#Mischievous Mayday

[seeyoulikeair]

Mayday is ready for spooky season 🍂🎃

[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.

[fangswbenefits]

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

Use Your Words

Franchise: Marvel (Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x male reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut, sub!Miguel, dom!reader, office sex, door unlocked, loud Miguel, breeding kink, Miguel has a praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, anal fingering, reader referred to as sir, Miguel's claws, Miguel's fangs, minor degradation, minor angst (reader's been worried about Miguel), fluffy aftercare

Summary: Miguel had been teasing you all day, the little shit. You knew that he knew damn well what he was doing. And he knew exactly what would happen when you caught him alone that night.

A/N: Requested by an irl of mine @sixatrocities ! This is my first smut that I'm actually posting so bear with me (is it still considered a one shot when it's over 3k words??) also I myself do NOT speak Spanish (English, French and a bit of Italian but not Spanish) so most of what Miguel says is directly from Google Translate and I'm so sorry if I messed up - this was also written as though Miguel’s suit is like a physical one as opposed to what I assume is nanotech somehow in the movie

You’re in a meeting with various other members of the Spider Society. This includes Jessica, Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, Peter and Mayday. And of course, you, Miguel and Lyla. You lean back in your chair at one end of the long table, farthest from where Miguel is at the other end. He’s mostly stopped his teasing, other than shooting you mischievous looks from across the table when no one’s paying attention.

“Any questions?” Miguel says finally, having finished his explanation about the next mission. You know he can feel your gaze burning into him, but he pointedly ignores it. No one says anything, clearly satisfied with the information given.

“Class dismissed,” you say sarcastically. Everyone begins to leave without a word. You turn your eyes on Miguel’s AI. “Lyla, take the night off,” you say. “I need to… discuss some things with Miguel. One on one.”

As Lyla blips out, Miguel swallows hard, finally looking up at you.

“You guys alright?” Peter asks on his way out.

“We’re fine, Pete,” you say, your gaze trained on Miguel’s. His eyes are dilated so much you can’t discern the black of his pupils from the brown of his irises as he scans your face. “Don’t worry about it. Have a goodnight, man, say hi to MJ for me.”

“…Alright,” he replies, though he sounds slightly unsure. “Say bye, Mayday.”

You turn to look at the young redhead, a sweet smile crossing your face as you wave to her. You nod to Peter as he slips out the door.

And then there were two.

“Y/N-”

“Miguel,” you say, your voice bordering on a warning. You slowly cross the room to where he’s standing at the wall. He begins to back away when you get too close, backing up so far that he ends up pressed between you and the wall. You place your palm flat on his broad chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your fingertips.

“What was that?”

“What, er, what was what?” He asks in a tight voice. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“You know exactly what you were doing, O’Hara.”

Miguel’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m-”

“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?”

Miguel nods quickly. “Mhm.”

“So you know what comes next, then, hm?”

He nods again. “Mhm.”

“Your office,” you state. “Now.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

————————

You follow close behind Miguel as the two of you walk back to Miguel’s office. You say hello in passing to some of the people you pass, like Ben and Margo, prolonging how long Miguel has to wait for the consequences of his actions.

When you reach the office, Miguel moves to lock the door behind the two of you. You catch his wrist before he can touch the doorknob.

“No,” you say.

“But-”

“Miguel.”

“…Yes, sir.”

You gesture for him to go to his desk and you notice him shift his suit a little. You follow him to the desk. He turns around to say something, but you pin him between you and the desk before he can get a word out, his hands bracing himself on the edge of the surface. The proximity gives you both some friction between your respective suits. Miguel sucks in a breath when you grind against him, chewing on his bottom lip. You can see his sharp fangs outlined against his soft pink lip while he watches you carefully.

“You can’t be a tease in the middle of a meeting, baby,” you say in a low voice.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel says breathlessly.

“No you aren’t,” you murmur. “That was bad, Miguel.”

“I’ll be good,” he says desperately. “Por favor, señor, I’ll be good for you.”

You raise an eyebrow in challenge and feel him practically melt underneath you. “Take the suit off, sweetheart.” You step back to allow him to free himself from the confines of his suit. He’s soon left in his boxers, watching you for his next instructions.

“So handsome…” you whisper. You step towards him again, ghosting your fingers over his warm bare skin. He shivers under your touch. “Just begging to be fucked, aren’t you?” You hook a finger under the waistband of his underwear. A whine escapes his lips before he can stop it. “Use your words, baby boy.”

“Please,” he whimpers.

“Please what, Miguel?”

He squirms a little under your hand. “Please fuck me, I need you inside me…”

You guide him back to the desk, framing his body as he leans against it. You can feel his hard, clothed cock against your covered crotch. He tries to grind against you, desperate for a little more friction, but you gain bruising grip on his hips, holding him in place.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

“Por favor, señor, necesito tu polla dentro de mí,” Miguel begs.

“Patience, darling,” you say. You reach around Miguel’s broad frame and push everything off his desk. He looks like he’s about to object, his mouth opening to say something, but the look you give him tells him to keep it to himself. “We’ll fix it later,” you assure him quickly. His tense body relaxes a little.

In mere moments, you rid yourself of your own suit, reaching for the secret compartment of one of the drawers of Miguel’s desk. The two of you have fucked in his office on more than one occasion, so he keeps some condoms around just in case. As you move to withdraw one, Miguel’s thick fingers curl around your wrist. You look back at him.

“Miguel?” You say in a teasingly questioning tone.

“Just your cock,” he whispers. You drop the condom and close the drawer without looking away from him.

“You want me to breed you,” you say. Miguel chews on his lip nervously but he nods.

“Yes, fuck, please.”

“You love the idea of that, don’t you?” You mutter, leaning close to his face. “The thought of being fucked full of my cum to have my kids? Is that what you want?”

Miguel whimpers as you press yourself against him. “Y-Yes, sir…”

A smirk crosses your face. “Good boy.” Your hand moves upwards to thread your fingers into Miguel’s hair. You tug his head back and a gasp tumbles from his lips. Your lips attack his neck, sucking hickeys from the bottom of his jaw down to his collarbone. As you move further down, your lips attach to one of his nipples. A sharp whine escapes him, his body arching into you. He grips your shoulders.

“Fuck,” he whimpers.

One of your hands, the one that had been hooked under his waistband, slips into his boxers, gently grabbing his hard cock while your mouth stays on his chest.

“Ay, dios mío,” he moans. “Please, sir, fuck me, I need your cock so bad, please…!”

You tug his boxers down around his ankles, letting his dick spring free of its confines. Miguel kicks them away as you shed yours too. You stick three fingers in Miguel’s mouth.

“Suck,” you order. That skillful tongue of his swirls around your digits, watching you in desperation. You stroke your cock a few times while you watch Miguel. “Such a good boy for me, baby. So obedient.” You take your fingers away. “Lay back on the desk,” you tell him.

He shifts to sit on the edge of the desk, wincing at the feeling of the cold surface under his bare ass, then lays down on his back, his legs spreading automatically for you. You run one of your wet fingers around his puckered hole and he shivers. You push one finger into his entrance and Miguel moans loudly at the feeling, gripping the edge of the desk above his head.

“So tight for me, darling, so perfect,” you murmur. You pump your finger in and out of his hole, soon adding the second one. Miguel’s mouth falls open, his moans getting more and more high-pitched with your every move. You curl and scissor your fingers inside him and soon his legs are trembling on either side of you. “Can’t wait to breed this tight hole of yours, fuck…” You add your third finger and Miguel already looks like he could cum.

“You think you’re ready?” You ask him.

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Use your words, baby boy. Please what?”

