#Miguel O'Hara x you

[greensagephase]

It's been a year since this Thanksgiving one-shot for NC 🥺 I loved having the chance to read it for the first time as a reader (??)! It's so sweet seeing how much progress Miguel and Dulzura (the nickname wasn't even a thing then 🥹) have made since then!! 😭

Thanksgiving (Nonviolent Communication One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; currently in the friendship era, so no romance.) Summary: Thanksgiving at Miguel's. Word Count: 7,094  Warnings: None! Just a cozy Thanksgiving dinner with Miguel and the other spider members. Some Spanish included but translations can be found at the end. A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone. Masterlist

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! Happy Thursday to everyone else!

The air is chilly as you swing through the air. The city is busier than ever with Thanksgiving just around the corner. You spot people already buying groceries for their dinners. You hear of their plans as you swing above them, hearing how they’ll be picking up family from the airport or how they still haven’t decided what dessert to bake for dinner. 

Hearing other people’s plans remind you of the times you had that, back when you still had your parents, Peter, and his Aunt May. The five of you would have dinner together at your parents’ place and it was always a great time but eventually Aunt May passed away. Then it was your parents and that left Peter and you. And now it’s just you ever since Peter’s death four years ago. 

You swing onto a rooftop, staring down at the city’s streets below. It wasn’t until last year that you even celebrated the holidays. You just didn’t have it in you after losing your last bit of family with Peter’s death and cutting off friends from your universe years ago after Peter’s passing, however, ever since joining the Spider Society, things have changed. Last year you had friendsgiving with your spidey friends like Miles, Hobie, Gwen, and the rest of the group. Then, for Christmas and the New Year you were invited to Miles’s building party by the Morales, which resulted in you taking food to Miguel and spending time with him on both occasions. 

Now, this is the second year of holidays with friends, and the thought alone fills you with an immense gratitude after spending three years on your own before joining the Spider Society. You haven’t talked with your friends about any plans for Thanksgiving since you’ve all been busy with missions and the spiderlings have had school but you’re sure by today you’ll be talking about it. Ever since last year’s holidays, things have changed between Miguel and you. He’s far more open ever since he almost lost his life back in the spring and then there’s the Saturday dinners at each other’s places. You can’t help but wonder if he’d be interested in joining you and the rest of the group this year, though you know it’s still hard for Miguel to be open around the others. Still, you hope at least the two of you can do something if he’s up for it. 

With one last glance around your city to make sure everything is alright, you open a portal and travel to Nueva York, finding yourself instantly at HQ. You walk through hallways, nodding to other fellow spider members as they greet you on your way to the cafeteria where your friends informed you they’d be at. You finally reach your destination, taking a seat on an empty chair as the group talks. Being the last one to join, everyone turns to greet you. 

“She’s finally here!”

You laugh and nod. “Sorry guys, morning patrol.” 

“It’s alright, we were just talking about this week’s missions but now that we’re all here we need to talk about Friendsgiving!” Gwen says. 

“Yeah, about that,” Miles says, smiling nervously. “We have family from mom’s side coming and I’ve been put in charge of showing my cousins the city for the next couple of days until Thanksgiving. I won’t be able to attend our little gathering this year. I’m really sorry, guys,” he says apologetically. 

“I… Won’t be either,” Gwen reveals. “Ever since my dad and I made up after I revealed my Spider-Woman identity, he decided to reach out to other relatives and now we’re traveling out of the state to have Thanksgiving dinner with them in Montana. We’re leaving two days before, so I can’t make it either.” 

“Gayatri has a three-day event she was invited to and she’s asked me to go with her. I can’t say no and disappoint her, so I’m afraid I cannot attend, too,” Pav adds with a frown.

And just like that, everyone had some kind of plan that makes it impossible to have Friendsgiving before Thanksgiving like last year. 

“Wait, Y/N, what about you?” Miles asks with a frown. 

You smile and shake your head. “I don’t have any plans but it’s alright.”

There’s an instant buzz around the table about the fact that you have no plans and that you’re going to spend Thanksgiving day alone. You get their attention, trying to calm them down. 

“Guys, it’s fine. Please calm down. Friendsgiving doesn’t have an official date. We can do something afterward, it’s no problem.”

“But you’re going to be all alone,” Margo says with a sad expression. 

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure them. “Seriously. I’ll make some dinner for myself and probably start watching Christmas movies or something.” 

“That sounds nice,” Noir says, nodding. 

“It is, Noir! So, you guys do your thing and we’ll plan afterwards, okay?” you reply, trying to reassure them once again that you’ll be fine, besides you still haven’t asked Miguel if he has plans, though you don’t mention him to avoid answering questions.

Your friends nod, a bit hesitant but there’s nothing else any of you can do. 

“You should come over. You know mom and dad don’t mind. You’re the one that declined the invitation last week” Miles says, reminding you that the Morales family did in fact invite you for Thanksgiving but you were made aware that new family members would join this year.

“Miles, there’s going to be new people. It’ll save us having to lie about me being your school mentor but please thank your parents again for the invitation. I appreciate it,” you say, smiling. 

“I guess that’s true. Plus, my cousins will probably pick up on something. My mom already told me to avoid my ‘actividades de arañita’ to prevent any suspicions,” Miles says with a frown. 

You smile at him. “It’s better to do what Mrs. Morales says. You don’t want to upset her. Just enjoy the day guys! We’ve all worked a lot these past few days,” you say thinking about the multiple missions you yourself have been on only in a few days. “Rest and enjoy your time with your loved ones.” 

About half an hour later after talking and convincing your friends that you’ll be fine on your own, you head to Miguel’s lab with two coffee cups in hand to get some work done. For months now you’ve been working with him on the society’s reports that always consist of the anomalies captured each week, along with information about planned missions and other duties that are assigned to members in order to keep the Spider Society running effectively. After working on the reports on his own for so long, well with some help from Lyla, Miguel asked you a few months ago if you were interested in helping with that after you helped over the few days he was recovering from his injuries. Since then, you’ve been working together on the reports with ease and it’s one less thing Miguel needs to do on his own now. 

You reach Miguel’s lab, calling Lyla’s name as always so she can inform Miguel that you’re there. Despite your friendship and everything you’ve shared with each other over the last year since you joined the Spider Society, you’re still respectful of his space. 

“You know, I don’t think Miguel really cares that you enter his lab without announcing yourself. You could just come in,” Lyla says, appearing out of nowhere, sitting in mid-air with a leg crossed over the other. 

“Miguel doesn’t like it when members enter unannounced,” you reply with a smile. “You know that.”

Lyla grins before she disappears, appearing again a few seconds later. “But you’re not like the other members,” she answers, sliding her heart-shaped glasses down her nose, still grinning. “You know that... Go in.” 

She disappears again, leaving you alone. You enter Miguel’s lab, walking by the many, many surfaces with organized tech pieces thanks to you since you’ve been organizing his lab for months now, until you reach the heart of Miguel’s lab. You find him standing on his platform with his back to you, arms moving as he slides screens around. Upon hearing you, he turns around to face you. A small grin forms on his lips.

“Good morning,” he says, softly. 

“Good morning,” you reply as you approach him, cups of coffee in hand. “I don’t know if you’ve had coffee already but I brought you some.” 

“I haven’t. Thank you,” he says as he accepts the cup from you, smiling softly as he notices you’ve brought him a large one. Somehow you’ve been getting him these large coffee cups from the cafeteria when he used to struggle to get them before. He specifically orders large cups for himself as the regular size cups don’t satisfy his caffeine intake due to his physique yet he was never able to get his hands on them in the past because other members got them before he did. Ever since he mentioned it months ago, you’ve somehow been able to get him these without issue. He still has no idea how but he’s not questioning it. 

“Always,” you reply softly as you head to a desk that has become yours since Miguel set it up for you. You open a laptop, far more advanced since it’s from Miguel’s universe, and begin to work on the report starting with the anomaly section.

The two of you work in peace with Lyla breaking the silence ever so often to tell Miguel something while he continues to work on his screens. As you’re working on the report, your thoughts turn to Thanksgiving, wondering if you should ask Miguel if he wants to join you for dinner. You can’t help but feel a little nervous about it. Sure, the two of you have dinner every Saturday now, rotating from his penthouse to your apartment each week and cooking for each other. And yes, you spent Christmas Eve and Christmas day with him thanks to the Morales family asking you to deliver food for him since he didn’t attend their party after being invited. Despite what happened with Miles and Miguel launching a multiverse hunt to prevent him from breaking canon, in the aftermath of it all, the Morales family care about him and that was why they didn’t want him to be all alone on Christmas Eve, knowing he has no one in his own universe. So, you were sent despite your nervousness only to find Miguel at his home cooking. He ended up inviting you to stay for dinner and even invited you for the recalentado the next day. The same thing happened for New Year’s Eve and since then, the two of you have grown closer but still, you can’t help but feel nervous about it. 

