hand from yours and shook his head.

“Get rid of it.”

Your jaw dropped.

What?

“Miguel? Honey, I…”

“Get. Rid of it.” He spat, eyes glowing bright red. “Or I will.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly parted, heart turning and churning and burning and hurting oh so much. How could he? His child, his own child… How could he say such things? How could he be so merciless? How could he want to… to kill the child you’d loved so unconditionally, even if for the past few hours?

It was horrifying. There was no word for it, it was truly horrifying, the way your Miguel was treating this matter. You’d looked at him with tears in your eyes, hoping that something, anything would leave your lips. But he’d opened a portal and left for HQ, leaving you alone in the middle of your living room.

So, you did the only rational thing.

You ran.

Jessica had helped you, along with Peter B. Parker.

Both were parents, so not only did they understand the way you felt towards your unborn baby, but also encourage you in your decision to leave Miguel. It broke Peter’s heart to find out the man that took care of the Spider Society had threatened to hurt his child and pregnant wife in the way.

But much to his sadness, he would have to act as if everything was fine and dandy, as if this man hadn’t threatened to kill a foetus, as if he wasn’t a monster. Peter would have to keep on interacting with him normally, in order not to raise suspicion. And so would Jess.

So, they did.

All traces of your existence had been removed from your shared apartment. Clothes, shoes, blankets. Anything that he could use to get the faintest trace of where you were was brought along with you, only his things and his things alone left behind.

It broke your heart to do it, but you had no choice. It was him or your unborn child, and although you’d known of your pregnancy for only a few hours, you were willing to do anything to assure its safety already.

You laid low for a while. Found a nice apartment where you could start over and build a life for yourself and your little one. Peter and Jess couldn’t keep you from going outside, so instead of trapping you, they helped disguise you. Both your appearance and scent changed every time you left the safety of your new home, with Jessica’s motherly instinct helping you find safety in new wigs and robes.

And so, your pregnancy went smoothly.

But it’s not to say it was easy – far from it.

Watching a baby grow inside of you all by yourself was terrifying. Not only was it terrifying, but it was also heartbreaking. Especially when the father of said baby had threatened you and him. It was even worse when you heard from Jessica that he was actively looking for you, coaxing every Spider in the Spider-Society to find you and destroy whatever was growing in your womb. How could he be so cruel? The possibility of someone killing your child just like that was frightening, but you managed to keep your fears aside for the well-being of your baby.

You could count with your fingers the peaceful nights you spent without a newborn toddler screaming and crying for your attention. For four whole years you were both mother and father, nursing and singing your baby to sleep whenever he was scared, kissing his wounds better, taking him to school, helping him talk and walk, watching him grow, looking over him the best you could.

There was no helping hand, no strong arms to hold your stomach during the day to ease your back pains, no soft rubs, and kisses on top of your belly at night, no proud displays of affection. When you gave birth to Gabriel, although surrounded by Peter and Jessica, there was no loving boyfriend or partner by your side, kissing your tears away, asking you to push, telling you you were “almost there”, holding your child in his arms and crying tears of joy, telling you you were oh so beautiful, to tell you that you were marvellous and miraculous and the most gorgeous woman alive.

While your heart could burst from the happiness of holding your son in your arms for the first time, it was also breaking at the realisation that, even if you had friends, there would be a major gap in your life that would scar you and your baby forever.

And there of course the questions. Gabriel was reaching his curious phase, and one time he had come home, asking why he did not have a daddy like his friends. That day you’d tried explaining it to him. You told him his father’s actions did not make you feel safe, and so you had to make the tough decision to protect the both of you and run away. You assured him that no matter what, you would love him unconditionally, that you were still a family, even if an unconventional one.

His reply was “Thank you mama, but I want a real daddy like my friends have!”

Tears streamed down your face until you fell asleep.

Gabriel was right. Even if he did not mean anything mean by it, even if his reply was something out of a clueless 3-year-old boy’s mouth and you shouldn’t take it to heart because he didn’t quite grasp the reality of your situation… It was still true. He needed a father, his father. You could try and try and try all you wanted, but he needed a father figure in his life, a role you’d never be able to fill.

The next day, you called Jessica and cried on her shoulders for a few hours while Gabriel was in school. She made up some stupid lie in order to be with you for the whole day, reminding you that children often said things they did not mean. Gabriel was a child; and children were way too straightforward, and it was not his intention to hurt you – wanting a father was a completely normal thing and you shouldn’t blame yourself for it.

But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt.

