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belliesy · 2 years ago

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HELPING HAND. miguel o’hara x reader

TAGS. afab!reader, virginity loss, overstimulation, squirting, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, riding, soft to rough, belly bulges, breeding, size difference, friends to lovers, pwp

SYNOPSIS. you and miguel have been friends for a couple of months now and when you bring up how embarrassed you are of still being a virgin, miguel is very eager to help you with your problem // not proofread

Miguel has you lying on your back, legs propped up and spread as he gives you soft kisses. Down your neck, on your shoulders, and down your stomach. He lifts his head up, “are you sure your okay with this, princesa?” You nod and Miguel continues kissing down, over your clothed cunt. The wet stain grows larger from the little amount of friction and the excitement of seeing a man much larger than you on his knees and being so delicate with you. Miguel taps your leg, signaling you to lift up your hips and you do. He slides the damp panties down your legs and tosses them to the side.

He places a kiss across your pussy before spreading your legs more and starts sucking on your clit. The sudden pleasure makes you moan loudly, putting your hand over your mouth and grinding your hips into him. Miguel releases it with a pop and drags his tongue up and down. Your shuddering from the feeling and your other hand reaches down to grab his hair. Miguel slowly starts to nudge his tongue into you while one of his free hands rub your swollen clit. Miguel flicks his tongue in a way that has you screaming, you remove your hand from your mouth and use both hands to push more into his mouth. Your babbling incoherent sentences and bucking your hips into him. Miguel can feel how close you are and quickly switches his tongue and fingers, his fingers move in ways that have your legs shaking, hitting your g-spot and making you feel so full by only two fingers. He switches between flicking and sucking on your sensitive clit, your fluttering around him and Miguel moans into your cunt. “Mm, god yes, Miguel!” You cry, moaning and panting, your legs wrap around his head, trapping his head. Miguel continues his pace and feels you come undone below him. Your whining and moaning about how good it feels as you cum allover Miguels fingers.

Miguel removes his fingers slowly, and places a kiss to your clit and watches as your cum drips down onto the bed below you. Your legs slowly relax and settle onto the bed, the sudden realization of what just happens hits you and you cover your face. “What? Embarrassed?” Miguel teases as he stands up in-front of you. You playfully and lightly kick his leg, “what di you think?” You mumble into his hands. Your both silent for a moment, “but, if your fine with it, can we keep going?” You ask, moving your hands down to look him in the eyes. He smirks at you and grabs your hips lifting you up all while putting himself on the bed.

The position has you in his lap while he’s laying on his back, he grabs the hem of his boxers and you lift your hips up off of him. He pulls them down enough so his dick can come out. You settle back down onto his lap and his cock stands in-front of you, almost reaching your belly button. You gasp at the size and Miguel laughs lowly, he places his hand on your hips. You gulp and put your hand around his cock, your thumb on the tip. You rub the precum around it and slowly begin twisting your hand around his dick, up and down. Miguel is lowly moaning at the feeling, it gets you more excited and you move more faster. Getting the precum all over it, making it almost glossy. You continue for a little longer before Miguel grabs your hand. “I can’t wait anymore,” he moans out, he’s looking at you almost like he’s begging you to ride him, to just put him inside of you.

You release your hand and lift your hips up more and pushing them forward, his tip lines up with your hole and you both whimper at the contact. You slowly, push down, the thickness and length cause a little panic. You hope that both of your cum from before would make this less painful. Miguel places his hands on your hips, “your doing so good, pretty girl.” Miguel praises. “Mm, I don’t think im even an inch in, Miguel” you whimper. “Hush, and let me be nice” Miguel responds, you giggle and lean your head down to his forehead. You both stare into each others eyes and Miguel kisses you. It’s short and sweet and makes your face go hot, you pull away feeling embarrassed again and continue lowering yourself down, pushing through the thickness and slight stinging pain. Miguels hands rub your hips, “feel so good already, baby.” Miguel keeps on praising you through it, making you wetter. Sooner or layer you finally bottom out, your panting and out of breathe, you both stay still for a minute. While you adjust to the new feeling, Miguel is trying not to buck into you. You feel so good around him, so wet and warm.