You sneak a glance at Miguel, finding him working on his screens with the cup of coffee in one hand. You turn away after a few seconds, returning back to the report and telling yourself you’ll ask him once you take a break. 

Miguel’s focus is on the multiple screens he has opened. There’s so much to go through especially as there were so many missions this week. His eyes skim through data all from anomalies captured to simple data retrieved from universes that indicate if there’s anomaly matter present. He brings the cup of coffee to his lips, savoring the taste and warmth from it. There’s so much to do but Miguel’s thoughts go to Thanksgiving. He’s been thinking about it for days, wanting to ask you but every time he tried, something popped up. If it wasn’t some anomaly detected then it was someone interrupting him  or you having to return to your universe because of some emergency. Even on Saturday when you had dinner together, he was unable to ask you because Lyla showed up out of nowhere, taking his moment to ask you and after that, he just gave up as the conversation shifted to something else. 

Now Thanksgiving is two days away and for all he knows, you might already have plans with your other friends or perhaps you were invited to Miles’s universe since he knows the Morales family have taken a liking to you ever since you were  introduced to them. He sighs silently, thinking about the ham and other ingredients he already bought. He looks at you over his shoulder, noticing how focused you’re on the report, typing furiously on the laptop as you enter data. He can’t help but smile at the sight before he looks away, trying to avoid being caught staring but when he turns around, there she is. Miguel glares at Lyla, who only grins at him without saying a word. He tries to swipe her away but of course, she disappears before he gets the chance to, only making his glare intensify as she appears on the other side with a smirk. Miguel turns away to focus on the tasks at hand, deciding that he’ll talk to you about it once you stop working to avoid disrupting your flow of work, ignoring Lyla.

The two of you continue to work until an hour passes by. You stop typing and lean back on the chair, stretching. You’ve managed to finish almost the entire section on anomalies but decide to get up. 

"How's the report going?" Miguel asks, stepping off his platform, trying to find a way to ask you about Thanksgiving dinner. 

"It's going well. Almost done with the anomaly section. There's so many this time," you say with a chuckle.

Miguel nods, smiling. "I swear this always happens around the holidays. Hopefully it slows down," he answers, genuinely hoping so everyone can enjoy their days off since he's decided to give not only Thursday but also Friday off on top of the weekend. 

You nod, stretching again, thinking about how to bring up the topic. You clear your throat softly and look up at Miguel. He seems to be looking off to the side with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"So, I -" you start. 

"Hey, I -" Miguel says at the same time as you.

The two of you pause, holding each other's gaze in surprise. You chuckle and Miguel grins, scratching the back of his neck. 

"I'm sorry, go ahead," Miguel says apologetically. 

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" you mumble, embarrassed.

The two of you stare at each other after you talk in unison once again. 

"Should I decide who speaks first?" Lyla asks, appearing from thin air between the two of you with an annoyed but also amused look. 

"No," Miguel immediately says.

"That's not necessary." 

"Uh... Alright, then. Hopefully you guys actually have a Thanksgiving dinner with the way things are going. See ya!" Lyla responds with a smirk before she disappears again. 

"Lyla," Miguel says with a soft scowl but turns to look down at you. "She's been in a mood today." 

"Oh, I definitely noticed," you reply, laughing softly as you remember her comment from earlier about you entering the lab unannounced. 

Miguel shakes his head. "She notices the buzz from the holidays and gets even more... sassy than usual," he says, looking away for a few seconds. 

You smile and nod, guessing that he also wants to ask you about dinner. 

"What I was trying to say earlier was if you... You probably already have plans with the others, so I'm probably very late in asking and you can tell me if you already do, so don't feel pressured to-"

"I was going to ask you the same thing" you say softly. 

Miguel stops, feeling relieved that you've spoken up. He feels heat rise to his cheeks but smiles softly. "Yeah?" he asks gently. 

"Yes. I was just... Trying to get some work done but I was going to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner on Thanksgiving," you reply confidently now that you know that Miguel was also thinking about it. "I don't have a fully established menu but there'll be ham, if that’s okay with you." 

Miguel nods. "Have you bought anything yet?" 

"Not yet but I'm going shopping tonight," you reply, already making a grocery list in your head. 

"In that case, join me for dinner here in Nueva York. I already have everything, including a ham. You don't have to worry about buying anything" Miguel says. "Or cooking." 

You frown softly. "That means you're cooking everything alone. I can help-" you start but Miguel shakes his head. 

"I'm cooking. If anything..." Miguel says thinking before he smiles. "If you want to make some dessert, that'd be great since I just realized I forgot about that." 

"I can do that!" you say with a smile, feeling better about him cooking everything though you know Miguel can manage on his own since he's a great cook. 

"Great! Is six okay?"

You nod. "That sounds good to me,” you reply just as Lyla decides to appear again, clapping.

"Aww, you guys finally did it! Seems like there will be a Thanksgiving dinner after all. I'm proud of you two." 

"¡Cállate!”

"You really are in a mood today, Lyla.”

🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁

Thanksgiving Day

You make sure everything is off in your kitchen one last time, even though you’ve already checked twice, before you grab your reusable bag packed with everything you’ve baked. In the end, you baked some cookies, two pies, and a large cheesecake. You take a quick look around your apartment, making sure the door of your small but homey apartment is locked. With the bag in your hand, you get ready to open a portal but pause when your eyes land on Peter’s photo. Your Peter. You put your hand down, staring at the photo for a few seconds as you’re greeted with his smile. You smile softly. It really has been over four years since his death; so many holidays without him or your parents. 

Despite the years, you can’t help but reminisce on those days again, feeling thankful that these days you can look back at them in a calmer way, without too much sadness. You walk over to the wall to get a better look, finding another one with your parents. 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” you whisper softly.

After a minute or two, you finally turn away and open a portal, stepping out into Miguel’s living room. You instantly feel the cozy vibes of his penthouse. The fireplace is on and there’s a few lamps on here and there, creating a soft and cozy ambiance throughout the space. There’s soft music playing from somewhere and of course, there’s the comforting and mouth watering scent of food filling the air. You can’t help but take a deep breath as all the lovely scents engulf you.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear Miguel’s steps, noticing him coming from his kitchen and dining area to meet you. You take in the sight as he approaches you, unable to not find it endearing as he stands before you with a small grin wearing a light gray sweater, dark pants, and an apron. 

“Hey, you made it,” he says as he dries his hands with a towel.

“I did. Sorry if I’m a few minutes late,” you apologize as you did stop to look at your photographs for a few minutes.

“You arrived just in time. Here, I can help you with that,” Miguel says motioning to your bag. 

“Oh, it’s not too heavy. I can carry it,” you say softly. 

“Please,” he says, extending his arm and well, you cannot decline his help again so you let him take the bag. 

“Thank you,” you mutter quietly. 

“Always,” he replies gently, now holding your bag. “Come on in, dinner is almost ready,” he says as he motions for you to go first, always being a gentleman. 

You thank him as you walk in, the scent of food growing stronger as you enter the kitchen and dining area. Just like the living room, this part of the penthouse feels warm and cozy and you can’t help but notice that Miguel even put a pumpkin as decoration on the kitchen island where there’s already utensils and napkins set, the place you always have dinner at. 

You walk towards the chairs, moving out of his way as he places your bag on the counter to the side. He walks around the island, heading to the oven as you begin to unpack your containers, setting them out for later. 

“The ham needs just a few more minutes,” Miguel says as he checks it. 

“It smells amazing. As soon as I arrived, I was hit by the lovely scent of food,” you reply, smiling as you see him close the oven door. He moves to the stove to check on pans, looking as natural as always in his kitchen. 

“Thank you, I hope you enjoy it,” Miguel says, turning around with a small grin before he walks towards the counter, standing across from you. He can’t help but notice how cozy you look in your outfit, thinking it’s always nice to see you outside of your suit. He remembers how almost a year ago, you saw him in normal clothes for the first time on Christmas Eve. He turns around, smiling as he recalls how hard you were trying not to stare at him since he used to wear his suit every day no matter what since he was at HQ around the clock. Now, so much has changed. Thanks to you. “Please go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get the drinks,” Miguel says as he retrieves them, setting them with everything else. 

“Thank you, and I have no doubt I will. You already know I think you’re an amazing cook,” you reply, smiling. 