At first, the life you shared with Gabriel was terrifying. What if Jessica said the wrong thing, or Peter made a mistake? Thankfully, they behaved remarkably well, always prioritizing your safety and well-being over their duties to Miguel. As time went by, more people were in on your little secret. And you couldn’t help but worry. What if Hobie decided to “stick it to the man” and inform Miguel of his son? What if Pav thought “the power of love” could fix everything? What if Gwen and Miles tried to talk some sense into his head?

But luckily for you, they were all as interested at keeping Gabriel under wraps as you were. And the reason it was so easy for you to keep Gabriel away from his father was also because of Lyla. She’d witnessed the whole exchange of course, being an artificial intelligent program meant that she was everywhere Miguel habited – and that meant his home. So, she too was in on your plan, keeping everything away from Miguel. Every visit from the Spider-People, every time Gwen or Miles babysat your kid, every time something remotely urgent happened, Lyla was there to cover your tracks, and everyone else’s.

You also suspected everyone else in HQ helped, refusing to let Miguel murder an innocent child, or even help him with it. You were grateful.

Miguel was completely in the dark, he had been for 4 whole years, and you were happy it was like this.

Your son got to grow up in peace, and you got to watch him. Or so you thought.

“Honey, have you washed your teeth?” You asked as your son made his way out of the bathroom. Before he could answer, you spotted the stain of toothpaste on his chin, and bent over to quickly wash it. “There. Dashing.”

Gabriel smiled a toothy grin at you. “I’m wearing my Snoopy PJs!”

“Well, you’ll always be dashing to me. Snoopy PJs or any other kind of PJs.” You poke his tummy softly and he bends over, as ticklish as always. Before you can open your arms and embrace him, your ringtone rings through the room. You wink at Gabriel and take your phone into your hands, looking at the name on the screen.

“Oh honey, it’s auntie Jess. Give me a few minutes and I’ll tuck you in, is that okay?”

“I wanna speak to auntie Jess!” He exclaimed excitedly, to which you nodded, before picking up.

“Hey Jess! What’s up?”

“He found you.” Was all you heard on the other line before you felt your stomach fall.

What?

You couldn’t make out her words at first, but slowly, everything around you came to your consciousness again.

“Take him and go. [Y/N], can you hear me? You have to leave. I’m so sorry, we don’t know how he found out, but you need to take him and leave, now.” Jessica repeated these words urgently like a chant, and yet, all you could do was stare at Gabriel, his big eyes round and bright, his head titled to the side as he often did when confused, the little triangle in his brow all Miguel O’Hara.

You couldn’t move. Miguel had found out.

Shit.

And then someone knocked on your door. Loudly. Repeatedly. The sound echoed and rang in your ears, and it was Gabriel who brought you back to your senses by hugging your leg.

“Mama?” He inquired, looking at the door.

“Stay here. You hear me? Stay here, do mama a favour and stay here. Can you do that?”

Gabriel gave you a quick salute, a smile playing in his lips. He probably thought this was some silly game in which he acted like a big boy and his mama high-fived him and made him some chocolate milk as a reward. But unfortunately for you, there was nothing silly about this.

Your feet slowly dragged themselves to the front door, and you mustered all of the strength you had to open it.

With a deep breath, you turned the knob and pushed it open, revealing no one other than the one you feared the most.

Miguel.

You try to block the entire door with your figure, but Miguel is tall. Incredibly so. And while it used to make you squirm and gush and blush, it now fills you with a sense of dread you cannot shake away.

He takes a step forward and you speak, voice sounding braver than you were feeling.

“Leave.”

“[Y/N].”

“Miguel, I’m warning you, leave.”

He grumbled something under his breath and took another step, looking directly under him – at you. You used to love when he did it. It made you feel safe, protected, cherished. Now all you want is for him to back off.

“I do not want to force you. Let me come in, or I’ll have to. Please. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” The worst thing about Miguel was that when it came to you, he was always genuine. He never lied to you. And that did not change now. He looked almost… Scared. There was a mix of anger and sadness and… was that betrayal? In his eyes?

Nevertheless, it made you vulnerable. Such a hurtful expression from the one you once loved… You couldn’t lie and say it did not make your heart twist a few times.

“He threatened to kill your child. His child, too.” You told yourself, shaking all those soft feelings away. No use being weak, not when you wanted to protect your son.

Still, he looked genuine when he said he did not want to hurt you. And it’s not like you can take him on your own, the man is literally 6’9, built like a Greek god, and Spiderman. You wouldn’t stand a chance, and your son needs to be protected. So, you slowly back away from the door, keeping your front to Miguel and your back to Gabriel.

You take a few steps back and are about to ask him what he wants, when a small voice interrupts you.

“Mama? Who is this?” Your son, your sweet, caring, clueless son asked, his neck craning all the way up to get a good look at Miguel.