“Fuck, I don’t think I ever wanna get out of you.” He moans when you slowly push up. “You feel so good, Miguel, making me feel so full..” You moan out. Your hips make a even and slow pace, bouncing up and down on Miguel. Your head is thrown back and your clawing at Miguels chest and sides. Miguel is fixated on the slight bulge in your stomach, his gaze switches between the bulge and your pleasure written face. You look so pretty when you feel good, it drives him crazy. Your whimpering and moaning out and build the pace up. Moving your hips in a angle that makes you lose more of your mind, to lost into it your pace isn’t as steady, switching between bouncing and grinding. Miguel sits under you moaning and grunting, feeling so good from you. He’s obsessed by how your hips role onto his dick, how your moaning his name, whimpering about how he makes you feel so good. He feels almost proud of how his dick is making you feel so good, making you go dumb. Your hips suddenly start jerking more fast then before, your head is thrown back even more and the moans are louder than ever. He watches as your hips slowly stop and as you squirt all over his lower stomach and dick.

“Oh, fuck.” Miguel watches you captivated at your expressions. You lift your head up and lean over him panting. “You looked so pretty, cariño,” Miguel mumbles, grazing his knuckles against your cheek, “wish I could have taken a photo of it.” He teases, you both laugh put of breathe.

You lay down on Miguels chest, him still in you. You relax, but suddenly feel Miguels hands on your hips again. His hips buck up into you from below you, you gasp and lift your head up and stare at each other while moaning. “What? Forget that I have to cum too?” He teases before kissing you roughly. Its sloppy and drool drips down but you couldn’t care less when Miguel is pounding into you from below. You moan into the kiss, his thrusts reaching so deep into you. “Hah, fuck pretty girl, I’m gonna cum soon.” Miguel moans, you bury your head into his neck and let him pound into you like a doll. It feels so good, your already so close again. The overstimulation has you praying it stops soon but at the same time its the best feeling ever. Miguel moans loudly, it sounds so so pretty and makes you squeeze tight around him.

His hips keep pounding into you as he cum’s inside of you, filling you so full and making you feel so good. You cum again and scream into his neck. Pussy fluttering around him, his thrust become sloppy and slow until finally his hips lay down flat on the bed again. Your both panting and overstimulated. Miguel leads your face to his and he cradles your face as he kisses you slowly, he mutters something between the kiss. “Good job, pretty girl, that was so good.” Miguel says.

Your face grows warm again and you sit up and move out of him. He sits up after you and grabs you, carrying you to the bathroom bridal style while still giving you kisses on your cheeks, lips, and forehead. Showering you in praise while making sure he takes care of both of your bodies after what had happened.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #how do you end stories bro idk #idk if i like this #sos

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ephemeral-love-4 · 1 month ago

Text

Linger

── .✦ Lilia Calderu X Princess! Reader

╰┈➤Chapters : 3/3

Word count : 14k

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The world had changed, but Lilia Calderu remained.

She had watched centuries unfold before her eyes, empires rising only to crumble into dust, cities blooming into towering steel forests, the stars remaining the only true constant in the vast, shifting sky. Time softened the edges of her grief, dulled the sharpest aches, but it never erased the shape of her from her heart.

For years, she searched— chased after whispers, followed fleeting glimpses of a familiar soul in unfamiliar faces. She scoured ink-stained archives, whispered spells beneath silver moons, traced lifelines in trembling palms, all in a futile attempt to reclaim what had been lost.

But fate was cruel. Always cruel.

So, Lilia stopped searching.

Instead, she built a life— a quiet one. A small shop on the corner of an unassuming street, tucked between a nail salon and a maintenance store. Madame Calderu’s had a reputation. Some called her a fraud, others swore by her readings, and a few came only for the atmosphere, enchanted by the scent of incense curling through candlelit air.

Lilia didn’t care much either way. She lived. That was enough.

Until the day the bell above her door rang.

She barely glanced up as she walked through the beaded curtain, adjusting her rings with practiced ease, preparing to deliver the usual greeting.

"Welcome to the curious," she began, voice smooth and familiar on her tongue. "Are we looking ahead of us or behind—"

Then she saw her.

Her breath caught.

She nearly dropped the ring she had been idly toying with.

"No…"

It wasn't possible.

For lifetimes, she had seen echoes of the past in strangers’ faces. A tilt of the head, a fleeting expression, the way a certain woman might laugh under her breath— but this? This was different.

This was her.

The same face. The same posture. The same slight furrow of the brows as she examined the shop with quiet curiosity.

Lilia felt as though she had been thrown into the depths of the ocean, her lungs aching from the weight of something she had long buried.

She barely registered the name escaping her lips.

"Y/N…?"

The woman blinked, startled. Then, to Lilia’s silent horror, her lips curled into an amused smile.