Miguel smiles, for some reason always feeling happy when you tell him that and even more so when he sees that look on your face that tells him you’re delighted by the food he has cooked. “Well, we’ll see if you like this. I followed a recipe mom taught Gabriel and I before she passed away,” he says as he leans on the counter, unable to stop his flooding thoughts about family. 

Of course, it’s hard not to. Just like you, he always thinks about his family but there’s no denying that the thought of family is especially present during these days of festivities. It’s on days like these that their absence is felt stronger. Miguel sighs softly, looking around for a few seconds before his eyes land on you. This is the first year that he’s celebrating in a while. He had the opportunity to celebrate with Gabriella one time but before that, it had been many years in which the holidays had felt like any other day after Gabriel passed away, too. 

Now he’s here, cooking dinner once again and he’s joined by you, who sits in front of him, also looking like you’re lost in thought. Miguel knows you well enough now to recognize that look on your face; the one you get every time you’re thinking about your loved ones.

Both of you look over at the oven as the timer goes off. Miguel approaches the oven, grabbing oven mitts from one of his counters to pull out the ham. 

“Do you need any help?” you ask but he shakes his head, his back to you. 

“Thank you but don’t worry, I got it,” he says softly as he takes out the ham. He turns around and you get a glimpse of it for the first time, noticing it’s large enough to feed a whole group of people. As if hearing your thoughts, Miguel smiles sheepishly as he places the tray on a counter where he has a set up for it. “You’re probably thinking this is too much and I agree,” he says, removing the oven mitts. “When I went shopping there weren't any smaller ones. Believe it or not this was the smallest one I found and that was after checking a few stores.”

“It’s quite large,” you say with a chuckle. “If we had planned sooner, I could’ve looked in my universe, too but I will say - it looks delicious.” 

Miguel grins, thinking, and perhaps he shouldn’t but he can’t stop himself. “If you’re up for it, next year we’ll know to plan better… although, I’m not complaining about this year” he says softly, meeting your eyes. He really can’t complain, even if he’ll have a whole lot of extra food after he packs some for you to take home because he plans on it. No, he cannot complain after everything that’s happened over the last year, Miguel realizes to himself. He smiles, feeling excited to dig in at last. “Ready?”

You happily nod and so, your Thanksgiving dinner begins. Miguel lists everything he cooked as sides. Even though you approach the stove to see everything and serve yourself, Miguel serves you, asking how much you want of each item. At last, the two of you sit side by side, sitting on the same chairs as always. You enjoy the food and chat while there’s still soft music playing in the background. You talk about the food and compliment Miguel which you notice makes him blush slightly. He eventually asks about your childhood and the holidays, specifically about Thanksgiving, so you tell him about that and he listens intently, nodding and smiling softly when you smile at your own memories. Miguel is about to ask you a question when your gizmo goes off. Right after yours rings, so does Miguel’s, which sits on a counter. You stop talking once his goes off, too, notifying him that he’s received a message. Miguel is about to tell you to go on but just then, the gizmos go off at the same time, making the two of you raise your eyebrows in confusion. 

“Excuse me,” Miguel says, putting his napkin off to the side before standing up. “Let me check that.” 

He walks over to the counter, hoping it’s not bad news though Lyla would’ve already appeared if that was the case but still, he hopes that nothing has popped up elsewhere. He retrieves the gizmo and turns around to head back to you as he scrolls just as you check yours. 

You raise an eyebrow just as another message arrives, noticing it’s from Miles. You open the thread, taken by surprise when you see that Miguel has been added to the group chat. You look up at him, now knowing why both your gizmos went off. The gizmos start going off as more messages are delivered.

Gwen: “Happy Thanksgiving! And happy day to those that don’t celebrate!”

*Miguel O’Hara has been added.* 

Miles: “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Pav: “Happy day, guys!”

HoBiE: “What’s this about?”

Margo: “It’s Thanksgiving, Hobie… Also, Happy Thanksgiving!”

Noir: “Happy Turkey day!"

Porker: “I love me some turkey! Happy Thanksgiving, guys!

Peni P.: “Happy day from me and SP!”

Peter B.: “Hey, guys! Happy Thanksgiving from us! Also, Miguel is on here now?”

Gwen: “Where is Y/N?”

HoBiE: “Who added Miguel?”

Miles: “Does it matter? ¡Hola, tío! ¡Bienvenido al chat!”

You look up at Miguel who seems to be reading the messages as they arrive. You can’t help but smile a bit as you see his furrowed eyebrows. He looks up at you with a questioning look on his face. You shrug. 

“I don’t know who added you,” you say, still smiling and wondering if he’ll reply. 

Another message arrives, pulling your attention. 

HoBiE: “I doubt he’s going to reply.” 

Margo: “Where is Y/N? Has anyone heard from her? 

HoBiE: “I’ll check on her.” 

Gwen: “Already did. She’s not at her apartment.”

Miles: “I thought you were supposed to be in Montana?”

“Seems like they're looking for you," Miguel says softly as he comes back to your side, taking a seat.

"Let me respond really quickly. I don't want to let this amazing food get cold." 

Y/N: "Happy Thanksgiving!" 

HoBiE: "There she is" 

Gwen: "I am in Montana but I decided to check on Y/N." 

Miguel O'Hara: "Happy Thanksgiving."

HoBiE: "The whole government name..."

You look up at Miguel, finding him shaking his head, which makes you want to smile even more since he actually responded.

"The whole government name," he repeats under his breath with an amused tone before he puts the gizmo in front of him. He takes a drink from his glass and looks down at you. "I was thinking it was an emergency, thankfully it's not." 

"I thought so, too. I'm glad we can keep enjoying this meal."

Miguel smiles warmly down at you, seeing that delighted look on your face as you bring food to your mouth. He continues eating but a thought comes to his head. 

"So, you didn't mention dinner to them?" he says as casually as possible, though he can't help but feel off by the fact that you didn't tell your friends. 

You nod, looking up. "I mentioned having Thanksgiving dinner but didn't tell them about you hosting. I knew they'd probably ask questions about your place and you know," you answer, leaving out the part that you've noticed that nobody else at HQ seems to know where he lives nor has been invited. 

Even people like Jess or Peter B., people who you consider are close colleagues to him, don't seem to know. You came to that conclusion back when you stayed for a few days while you were looking after Miguel until he recovered. Jess and Peter B., who stepped up as command during that time, communicated with him through gizmos once Miguel was discharged and sent home after they had gone out of their way to meet with him in person when he was at the infirmary. Your guess was that they knew his home was off limits or they simply didn't know where he lived to meet him in person. 

Miguel nods, understanding now. For a moment he thought you didn’t want your friends to know  about you being here with him for another reason but no, as always, you're thinking about him and his boundaries. 

"I appreciate that," he replies softly. "Some members have asked me before. I'm certain they'd do nothing but I do like my privacy." 

You nod. "I know what you mean. That's why I opted to keep our plans as vague as possible." 

Miguel smiles, feeling grateful to you as always for being respectful to him. "Thank you, Y/N." 

You smile back at him. "Always," you answer gently. 

The two of you keep eating, resuming your conversation from earlier and simply enjoying each other's company. It's not until Miguel gets up to get seconds that he looks at all the food he cooked again. There's going to be a lot of leftovers. He thinks about your friends, a random thought popping to his mind as he sits again. 

"How would you feel if once we're done having dinner - you invite them over?" Miguel says, making you turn your head in surprise as it doesn’t take long to put two and two together about who “them” is.

"Well, it's your home," you reply softly with a smile. "If you want to." 

"But are you okay with it, not being just… us?” Miguel asks. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” you reply with a chuckle, noticing the food. “You’re also thinking about how much there’ll be left, aren’t you?”

Miguel grins. “Yes, I am. I think a couple of teenagers and Peter B. might help.”

You grin back. “Then you have a plan. And there’s plenty of dessert, too.” 

“About that…” he says with a sheepish smile. 

“I baked a pie just for you,” you tell him, which instantly makes him smile because you’ve realized over time that Miguel has a sweet tooth. “I’ll hide it.” 

You finish eating dinner while chatting about the spiderlings as you’ve come to call them and shortly after, Miguel and you get the kitchen ready. At last, he asks if you can let them know on his behalf, which you agree. It doesn’t take long before the string of messages arrive all ranging from being surprised that you’re at Miguel’s to the fact that they’re going to see his place for the first time. 

In a matter of minutes everyone, except for Peter B., are standing in Miguel’s living room, thrilled to see his place and talking about what a great view he has of the city and, of course, they talk about the scent of food as they enter the kitchen and dining room area. 

You chuckle quietly as you hear some of the spiderlings say they ate a few hours ago but the smell of food is making them hungry again. Miguel and you serve them plates and before either of you know it, Miguel's dining table, which you guys have never sat on since it's too large for two people alone, is full with your friends chattering about their day.