Miguel whines as you withdraw your fingers. “Please breed me, I need it!”

You quickly grab a little bottle of lube from the desk drawer, coating your dick in the cold substance. You toss the bottle to the side when you’re finished with it. You place one of Miguel’s legs over your shoulder, lining your shaft up with his entrance.

You push in slowly, watching Miguel for any signs of discomfort. His sharp claws dig into your back. His eyes roll back and his lips part, letting out one of the most beautiful moans you’ve ever heard.

“Good boy, such a good boy, taking me so well,” you say, making sure every inch of you is inside his hole.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big…”

“You can take it, I know you can,” you say as you bottom out. Miguel whimpers. You stay still for a few moments to let him adjust. When he looks up at you with red-tinted, lust filled eyes, you watch him.

“Move,” he whispers. “Please.”

“As you wish.”

You thrusts start slow, but once you start to see your dick bulging in his stomach, you increase your speed. Miguel’s loud moans fill the air, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin while you fuck into him. You rest your hand over his stomach bulge. “This what you wanted?” You ask. “Wanted me to fuck you like a needy little whore to be bred?” You thrust into him particularly roughly, eliciting another moan from him.

“S-Sí, señor- ah, fuck…!”

“You just wanna be filled up with my cum, don’t you? Wanna have my kids, huh?”

“Please, please, please,” Miguel begs breathlessly.

“This tight little ass of yours is gonna be my personal cum dump,” you state with a sharp snap of your hips. You can tell from the moan he releases and the way he grips your shoulders that you hit his prostate. “That feel good? You like it when I say I’m gonna fill you up?”

He almost looks like he’s in a haze as he reaches towards his cock. You slap his hand away. “No touching,” you growl, hitting his prostate again.

“P-Please, sir, I’m- I’m so close!”

“Oh yeah?” You taunt. “Gonna cum without your dick touched?” You emphasize each word with a sharp thrust.

“Señor, por favor, es demasiado!”

“Take it, you little slut,” you growl, gripping his hips in a way that’ll leave bruises. “Gonna fuck you so full of my cum, baby boy.”

“Please, please, I need to cum…!”

“Cum for me, Miguel,” you order, moving one of your hands to wrap around his cock.

It takes only one stroke from you and he’s screaming your name, cumming all over his chest and your hand. The feeling of his hole clenching around your cock almost sends you over the edge, but not yet. You work him through his orgasm, stroking his shaft as you milk him. Your hand doesn’t cease its movements after he’s finished. He begins to squirm underneath you.

“Señor,” he whines. “Es demasiado, I can’t take anymore!”

“You can and you will,” you state, once again increasing the speed of your thrusts. You can feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten.

“Señ- oh, mi maldito dios!” He exclaims when you swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip of his cock. “Santa mierda!”

“I’m close, baby, you’re doing so well for me,” you say in a low voice, fucking him with everything you’ve got. “You’re gonna take it all and you’re not gonna spill a drop, got that?”

“Sí, sí, sí- oh mierda… jodidamente arruinarme…!”

All you have left in you to say is growling out curses as you get yourself off with Miguel’s hole. Your hand is no longer on his cock, but bending his legs so his knees are up to his chest, giving you an even better angle at his prostate.

“Y/N, sir, please!” Miguel shouts. “Please, cum inside me, please…!”

With your hand on his stomach again, you feel the coil in your stomach snap. Your thrusts falter. “Fuck, Miguel!” You yell, burying your cock to the hilt in his ass, cumming harder than you have in a while. You can feel Miguel squirming underneath you, his hole clenching around you as he cums again suddenly. He’s trembling beneath you. Your balls drain, your cum painting his insides white. You see a bulge in his stomach where your cum is and feel a sense of satisfaction. You stay inside him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of having bred him.

“Good boy,” you say in a low tone. “Gonna keep that all inside, sweet boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Miguel murmurs, looking thoroughly fucked out. His claws retract and his hands drop to his sides. Your shoulders burn where his claws had dug into your skin, but you’ve always loved getting to see the marks he leaves behind.

“Good boy, Miguel, so good for me.”

You lean down and press a deep kiss to his soft lips. Your tongue pokes into his mouth, feeling his fangs. You grin into the kiss. When you pull away, he takes your hand that had been jacking him off and licks off the excess cum that had been left when he had climaxed, and damn if it wasn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, babe,” you say gently.

You carefully help Miguel to his feet, finding his boxers on the floor. You have to help him back into them, considering he can barely move or walk properly. You help him out his suit back on as well. He hisses at the feeling of his oversensitive cock rubbing against the fabric of his underwear. You tug on your boxers and your suit as well. You know you’ll have to wash or replace both of your suits, considering there’s likely cum all over the inside of Miguel’s now, but how else were the two of you supposed to talk back to your apartment? Naked?

As tempting as it is to show everyone that Miguel isn’t so scary under the right circumstances, you wouldn’t do that to him. Plus, you’d like to keep that sight for yourself.

You have to support Miguel as the two of you walk, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Anyone who questions his stiff movements look to you for an answer. “Rough mission,” you reply with a smirk.

————————

Miguel leans against the wall next the door to your shared apartment, waiting for you to dig out your key. You do about 75% of the Macarena to locate it, jamming it in the keyhole and letting the two of you in. You lock the door behind you when you’re both inside.

“How you feeling, hot stuff?” You tease gently, giving Miguel a once-over.

“Sticky,” he admits quietly.

You grimace. “Sorry. Shower?”

“Can’t stand properly,” he says, a tone of humour in his voice even though you can tell he’s still feeling pretty stiff.

“Bath?” You suggest. He nods tiredly.

Miguel uses the wall to hold himself up as the two of you make your way to the bathroom. You walk more quickly so as to get the water running. While the tap is on, the water warming up, you move to help Miguel get rid of his suit again. You set it by the door so you can remember to wash it later. You do the same with your own. As you help Miguel out of his boxers, he sucks in a breath through his teeth; his cock is still sensitive and you’d just accidentally brushed it with your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“’S’alright,” he mumbles. He turns his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the heel of your hand. You smile at him, then finish helping him undress. You set his underwear aside with his suit, again doing the same with your own.

You lean forward and softly connect your lips with Miguel’s in a loving kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too, mi vida.”

“In all seriousness, though, are you alright?”

“Soy perfecto, querido,” he says assuringly. “A little achy, maybe, but I’m alright.”

“If I ever go to far-”

“I’ll tell you. Promise.” He kisses you again.

The two of you slip into the warm water, Miguel resting between your legs and leaning his back against your chest. You press a kiss to the back of his ear and he hums contentedly.

“Comfortable?” You ask. Miguel nods.

You help him clean up the mess you’d both made, happy to feel him relax under your touch. He’s been tense all the time. Any moment of comfort and rest you can bring him, you’ll do it. As much as you love him, he’s been off for a while now, always tense and grumpy. Nothing you couldn’t handle, but it still worried you. He wasn’t always like this.

You had your suspicions as to why - or, rather, who - was making him feel like this, but you knew you shouldn’t mention her. She’d deny it a thousand times over, and you weren’t sure Miguel would believe you either.

“You’re safe, my love,” you say quietly, wrapping your arms around him.

“Thank you.” He pauses for a moment, then he tenses. “Oh, shit, my desk-”

“We’ll go back, it’s okay,” you answer quickly. You reach one hand up and run your fingers through his hair. His posture softens, leaning comfortably against your chest again. “We’ll clean up that mess after we’re done with this one. Okay?”

He nods slowly. “Okay.” His eyes close a little; he’s tired, and you know it. He’s been tired for a long time. 

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’d say we’re pretty much cleaned up, so how about we dry off and you curl up in bed, and I’ll go back and fix your desk.”