"Whoa, how do you know my name?" Y/N asked, tilting her head. "Wait— oh my god, is it cause you’re psychic?"

Lilia’s stomach twisted.

She doesn’t remember.

Of course, she wouldn’t.

This was a new life. A fresh slate. A reincarnation untouched by the love and loss that had once defined them.

A thousand responses flickered through Lilia’s mind, but she merely smiled, slipping into her role as easily as slipping on a familiar cloak.

"Something like that," she murmured.

Y/N let out a laugh, stepping further inside. "Okay, that’s kinda spooky. Do you, like, read minds or just futures?"

"Futures, pasts, possibilities," Lilia answered smoothly, gesturing toward the round wooden table near the window. A well-worn deck of tarot cards rested at its center, edges softened by centuries of use. "Would you like a reading?"

Y/N hummed, considering. Then, with an easy grin, she nodded. "Sure, why not? Let’s see what fate has to say about me."

She sat, and Lilia took the seat across from her, forcing herself to breathe evenly as she shuffled the deck.

"Think of a question," she instructed, keeping her voice calm despite the storm raging in her chest.

Y/N tapped a finger against her lips before nodding. "Got it."

Lilia drew the first card.

The Wheel of Fortune.

Fate. Cycles. A pattern repeating itself.

A cold weight settled in her stomach.

She drew the second card.

The Lovers.

A bond. A choice. Love, unbroken by time.

Lilia hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the last card.

The Tower.

Destruction. Upheaval. The past colliding with the present.

A chill ran down her spine.

"Whoa," Y/N murmured, leaning forward to study the illustrations. "That looks… intense. What does it mean?"

Lilia forced herself to exhale slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"It means… Life is unpredictable," she said, keeping her tone even. "Cycles repeat, choices shape our paths, and sometimes, change comes when we least expect it."

Y/N tilted her head. "That’s cryptic."

"That’s tarot," Lilia countered with a smirk, gathering the cards before she could dwell on them any longer.

Y/N laughed, pulling out her wallet. "Well, that was fun. How much do I owe you?"

Lilia told her, accepting the money with a polite nod.

And then just as Y/N turned to leave— Lilia’s hand shot out, gently grasping her wrist.

Y/N looked back, surprised.

"Stay," Lilia said softly. "Just for a bit. Have tea with me."

Y/N blinked. Then, after a beat, she smiled. "Well, I can’t say no to free tea."

Lilia led her through the shop and into the private sanctuary of her small flat. The space was warm and lived-in, filled with books stacked in precarious towers, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, soft golden light pooling over wooden floors.

Lilia moved automatically, setting the kettle on, pulling out an old tin. She hadn’t brewed this tea in years— not since her. And yet, her hands moved as if no time had passed at all.

Y/N accepted the cup, cradling it in her palms before blowing gently on the surface. She took a slow sip.

Then she froze.

Lilia waited, her heart lodged in her throat.

"That’s weird," Y/N murmured, staring into the tea.

"What is?" Lilia asked, feigning innocence.

Y/N took another sip, brows furrowing. "This tastes… nostalgic. I don’t know why. It’s like I’ve had it before, but I haven’t."

Lilia’s fingers curled around her own cup. "Some things linger beyond memory," she said softly.

Y/N glanced up at her, an unreadable expression flickering behind her eyes.

Silence settled between them, warm and heavy, filled with the weight of things unspoken.

Then, finally, Lilia spoke.

"So," she asked, watching her closely. "What’s your story?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The door chime rang as Y/N stepped out, disappearing into the city beyond.

Lilia stood frozen, her fingers curled loosely around the teacup Y/N had just held. The warmth still radiated through the porcelain, but the space across from her was empty now, the laughter that had filled the air moments ago already dissolving into silence.

She had spent lifetimes mastering the art of letting go. She had wandered through the years like a ghost, watching the world shift and change, untouched by its warmth. She had built a life in quiet solitude, finding peace in the simple rhythm of existence.

And then, fate had walked into her shop wearing the face of a woman she had mourned for two hundred years.

Lilia exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to steady as she set the teacup down.

She felt it too.

She had seen it in Y/N’s eyes— the way she hesitated, the way her brow furrowed in confusion at the taste of something so deeply familiar. A ghost of recognition, just out of reach. It had been a flicker, a whisper of something long buried, but it was there.

Lilia pressed her fingers to her temple, shutting her eyes.

She had spent centuries learning how to exist without her. Accepting that some things were lost to time. That love, once stolen by fate, could never be reclaimed.

But now, she had returned.

What now?