Miguel and you sit next to each other, listening in and responding when talked to directly, adding to the conversation here and there.

Miguel can't help but look around the table slowly, feeling a bit nostalgic as he remembers the days his mom, Gabriel, and other friends used to gather around the table for the holidays. He feels as though he's back to those days, just with different people. There's still music playing in the background, thanks to Lyla who said it'd set the mood earlier when he was cooking, and the sound of a group conversing filling the air in Miguel's penthouse, once again. 

Miguel looks over at you subtly, finding you talking to Hobie who sits on the other side of you. He smiles faintly, realizing today would've been just another day like so many years before, working at HQ all day and night while everyone was off if it wasn’t for everything that’s happened over the last year. 

You talk with Hobie but eventually look around the table as well, thinking. Last year you were invited to Peter B.’s universe and it was great. It was the first time you celebrated the holidays in three years but this year feels different. You feel lighter, like you’ve really moved forward after Peter’s loss. Your eyes end up on Miguel, who’s already looking your way. You hold each other’s gazes, smiling to each other discreetly before you turn away. 

Upon learning that you brought dessert, everyone jumps at the chance to eat something sweet. The pie and cheesecake are sliced and the cookies begin to disappear one by one. Peter B. shows up at last, carrying Mayday. 

“You guys, I’m sorry. I couldn’t slip out earlier. Too many family and friends around but MJ covered for us. Is that cheesecake? Did Y/N make cheesecake?” Peter B. asks, noticing Pav and Gwen eating a slice each. 

“I did,” you answer before you take a drink from your glass, smiling.

“You should’ve mentioned that earlier, I would’ve found a way to get out sooner,” he replies. 

You cut him a slice, which he immediately starts eating. 

“Best dessert I’ve had all day,” he mumbles, giving Mayday some to try. 

You grin and lean back on the counter with Miguel standing nearby until Miles and Hobie take him away to his living room, apparently impressed by his sound system but before he walks away he gives you a look, as if telling you that he’ll be back soon. You nod back, watching as he walks behind Miles and Hobie. You sigh softly and look at the others as they follow them into the living room, leaving you, Peter B., and Mayday alone. He finishes eating his slice, wiping his mouth and Mayday’s. 

“Seriously, best dessert all day. You should’ve seen some of the stuff MJ’s family brought,” Peter B. says with a bit of a frown, making you laugh quietly. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You can take some with you since there’s still plenty left. I think MJ might like it, too,” you reply as you walk over to the windows. 

Peter follows you, carrying Mayday. “He has a great view.” 

You nod, staring out at the city. 

“So, you and Miguel…” Peter starts, which immediately draws your attention back to him. 

You look around to make sure no one is around, thankfully seeing that everyone is in the living room. Miguel is showing Miles some remote and you faintly hear him call “mijo” to Miles.

“What do you mean?” you ask, quietly. 

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that, though I - Never mind. What I was trying to say is that…” Peter trails off, staring out a window. “It probably sounds cheesy, especially because of the day but I’m thankful to see you and him doing this.” 

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed. He looks down at you with his Peter B. signature smile before it fades as he thinks of previous years. 

“What I mean is that… I was there when everything happened with Gabriella. You know, I met Miguel before he discovered that universe and he was already so closed off. I don’t know much about his past. I don’t think any of us do, actually. Perhaps you’re the exception now and I’m not asking if you do know or don’t but he shut everyone out. Anyone who tried to reach out was always pushed away. Then he found Gabriella’s universe and well, you know what happened. He was happy in a way that none of us who were already part of the society had ever seen him. After Gabriella - he closed off twice as much. Jess and I wonder if he’d ever recover. If he’d ever let anyone in.” 

Peter pauses, looking down at Mayday and fixing her hair. There’s a frown on his face as he turns to face you again.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You were alone for three years in your universe, with no friends or family. The first day I met you after Jess recruited you and Miguel accepted your enrollment, I could see how you were closed off, too. Not the same way as Miguel. It was different but you were closed off nonetheless.” Peter pauses and then smiles. “I’m just thankful to see two people I really care about move forward and have each other to lean on. I’m glad you have each other, and that you’ve allowed us to take you in as part of our little family. And it seems that Miguel might be on the same path, hopefully,” he says, looking behind you. 

You turn to look in that direction, finding Miguel surrounded by everyone as he shows them some other advanced device from this universe. You can’t help but smile at the sight, taking a mental picture of it to save forever, though you have your suspicions that Lyla is probably already taking care of photos, considering she has a file that consists of random members’ photos. Appropriate ones, of course. Or so she claims. 

You sigh softly and turn to Peter B., who’s already staring out the window thinking about your lingering gaze on Miguel just moments ago yet, he says nothing about it and holds Mayday closer. You look up at Peter, feeling appreciation and love for one of your dear friends, as you remember your first day at HQ and how he introduced you to the group once you were accepted into the Spider Society. You can’t help but wonder if you would’ve become friends with this group had he not introduced you. The thought alone makes you a bit sad but it’s replaced by gratitude for him and for what he did. You rest your head on his arm softly. 

“Thank you. For introducing me that first day to everyone,” you say quietly. 

Peter smiles. “There’s no need to thank me but you got it, kid. Thank you for accepting us as your friends.” 

Miguel is with the other members, still talking about some device when his eyes find you leaning on Peter’s arm. He continues to talk but his eyes keep watching until you step away, laughing at something Mayday did. The image stays present in his mind the whole time, until it’s just you and him again and everyone has headed home for the night. It’s almost midnight but here you are once again, leaning sideways and looking up at the moon and constellations with mugs of coffee, the kind that Miguel always makes for you now when it’s his turn to host dinner on Saturdays. 

He can’t help but think about how you were leaning on Peter B. so comfortably earlier. He knows between the two of you, you’re far more accepting of physical touch than he is ever since losing Gabriella yet for some reason, seeing you lean on Peter B. has had him thinking. You’ve touched each other before, of course, like back when you were helping him recover after almost losing his life or the brushing of fingers here and there but nothing like how he saw you and Peter B. earlier or the way he’s seeing you hugging your other friends. As he looks up at the stars with you in silence, he seems stuck on this but he says nor does anything about it. For now. He takes a drink from his mug before breaking the silence, looking down at you. 

“Thank you for coming today,” he says with a soft smile. “I enjoyed today. Every part of it.” 

You smile, noticing the last part as you know it still isn’t easy for Miguel to open up to everyone else but today he went out of his way and invited your friends.

“I enjoyed it, too. Thank you for inviting me. The food was amazing,” you answer quietly, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replies, truly feeling happy that you enjoyed dinner. He can’t help but wonder about the rest of the holidays for the year, remembering that last year you came over. He silently plans on asking you about it next week, with plenty of time but for now, he decides to enjoy the present. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N,” Miguel says, grinning down at you. You smile up at him in a way that makes Miguel silently give thanks for you, like so many times before.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Miguel.”

🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁

Next Part - Christmas One-Shot

Translation for italicized Spanish words: Actividades de arañita - spidey activities Recalentado - word translates to "reheated"; this is the act of inviting your closest friends and family the day after you host a party to eat the reheated leftovers, it's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit situation and less formal because it's with close family/friends Cállate - shut up Mijo - short for "my son"; an affectionate term; doesn't have to be used between a parent and their child

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.6)

★ Word Count: 5.9k

★ Content: You meet Miguel's family and friends! Black Cat shows up again (yeah, she's getting a warning now). Miguel meets your mom. A LOT of comparisons to Dana. You two have a fun road trip.

★ A/N: Heyyyy, I'm breaking my hiatus to post this! I'm not officially back back yet though. I'm kinda enjoying not being on tumblr as much. Obviously, I'm still writing though, so I hope you guys enjoy! I also made some changes, some retcons because it was bothering me. Nothing major though, so it shouldn't affect the story.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

The roaring noises of The Weave become second nature to Miguel.

The strobing lights and smoke that clings to the ceiling. Dancers grabbing their customers and leading them to a sit to get a show. Bits of confetti mixed with dollar bills on the floor.

If this was his first time in the club, he'd easily become overstimulated. Now, he's easily leading the rest of the group to the bar.

Xina covers her ears while following him as Gabriel and Kasey simultaneously let out a shriek.

“I can see why this club is popular!” Gabriel clasps Miguel’s shoulder. “Everyone is getting turned up!”

“At eight pm on a Tuesday…” Xina mutters.

“There’s usually a good turn out on Tuesdays.”

Miguel knows. Your dance draws in a crowd every time. You tell him that Tuesdays are the days where you make the most amount of money.