“But-”

“I know how you organize it,” you reassure him. “And I’ll swing there and back, so I won’t be gone long. Is that okay?” Miguel hesitates. “Baby, you need rest,” you remind him, gently rubbing his arm.

He sighs tiredly but he nods. You kiss the nape of his neck. He leans his head back to rest on your shoulder, looking at you with exhausted brown eyes.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you tease softly. He grins lazily.

“Hi.”

[zoeykallus]

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 3/7 - Crosshair

Warnings: Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Love Confessions

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

This is a continuation of this request :

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Crosshair

You don't really know how to talk to him. As soon as his intense eyes look at you, your voice crawls and a horde of butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach.

In the beginning it was okay, but at some point, Crosshair just had to look at you to make your voice fail.

He doesn't know that he has this effect on you, he doesn't know that his voice sends little shivers down your spine, making everything inside you go crazy, pulse, heartbeat, temperature, hormones, thoughts… everything.

Wrecker likes to play practical jokes on the Sniper. Out of an impulse to have more contact with Crosshair, you join in these pranks at some point. You sometimes feel a little immature about it, but this simple contact with Crosshair is worth it.

He usually reacts grumpily, but he's never really that angry, and your pranks are usually quite harmless. The only time he was really a bit sour was when Wrecker and you stuck all the toothpicks Crosshair had in stock to his helmet. Of course, you insisted on water-soluble glue when Wrecker told you the idea, a prank shouldn't cause permanent damage in any way.

One evening, you're all sitting together, having a good time, eating well, telling jokes, unpacking card games. Music is playing on the radio in the background, and occasionally one or two people hum along to one of the songs. In general, everyone is in a good mood, including the sniper. The evening is going great, and you even talk to Crosshair a little, you joke with each other, and you're beaming the whole time, totally happy about his attention.

He gently nudges you with his elbow as you play cards and says with a smirk, “You're holding your cards too low, hold them a little higher, almost everyone can see what's in your hand”

“Oh”, you say in surprise and comply with his suggestion, “Thanks”

Today is the day, you think, today you finally tell him how you feel. It doesn't matter that you lose almost every game. The boys are too good, and you can hardly concentrate on the game. You pay much more attention to every sound and every movement of your crush, Crosshair, who is sitting quite close to you. Sometimes, when your eyes meet during the game, he smirks mischievously at you, and you feel yourself melting inside.

You are still waiting for a good opportunity. During a break in the game, when Crosshair wants to get drinks, you offer to help him and accompany him. On the way to get the drinks, your heart races as you gently but firmly grab his arm.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Crosshair stops and turns to you. He looks at you intently, and you feel yourself growing nervous under his serious gaze.

“Hmm, sure. What's this about?”

You take a deep breath, causing Crosshair to furrow his brows.

“Honestly, I don't even know how to start,” you say with a nervous laugh.

He remains silent, patiently, but he crosses his arms in front of his chest, which makes you even more nervous. His gaze is scrutinizing, almost critical. Your voice threatens to crawl out once again, and you try with all your might to stop it.

You say quite directly, “I have a crush on you”

For a very brief moment, Crosshair's posture wavers, his eyebrows shoot up, but in the same second, he pulls them back together, sternly.

“Was that your idea, or did Wrecker put you up to it?” he growls softly.

You look at him, perplexed. He thinks you're playing a trick on him again. At first, you don't know how to react, your thoughts are in a panic, and you can't organize them quickly enough. In the long pause that has arisen, he suddenly says, “Seriously? Did you think I would fall for this? You and me? As if that was even remotely realistic”

A helpless, “Uh,” escapes your lips.

Crosshair rolls his eyes, “Come up with something better”

He wants to turn away and keep walking, but you say much braver than you feel, loud and clear, “I wasn't kidding”

Crosshair sighs, stops and turns back to you, a few steps away from you.

“Really? You insist on going through with this gag? Come on, let it go, surely you can think of something better”

You clench your hands into fists in frustration. But your gaze lowers dejectedly as you ask, “Why would you and I be an unrealistic thing?”

Crosshair listens up.

He asks lurking, “Does it matter?”

You answer quietly, “It does to me”

You hear his footsteps, finally see his boots and hear him say, “Look up, at me”

As you comply with his request, his eyes bore into yours.

“You really weren't joking, were you?” he asks seriously.

You swallow, but finally nod.

“I wouldn't joke about that”

His gaze is still scrutinizing as he asks, “Really?”

“Never”

Crosshair suddenly smirks, leaning towards you. Your heart doesn't quite know whether to jump out of your chest or stop, as his face comes closer. You hold your breath, your eyes close. First you feel his hand on the back of your neck, his arm wrapping around your middle, then you feel his lips on yours, warm, softer than expected, lingering gently for a long moment. Fireworks explode in your chest, everything tingles, hums, dances. Your entire body seems to be celebrating a feast of sensations and perceptions. You smell him, his aftershave, feel the warmth of his body, so close...

Then suddenly everything is as if wrapped in absorbent cotton, dull, numb. When you open your eyes, it feels a little like you've just woken up from a dream. Surprised, you realize that you are no longer standing, but hanging in Crosshair's arms, who is kneeling on the floor. “How did that happen?” you ask, perplexed, looking up into his worried face. “You don't know?” You think for a moment before answering, “We talked, then you kissed me”

Crosshair nods and says, “And you just passed out during the kiss”

“I was unconscious?”

Crosshair sighs, his features relaxing a little as he replies, “hmm, looked like it”

“How long?”

“Just a few seconds, maybe half a minute”

You laugh softly, shyly and confess to him, “I was so nervous, I was holding my breath and my pulse was so fast…. I think that must have been it”

You realize that you are still lying in his arms, but you don't really want to get up. You could get used to being held by him like this.

Crosshair smirks, “I make you that nervous?”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Well, yes.”

His smirk widens.

“I kind of like that, Kitten”

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@ivyyyyy

[helloitstsyu]

Confession | Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

My masterlist

Pairing : '86 Maverick x f¡reader

Summary : you have a crush on maverick, he notices. Maverick pushes you to confess.

Warnings: alluded smut. Mostly overall fluff.

Requested: by anon. Thanks for requesting i hope you enjoy!<3

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

What's to like about him? He's so full of himself and he doesn't follow the rules. He happens to be your instructor too, your commander. He is trouble. But that doesn't stop you from developing a crush on this cocky commander.

That's what you should've seen in the first place. Not his pleasing smile, amazing hair, and perfect eyes, or his impeccably hot exterior. Maverick is hot. He is damn hot. But the more turning weeks you spend in Top Gun near his presence, the more you notice what a gentleman that he actually is. And that.... made you fall even deeper for someone's out of your league.

The result of your uncontrolled emotion is that you find yourself insanely shy around him. You have no idea you can be that shy. But whenever he's around, you'd feel your heart double beating in times. Perhaps you're so scared that he'd notice, or perhaps you're too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Mayday, mayday, we got fuck me eyes in the area," Dingle, your RIO whispers to you.

"Gosh, Dingle!" You slap his back as he laughs contentedly.

Dingle's the only one who knows about your crush on the instructor. You didn't tell him of course, he figured it out. He said it's obvious since you acted so differently around Maverick.

"The hell are you talking about?" you play dumb and act as if it weren't true.

"Come on, Pep, you're so caught right-handed."

Looking back straight up, Maverick is across the room playing a game of pool with another naval aviator. He bends down, eyes straight and sharp as he aims for the ball to the pocket. Your eyes follow the lengths of his arms. His toned arms... your gaze just involuntarily follows the veins on his arms. Maverick then takes his shot. He hit the nail on the head, he perfectly nailed the shot. Gosh, he even makes playing pool look so hot, he makes everything look so hot.