Lilia had told herself long ago that if reincarnation ever brought Y/N back, she would let her be. That she would not interfere. That she would not reach for something that wasn’t meant to be hers anymore.

And yet, the idea of simply watching her walk away, of never seeing her again, of pretending she hadn’t just shattered centuries of acceptance— felt unbearable.

Her heart ached with something long buried, something she had locked away in the quiet corners of her soul.

Would she let Y/N slip away again, allowing her to live this new life undisturbed?

Or would she stay close, waiting, hoping— perhaps selfishly— for something to awaken?

The weight of the choice settled deep in her chest.

For two hundred years, she had told herself that she was done searching. That the past was the past. That she had made peace with it.

And yet—

For the first time in lifetimes, she had a choice.

Could she allow herself to hope again?

No.

No, she couldn't.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The marketplace is alive with noise and movement, a symphony of clattering carts, murmured negotiations, and the occasional burst of laughter from passing strangers. The scent of fresh herbs, baked bread, and something spiced lingers in the air, mingling with the crispness of the late afternoon breeze.

Lilia moves through the crowd with practiced ease, half-focused on the selection of dried flowers and teas displayed at a nearby stall. She’s not particularly searching for anything—just letting herself exist in the moment, in the rhythm of normalcy.

Then she hears it.

“Okay, but do I really need another houseplant?”

The voice is familiar, touched with humor, light and warm like a memory trying to resurface.

Lilia glances up.

A few feet away, Y/N stands in front of a plant stall, cradling a small potted fern in her hands, lips pursed in mock deliberation. The vendor, an older woman with a kind face, merely chuckles, watching as Y/N debates with herself.

Lilia hadn’t expected to see her here. Hadn’t planned to.

But now that she has, she can’t not speak.

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Lilia remarks smoothly, stepping up beside her. “I have plants that have lived longer than most relationships.”

Y/N startles slightly at the sudden interruption but quickly recovers, turning toward Lilia with a grin. “Lilia! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And yet, here I am,” Lilia muses.

Y/N chuckles, holding up the fern. “Alright, since you’re clearly the expert— what do you think? Should I bring this little guy home, or am I setting myself up for another tragic plant funeral?”

Lilia tilts her head, eyeing the plant with feigned scrutiny. “You don’t strike me as someone who lets things wither easily.”

Y/N scoffs. “My track record says otherwise. I get ambitious, buy a bunch of plants, and then completely forget to water them for weeks.”

Lilia hums thoughtfully. “A resilient one, then. Something that thrives on a bit of neglect.” She gestures toward a nearby selection of succulents. “Perhaps one of these would be a safer bet.”

Y/N laughs. “You might be onto something.” Still, she looks down at the fern in her hands, something soft in her expression. “But I like this one.”

Lilia studies her for a moment, then nods. “Then you already have your answer.”

They chat for a little while longer— casual, easy conversation that feels strangely natural despite the briefness of their acquaintance.

Eventually, Y/N makes her purchase, tucking the small pot carefully into the crook of her arm. As she turns to leave, she glances over her shoulder, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“See you around?”

Lilia holds her gaze, something unreadable flickering behind her dark eyes.

She nods. “See you around.”

And she does.

ᯓ★

The scent of old paper and ink lingers in the air, the kind of quiet, comforting aroma that makes bookstores feel almost sacred. Lilia moves through the shelves at a leisurely pace, fingers skimming along worn spines, her mind only half-engaged in the titles before her.

Then—

"Okay, now you're definitely following me."

Lilia barely has time to react before Y/N steps into view, grinning as she holds up a book like evidence of a crime.

Lilia raises a brow, unbothered. “Hardly.” She lifts the book in her own hands. “Unless you think I’m clairvoyant in more ways than one.”

Y/N laughs, the sound warm, unguarded. “I don’t know, Lilia. That’s twice now. You sure you’re not a little bit psychic?”

More than you know, Lilia thinks. But she only smirks. “Just lucky, I suppose.”

They fall into step together, weaving through the shelves in unspoken agreement. The conversation shifts easily, like it always does. Books, favorite genres, the kinds of stories they’re drawn to.

Y/N turns her book over in her hands, studying the cover. “Do you believe in past lives?”

The question catches Lilia off guard. Her fingers tighten slightly around the spine of her book.

"Yes," she says, carefully.

Y/N hums, thoughtful. “Weird. I always thought if I had one, I must’ve been someone important.” She gives a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “My parents actually named me after that old queen because I apparently look like her.”

Of course they did.