Gabriel was a big fan of Spiderman – much to your chagrin – so the thought that maybe Miguel was wearing his suit terrified you. The last thing you wanted was for your son to idolize the man who threatened to kill him while he was nothing more than just a foetus. You quickly turned, taking in Miguel fully.

He was clad in casual clothes, a white shirt underneath a black leather jacket. He was dressed normally, thank God.

Miguel’s eyes widened at the tiny voice, and he looked at the child before him.

His eyes widened.

It all clicked in his head.

His eyes darted from you to him, from him to you, over and over and over and over again. He seemed to be making the connection in his head. Soft brown curls, furrowed brow, tiny nose that resembled yours and bright eyes that belonged to none other than the woman he loved.

This was his son.

“Mama?” He asked once again, tiny hands grasping at the loose sweatpants you usually wore around the house. Tiny fists curled around the fabric as he hid behind you.

You stared, wide-eyed at Miguel. You were silently begging for him not to cause a scene, not here, not in front of your baby, most certainly not at all.

“Please…” You whisper, nudging your head towards the little guy by your feet.

After a few seconds of dead silence and a stare off, Miguel hung his head low and nodded. You sighed in relief.

“Honey, time for bed. Mommy’s gonna tuck you in, alright?” Gabriel nodded and clung to you as you picked him up securely in your arms. Tucking his little hair in the crook of your neck, you slowly took his scent in. Citrus shampoo, the lavender fabric conditioner you knew he liked, he smelled like your darling song through and through, untainted by the evil and darkness of the world, untainted by the hands and knowledge of his father.

Once he was all tucked in, teddy loyally by his side, Gabriel reached out to hold your hand in his tiny hand.

“Mama?” He probed quietly, drowsy eyes twinkling with the gentle glow his dinosaur lampshade.

“Yes, honey?” He was about to ask about the mysterious man in your living room, you were sure of it. You just weren’t quite sure what you were going to tell him yet. The truth? He couldn’t know. At least not now. Not when Miguel was just a few rooms away, waiting patiently for you. Not when you had no idea if he was still violent.

“Who is that man?” Gosh, he looked so much like his father. The furrowed brow, the squinted eyes, and pouty lips. When he was born, you huffed and puffed to Peter, saying how unfair it was that your son had inherited Miguel’s looks, even though you were the one breaking your back to carry him – and then later, take care of him.

“He’s… He’s an old friend.” Technically not a lie. Miguel had been your friend once.

“Is he the one in the pictures that make you cry?”

Oh.

What?

Noticing your confused expression, Gabriel spoke again, shrugging.

“Sometimes you cry in the living room when you look at pictures… Is he the one in them?”

Were children supposed to be this curious? Or perceptive?

How come he had picked up on you crying? It was true, sometimes your hands instinctively reached out to the old photo albums you kept on the top shelf of your living room wall cabinet, far from his reach.

There was no need to lie to your son – not when he was so smart and cared so much, not when he was so perceptive.

“Yeah, baby.” You sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He is.”

“Why do you cry? Did he do something to make you sad?” The worry in his eyes was inevitable. If the situation weren’t so scary, you’d laugh. Your sweet child, always so worried about you.

“Yeah, he did. He made mommy very sad, that’s why she cries.”

“Did you like him?”

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and you fought them back. “Be strong”, you thought. You always played the part of the strong caretaker, the fearless mother who protected him against the dangers of the world – but right now, with Miguel waiting outside, you weren’t sure you were strong enough anymore.

“Yes, pumpkin. Very much. Very, very much.” You removed your hand from his hair and moved it to his round, chubby cheek. “Mommy loved her friend a lot. And I was very sad when he hurt me. Incredibly so.”

“Do you miss him?”

The question hung in the air.

Miguel was still asleep.

Today was one of those days he had decided to remain home, take a break from all the stressing Spiderman stuff and just relax.

He looked so handsome like this, lips slightly parted to breathe in and out, cheek smushed against his pillow, legs entwined with yours, arm lazily thrown across your waist. You loved him like this, before the burdens and responsibilities of the suit dawned upon him, before he was a superhero and was simply Miggy.

You’d been tenderly running a hand through his curls, enjoying the view before you. Such a handsome man, such a kind soul. Sure, he was rough with everyone else, but with you? Away from the prying eyes and annoying questions? Away from the screens and all of the Spider Society duties?

He was plush. Soft, sweet, mellow, delicate.

You were whipped for this man, truly.

He stirred awake next to you, grumbling something in Spanish you couldn’t quite hear, and shuffled closer, lips quick to latch onto the column of your neck.