“Good thing I called out tomorrow.” Kasey hooks her arm around Xina, taking the lead. The men follow, Gabriel hooping at the upbeat music while Miguel's eyes scan the area.

He doesn't see you yet. You were nervous during the build up of meeting his friends and family, wondering which one of your glittery outfits is presentable for them. You didn’t want to go too far out, not wanting to scar Xina, but didn't want to lean towards too modest as you had your headliner dance.

Miguel tried to convince you not to worry about it, that anything you wear would be okay.

“Science Guy!” Ben greets, glancing at the fresh faces, “Who has new friends. I always knew you were a social butterfly.”

He shakes his head, “Ben, this is my brother, Gabriel, his girlfriend, Kasey, and my best friend, Xina.”

“Oh shit, I didn't know it was ‘Family Night’ at The Weave.”

“Since when have we ever had family night?” Pixie joins in, nursing a water. Her top catching anyone's eye as it symbolizes fairy wings. If she's here, that means you're nearby.

“We had family night last year where Mj bought in Peter.”

“That was couples night, babe.”

“Oh.”

“It's nice to meet you!” Xina greets loudly, causing everyone at the bar to turn towards her.

“Xi, the music is not that loud.” Kasey reassures with a squeeze on her arm.

Pixie snorts, her eyes tracing Xina up and down, “It was cute though.”

She darts away from Pixie's gaze, face turning red. Miguel steps over to her, his eyes silently asking where are you. Pixie's reassuring look tries to help but it doesn't.

“This is Pixie. She's one of the dancers.”

“Ooh like the pixie haircut?” Gabriel motions around his head.

“That and I like mythical creatures. Like pixies. ” She explains. Miguel tries not to look surprised at your friend willingly telling information to people she just met.

“Pixies are cool.” Xina adds in, fiddling with her white blouse. Pixie only gives her a smile.

“Alright, who wants drinks?” Ben starts taking drink orders.

Miguel’s considering getting one himself since he doesn't see you yet. He wonders if you decided to back out of the meet and greet and not tell him. Did he rush into this? Were you not ready to meet the people he's close to?

He just settles on a water, continuing to scan the area.

“So, you two are dating, right?” Ben asks Gabriel and Kasey.

“Yeah! Going for four years, right?”

Kasey nods after a long sip of her margarita, “That’s right.”

“And uh, you're cool with your boyfriend getting a lap dance?” Ben motions in front of him.

“I'm planning to get one.” She shrugs, “So it's okay if he does too.”

“Nice, nice.”

Gabriel and Kasey’s relationship held it’s ground ever since they first met in college. Being the older brother that Miguel is, he did get worried when they moved in together after eight months of dating. Their relationship lasting five years later was reasonable proof that they were going to last.

“What about you?” Ben asks Xina, who’s been nursing a shirley temple. “Looking to stuff some money in someone’s bra?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She frowns while shaking her head.

“Why not?” Pixie asks, beating Ben to the punch.

“I’d feel…awkward.”

“We don’t bite, babe.”

“Except for Black Cat. I’d steer clear from her.”

Miguel lights up seeing you walk up the bar. The tool from your two piece outfit glimmering under the club lights. A burgundy color that’s still easy on the eyes despite being surrounded by rhinestones. The curls from your high ponytail cascading down your shoulders. You’re beautiful. Miguel swallows the word from the tip of his tongue.

“Finally, you stopped fretting over your hair.” Pixie traces her fingers through your strands to also make sure it’s on point.

“I have guests.”

Kasey squeals, getting up from her seat to hug you. Her slightly chiseled arms enclosing around your frame perfectly.

“I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Miguel can finally stop hiding you from us.”

“I wasn’t hiding her…” He mutters.

“I’m glad I get to meet you all too. It was time.”

Miguel notices Gabriel’s hands itching to hug her, but the former warned him of not suddenly grabbing the dancers unless he wanted to get kicked out. Kaine is working today and Miguel knows he can be very rough. You open your arms wide for him though and Gabriel giddily hugs you. The action being very brief.

With Xina, you stuck out your hand, knowing a hug was probably too personal for her. She gladly took it, trying not to make the exchange more awkward then it had to be.

“Why are we all chilling at the bar?” You look around, “Thought you guys came in here to have fun.”

“Oh I did.” Kasey says, “I want my first dance to be from an expert.” She wraps her arms around your own.

“Anything for my regular's friends.” You wink at Miguel who smiles against his glass.

You call up Emma, a dancer who comes in occasionally. Her white one piece made her easy to spot anywhere in the club. She does a finger wave along the crowd.

“I have a couple here so I thought it’d be best to do a duo.”

Emma’s blue eyes light up, “I’m down.”

You motion Gabriel and Kasey over, smiling at their excitement.

“Behave yourself.” Xina drones while swirling her drink with a straw.

Miguel leans against the bar, “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there?”

“I’m sure.”

He glances at you and you shrug, leading his brother and girlfriend to a better spot. Miguel wasn’t surprised at his best friend’s behavior. Xina’s prone to sticking to a corner of the wall at a party, red cup in hand while she watches everyone else enjoy themselves. He does it occasionally, but hoped that his friend would try tonight.

“You know, I’m going to force you.”

“Then don’t.” Xina slurps her drink, “I’m fine right here.”

“How old are you again?”

“Don’t you start with me.”

“I’m just wondering…”

“She doesn’t have to see a dancer if she doesn’t want to.” Pixie cuts in, now on the other end, stretching her limbs. Her outfit is easier to see now, with the short, matching green skirt and heels catching the club lights. “Although, that does defeat the purpose of going to a strip club.”

Xina scoffs, “Your friend invited me here.”

“I know.” The trail Pixie’s eyes drags along Xina’s frame is addicting. Slow and deliberate. “Like I said, you don’t have to. But…I thought you liked pixies.”

The blush on Xina’s face is apparent when she sighs. She places a ten dollar bill on the bar before taking Pixie’s hand. Miguel gives a thumbs up when his friend looks back. When they disappear into one of the rooms, he relaxes his shoulders. He wants everyone to have a good time and have a better reception to you.

Ben happily grabs another drink for Miguel, placing the soda down. “You know, I’ve never seen a regular drag his family and friends to meet a stripper.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Miguel admits. “A strip club is like any other establishment.”

Plus, you and him were still trying to keep your relationship secret. Even with Jess now knowing, you were adamant on not telling the entire club your business.

“Yeah filled with half naked dancers and alcohol. I think the deli across the street does something similar on the weekends.”

They share a laugh. The tenseness in Miguel’s body slowly fading away.

“Seriously though, it’s a cool mindset to have. I wish everyone had what you think, Science Guy.”

He blinks, remembering your surprise at his openness. “I just…think that way.”

“Smart, cute, and open minded. Who could ask for a better man?”

A strong, spicy fragrance hits his nostrils. That signature white hair makes its appearance when Black Cat appears beside him at the bar. Her bare arm touching his own. Everything about her appearance is striking, the black bikini while still wearing platform heels to make her tall. The white hair covers her shoulders and back. Miguel ignores the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere.

Ben shakes his head at her appearance, “You need anything?”

“A shot of vodka.”

As he prepares the shot, Miguel tries to focus on his drink. Your words in his head warning him not to talk to the popular cat. Or else you’d lose him too. Since you revealed that she steals your regulars.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Black Cat faces him and quickly downs the shot. Any traces of liquor, she wipes it away with a flicker of her fingertips. While her piercing, silver eyes stare into his soul. Miguel wants to look for you, have you come to his rescue again.

“Why are you all alone?”

“J-Just waiting for some friends.”

She tsks before pouting. “No Silk this time?”

“She’s doing a dance for someone else.”

“Ah…” Her hand rests on the bar. Black, polished nails match her attire. “You look so lonely sitting here.”

“Oh no, no I’m okay.”

“You sure? Being in a club like this all alone can spell all kinds of trouble.” As she speaks, her fingertips slowly inch towards his hand. The scrap of her nail causes him to jolt, placing his hand on his lap.

Of course she notices.

“You’re so adorable. It’s like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not…”

“You should be.” Ben peeks back in, “You should see that time she scratched the fuck out of that guy last year. I heard he was so close to losing his eye because to her.”

“Ben.” Black Cat glares and he puts his hands up.

“What? It’s true-”

“Don’t you have bartending to do?”

“I’m doing it, kitty cat.”

She rolls her eyes when he flashes her a smile before focusing her attention back on Miguel. He hopes that Ben stayed nearby longer, but he was called away once more.

Black Cat didn’t stop with her advances, scooting closer to him. Her scent is giving him a headache.