Lilia keeps her expression neutral, though something sharp twists in her chest. “Maybe you were.”

Y/N snorts. “Doubt it. I feel way too boring for that.”

Lilia says nothing.

Y/N doesn’t notice the way her companion’s grip tightens on her book, or the flicker of something unreadable in her dark eyes.

A moment later, Y/N nudges her playfully. “Okay, psychic lady, what book should I get?”

Lilia shakes off the feeling and smirks. “That depends. Are you looking for something new… or something familiar?”

Y/N tilts her head, considering. Then she grins. “Surprise me.”

Lilia does.

ᯓ★

It keeps happening.

A coffee shop.

A park bench.

A train station.

No matter how vast the city is, no matter how many people weave through its streets, they keep finding each other.

And each time, Lilia feels that thread pulling tighter.

At first, she tells herself it’s nothing. A coincidence. But even she doesn’t believe that.

Y/N notices it too, though she doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she finds it amusing.

"Okay, seriously, this is getting crazy," Y/N says one evening as they sit in a dimly lit café. She’s stirring the foam of her drink absentmindedly, eyes flicking up to meet Lilia’s. “Either you’re actually psychic, or we’re caught in some kind of cosmic joke.”

Lilia stirs her tea, unbothered. "Maybe both."

Y/N leans forward, studying her as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. “You always talk like you know something I don’t.”

Lilia’s fingers tighten slightly around her cup. I do, she thinks. I know everything you’ve forgotten.

But she only smirks. “It’s part of my charm.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Mysterious as always.”

Lilia watches the way the light flickers in Y/N’s eyes, and wonders how much longer she can keep pretending.

ᯓ★

The evening air carries the scent of damp earth and something sweet from a nearby bakery. The streetlights flicker to life as the last traces of sunlight fade into the horizon. Lilia and Y/N walk side by side, their conversation easy, unhurried— like they’ve done this before, like this isn’t the first time they’ve fallen into step with each other.

Y/N has a small paper bag in one hand, the remnants of a pastry she swore she didn’t need but ended up buying anyway. Lilia hadn’t indulged, only sipping at a cup of tea she’d bought from a nearby shop. The warmth of the drink is long gone, but she holds onto it anyway, something to busy her hands, to ground her.

As they pass an old thrift shop with its cluttered window display, Y/N slows, reaching into her pocket. "Oh, right," she murmurs, almost to herself, before turning to Lilia.

She holds out her palm, something small resting in the center. "I found this the other day," she says, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Thought of you."

Lilia glances down.

Her breath stills.

The object gleams under the streetlight, faintly catching the glow— an old pendant, delicate yet sturdy, the edges worn with time.

She knows it instantly.

The design is intricate, familiar, an unmistakable mark of the past she’s spent centuries trying not to dwell on. The metal is dulled from age, but the craftsmanship remains. This isn’t just any trinket. This isn’t some random find from a dusty thrift store.

This is the Queen’s.

Her Queen’s.

Her Y/N's

Lilia’s fingers hesitate before picking it up, turning it over, running her thumb along its surface as if to confirm its reality. The weight of it in her palm is heavier than it should be, pressing against something deep inside her chest.

How did this—?

She swallows the thought, forcing her expression into something neutral before Y/N can notice the way her whole world has tilted in a matter of seconds.

"You don’t have to keep it," Y/N says, mistaking her silence for reluctance. "I just— I don’t know. I saw it, and it reminded me of you. Maybe the design? It felt… old, I guess, in a cool way. Thought you’d like it."

Lilia exhales softly, carefully closing her fingers around the pendant.

She should refuse. Should hand it back and walk away before the past comes clawing back in full force.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she looks up, meeting Y/N’s gaze.

There’s something expectant in those eyes, something searching. A thread of recognition, too faint to grasp but there nonetheless, waiting just beyond reach.

Y/N tilts her head slightly, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Do you like it?"

Lilia swallows. "Yes," she says, quietly. "It’s… beautiful."

She wants to say more. To ask how Y/N found it, if something about it called to her the same way it’s calling to Lilia now.

But she doesn’t.

Because that would mean acknowledging what she’s been avoiding all this time.

That fate isn’t done with them yet.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Lilia wonders—

Maybe the past isn’t as far away as she thought.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

જ⁀➴ A/N : Do you all want a sequel?? It kind of ended on a cliffhanger 🧍‍♀️

#patti lupone #lilia calderu #lilia calderu x reader #i don't like this #sos #:(#ahhhhh #agatha all along #wlw

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