You shake your head and palm your face. "This is getting worse, Dingle.."

"Just tell him, take your shot, Pepper," Dingle tells you.

You shake your head. The idea of telling him that you have a crush on him always makes your stomach flip. How could you? You couldn't even stare at him right in the eyes for too long.

You take a deep breath and leave a heavy sigh. "What is wrong with me?!" You ramble.

"What's wrong with you?" The voice that you're far too recognized speaks.

You reopen your eyes to find Maverick comes to you and Dingle. You widen your eyes slightly at Dingle, cursing him non-verbally to not warning you that Maverick is coming in your way.

"Something's wrong with you, Pepper? Is everything alright?" Maverick asks with concern in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to hold your arm, showing the emphaty he feels as he practically asks you whether you're okay.

"Uh... excuse me, i need to go to the toilet." Dingle says.

You quickly turn your head to him. Beg with your eyes to not leave you alone with Maverick cause god knows you couldn't comprehend it alone.

"Sir..." Dingle politely nods to Maverick before leaving us be.

Maverick looks back at you, "Uh... I'm–I'm okay, sir."

"Yeah?" Maverick skeptically wonders about your answer. Out of nowhere, an unreadable slight smirk appears on his face. "You don't really sound sure..." he smiles mischievously.

"Uh..." you chuckle awkwardly, looking down at the floor rather than back at his green eyes. "I'm sure,"

You glance back to his face. "Thanks for checking in, though, sir." You smile then eyes away from him again. You already feel your heart thumping.

Maverick purses his lips and nods. "Okay.... okay, if you say so,"

You nod. "Well... do you want to play po—"

"I'm actually-- not really feeling okay. Maybe i had too much beer... could you excuse me, i-imma go back to base." You cut Maverick before he could've finished what he's trying to say.

You stand up from your stool, and stupidly you stumble on your own feet. Maverick's quick to catch you before you fall. You look up to his face. His face stays inches above yours. You have never been this close to him. Feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

"Oohh... careful," he casually says. So casually like it means nothing to him.

You stand up straight to your own feet again. Awkwardly laugh it off. "T-thanks... um, goodnight, sir." You walk hastily out the door.

-------

"Pepper," Maverick calls you out just after you rise from your seat. You've seen this coming, especially after that near hit you did earlier.

"Do you mind staying behind? I'd like a word," he says.

You exchange a look with Dingle. But eventually you wait till the last person is out of the room, leaving you and Maverick behind. You walk up to him. "Sir?" You ask.

Maverick walks around his table and sits on the edge of it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What happened?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

You look down from his intense gaze, shaking your head, "I lost control of—"

"No, I'm not asking you that," he interjects. "What. Happened?" He emphasizes the question.

"We talked about what went wrong technically. But what happened? You never step out of your game." Maverick asks solemnly calm. The way he should've been furiously mad kind of making you more nervous.

"I.... i lost focus,"

"You lost focus?" Maverick repeats, eyebrows raising.

"I.... I'm sorry, sir. I-it won't happen again,"

"Lost focus.. you jeopardize your team's safety, your RIO's life."

You look down. Embarrassed by your failure. "I know, sir. My apology."

"You lost focus.." Maverick sighs, "So where was your focus? What's so important that clouded your mind, Lieutenant?"

Beat. You feel like you're pushed to the corner, checkedmate. How can you answer that? That your mind replays the scene of last night when Maverick touches you. When his face stays inches above yours?

"Uh.... um..." you stutter.

Maverick smiles mischievously, "Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant?"

"I-it's nothing, sir."

"Nothing? I don't buy it." Maverick thinly smiles.

Maverick walks towards you slowly. "Eyes on me, Lieutenant." He orders with such authority in his voice yet still sounds soft.

You feel your palm starts sweating, heart racing.

Maverick smirks. "What got your focus..?" He asks as he walks towards you ever so softly. Making the room feels a drop temperature hotter. "Or... rather.. who?".

"I- i- uh...." You feel your lips trembling so you bite on them.

His eyes drop to witness the scene. "You.... what?" He mutter, eyes locked to your lips. That made your knees limp, you feel like you're about to pass out.

He keeps taking a step closer to you till there's no more room, and he's invading your personal space. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning to your lips. His eyes look deeply into yours, like he's digging onto you. Your chest heaves. And the closeness of him makes you dizzy. "Y/N," his voice calls you back into reality. Maverick softly grazes his fingers over yours.

You couldn't think clearly with him in mere inches away from you. So the next thing out of your mouth just slipped before you caught yourself. "I have a crush on you." You breathlessly confess.

Maverick's smile slowly can not be attained. The way he says nothing and just smiles there sends you into an anxiety loop, so you ramble on stupid things all at once. "I- i know it's stupid. I'll–I'll get over it. I shouldn't have—" Maverick slipped his hand behind the nape of your neck and just shut you up with his lips seal to yours.

It surprises you at first but, you feel your soul leaves your body. You close your eyes and just sink into him.

Once he breaks away the kiss, your mind buzzes from the after impact of it. Reopening your eyes again, you meet the heavenly greens of his eyes and his perfect smile. "I knew," Maverick retorts softly.

"You're not so hard to read, Pepper,"

You chuckle. Feeling your cheek already burning. "This is a dream," you mutter.

Maverick grins. "Well, Y/N, tell me... can your dream feel this?" Maverick presses his lips to yours again. Hand circling around you and bring you closer to him while the other keeps holding the nape of your neck.

With your body completely pressed to his. Hands to each other's body, and tongue starts colliding in a passionate rhythm, you didn't bother to think whether this is real or not. Even if it's a dream, you want it to last because Maverick tastes like a pure ecstasy. The moment he takes a step forward, pushing you back till you find yourself presented against a table. Any moral misgivings have left the room, and both of you are hurrying to have more taste of each other. Maverick grabs your jaw, set your face aside to have access to your neck. He kisses your neck, starts soft, then gradually picks up his pace. He sucks and nibs the sensitive skin, traveling all around, finding your one spot that got you ticking.

"Maverick..." You whimper.

The exit out of this is already too far. None of you both can stop the overdriving temptation. Your fingers grip on his shoulders. The more he sucks and nibs, the more heat you feel in between your legs. You keep pulling him closer as if there's any gap left. You could feel his hard on pressing onto your center, that sends your mind even more rattling than before. You try to hold back your moans but find yourself helplessly to do so.

His hand explores all your body. Groping your breast from outside of your suit. He's moments away from unzipping your flight suit but a distraction come,  and you both hear a dim voice of the Admiral coming.

Quickly, Maverick leaps off you, just in time for Admiral Caine opening the door. Still with ragged breath, you hold onto the ledge of the table for dear life, your mind still buzzing from the pleasure seconds ago.

"Sir," Maverick stands up straight and slightly nods at the admiral. He's so unbothered as if nothing has happened just seconds ago. While you're still.... trying to compose yourself.

Admiral Caine looks at the both of you. Something must've pass his mind because you could see the skeptically in his eyes. But he knock it off and instead calls Maverick for a word.

Maverick glances at you before leaving the room without saying any words. The moment the door slams close, that's when you truly can breathe.

Dreams do always stop whenever it's getting good.

[cherryrainn]

Hey think you could a Female human lesbian reader who dates Verosika before discovering she’s a demon and stays with her cause she loves her, overall it’s a sweet relationship. Eventually she starts sharing her with her girls which becomes a poly romantic relationship. If not that’s fine. Have a nice night.