“Buenos dias hermosa…” He murmured against your skin, voice groggy and deep, earning the sweetest sigh from you. His grip on your waist tightened and you turned to him, smiling. He was such a vision.

“Morning, handsome.” You smiled, tugging on his curls to tilt his head towards you. He chuckled and kissed you tenderly, as if you were a figment of a dream he hadn’t yet abandoned and could disappear at any time.

You decided to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, pressing yourself against him to kiss him harder, obtaining the most delicious moan from your boyfriend. He pulled you closer by your waist, and with a quick movement, was on top of you, arms and hands caging you beneath his figure.

“Felling cheeky, aren’t we, mi vida?”

“I’m just kissing you Miguel, nothing cheeky about that.” You were quick to defend yourself, giving him a smug look.

He lowered himself, ghosting his lips over yours, almost as if on the brink of promising the entire world to you. Instead of doing that, he laid down, hair barely grazing your breasts as he placed soft kisses on your stomach.

You knew this look.

For a while now, the conversations about children and family had become more frequent. Miguel would catch you staring at baby clothes at the mall, or interacting with toddlers who looked and waved at you, and his heart melted. You had mentioned wanting a family before but were waiting on his signal. You knew Miguel had gone through something horrible – losing the family the way he did… You couldn’t imagine how that must’ve felt.

So, you waited.

And lately, he seemed to be on the same page.

Last week, when you two had gone to the mall, he’d found you staring at a baby blue stroller, and the expecting couple examining it. You sighed, hands slowly trailing up to your stomach. Someday you hoped that would be you.

And it was then Miguel realised that he would want nothing more than to see you pregnant with his child, round and soft and plush and his, for the whole world to see.

He could picture it, you sitting in your garden, sunbathing and applying lotions on your baby bump, and him, by your side, kissing your forehead and placing his hand on your stomach to feel his child kick.

You, waddling over to him when your cravings got the better of you, begging him to get you some pickles and strawberry jam, promising nothing in this world you make you happier or satisfy you more – even if the combination did seem disgusting. ~

You, sitting down on a big chair, breasts exposed as you gently nursed your child. Your baby would have its tiny, miniscule hand on your chest as he drank your milk, and Miguel would be watching from the doorway as you fed your son, before placing him to sleep.

He could see himself too.

Playing with his child in the park, teaching his son how to play football, helping his daughter score goals, lifting his child over his head once they won their first game, reading them bedtime stories and saying “Don’t tell your mom” whenever they got into trouble.

It was all so very vivid.

“Miguel?”

He could picture it all, reach before him and grasp it.

“Honey?”

How pretty you would look, all swollen with his child.

“Earth to Miguel?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he sighed, kissing your stomach.

“Mi vida, I think…” He looked up at you, fondness and love nearly spilling from his gorgeous brown eyes and held your hand in his. “I think… How would you feel about starting a family with me?”

There. It was out. He’d said it.

And although he knew what your answer would be, his heart still flipped when your eyes turned into crescents, and your lips curled into a gorgeous smile.

“A family? With me? Really?” You sounded so fucking happy; it made his heart swell. Was it possible to love someone as much as he loved you?

“Yeah,” Miguel replied, and pressed his hand against your stomach. He could almost feel it. Picture your baby bump, feel the soft kicking of your child against your stomach, a silent reminder that it was alive and breathing and waiting to meet you. “A family. You and I and our child… What do you say?”

You giggle – you giggle! And por Dios if it isn’t the most gorgeous sound he has ever had the blessing of hearing. If anyone asked what Miguel’s favourite type of music was, he’d probably say it was the sound of your laughter. Either that, or the pretty mewls you make for him when it’s late and he’s needy and you’re oh so pliant.

“I say it’s perfect!” Hands fly to his hair, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you, lips hungrily crashing onto his. You kissed him with everything you had. All of the love you felt for him, the love you felt for the family that was yet to come, the joy, the laughter, you tried expressing it all through this kiss.

And he smiled because nothing would ever make him as happy as you do. Nothing would ever get him to smile as much as you do. Nothing would ever complete his life the way you did, and he was so, so grateful for that. He kissed you back, hands carefully placing themselves on your hips to steady you, yours gripping his jaw to bring him closer.

When you parted away from air, he looked at you through lidded eyes, a very familiar form of desire dancing in the brown of his irises. You smiled sheepishly and watched him shrug his shoulders.

“Well, I guess… Since we’re on the topic of baby making…” He whispered near your ear, relishing in the full body shiver it elicited from you.

“Now who’s the cheeky one?” You faced him, brow comically raised at him.

You were so cute; Miguel could just eat you up.

And there was no one to stop him.

“Shh, hermosa, don’t give me that.” Barely a whisper, and yet it made heat pool in your lower belly, and your face warm upr. “I’m just saying, we should start practicing.”

