#like.. do people actually like my miguel? do they enjoy writing with me? talking to me out of character?

[venbyte]

.

[cheonstapes]

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

But request time gurl!😘😌✊, so what about a nerd!Miguel\dom x nerdygirl!reader LIKE IMAGINE THE FLUFF AND THE SMUT THERE BOTH BE A BLUSH MESS but I feel like Miguel would take the lead and show he dom when doing it like dont blame me! 😭✊ like he still nerdy Miguel we all know the sweet boy but let make the nerd that friend s with the popular group and have a girlfriend who is nerdy!reader and which is a very shy person then Miguel is.

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

@cheonstapes: thank you sm lovelie🩷🩷 apologies it took so long but this was so fun to write and i love your mind. i hope you enjoy beautiful! also tumblr keeps fucking up my italics and bolds so im gonna add them on later!

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

who would’ve guessed the two biggest nerds on campus would’ve gotten together — especially when it was because of your shared interest in genetics. but to miguel’s friends, it was so sweet — a little cringe, but sweet. seeing that it had already been a year since you two started dating, the two of you not being able to hold a conversation without stuttering and blushed profusely was quite concerning.

every time you looked him in the eyes, your heart would suddenly beat a million times faster — face flushing, hands trembling as you try to come off as calm as possible. it was so embarrassing, you could cry just thinking about it. he had such pretty eyes hidden behind those thin frames, didn’t make it better that he would stare into your soul every time you talked.

but miguel wasn’t any better — in fact, he was worse. his whole friendship group being the talk of the college helped miguel to open up more, the persistent attention meaning he had to adapt to being surrounded by people. the incessant staring? that’s him trying to make himself less nervous by making you more nervous so you would stop looking at him so he could admire you without you realising — long, i know. but he loved how sweet you were, the way you were so deeply in love with him — just like he was with you.

walking out of your biology lecture, he speeds up walking to catch you on the othwr side of the room — gently slipping his hands into yours. you tense, looking up at his handsome face before relaxing — “ah, m-miggy!” he smiles so softly, wrapping his beefy arm around your waist. “hey, pretty — you finished for today?” his fingers squeeze the fat of your hips, pulling you into his chest as he leans against a nearby wall.

he always knew how to make you so fucking nervous, staring down at you like you were the centre of his world — which you in fact were. “yeah! i was just gonna go back to my dorm and study. would…well, it’s ok if you’re busy — but do you, maybe, wanna…” god, why is it so hard to ask your boyfriend to hangout! he knew what you wanted to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it. “do i wanna what, hm? i mean — i don’t have any plans later either, i was thinking of going to pete-“

“no!” a brief flicker of slight panic takes over your face, you refuse to be that much of a mess to the point where you can even ask your own boyfriend out. “i mean, would you like to come my dorm tonight? t-to study, obviously.” amazing job, girlfriend, amazing job. once again, he wore that stupidly handsome smirk — fingers kneading the soft flesh of your waist. “study? of course, babe — why didn’t you just ask?” prick.

miguel always said he found it easier to study when you were right next to him — as in, resting in between his legs as your head lay on his chest. “did you get the answer to number 8? i think i missed that lesson…” you tilt your head, looking up at him. you looked so cute with your little glasses as you studied, a small pout on your lips as you tap on his leg for him to help you out.

he was thinking a lot of things right now, and none of them were the answer for number 8. before he met you, miguel was always deep in his studies — head buried in a textbook every night. but now you’re his, he can’t think about anything else. the outline of your chest against your tight shirt, pert nipples straining against the fabric since you insist you feel better without a bra — he wasn’t a perv, but damn if you were making him feel like one.

“u-uh…i think — uhhhh…” he was really fucked. your cute little giggle and the way you shimmied around to sit on your knees, hands clutching his cheeks. “migs, you’re burning up! you ok?” he was no ok, not by a long shot. despite having so much attention on him simply because of the people he’s friends with, miguel was still very much a virgin. yeah, he’s jerked off before — but that was only after he met you. your entrance into his life awakened a part of his brain that he thought was forever stored away — and he did not know how to deal with it.

sex was something the two of you were yet to talk about, 2 years into the relationship and it was like you were kids about to have their first kiss. there were lingering touches here and there, but oh how badly he wants to feel your sweet pussy around him. “can… i touch you?” he could barely register the words that came out of his mouth before he takes in the way your face changes completely. the heat radiating from your cheeks could melt the arctic, that was the one thing you weren’t expecting to hear. at all.

of course, you were a virgin too — all in all saving yourself for miguel for when the time comes. you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. he looked so depraved already, panting softly — hair tousled from when he was laying down, you want him so, so bad. “u-uh, yeah — go ahead!” you didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but miguel didn’t care — a hand immediately trailing up your plush thighs, toying with the edge of your panties under your skirt. “you’re…you’re so pretty.” he could feel his hands shaking, heart pounding in his chest — the warmth of your skin and the small moans leaving your lips were fucking with his head.

the tender skin was so sensitive, causing your thighs to tremble under his touch. he didn’t expect you to be so sensitive. fuck, did he want to tease you for it, but he couldn’t talk — not when he was already about to bust when you haven’t even touched him yet. “mmm — m-miggy.. please..touch me.” you could tell he wanted to, he just didn’t know where to start. his fingers ran up your inner thigh, teasingly running over the small wet patch on your cute panties.

he felt like a newborn learning how to walk again, the rugged rhythm in which he was working your little clit showed how inexperienced he is — but you didn’t care, especially not when you yourself couldn’t even notice his lack of technique. he fully pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them to the side — there was a sharp in take of breath from him as he stared at your bare cunt, his bulge pressing harder aganst the mattress.