━━ ✧ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; verosika + reader (female)

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; omg i love verosika so much thank you

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; none

in the bustling city, you found yourself captivated by the charismatic and alluring popstar, verosika mayday. her sultry voice and magnetic stage presence had an undeniable charm that drew you in. little did you know that your life was about to take a thrilling turn.

the two of you met at one of her concerts. you were lucky enough to catch her attention in the crowd, and after the show, she invited you backstage. from that moment, your connection with verosika deepened. late-night conversations, shared laughter, and stolen glances fueled the budding romance between you.

as your relationship flourished, you couldn't help but feel a sense of completeness with verosika. she was a muse, a confidante, and, most importantly, your lover. but secrets have a way of surfacing, and hers was no exception.

it started innocently enough. verosika seemed a bit mysterious, always dodging questions about her personal life. yet, you brushed it off, thinking it was a part of her enigmatic charm. however, as the days passed, you began to notice subtle peculiarities—unexplainable occurrences that hinted at a hidden truth.

one evening, as the two of you cuddled on the couch, verosika hesitated before sharing a secret. "there's something about me you should know," she confessed, her eyes revealing a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

as she transformed into her full form, you were momentarily taken aback. the revelation was overwhelming, and your initial fear gave way to confusion and curiosity. verosika bared her true self to you, and in that vulnerable moment, you made a choice — to embrace her for who she was.

"i'm not just a popstar; i'm a succubus," verosika explained, her voice a mix of apprehension and longing. "i get if this is too much for you."

but instead of pulling away, you leaned in and whispered, "you're still the same person i fell in love with."

your acceptance marked the beginning of a journey into the supernatural. as you delved deeper into verosika's world, you discovered her fellow succubi — coco, apple, milky, and kiki.

the transition from a monogamous relationship to a poly romantic one was gradual but filled with love and understanding. verosika's girls welcomed you with open arms, their affectionate gestures and warm smiles erasing any doubts you might have had.

dialogues flowed freely in the shared moments between you and verosika's girls.

"i never thought i'd be a part of something so nice," you admitted one night, cuddled up with verosika and her girls. the room was filled with laughter, whispered confessions, and a profound sense of connection.

verosika, once competitive and mean-spirited, transformed into a pillar of love and support. her seductive powers were reserved for the stage, and in the privacy of your shared space, she became vulnerable and tender.

the city that had once seemed overwhelming now felt like a haven — a place where your unconventional love story unfolded against the backdrop of dazzling lights and the warmth of shared affections.

as the night deepened, verosika whispered words of gratitude, her eyes reflecting the love that had blossomed in the midst of the unexpected. you held her close, surrounded by the soft hum of the city, knowing that your journey with verosika and her girls was an extraordinary chapter in the book of your life.

verosika's voice was a gentle melody as she expressed her feelings, "i never thought i'd find someone who'd accept all of me."

coco chimed in with a mischievous grin, "love has a way of doing that."

kiki, with a playful wink, concluded, "who would've thought that a bunch of succubi and a human could make such a perfect, loving concoction?"

as the night unfolded, your hearts intertwined in a symphony of love and acceptance, creating a melody that resonated through the cityscape — a testament to the beauty that emerged when souls connected beyond the ordinary.

[tarrenterror25]

thoughts no one asked for but my mind has no mouth and must scream

At the beach with Miguel and Spider Gang (Miles, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter and MJ and Mayday)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags: Spider dad vibes, beach, food, established relationship with Miguel, GN!Reader, mention of reader in swimwear but nothing specific

Notes: Wrote these up kinda quick!

Nevermind how you and Peter convinced Miguel to go to the beach with you guys, you're just glad he's open to doing something fun!

Miguel is prepared. He's got a checklist of everything you guys need and definitely keeps a first aid kit handy.

He is supervising that everyone has on their sunscreen, bugspray, and what have you because he'll be damned if you guys head back to HQ and one of you can't function because of a little sunburn. (Lowkey he just cares though.) He even brought infant/toddler specific sunscreen for Mayday.

Miguel's eyes are sensitive to light so he's got his sunglasses on! And Peter forgot Mayday's hat, but Miguel already brought one for her just in case. It's not that Miguel doubts Peter, he just likes to help.

"Oh, darn," Peter says. "Guys, has anyone seen Mayday's hat? It's pink with little flowers and-" "Honey, I think you left it on the couch?" Mary Jane says. "I think you're right," Peter sighs. "Well, looks like you're stuck with me under the umbrella, kiddo!" "Peter." Peter looks to Miguel who's just got that impassive expression of his as he holds out an infant size hat. It's stylized like the classic Spider suit (red/blue with white web motif). Peter smiles and takes the hat and as much as he wants to give Miguel a hard time about being a softie he spares him. This time!

When Miguel sees you come out in your swim outfit (if this is his first time seeing you in it), he's thankful for the sunglasses because he's not taking his eyes off you. Immediately wants to hold your hand, put his arm around your waist or *something*. He needs some kind of physical contact with your body and his.

Miles, Hobie, Pavitr, and Gwen will waste no time getting in the water.

Miguel will take it upon himself to set up the chairs, umbrellas, and everything else. He's not going to ask for help and will just grumble about it the whole time. Of course, you guys step in to help. You and Mary Jane take over bringing the rest of the stuff from the vehicle while Peter and Miguel set up a little pool area for Mayday.

Once everything is set up, the adults can hit the water!

Miguel does not show it often, but he can be mischievous at times. He'll swim underwater and sneak up on you and if you're on a floatie there's a 50/50 chance he will flip you over.

At some point, it's just you and Mary Jane in the water while the others are off doing their thing. Miguel makes it a point to join Peter and Mayday to help keep them company. He actually smiles a bit when Mayday splashes him and he does play with her. You and Mary Jane just watch in amusement.

Mayday hands her dad a little crab toy and hands a shark to Miguel. Miguel makes little "rah-rah" noises and pretends the shark "bites" Mayday and she giggles. Peter lets the intrusive thoughts win and he proceeds to squish the crab revealing that it squirts water and it does so right in Miguel's face.

"Really, Peter?"

A little while later and you guys are all back on shore; you and Mary Jane catch some sun and relax in the lounge chairs and the rest are making sand castles. Gwen and Miles work together to build one and theirs looks a little clumsy, but they're having fun. Hobie and Pavitr have the most visually pleasing looking sand castle complete with seashell decor. Miguel and Peter are taking this VERY seriously and are making a very large and structurally sound sand castle complete with multiple battlements and a moat.

For food, Miguel made sure to pack a variety of snacks and drinks for everyone to have throughout the day; there's plenty of fruit (he brought some tajin to spice it up!) There's chips, paletas, agua frescas, chicharrones, pan dulce, and what have you. You stayed up the night before packing everything into the coolers and ice chests. For food there's all kinds of fixings for tortas that way everyone can have them the way they like. Miguel packed plenty forgetting that not everyone has the hefty appetite he does, but he also rather he bring too much than not enough for everyone.

Miles is the one who suggests that you guys play volleyball and if you didn't know before, you learn that Miguel can get competitive. Hobie and Pavitr take a turn hanging with Mayday and Hobie jams on his guitar. The teams are Peter, Mary Jane, and Miles versus you, Miguel, and Gwen. If you're not a Spider-person then you and Mary Jane are the outliers among the group. The gang don't even realize they're using their spider abilities to play and it's best if the two of you back away slowly.

The team opposite of you got a point on your team and were gloating a little too much for Miguel's liking and Spider-Man 2099 felt it was an appropriate time to humble them. To say Miguel's serves are aggressive is an understatement.

During the game, Miguel's claws came out, much to his embarrassment, and they popped the ball.

You packed a spare.

When everyone returns to have fun in the water, you stay behind to comfort Miguel a bit. He's still a little sore about the volleyball incident.