“You wanna know why everyone favors me the most?”

“Sure…”

She leans forward, lips grazing his ear. Miguel’s entire body stiffens at the contact. “Because I have the best pussy in the entire club.”

When she parts, her eyes are lowered, locked on him like a predator. Ready to eat. Miguel needs you here.

“I-I see.”

“If you want to see for yourself, all you have to do is ask…” She runs a hand along his back, finally walking away. Miguel turns around in his chair, eyes searching the club for you. Among the sea of lap dances, money flying across the room, you’re walking back with an ecstatic Gabriel and Kasey in tow.

They practically bum rush him at the bar, shouting with excitement.

“I can see why you picked her.” Kasey nudges his ribs.

“I think I threw almost two hundred on the floor.” Gabriel starts counting his fingers.

“Oh I blew four I’m sure.”

You snicker, “I’ll let you know when I count it.”

Miguel's relieved to see you when he abruptly stands. It catches you by surprise, causing you to stumble.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

You wave at the two and lead him into your usual private room. The door is hardly closed when Miguel is on you, strong arms pulling you close to his chest.

“Wait, Miguel! My makeup!”

He quickly parts, doing a quick inspection to see if he did some real damage. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad. Just hints of your concealer and lipstick on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes.”

You snort at his quickness, “I missed you too, but we can’t get too crazy. I got my dance in a few.”

“Okay.”

Miguel embraced you, a quick kiss turning into a careful make out session. His hands digging into the tool of your outfit, breathing in that sweet scent he’s familiar with, blocking out Black Cat’s smell. You show him you miss him just as much when you find his shirt to tug on it. Obviously wanting to take it off but not able to.

“I'm surprised you couldn't wait until Thursday.” You say against his lips, playing with his shirt. “You know where we have forty five minutes instead of the usual thirty.”

The way you accentuate forty five makes the blood rush to his cheeks. You still couldn’t believe that he lied to Jess in order to get more time with you at the club.

“I just needed you.”

“Aww, baby.”

Miguel didn’t want to bring up his interaction with Black Cat. You'd end up distracted and upset at the words she said to him, ergo affecting your performance on stage. He'd just tell you later.

“While you're here,” Your face turns sour. “my mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I told her about going to the banquet with you and she told me she wasn't comfortable with me going anywhere until she meets you. You could kill me at the hotel or something.”

You let out a short laugh while his stomach churns.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“You sure about that?” The concern on his face got worse and amuses you more. He relaxes when your lips press against his cheek. “I'm joking. I know you wouldn't. But we need to put my mom at ease.”

“I'm okay with whatever. I want to ease your mom too.” Miguel moves to kiss your head, but hesitates. Instead, he holds your hand and kisses along your knuckles, not wanting to ruin your makeup even more.

“You're sweet.” One last kiss to his lips and you had to go back out. “I'll text you about it later.”

He follows you out and rejoins his family in the crowd. Xina is back, face fully red. Miguel wants to pry into what happened with Pixie when she wasn’t anywhere to be found. But the hype from the crowd at the start of your performance pulls him away.

Miguel locks on to your body pressed along the pole, highlighting your breasts. A ripple amongst your thighs as you spin, feet high in the air and catching the stage lights. The shimmer from your outfit fills the dark crowd. Screams and shouts covering the wide space. Kasey and Gabriel holler the entire time while Xina simply watches. There’s no hint of disinterest in her face, which Miguel can take as a good sign.

The DJ, Lyla, hypes the crowd up into throwing more money in your vicinity. A cascade of dollar bills coats the stage and you submerge yourself in it. A mirage of green replacing your skin.

Miguel’s heartbeat can be heard if the music wasn’t loud. How you soak up the crowd’s applause is admirable. He catches your smile and your eyes when you finish. Everything about you is so attractive. So sexy. He loves that he’s the only that has you. No one can take that away.

“She’s cool.” Xina says. That small bit of approval pulls her into a hug filled with gratitude.

“I told you that you’d like her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pulls away from him, faking disgust at his affection. “Just…be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Miguel wants to be careful.

Dana causing irreputable damage to his heart wasn’t in his bingo card for the year. What he has with you right now though, he wants to enjoy it. Hoping to whatever god out there that you won’t do the same to him.

It’s why he’s so nervous about the shareholders banquet.

He’s never expressed that to you in his words. The excessive planning and booking gave it away.

This would be the first time you two took a trip together. Heck, even spending the night with one another. Sleeping in the same bed. Your body an inch away from his. For an entire weekend.

It's why he was doing double, triple checks on everything. Making sure his gps was all set. The hotel booking being to your liking. He wonders if he should change up rooms. Maybe you’d want a private room to yourself. You do value your privacy.

When he brought that up to you though, he’s awarded with a frown that made him feel small. Right in the middle of the produce aisle at the grocery store a few days later.

“Now, why would we get separate rooms?”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I will be. With you.”

“What if he’s not comfortable? Did you ever think about that?” Your mom questions, putting a bag of onions in the cart.

Miguel shyly pushes up his frames when you suck your teeth, “Are you uncomfortable? I don’t have to go if you’re not-”

“I want you to go.” He doesn’t miss the small smirk your mother makes at his lack of hesitation. “I’m not uncomfortable. Your comfort is my top priority.”

“And so is yours.” Your mom observes a huge watermelon in the box and Miguel is already there. She does a ritual of wrapping her knuckles against it, before taking a small whiff. With her approval, he picks up the fruit, settling it gently in the cart.

“Thank you, baby.”

You shoot a thumbs up towards him when your mom turns her back. Who knew a way of impressing your mother is by tagging along grocery shopping? Your text about it happening didn't shock him. He meant what he said about putting your mother at ease.

With the planning of the trip, grocery shopping can relax Miguel’s running mind. But his feelings are too important not to share.

“I just…” He stops when your mom is checking out bread, “I’m…nervous.”

Your brows raise, “Why? What about?”

A million things. Presenting at the banquet. Seeing Dana and Tyler. Traveling alone with you. Being alone with you. In a hotel known to value intimacy and privacy. Where his mind lingers on making love to you.

“…a lot of stuff.”

You shake your head, “Pick one of the stuff.”

The two of you move when your mom walks further down the bread aisle. It gives him time to come up with an adequate answer for you. Obviously, he wasn’t going to bring up that he wants to fuck you in front of your mother.

“It’s the first banquet without…her.”

“Who’s her?” Your mom pops in, placing three loaves of bread in the top of the cart.

“His ex-fiancé.” You pick your mother up to speed. “The one who cheated on him with his boss.”

“Oh her! Fuck her.”

“Mom-”

“What? Anyone who does that to me is not worth my time or thoughts. Plus,” She observes Miguel with an up and down glance, “who would want to cheat on this man?”

It’s nice to know he has your mother’s approval now.

“I don’t want it to be awkward...” He admits.

“Oh, it’s always gonna be awkward. But just don’t let it get to you. Or you.” Your mother points to you.

You accusatorily gasp, “Why are you saying that to me?”

“Because you tend to feel some type of way when it comes to stuff you don’t like.”

“Alright…” You turn your head away.

Your mother’s words hung on Miguel’s ear. She's right, it's always gonna be awkward. It matters on how he deals with it. He wasn't going to let Dana's appearance ruin his weekend with you.

“I’m so glad you’re taking my baby away for the weekend.” Your mom says while pointing to a few spices at the top shelf. While Miguel grabs them and hands them over, she continues. “All she ever does is go to work, come home, watch tv, and sleep. Sometimes she might be with her friends, but that’s rare. And I’m not talking just about Tempest. Your other girlfriends.”

Miguel glances over to you in question. You mouth ‘Pixie’ and he understands.

“That’s not all I do.”

“You know it’s not good to lie to your mommy.”

You huff and disappear over to the frozen aisle, leaving Miguel alone with your mom. The silence is brief besides the slight hum from freezers. While he helps your mother grab frozen vegetables, she strikes up another conversation.

“So, does your family know about your trip?”

“Yes, they’re aware.”

“Even your mother?”

Miguel pauses, trying to figure out what to say. His mother knows about his trip, but not that he’s taking you. It’s a conversation he wasn’t mentally prepare for. He didn’t want to hear the usual of you being a rebound or that you’re using him for his money. And a sprinkle of the relationship being so soon from his break up from Dana.

He’d rather hold that off until he’s ready.

“Yes.”

Your mother nods and you come back with a few bags of pizza rolls. Before she can say anything, you cut her off.

“I’m paying for these.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“I can pay for them.” Miguel offers, “I know how much you like them.”

“No, thanks. I got it.”