With one swift movement, he was between your legs and your laughter filled the room.

Everything seemed right in the world.

Not at all. Not anymore.

“No, I don’t.” You absentmindedly ran your finger through Gabriel’s hair, “Not anymore. Right now, I have you, and you’re all I need.”

“Do you want me to draw a picture for you? I can draw a giraffe because I know you like them, and then you’ll smile and be happy.” This got a chuckle out of you. Always trying to cheer you up, this one, no matter what.

“Mommy would love it if you drew her a picture of a giraffe. It’d make me super happy.”

“Okay then! I’m gonna do it tomorrow, and I’m gonna use the crayons Mrs. Camille gave me, so it will look extra special –“ Before your son could continue, you smiled and ran an index finger from his forehead to the tip of his nose, a small gesture between the two of you, one that had a bazillion meanings. But right now it meant something around “Time for bed”.

Gabriel looked up sheepishly, shrugging.

“Can you sing for me?”

You felt slightly self-conscious about singing to him, especially since Miguel was standing right in the other room, and you used to sing this song to him.

“Let him hear”, you thought. He meant nothing to you anymore. This song was no longer his.

The song came to you naturally as you stroked Gabriel’s curls and watched his cheeks huff and puff, his slow breathing reminding you that he was here, safe and sound.

“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

All it took was one single stanza and he was already fast asleep. You chuckled to yourself and kissed the top of his forehead. He looked so peaceful; you took a mental picture of this moment.

Because perhaps, it’d be the last one you’d have.

You took a deep breath and stood up, not wanting to delay what was to come any more. Miguel was standing in your living room. You couldn’t hide from him forever, and you weren’t going to.

Closing Gabriel’s door, you decided to once and for all, face the man who had broken your heart four years ago.

The fact that he spoke to you first didn’t surprise you – Miguel had always been straightforward. It was what he said that caught you off guard.

“Was that…?” He asked, clearly referring to the song.

Stay strong. Don’t waver. You have to be strong for your family.

“Yes. Yes, it was Querida.” Your voice sounded certain, confident. You weren’t feeling very confident, but the taste it left on your tongue was quite nice. It made you feel more and want more. A placebo, maybe, but right now, you took all the help you could get.

Miguel chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair.

“Wow. I haven’t heard that song in… What? Four? Maybe five years?” How dare he act like everything was normal? Like you had simply forgotten to sing it for him, like instead of Querida, you’d started singing Para Siempre from Doreen Montalvo. He seemed too at ease.

“Yes, well. How sad.”

He stared at you, unsure of what to say. And was that regret on his face? Regret? Fear? You couldn’t tell. And it’s not like it mattered – Miguel had to leave. That much was final.

“And… And, well…” He stammered, eyes darting behind you, to the closed door of your son’s room. “He…”

“He’s yours.” You cut him off coldly. Why was he dancing around the subject? Miguel looked at you and swallowed harshly, scratching the back of his neck. You wouldn’t let him be meek and weak, you couldn’t. He had no right to. “What? Wasn’t that what you were going to ask?”

Miguel straightened himself, regaining some of the composure he’d lost earlier.

“I see.” He nodded and nudged his head towards your kitchen – that’s when you saw it.

“I did your dishes.”

Your brow furrows and your eyes widen all at once.

Your dishes?

“You were tucking, um, our, well, your, um… The kid. You were tucking him in, and I thought maybe I could be of help.” He looked so earnest it almost hurt you. Ever the gentleman, your Miggy. When you were together, no matter how late he got home, no matter how tired he was, Miguel still made time to help around the house. Cleaning, cooking, doing whatever it took to make sure you had no extra burdens.

But right now?

You didn’t care if he was Spiderman, you didn’t care if he was nearly 7 feet tall and wide and strong enough to snap you in two – you wanted to punch him in the face. Oh, so badly.

The anger took over you and you scoffed at him.

“Oh! You wanted to help, huh?” You leaned against the couch and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “I see. Well, thank you for the help, Miguel. Unfortunately for you, I don’t need you to take care of household chores for me. Washing a few plates isn’t going to change anything.”

He winced at your words. Good.

“I just thought –“

“Well, you thought wrong.” You interrupt him once again. This conversation is not going to be about him. He’s not the victim, he’s not the vulnerable one. He doesn’t get to be vulnerable.

“[Y/N], we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t. You need to leave, and I need to get some sleep.”

“No, please, we need to talk. We have to.” He sounded desperate. Goodness, you loved it. His eyes were filled with something you’d never seen before. The bags under them reveal he must not have been getting a lot of sleep, and he kept pinching the bridge of his nose as if in exhaustion. You weren’t naïve – not anymore. You didn’t feel bad for him per se.