Taking a break from the water, you sit under the umbrella on a towel next to where Mayday is and Miguel will come over and lay next to you and rest his head in your lap. You run your fingers through his hair and he starts to doze off for a minute.

He's been very busy trying to facilitate the outing at the beach despite you trying to tell him to hang back and let everyone else help out. He just can't help but take up the responsibilities.

Peter and Mary Jane brought supplies for s'mores!

You guys get a fire going as the sun goes down and enjoy some!

Miguel's never actually made a real s'more. He's had s'more flavored things and always found them too sweet for his liking, but he's willing to give this a go.

"Miguel, you have to leave the marshmallow in the fire longer than that!" You instruct trying to help guide the skewer back into the flames. "Is it supposed to be burnt??" "Just a little," you chuckle. "That's what makes it soft on the inside. It tastes fine, don't worry." You help him construct the s'more and he takes a bite. "Ay dios!" He says with a mouthful of s'more as the marshmallow squishes out the sides and gets on his hands.

As the day comes to a close, everyone helps clean up and bids each other goodbye.

It's just you and Miguel left on the beach and the two of you take a moment to enjoy the quiet of the night, the view of all the stars, and the sound of the waves on the shore before deciding to head back home.

[lustkillers]

TRY HARD.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary - he felt like she was out of reach, but he was standing in her perfect view.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - clyde x fem!guitarist!reader.

⊹₊ ⋆ note - my first ever fic, lets hope this isn't shit. requests are open, give me something good to write :) lmk if you all want a pt.2 or something!

based off of try hard by 5sos.

SHE stars on the stage like a blazing comet. Gorgeous hair, wild and free, her guitar sings in time with every strum of her fleet fingers. The audience erupts with cheers as she builds to an electrifying climax that reverberates through the air and touches all those who are lucky enough to be listening tonight.

Everyone came to the shows for her. All crowded to see the lead guitarist, as she played chords no one has ever heard before. Her hands moved like lightning across the strings and no sound was ever too complicated for her to replicate.

No one knew her like Clyde did. He knew her well, actually. In fact, he had been the one to introduce her to the music that she loved so much. He was the one that pushed her to do what she's always wanted, and so she did. However, that required for her to leave him behind. His heart was broken but his loyalty stayed, and he promised to forever be her biggest fan.

What sucked for Clyde was that he didn't say what he wanted to say before she left. In reality, even if she did stay a little longer, he still wouldn't say anything.

He felt like she was out of her league, and that pushed him 5 steps backwards. Those 5 steps became 10, and then those 10 steps began to distance themselves further.

They had lost contact.

But now, he found himself at the venue everyone went to that night. Word got around that the best guitarist was playing that night, and that she was apart of the band; MAYDAY.

Hours pass as bands continued playing, both Clyde and his friends messing around. Lastly, someone had announced that Mayday was playing now.

The crowd cheered as the first string of chords played out loud. Came out the stage was Mayday's lead singer, then the drummer, bassist, and lastly, her.

Clyde could feel his heart pound faster . He hadn't seen her in years, so time flew by as he watched her play. When the song ended she paused and looked directly at him. Clyde couldn't believe it; even from a distance, she had still recognized him. They stared for what felt like an eternity until finally she smiled and went back to playing.

Clyde was filled with joy and admiration; watching her perform that night felt like the most surreal and beautiful experience. He couldn’t believe it, yet there she was in front of him—playing with passion as if nothing had even changed. He was finally within her reach.

However, everything went downhill. Causing ruckus at the venue, he found him and his friends getting kicked out. Oh, what a scene that caught her eye. Clyde couldn't help but feel embarrassed in front of her, as he was being hauled out like a mischievous child.

Thankfully, as he got hauled out, her band was done playing, and she found herself running out the venue.

Clyde was now "punching" the bouncer, and got pushed back. A laugh emitted from her mouth. Her presence made him look up, a smile creeping up from his lips.

"My girlfriend, Y/N." He said, walking up to her. The word 'girlfriend' was something she hadn't heard in a while, as Clyde used to call her that every time, even though it didn't mean anything. Or so she thought.

"Hi, Clyde." She breathed out, a smile curling her lips.

She gave him a hug, Clyde's arms tightening around her. He felt the warmth emanating from her body as he pulled away, a small smirk creeping up his face.

"You killed it up there." His hands cupped her cheeks, faces inches away from each other. God, they both wanted to kill for a singular kiss between them.

"Thanks, but I gotta thank you for bringing me to where I am now, wouldn't have done it without you, y'know?" She quietly said, looking right into his eyes. They both knew the tension between them was there, yet a move wasn't made.

He smirked. "You can thank me, back at my place," he said, pointing at the van his friends were hopping into.

She laughed, her hands on her hips, examining the van.

"Lead the way."

[st-kitten]

"gasolina"

MIGUEL O'HARA x LATIN READER warnings: fun, lap dance, miles' mother (and her empanadas) words: 1,313

The Spider Society is dragged to Miles' party. Everyone is thrilled except for Miguel. That is until he sees you... dancing in the crowd.

As the doors to Miles' rooftop swung open, a burst of vibrant energy filled the air, engulfing the senses in a whirlwind of colour, music, and laughter. The venue radiated with a palpable sense of joy, the unmistakable hallmark of Latino celebrations. A captivating mix of Latin rhythms, from salsa to merengue, filled the room, setting a lively beat that invited everyone to dance.

Strings of papel picado fluttered overhead, casting a vibrant kaleidoscope of colours and patterns on the walls. Colourful piñatas dangled from the ceiling, promising sweet surprises to be unleashed later in the night. Tables draped in bright linens showcased an array of mouthwatering dishes, bursting with flavours that embodied the rich tapestry of Latin cuisine. Miles mother endorsed her empanadas to everyone, while his father gravitated toward his fellow officers, throwing cheers around.

"Ay! You guys came!" he chirped excitedly. He rushed to Gwen, in an attempt to give her a hug, but ended up performing an awkward handshake-turned-pat on the back. Pavitr and Hobie cackled in the background. Mayday sat atop Peter's shoulders and tried to touch the strings above. Everyone was in casual attire and didn't have to worry about putting any masks on. Pavitr could thus invite Gayatri, who wondered why he had these many diverse friends. Behind everyone, at the back of the group, Miguel stood still, eyeing his surroundings, already regretting showing up. It was on Peter's insistence that he agreed to come. But, mostly because Lyla RSVPd on his behalf without telling him.

"Nice, no? Loosen up, buddy!" Peter nudged his shoulder. Miguel chucked and excused himself.

He found himself leaning against a pole near Río's empanada table. Unbeknownst to him, partially because of his social anxiety, he'd managed to eat a handful of empanadas. Miles' mother was more than happy to keep adding on his plate, one after the other.

He watched people. It seemed like it was the only reasonable thing to do. Guests swirled across the dance floor, their movements a rhythmic fusion of traditional steps and spontaneous improvisations. The air resonated with infectious laughter and animated conversations, as friends and family came together to celebrate, their voices rising above the music, each word infused with warmth and passion.

Miguel's gaze fell on a woman dancing amidst the crowd. Yes, there were several girls and women at the party, but none that effortless.

You glided across the dance floor with a playful elegance, your movements a mesmerising fusion of confidence, grace, and just enough madness. Your body moved like liquid, flowing seamlessly from one intricate dance move to the next. The song accentuated the mischief, but the way you enjoyed dancing made Miguel stare at you, barely blinking. There you were, swaying and moving to the infectious rhythm, effortlessly owning the dance floor. Your enjoyment was contagious, and he couldn't help but be captivated by your carefree spirit. You had this way of making every step look natural and effortless, as if you and the music were old pals.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, completely drawn to the unfiltered delight you exuded with each and every move. It was like you were in her own world, dancing without a care, and inviting everyone around to join your groove.