He pouts, large brown eyes peering over his thick frames and to your eyes. You poke the inside of your cheek before kissing his own. Miguel can’t help the smile that comes out and amuses your mom.

After finishing up the grocery portion, your mom needed to grab some toiletries. It reminded you to grab some yourself for the trip. Miguel was okay, his bag already packed and ready to go. Done a week in advance.

“Y’all don’t need condoms?”

“Did you really just…” You hide your face under your palm at her comment.

“Don’t act like that. I don't want you coming back pregnant.”

“I won’t!”

“Yeah, okay.” Your mom grabbed a few boxes and put them beside your pizza rolls. “I’ve seen that hotel you’re going to. If you’re trying to tell me something is not going to happen, know that I don’t believe you.”

The blood rushes to Miguel’s cheeks while you don’t even try to look at him. Instead, you grab one of the boxes and put it back while your mom’s back is turned.

“I have plenty of condoms.” Miguel whispers.

You smirk, “And you’re saying that to me because…?”

“I…I just thought you should know.” He wasn’t flirting, although he can see how his words can come across that way. Thankfully, you see his serious face and shake your head.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the trip at the store goes well. Miguel surprises your mother by paying for her groceries and yours. Both of you protest in saying that he didn’t have to do that, but he wanted to. He was planning to slyly pay for yours, but he thought why not your mother’s?

She grabs his face and gives him the biggest kiss on his cheek as gratitude. Paired with a ‘You smell good’ comment.

Miguel wanted to help place the bags inside your home, but you stopped him, saying that you didn’t want him to deal with the rest of your family yet. He negotiated and you allowed him to place the rest of the bags on the porch.

You kiss him goodbye, lingering a little under the embrace. Miguel holds back in saying he wanted to bring you back to his apartment, to spend more time with you.

But he’ll have the entire weekend with just you and him.

Miguel went over his checklist.

Bags are in the trunk, air on low, gps set to the hotel, and you're right beside him. You match his attire of the ride, your huge zip-up jacket and matching black sweatpants radiates comfort. Dana always complained about his casual appearance, his baggy pants and loose shirt didn't pair well with her short, sparkly dress and high heels.

She wasn't the one driving for two hours.

He loves how you manage to maintain your cute yet comfortable clothing. Miguel also tries not to focus on how you're putting on lip gloss. Your lips forming a shine that makes him want to ruin it.

“You ready?” He asks when you put your lip gloss away.

“Yes I am.” Miguel chuckles at you putting on your seatbelt. He waves at your family waving goodbye to you before pulling off.

Sweat forms against the steering wheel. The big, bolded numbers of the timeframe of your destination. He isn't sure how he's gonna entertain you for more than 2 hours. Dana usually falls asleep thirty minutes in.

“Oh, you're taking I-95, right?”

“Yes.” He thumbs against the steering wheel, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I wanted to see if we can stop at that big gas station that's about halfway into the trip.” You pull out your phone, quickly showing it to him at a red light. “They got these sandwiches and milkshakes. I haven't been there in months.”

That sounds fun. He's always wondered what that place was like, but Dana pushed about getting food nearby the hotel.

He realizes he hasn't said anything and you pause.

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve asked before while you were planning…”

“No, no we can go there.” The excitement in your eyes kickstarts his heart. “I've never been. You mentioned milkshakes?”

You hum, “I got your sweet tooth, didn't I?”

Miguel avoids eye contact, which makes you laugh.

You go down the list of the potential choices. He settles on cookies and cream while you go for strawberry cheesecake. The music from your ‘road trip’ playlist in the background. Neither of you had a chance to move on to sandwiches when one of your favorite songs started to play.

He blinks and your phone is away while you're rolling your hips in your seat. Miguel is able to get a glance at your body moving to the beat. All sensual and fluid while you're singing at the top of your lungs.

His starts singing along too, albeit not knowing as much of the words as you do. But he's able to ad lib.

The car then turns into a sing-along.

The songs from your playlist are a lot of the ones he recognizes, helping him stay engage during the journey. While Dana was asleep, Miguel tuned into podcasts, various tracks to keep him entertained. He'd admit that it got boring after a while.

Now, in another life, he had a chance of becoming a rapper with the way he kept up with the songs.

At the halfway point, you point to the gas station you mentioned.

It was huge. Multiple lanes for said patrons to pump gas and be on their way. As well as a parking area in front.

Miguel didn’t need gas, he fills up right before reaching the hotel. So when he parks you almost fall out of the car with enthusiasm. His brief look of concern fades when you pull him inside.

Aisles of snacks and drinks on each side of the building. There was a decent amount of people coming and going. You headed straight for one of the touchscreens, right in front of the workers who were making other orders.

There were so many options to chose from. Yes, you mentioned there were sandwiches but there are so many. Hot and cold. Club sandwiches or hoagies. What did he have a taste for? They were going to be on the road for at least another hour. He didn’t want to get something to upset his stomach.

“Maybe I should go for something light.” He mentions, “I’m already getting a shake.”

“And you’re driving. Good idea.”

You point out to a few selections of wraps and that’s good enough for him. Meanwhile, you go for your drink of choice and a meatball sub. While waiting for your order, Miguel grabs some waters and you make a beeline for the candy. You pick his favorite which was sour peach rings. You also grab a bag of trail mix that contained more chocolate than nuts.

After Miguel pays for the snacks, your food is ready. There you two walk out with bags in hand, sucking on your milkshakes.

“Okay, you need to taste this.” You say after getting settled in the car.

Miguel leans over when you hold out your cup to sip, humming at the taste of cheesecake. “That’s good.”

“Isn’t it? I miss going to this place.”

“You said you haven’t been there in months right?”

You nod, unwrapping your sandwich. The scent of the marinara sauce from your sub makes his mouth water. “It’s just because we haven’t gone anywhere past New York. We’ve mainly stuck in the city.”

“Ah.” Miguel cradles the turkey wrap in his hand, taking a small bite.

“Didn’t you and Dana take this highway whenever the banquet comes around?”

“We did.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. This place has a little bit of everything.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Unsure what to say without painting Dana in a bad light.

“Dana…has finer tastes.”

“She’s bougie.”

“N-No…well…” Miguel stammers, “S-She just prefers going to higher quality places. This gas station isn’t on her criteria for finer items.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Once again, saying she’s bougie.”

He stays silent about that. You wasn’t wrong, but he never saw her that way. Ever since his promotion, Miguel strived to get her better things. Fancier accessories and finest places to show off his upper class status.

“It’s my fault.” Miguel doesn’t miss your eyes softening, “I made her that way. Why she’s into high quality things.”

You tsk, “It’s not. There’s a difference between spoiling someone and someone taking advantage of how they’re being spoiled. It’s a small difference, but it’s there.”

You turn towards him in your seat, careful to not make a mess. He’s looking at you now. Your face is gentle.

“You don’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

Miguel’s heart twists, every beat of your words hanging in his head. “I know…”

“Good.” You quickly wipe your lips on a napkin to give him a big kiss on his lips. He takes in your lips, hint of marinara on them.

Not too long after you finish up your food, clean up and head back on the road.

The second half of the trip was relaxing.

Your music was still on, but remained turned down. The two of you ended up talking. Nothing as serious as the conversation back at the gas station. Just about various topics. The tv shows you were watching, trying to get Miguel to watch some of them. You were able to convince him of this show about a serial killer in Florida.

He went on about his game Candy Blast. How he’s maintaining his top five streak with Margo. That he completed enough levels to keep him by for the banquet weekend. Margo will let him know when he’s slipping since she’s always on that game. You intently listened, nodding your head and humming.

Soon, you two were almost at the hotel.

Miguel drove into a backroad, surrounded by trees. He always imagines arriving at the hotel as if he was in a movie. The way the trees fold away, revealing a grand hotel. A cobblestone driveway, a tall, black metal fence surrounding it. Grass being so green that he’d think was artificial. He smiles at your gasp when he pulls up to the front where a man runs out to greet you.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sunset Grove Hotel!”

He opens the door for you and helps you out. Miguel pops the trunk and grabs the bag filled with your snacks and water. He’s by your side as another person comes out to assist with the bags.

Walking inside the hotel will always be a dream. It’s as if the sun kissed the inside with the white walls and gold colored trims. Cream colored seating and pristine clear floors that almost looked like glass. Hotel guests lounging in the seating area, sipping on drinks from the complementary bar.

“Welcome back, Mr. O’Hara.” The front desk worker greets, “It’s an honor to host you again this year.”

“The honor is mine. I enjoy your services every time.”

You quickly tap his shoulder, “I gotta go.”

“Oh, I can come with-”

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” You squeeze his hand, “I’ll be back.”