But seeing the man who once seemed to carry the weight of the world in his shoulders, who took care of an entire city and never even wavered, look so defeated… Well. It did pull at your heart strings a little bit. Maybe that’s why you nodded and gestured over to your couches, sitting down in one of them and waiting for Miguel to do the same.

Maybe that’s why you watched as Miguel sat on the couch facing the TV and waited for him to speak.

“[Y/N], I… Mierda… No sé por donde empezar…” He cursed under his breath, head hanging low.

“I don’t have all night, Miguel.”

Oh, how he missed hearing his name spill from your lips. But now, instead of filled with love and warmth, you spit the words almost like they are poisonous, like you can’t hold them on your tongue for more than two seconds without them corrupting you.

He supposed he did that to you.

“I suppose I should start by apologizing…” Miguel finally looked at you, brown eyes staring into yours. You’d have done anything for those eyes once upon a time. Not anymore. “[Y/N], that night, all those months ago… I can’t begin to explain how sorry I am…”

So he was here to apologize? Was that it? Did you even want to hear his apology? Were you going to forgive him?

“When I told you those things, when I told you to…” He averted his gaze for a few seconds, probably too ashamed to look at you as he remembered telling you to kill your child. And you felt good that he was ashamed. He deserved to be. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared. Scared it would happen again, what happened to my sweet Gabriella… I lashed out on you, and I scared you. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded once, and upon hearing no reply from you, he continued.

“I… I really have no excuse other than that. Seeing Gabriella disappear right before my eyes, it… Mierda, it really scared me. So, when I read that test, when I saw you were pregnant, I was afraid it would happen again.”

Miguel found you staring at him, unimpressed, unmoved. Did his words mean nothing? Had he reached you?

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Is that why you came here? To apologize?” You questioned him, brow quirked.

“Well, yeah. You deserve an apology mi vi- [Y/N]. What I did to you was inexcusable. And yet, I hope that someday you manage to find it within your heart to forgive me. You know I’ve never lied to you, and I’m still telling you the truth when I say I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m ashamed of how I behaved, I was a monster, and you didn’t deserve that.”

For some unknown reason, his words made you weak, if only for a few seconds. You saw in front of you, your Miguel, your sweet, sweet Miggy who brought you breakfast in bed, who kissed your period cramps away, who carried you when you were too tired to walk, who treated you like you were God’s gift to green earth. You saw him scared and vulnerable and hurt, and all you wanted to do was take him in your arms and hold him tightly until all of the pain was nothing but a distant memory.

But you also couldn’t ignore the other Miguel, the Miguel who had jumped and punched a wall and yelled at you, demanding you to get rid of your baby, and forcing others to do it. No matter how much you had once loved him, Gabriel was your life now, and you couldn’t allow yourself to feel soft over someone who would do something so inhuman as threaten an unborn child.

“Thank you for the apology.” You told him. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have things to do. Now, please leave.”

He seemed confused by that. Leave?

“Wait – what?”

Standing up, you gently adjusted the couch you were sitting on, and shrugged at him.

“Yes. I have heard your apology, and now I want you to leave.”

“Well, what is your response?”

“To what?”

“To the apology.”

“I’m not accepting it.”

“What?”

What was he expecting? You to run into his arms with tears of joy, kissing him until he was dizzy and proclaiming his love for him? Was that it?

“You heard me,” You crossed your arms, “I’m not accepting your apology.”

“But – I thought – “

“You thought what, exactly?” Now your words were pure venom, meant to poison his skin and hurt his heart. You wanted him to feel a least a fraction of the hurt and pain he caused you, of the heartbreak he submitted you to. “That you could just come in here after I actively ran from you, after I tried to hide, and you would solve everything by washing my dishes and giving me a half-assed apology?”

“[Y/N], I told you what happened, I’m sorry, I was scared – “

“How do you think I felt, huh?” You felt the rage in the back of your throat. It hurt. It felt nice to let your anger out, to direct it at him, the source of your ache. “How do you think I felt when you threatened my baby? Were you also scared when you sent your Spider-People after my child and I?”

“What?” Miguel looked at you, dropping his hands to his sides.

“That’s right. I’m not stupid, Miguel, I know what you did. You asked for them to search for me, and to kill my son. You think all of that is washed away simply by apologising?”