For a brief moment, your eyes met, and he could see the mischievous spark in your gaze. He quickly looked away, but from the corner of his eye, he saw you walking towards him. Miguel didn't know what to do. He shoved an empanada in his mouth.

You sauntered next to him, greeting Río. "Hola! Por qué no estás bailando?" (why aren't you dancing?)

"Ay, no, hoy no. Probaste una empanada?" Rio asked you to try her empanadas, handing her a plate. You dipped the tip of it in the spicy dip and took a bite, humming in response.

"Ay, delicioso!" 'Verdad? I told Miles I make them good."

The spicy dip made your lips redder and plumper. You licked your lips, tasting it once more. Miguel, half an empanada masticated in his mouth, was truly ogling at you. You were radiant, not to mention gorgeous. A part of him wanted to see you dance more.

It was when Daddy Yankee's "Gasolina" started playing that things really kicked into high gear.

"Ay, esta es tu canción! Baila!" Río exclaimed. (this is your song! dance!)

You smirked, ready to hit the dance floor again and threw a glance at Miguel. You pranced toward the dance floor, hips and hands swaying proudly.

"Ay, Miguel, what are you still doing here? Go to her! Ve!" Río pushed Miguel by his shoulders. He was surprised to know how strong she was. He stumbled into the crowd, cursing out loud. But all his attitude faded when he saw how inviting you were, laughing and moving gracefully. Miguel couldn't help but smile. "Puto..." he chuckled to himself. Head down, gaze up, he advanced towards you. The beat of the music throbbed in sync with his heartbeat as he neared you. "I seen you watch. It's nice you come!" you yelled over the music. You broken English made you even more attractive to him. Miguel let out a laugh.

"What can I say? It's a good song."

Miguel was slow to start, still adjusting to the sudden change in energy. He cautiously looked around making sure nobody he knew could see him. You on the other hand, cast away the leash on you and moved to the beat with ease. With each step, you effortlessly mirrored each other's movements. You could see that he was still rigid, so you thought of something that might help.

The music surged, your bodies swayed and intertwined, guided by an invisible force of attraction. You turned your back to him, hands above your head, swaying your hips seductively, just enough to get him riled up.

Oh, Miguel was in a profound mood now. He knew what you were trying to do. And even if it was in public, he couldn't care less. His hands delicately held your waist, his touch light yet firm. You swayed your hips to the beat of the song, grinding your ass against his hips. It felt like a shot of adrenaline. Miguel finally understood the "tingle". He moved his hands from your waist to your hips, reflexively pulling you closer, letting your hips slap against him. He was guiltlessly hard.

He slid his fingers under the hem of your cargo shorts, letting them ride up. Your soft skin felt hot under his touch. By then, Miguel had definitely loosened up and was actually swaying his hips provocatively, synced to the bass. He spun you around and held you by your hips, one hand holding yours. He stepped back and forth, making his shoulders work to the rhythm. He held his arm up and you twirled under it, picking up the pace and shaking your body. With every turn, every spin, your bodies brushed against each other, kindling an irresistible fire. You loved how he was opening up. He pulled you closer by you arm, spinning you around and letting you fall, catching you just in time, leaning into you.

"Quién eres tú, bombón?" you asked. (who are you, hottie) (idk man roll with it)

"Someone you're going to be dancing a lot for..." he murmured in your ear, pulling you up, hands finding their way to your hips once more.

Miguel and you dance to the next several songs.

Meanwhile, the spider society sat atop the venue in Miles' special place, looking down at them.

"He's kind of... good at it," muttered Gwen.

"Good? He's killing it!" said Peter, holding his phone out, recording.

"I'd even go as far as to say he looks sexy dancing like that."

"HOBIE!!??"

"What; I root for lap dance Miguel," he replied.

"Lap dance Miguel. Huh."

"That's a nice name..."

[seeyoulikeair]

Happy May Day from my kitten, Mayday.

[honestsycrets]

Baby fever Miguel sounds so yummy 🤤

Ugh, I just had so much fun writing Miguel with baby fever-- little bit of fluff and smut in this upcoming piece.

WIP Wednesday: Mío (PUBLISHED)

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 swish of a 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 favourite 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 the way it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, a little bit of 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 day 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 in it, 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. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.

He's so fucked.

[pinksunsetsandstarrynights]

Adamsapple Harvest: Bonfire

Hey guys, here's another fill that takes place in my Human AU. This one was inspired a bit by the idea I saw floating around a while back that two of the background demons in "Apology Tour" were secretly Adam and Lucifer in disguise.

Watching a bunch of admitted hot people burn an effigy of some dickhead who broke their hearts in a bonfire was not what Adam was expecting to do on a Saturday night. Neither was he expecting to roast some marshmallows in said bonfire.

Why did Tex invite him here again?

Right. To give Adam a chance to finally see his band play live.

It was still so awkward being here though, surrounded by so many jilted people. This guy with the stylized heart tattoo on his forehead was a total stranger to him. He wasn't even friends with any of the exes!

Tex didn't count because he was here strictly for work.

"Addie, I got us some cake!"

At least Lucifer was here with him. It was tempting to call it an early night and just have a sleepover at Lucifer's place. Hopefully Tex's band will play soon.

He turned his head to greet his boyfriend, but seeing what Lucifer brought made him pause for a second. The pieces of cake he held were shaped like hands. "At least the cake is Halloween themed, thanks babe."

"Actually, the cake's a sculpture of that guy everyone here hates," Lucifer corrected him, as he stole one of Adam’s marshmallows. "You should see what someone did to the crotch. It looks like it was stabbed like 50 times!"

Adam winced and crossed his legs. He couldn't imagine either of his exes hating him enough to throw a big, expensive house party. Neither of them had been the type to waste their time and energy on someone they didn't give a damn about anymore. He took a bite out of the cake, trying really hard not to think about that time an ex moved to another country and ghosted him without so much as a breakup text.

Holy shit.

The host really did go all out. This cake tasted way too good for something covered in fondant. Maybe they can get some treats to go before they leave…

"That's Verosika Mayday!" Lucifer exclaimed with a mouth full of marshmallows, pointing at the makeshift stage surrounded by a lot more party goers than were there a moment ago.

Adam glanced over to catch a glimpse of the pop star. There she was - and Tex's band too - but surprisingly she wasn't standing center stage. Instead a tall, slim man dressed like a count from the 1800's was the center of attention. He'd missed Verosika's introduction of the guy, but Adam wouldn't be surprised if this was another ex.

"I let you get too close I let it go too far Now I know, now I know Now I know exactly what you are!"

Damn, this count guy could sing! And he was right, this was another ex. Adam was still enjoying the song and, from the way his head was nodding along with the music, so was Lucifer. Too bad it wasn't something he'd want to dance to with his boyfriend.

He wrapped an arm around Lucifer's waist and scooted closer to him. His tiny boyfriend smiled and leaned up to give Adam one, two, three slow kisses. Lucifer left the taste of his apple chapstick and the marshmallows he stole on Adam's tongue.

Adam usually liked to keep PDA to a minimum, but he wanted to keep kissing Luce. There was just something the sitting around a bonfire with Lucifer on a cool autumn night that felt just right. At least they had the area to themselves while everyone else was watching the band. No one would notice if they started making out.

Lucifer must’ve been in the mood to keep going too. He had a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed onto Adam's lap.

Adam will let Tex know that his band's music sounded great live. He'll just leave out the fact that he zoned out after listening to one song.