With the help of another front desk clerk, they show you to the restroom. Miguel turns his attention back to the other clerk.

“Your room is almost ready for you. They’re putting in the finishing touches.” The clerk handed him a beeper. “It’ll vibrate once your room is prepared and I can give you the keys.”

“Thank you.”

Miguel parted from the desk, seeing the banner about the Alchemex 17th Annual Banquet. Sporting the blue and white colors of the company logo. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat in pondering what he was in for this weekend. His presentation is ready, he had his cue cards ready to go.

He’s going to see his ex-fiancé and biological father together and if he went alone, he’d be a nervous wreck.

Even now, without you by his side, his hands are shaking, palms getting sweaty. Your mother’s words hover in his mind again. It’s going to be awkward. How he deals with it is what matters.

“Miguel?”

He turns around. The woman that troubles his mind stands in front of him, clutching her pink purse and wearing a matching, short dress. All while staring at him with her crystal blue eyes.

“Hi Dana.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch

@nina-from-317 @slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel

@moonlight00sthings @bajbr @freehentai

@chubbybyunnie @ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[sinsolstice]

★ 彡 SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

series ✮ miguel has this crazy idea of having consistent sex with you for seven days - a whole week - of your time. could you survive that?

tags ✮ modern au, roommates, forced proximity, friends with benefits, lots of explicit sexual content. divider creds: cafekitsune.

word count ✮ 14,000

table of contents

monday // 01: mutual masturbation, mating press, missionary

tuesday // 02: dom/sub, handjobs, thigh riding, cowgirl

wednesday // 03: doggy style, temperature play, praise kink

thursday // 04: consensual somno, exhibitionism, public sex, marking

friday // 05: blowjob, body worship (cock, ass, breasts), edging and multiple orgasms

saturday // 06: side-fucking, morning sex, overstimulation, rough sex

sunday // 07: shower sex, belly bulge, oral fixation

keep track of more updates with #𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 �� 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 (miguel o'hara).

[olmstier]

Those things are *ancient* to him

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

Part 2: coming soon....

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[moralesluvr]

miguel being your first <3

oh this is….oh.

when you tell him that you’re a virgin, he’s honestly shocked because how could someone so beautiful be so untouched? but his voice drips of honey when his hands are undoing the buttons on your jeans, telling you how gorgeous you are and if you’re comfortable and you just breathe out a yes because you’re so deep in your feelings.

miguel would be gentle with you, your bottoms and underwear discarded onto the floor as his head made its way in between your thighs, the same thighs his lips are clinging onto, subtle grunts leaving his lips as he feeds on your reactions.

he knows he’s gotta be gentle but he can’t help but relish in the fact that he’s taking you, for no one else to have— relishing in the fact that you’re so responsive to everything little things he does to you.

“so sensitive.” he’d whisper when his nose dipped onto your sex.

“so sensitive.” he’d coo as he’d spread your legs wiper, tongue exploring all the places that have remained untouched.

“so sensitive.” he’d mumble as he’d gently stretch you out with one of his thick fingers, holding you still with his free hand as his ears were filled with your cries and whimpers.

“miguel..” you’d barely whisper, biting your lip in order to conceal your tiny noises that threatened to leave your throat. but he’d shut you up as his fingers continued to move skillfully inside of you, curling upwards as a feeling of ecstasy washing over you.

“now c’mon, angel…” he’d tease you, “how’re you gonna possibly take all of me if you can’t even take a finger? my innocent girl…”

and although it feels like you can’t, you push through the overwhelming feeling as a sweet climax finds you, legs quivering under your lover’s touch. until his hands find your waist and he’s slowly pushing into you, your walls swallowing him whole, eyebrows furrowing as you seethe.

“oh, baby..” he’d coo as his thrusts started off slow, the tip of his length brushing up against your untouched cervix, “can’t believe you’re letting me be inside this pretty cunt of yours…feels so warm, so pure. all for me.”

and then he speaks honestly as he holds your hand, smirking,

“i’m gonna ruin you.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

idk if it’s weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel 😭😭

omg omg😭😭

you're laying in bed unable to fall asleep when it happens. your hand just creeps up his shirt.

miguel doesn't think much of it, you like the skin in skin contact- so does he.

it's when your hand hovers just under his pectorals that he turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

he's still working, hair tired back with one of your scrunchies and his tablet looks tiny in his massive hand. he'd been trying to hypothesise a re-calibration to his nano-bots all day.

"what do you want?" he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.

your eyes are barely even open, your face turned to face his bicep. "can't sleep," you murmur, planting your hand on his chest and squeezing.

"oye," he bats at your hand when you do it a second time. you groan when his hand removes yours from under his shirt.

"miguel," you whine, drawing the syllables of his name out long.

"amor," he mocks your exact tone. "why're you grabbing my chest?" he drops your hand and cups your face, guiding your tired eyes to rest on his face.

"'cos it's comforting," your words sludge together but miguel makes you out just fine. he cracks a smile, you narrow your barely open eyes; "it is. helps me sleep."

"yeah?" he teases, and you nod. your hand slinks back up his shirt and rests on his chest, for the most part it's just an added heat to miguel's chest. "if you don't fall asleep any faster i'm calling bullshit."

you let out a tired giggle and slobber a kiss to his bicep; miguel waits five minutes and in no time he feels your breathing change- deeper now as you fall asleep.

he can't believe it.

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 

[honestsycrets]

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

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

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

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

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

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

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

Peter has it out for him.

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is Peter here?”

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

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

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

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

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

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

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

“Don’t bring me into this.”

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

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

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

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

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

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

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

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

“She likes it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As many as will make you happy.” 

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

"I never thought about it."

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

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

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Low sperm count his ass. 

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

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

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

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

“Miguel.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sí, Miggy?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sí, mi vida?"

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

“¿Qué?”

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

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

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

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

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

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

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

“It will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

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

“The balcony, then.” 

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

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

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

“Bend over.” 

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

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

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

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

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

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

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

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

“No condom?” 

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

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

“Now he says I’m good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

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

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

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

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

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

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

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

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

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

“Are you sure? I know--” 

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

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

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

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

He can’t wait.

[miggyyyyohara]

ohshitohfuckohdamn

thank you for feeding us @exzeeve (twitter)

[tarjapearce]

~Imagine ~

Miguel kissing you everytime he actually does a push up.

You're underneath him, trying to keep up with his workout routine, but you're left breathless. He drags you by the ankle and hovers above as he gets in position to start his set.

You're caged underneath him, face flushed and somehow laughing at his antics, but you know he is serious when it comes to his training.

He'd kiss you as he lowered his body. And again, and again, until you trap him with your legs around his waist, and hands on his neck. To your little surprise, he lifts you without a sweat.

His lips twitch in a small smirk as you kept holding on him like a koala, until he collapses ontop of you, all air knocked out of you and that's the perfect moment he kisses you like he was intending.

Thighs on each side of his narrow slutty waist, one of his hands is enough to pin your arms above you as the other one roams the fullness of your hips, squeezing the plumpness of your ass. Tongue invading your mouth, dominating the little moist muscle effortlessly

He kisses until you squirm, begging for air, and when he breaks from you, enough to let you take deep breaths of needed air, his prongy fangs pull your bottom lip softly to then suckle at it; earning a whimper from you to then release you with a small pop

Face as stoic as usual, but eyes glinting with something you've grown to know too well. Need.

"¿Empezamos con el cardio?" (Shall we start on the cardio?)

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed

UPDATE: Part 2

I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:

DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.

It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.

You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.

He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?

Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.

Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.

You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.

Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But.

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

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

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

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

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

Not at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wyvernest]

mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner. 

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold. 

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you. 

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately. 

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back. 

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight. 

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster. 

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.  

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.) 

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his. 

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers. 

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties. 

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust. 

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly. 

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts. 

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin. 

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

[fxllfaiiry]

─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!

Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel. 

You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were. 

You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it. 

Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily. 

Like today, you got him some coffee. 

"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone. 

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week. 

"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk. 

He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you. 

"This isn't how I like my coffee." 

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice. 

"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time." 

"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words. 

"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all. 

"Yeah?" 

"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad. 

"No."

"Sunflower…"

"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.  

"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed. 

"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?" 

"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it. 

But, of course, you were wrong. 

Everything was going great up until a few hours ago. 

Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple. 

If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed. 

"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry. 

"I was just tryin-" 

"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity. 

"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you. 

"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears. 

"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission." 

Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier. 

"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch. 

"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in. 

"Not now, Hobie." He growled. 

Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this. 

"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that. 

At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them. 

"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back. 

"Next time make sure this doesn't happen." 

"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.