“I was afraid you’d disappear on me too!” He pleaded, hands gesturing to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what else to say, how else to show you how heartbroken I am…”

“Well then, perhaps you should’ve thought about all that before you decided to have a child with me, Miguel. You don’t get to do this – You don’t get to picture a future with me, with our family, you don’t get to tell me you’re ready only to then threaten us. You should’ve voiced those concerns instead of taking it out on me. You got me pregnant and didn’t even deal with the consequences of your actions!” You threw your hands in the air, desperately trying to make him see your side. Could he not understand the gravity of the situation?

“You should’ve told me. We would’ve worked something out, Miguel, I knew we would’ve.” Your vision becomes blurry – all these emotions aren’t really helping your “Don’t waver” plan, but at this point you just need to vent your frustrations. “But what you did? It felt like betrayal. We were trying for a baby, and when I finally got pregnant, you threatened us. I know what happened to you in the past, and I can’t imagine how it must’ve hurt, but it is no excuse for what you did to me.”

For a while, the both of you were silent. There was nothing else to say.

“What’s his name?” He asked silently, looking at Gabriel’s door.

You hesitated, but figured telling him what you had named your child probably didn’t hurt.

“Gabriel. His name is Gabriel.”

His eyes twinkled in acknowledgment. You had wanted to name your son anything that had nothing to do with his father, but you couldn’t. You considered that your last act of kindness towards Miguel.

“After my brother?”

“Who else?” You looked away.

“He… He’s beautiful. He looks…”

“Like you, I know.” You’d made your peace with it, sure, but sometimes it still stung that your child looked nothing like you, you who carried him and took care of him and fed him and rocked him to sleep. Instead, he was a near perfect copy of his father, opting to act like you, rather than look like you.

“How is he?” Miguel felt scared to ask. He wasn’t sure if you were going to tell him anything – and why should you?

“He’s… He’s the greatest kid ever. He’s smart and kind, and so considerate. He’s his own little man, even though he’s only four years old…” A smile spread across your lips, as you always did when talking about your son. He was your pride and joy, after all.

“Will I…” Miguel hesitated. You know what’s coming. “Will I get to meet him?”

“No. Not if I can help him.”

Miguel’s lips formed a tight line.

“[Y/N], he’s my son too –“

“No, he’s not. You might be related by blood, but that doesn’t make him your son, and it most certainly doesn’t make you his father. You lost that right when you threatened to kill him, and sent your goons to do it.” Your voice was getting louder, so you tried to lower it. The last thing you wanted was to wake Gabriel up.

“You can’t do this. I have a right to see him.” Miguel’s voice was also getting louder. Not only that, but he had also gotten up, towering over you. So much for weakness and desperation, this Miguel looked the same as the one you left four years ago.

“You don’t, that’s the thing. I don’t trust you around my son. I’ve spent the past four years trying to protect him from you, and I’m not going to stop now.” As if by instinct, you placed yourself right in front of him, blocking his passage to Gabriel’s room. Could he snap you in half and get to him by himself? Yeah. Were you going to let that stop you? No.

“What did you tell him? What lies did you tell our son?” Was it just you, or were his eyes turning red?

“My son. And I told him the truth, that his father wasn’t making me feel safe, so I had to run in order to protect him.”

Miguel visibly flinched at those words. He never wanted to make you feel unsafe, never.

“I understand I made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be a part of his life.” His expression changed to something darker – you weren’t sure how long you had until he snapped. A mistake? How dare he downplay his actions like this?

“That is precisely what it means. I want you away from my son.”

“He needs a father. What if – what if he inherits my abilities, huh? What are you going to do then?”

That’s when you snapped.

“He needs ME!” Hot tears streamed down your face, and you did not try to stop them. “Do you understand? Me. I am his mother. I cared for him for the 9 months he was inside of me, scared shitless because I didn’t know what you might do if you found us. I took care of him for 4 whole years. I was the one who fed him, I was the one who changed his diapers, I was the one rocked him to sleep when he cried and I’d been awake for hours, I was the one who gave up everything and started from scratch because of him! And what did you do? You whispered pretty things in my ear and got me pregnant, and then got scared and proceeded to tell me to kill my child! That’s not something a father does!” The words kept spilling from your lips and there was no way to stop them. You could finally speak freely, get him to understand the pain he put you through.

“If my son happens to inherit your abilities, then I will take care of it. Just like I’ve been doing all these years, I will take care of it. You’ve done nothing for us, and we don’t need you. I don’t need you Miguel, I don’t love you anymore. My priorities in life have changed, and now they lie in the safety and well-being of my son. So, for once in your life, stop being so fucking stubborn and LEAVE!”

“Mama?”

Your heart fell as soon as you heard Gabriel’s scared voice.

Shit.

You turned to him, only to be meet with a teary-eyed child, holding onto his teddy bear way too tightly.