---

A car horn's continuous honk was echoing into the night when they finally left the party. They ignored it as they headed towards Adam’s car. It wasn’t their problem that someone has a busted horn. Besides, the happy couple had better things on their minds...

Like what they should pull out of Lucifer's toy box for playtime that night.

[backtothefanfiction]

Mayday In The Playroom

Summary: But you don’t have three kids. Where did this other one come from?

Warnings: none

Word count: 367

A/N: Just a quick little blurb that came to me while at work I needed to get out. I of course picture my love Andrew’s Peter but you can imagine whichever you like.

————————-

Silence was only ever a good thing at night when you had two kids under 6. Silence in the middle of the afternoon was never good. Especially when it was partnered with your 5 year olds shhhing noises and not one set of girly giggles but- TWO!

You raced to the playroom to find not just your kids but a mystery third. A mess of ginger curls bursting from beneath a hand knitted Spider-Man hat. She couldn’t be more than a year old and she was giggling the loudest.

Your face was a picture of shock. “PETER!!!” You called down the hallway to him from the doorway.

“Yeah.” He said flustered as he raced from his office to you at your tone of voice.

“Why do we suddenly have three children?” You asked him as he came to a stop behind you, looking over your shoulder into the room.

“Mayday.” He sighed with recognition as he pushed past you into the room towards the young girl who giggled and held out her arms to him.

“Mayday? Who the heck calls a kid May-“ realization dawned on you mid question. “Is this a multiverse thing?” You asked him.

“It’s alright, I’ll get her home.” He said as he passed you heading back towards his office.

“Oooh Dad, can I come?” Your eldest asked eagerly, following on his Dad’s heels.

“Sure bud.” Peter said without a second thought.

“Uuuuhhh, no!” You tried to say and stop them but your youngest was suddenly whining and making uppy arms at you. “Benjamin Richard Parker, you come back here now.” You called out again as you quickly picked up your little girl and began to race down the hall to Peter’s office. “Peter!?! PETER!” You called out louder but it was too late. There was a loud zip sound and by the time you entered the office it was empty.

You sigh frustrated as you begin to turn away from the room and carry your baby girl back down the hall. “You know your Daddy is gonna be in big trouble when he gets home.” You say to her and she giggles mischievously in your arms before you begin to tickle her.

[zoeykallus]

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 5/7 - Wrecker

Warnings: Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Love Confessions

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

This is a continuation of this request :

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Wrecker

Wrecker is actually very open and easy to talk to. He is neither particularly reserved nor aloof. Nevertheless, you haven't yet dared to tell him openly how much you like him. You feel that he might like you as much as you like him, but you're not sure. The thought that you could open up to him and be wrong keeps you from confessing your deep affection for him. You are startled out of your thoughts when you hear a familiar, beloved sound; Wrecker's rumbling laughter. Apparently he's been playing a trick on Crosshair again, because the Sniper runs past you, jaws grinding, curses coming from between clenched teeth. Wrecker appears on the ramp, laughing and calling after his brother, “Come on, it was just a harmless joke” Crosshair keeps walking and growls, “Go to hell” You giggle and ask, “Oh Wrecker, what have you done again?” Your heart skips a beat as his attention turns to you, and you see his mischievous smile. “Can't you smell that?”

You blink in confusion and draw your brows together critically, but then you smell it, a very intense floral scent suddenly seems to be in the air, a scent that Crosshair seems to be dragging behind him. You laugh softly, “You've replaced his aftershave with what seems to me to be a very intense, rather feminine scent” Wrecker grins from ear to ear. You sigh softly and say gently reprovingly, “Wrecker, Cross has a date today, as far as I know he really likes the person he's going out with and if he doesn't want to be late, he won't have time to get rid of the wrong scent” “Oh,” says Wrecker a little sheepishly, “that's why he's so angry” You think this could be a brilliant segue, and with your heart suddenly racing, you ask, “Speaking of dates, how about the two of us?” The moment you say the words, you want to sink into the ground. That was far too blunt, too direct, and you actually wanted to say something completely different. But it just slipped out of you. Wrecker's reaction doesn't really help. At first, he just stares at you, perplexed; it's a long, uncomfortably silent moment, and you feel like you're frozen in motion, unable to even change your expression, which is terrible, because you feel like there's a stupid, nervous grin on your lips.

Suddenly, Wrecker bursts out laughing, pats you on the back and continues on his way. “That was a good one!” he says with a rumbling laugh. A humorless little laugh escapes your lips: “Hahaha, yeah, hilarious” You watch Wrecker disappear around the corner. You let your shoulders slump with a sigh. This is not at all what you had in mind. Discouraged, you hang your head. It's not a nice feeling that's spreading through your chest right now. Tech's voice suddenly snaps you out of your gloomy thoughts. “Judging by your body language, you're either very tired or very unhappy” You turn to him, startled, and pull your shoulders back up. With raised eyebrows, Tech comments, “Now you're trying to pretend. You were probably about to tell me you were just a bit tired. Am I right?” Tech had started to learn more about posture some time ago, to read between the lines. However, he still did this in his very direct way every time. When you don't answer him, he asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shrug your shoulders. You would actually like to talk to someone about it, but you're not sure if Tech is the right person to talk to. Nevertheless, you put him in the picture, explaining that Wrecker has either misunderstood you or is not interested in you or a date with you. “It's easy to find out,” says Tech almost cheerfully with a small, satisfied smile, because he's sure he has the solution to your problem. “Oh yeah?” you ask cautiously. The next moment your heart almost stops, because Wrecker is back outside on the landing platform and Tech calls him over to you, “Wrecker, why don't you come and join us for a moment?” You don't have time to object or to make a hasty escape without making a fuss, so you stand rooted to the spot. “What's up?” Wrecker asks happily, glancing from one to the other. Tech says before you can think of anything appropriate to say, “There's been a misunderstanding between you two that needs to be resolved” Wrecker looks at you, puzzled. “Oh yeah?”

You clear your throat and want to say something, but Tech beats you to it again. “When you were asked for a date earlier, it was a serious question” You feel like your heart is going to stop at any moment. Wrecker looks so surprised and confused that you can't even guess where this is going. “Really?” he asks, looking at you. You're so nervous that you don't trust your own voice and just nod. Tech, pleased with himself, pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and says, “I think my work here is done. You're welcome.” Wrecker and you watch Tech for a moment as he goes his way. It takes you a while to look nervously at each other. He grins cautiously at you, scratches the back of his head nervously and stammers, “The night's supposed to be starry tonight, we could have a picnic on the mountain, look at the stars.” “Is that an invitation to a date?” you ask with a slowly widening smile. Wrecker shrugs his shoulders a little helplessly, “Yeah, sure. Do you like that sort of thing?”

“I like everything I can do with you,” you say, beaming. Wrecker beams back and says enthusiastically, “Then we'll do the picnic tonight, take candles and stuff. And on the weekend we could go to the fair!”

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@ivyyyyy

[jennsterjay]

Ganke M uses a dimensional watch to meet himself from 1610

The two then get the brilliant idea to switch outfits and see if Miles and Miles G notices

[Earth 42]

Miles G:

Ganke:

Miles G:

Ganke:

Miles G: I know you're not him bro

[Earth 1610]

Miles: And then when the Spot was about to unleash this Kamehameha type blast, Mayday latched onto his leg and he saw her and then gave up instantly!

Ganke M (with a mischievous grin on his face): Wow that shit is crazyyy

Miles: For real! Any way man you wanna hop on the game?

Ganke M: Ooo what we playin?

Miles: Fortnite

Ganke M:

Ganke M: ...What's Fortnite?

Miles looks at him horrified