“Honey, I… I’m sorry… Did I wake you up?” Your voice was automatically gentler, lower, something above a whisper, something reserved for him and him alone. Right now, you didn’t care that Miguel was right there, angry, and tall, all you cared about was your son, who looked so, so scared it nearly killed you.

“I heard you yelling…” He murmured, running towards you and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. His tears fell on your skin and you allowed yourself to cry with him, clutching him close to you, afraid he’d disappear right before your eyes because of your actions.

“I’m so sorry…” You mumbled into his hair, hoping all the love and sincerity you felt right now could be translated into words. “Honey, I’m so sorry, mommy got angry and started yelling… I promise it won’t happen again… I’m so, so sorry…”

You felt Gabriel nod, and pressed your lips to his head, a thousand promises laced in one simple kiss.

Standing up and turning to Miguel, you gave him a serious look, despite your puffy face and red eyes.

“You should leave. For good.”

And for all his bravado, Miguel couldn’t help but melt when he looked at your son, at his round, bright eyes, and small pout. He might look like his father, but right now, he was all you. It killed him. He drove you to yell, he drove you to be mad and wake him up. Mierda. He’d fucked up again.

Miguel took his son in one last time, telling himself he’d keep an eye on him from afar, and nodded before walking away and leaving you alone in your living room.

You locked the door behind him, heart tightening.

You’d made the right choice.

“Would you mind sleeping with mommy tonight? I think I need my brave little boy to scare away the monsters…” You whispered.

This earned a chuckle out of Gabriel, who nodded and placed a hand on his forehead in a salute, no doubt imitating the cartoons he watched.

“I’m going to protect you!”

You smiled and took him to your bedroom once more, not even bothering to change. Your sweatpants were comfortable anyways.

Holding Gabriel close to you, you sighed when you heard him speak.

“That man said he was my father…”

You pressed your lips. However were you going to work this one out?

“Was he the one you wanted to protect me from?”

You let your hands run through his hair.

“Yeah, my love. He was.”

“How did he find us?”

That was a good question. With all of the yelling and anger, you’d forgotten to ask. But after all, this was Miguel you were talking about. He was a genius and would surely always find a way to you, sooner or later.

“I’m not sure. But he won’t hurt us. I promise.” You looked at him, offering him your best reassuring smile. Truth was, you weren’t sure he would follow you once again. But what you were sure of, was that you would always do your best to protect him and keep him safe.

Gabriel looked into your eyes and slowly wiped away what was left of your tears.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

No matter how used you were to it, it would always catch you by surprised how perceptive and intelligent your son was. You smiled slowly grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“I know.”

“Are you scared?” He asked again, his eyes droopy and his lips parting to let out a big yawn.

“I was a few minutes ago. But I’m gonna tell you a secret. That alright?” You moved your hand to cup his cheek.

“Mhm…” Gabriel mumbled, sounding like he was dozing off already.

“Mommy is never scared when you’re by her side.” It was barely a whisper, and you didn’t even know if he had heard it. Still, you added, “I’ll always be strong for you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you watched his gentle breathing.

And then, words.

“I love you, mama.”

They were barely audible, but nevertheless, they were there.

A few tears managed to escape – tears of joy, of love.

You would always do your best to protect him. You’d always be there to hold his hand and watch him grow, watch him become his own person, cheering him on as he went.

No matter what came your way, no matter what happened, you’d always be there by his side. For the good things, for the bad things, for the so-so things. To hold him tightly when he felt clingier than usual, to pin his drawings on the fridge, to hear him babble about whatever new topic he’d discovered in school, even if you were tired beyond reason and all you wanted was for him to go to sleep so you could get some rest.

You’d be there to tie his shoes until he could do it by himself, and to clean his face whenever he got too excited with his lunch. You’d be there to explain to him what a “memamporphosis” was, and to listen to him explain to you why Spiderman was the greatest of heroes.

You’d be there when he cried, and when he laughed.

And be there when he wasn’t yours anymore.

Four years ago, you had chosen him, and you would always choose him, for as long as you breathed.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.”

Spanish Translations

Mi cielo - My sky Mierda - Shit My vida - My life Te amo con todo mi ser - I love you with all of my being Eres la luz de mi vida - You're the light of my life Estás embarazada? - You're pregnant? Perdóname - Forgive me Buenos dias hermosa - Good morning beautiful Querida / Querido - Dear (While Querida is meant for a female partner, Querido is meant for a male partner, both are a term of endearement and have the same meaning) No sé por donde empezar - I don't know where to start

If you'd like to check out the song's translation, you can check this page out!

I hope you enjoyed this! Have an amazing day ahead, please keep yourself hydrated and safe <3

569 notes · View notes

iloveemoboyss · 1 year ago

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

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