“g-god, baby, can… can i taste you, please?” miguel couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, he had dreamed about eating your pretty, little pussy out for ever now, the thought of you denying him that now would break him. “y-yeah, fuck. please, miggy.” his tongue immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers probed your tight hole.

he knew you would need some extra prep to be prepared for taking him, so he made sure to make you feel as good as possible — he wasn’t about to let your first time be your worst. the fat of your thighs were tight around his head, holding him in place as he steadily fucked you with his tongue. for someone who was a virgin only 20 minutes ago, he sure knew how to work that tongue — your breathy moans breaking through the sloppy squelching noises of your wetness.

“migs…i — mmph!” the sensation was unknown but not unwelcome. a firm pressure in your tummy that felt like a dam about to burst all over your boyfriend’s face. miguel’s watched enough porn to know what that sound meant, reluctantly sitting up from his position between your legs to peer down at you — drooling cock bobbing between his thighs. he licked your arousal from his lips, shakily grabbing onto your legs to push them over his shoulders.

“baby, ‘m not letting you cum until you’ve had my cock in you — ‘s not how it works.” he felt like he was going insane, the sight of your pussy, so tantalisingly close to his length — the chubby tip poking against your entrance. you could only nod, you couldn’t argue with that — not when you’ve been waiting for this moment. upon getting your approval, he wrapped a beefy hand around his cock — smearing his pre-cum along your puffy folds.

he was so slow when he pushed into you, the sheer girth of him stretching your poor pussy thin. “fuckin’ hell, baby— s-so, so tight.” his strong hips pounded against your pelvis, your skin tinging a faint shade of red. your body was jostled against the headboard with every thrust, a thick rim of cream forming at his base. miguel was lost in the feeling of your cunt, drooling mindlessly against your neck as he rammed deep inside of you.

“m-miguel…!” the harder he fucked into you, the shakier your voice was — whiny moans and heavy grunts reverberated through your small dorm room. he couldn’t believe how good fucking you felt, your velvety walls gripping onto him like a life line. miguel was completely delirious, only letting incoherent mumbles — a bruising grip on your waist as he brings you back against his cock.

“ohhh, f-fuck…! iloveyou, so — shit, so much!” your pussy was so good, he didn’t even realised it slipped out — i love you. he really did, and in this moment — there was nothing else but the two of you, connecting so beautifully as you give yourselves to each other fully. he messily sucks on the skin just below your ear, simply grinding into your womb as his hand trails down your back — squeezing the flesh of your ass to pull you flush against him.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

you..you love him too? fuck. his hips stilled, gooey cum filling your cunt raw as he pours all of his love into you. miguel’s back heaved, his arms giving out under him as he falls on top of you — wrapping an arm around your waist as he carefully rubs your clit. his heart was soaring, smiling down at you as he fucked himself into overstimulation — determined to see you cum all over his cock.

“my pretty girl, you’re all mine — wanna see you cum. you gonna cum for me, yeah?” god, his voice was husky and deep — tickling your ear and sending tingles down your spine. your legs trembled, cunt spasming as it gushed out that clear liquid. it coated the sheets below you, splashing against his stomach — a low, gravelly moan leaving miguel as he filled you with his cum once again.

the two of you laid in silence for a beat, panting softly as he rested on your chest. one of your hands moved up to cup his face, picking up his glasses from your bedside stand — placing them on his face, albeit with wonkily but it matched that dopey grin on his face. “i swear to god, i’ve turned you into an animal, migs! you sure that was your first time?” giggling, you kissed his lips softly — nimble fingers brushing through his sweaty hair.

“guess i got a bit carried away, huh?” he sighed, softly rubbing your tummy. “‘s not my fault i’ve got the most beautiful, sexiest, most loving, caring, perfect, goddess of a girlfriend anyone could wish for.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

[exhaslo]

hellooo.

I have been reading your stories for a long time, I am totally in love with your writing, and I was wondering if you could accept my requestI've had this story in my head for a while.

basically Miguel is secretly sleeping with the mechanics of the spider society, because they have a "deal" where Miguel can use it wherever he wants, but without any feelings involved of course.

but Miguel ends up falling in love with her, and one day when they fuck, he confesses to her in desperation, because he sees how other spiders are starting to flirt with her, so he decides to confess to have her for himself, which she accepts.

that's all, you can add more things if you like, thank you very much :""

no matter how long you have to wait, take your time

Hello!! Hello! Thank you so much for reading my stories and enjoying them!!! It means a lot to me~

Sorry it took so long for me to get to your request, I was on a small hiatus, (still am actually haha)

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, jealousy, rough sex, dirty talk, possessiveness

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

The atmosphere felt stiff. Normally the basement of the Spider Society did have a thick and sweaty undertone, but this was different. Miguel was standing at the entrance of your shop, watching a few other Spider men flirt with you.

You were the local mechanic at the Spider Society. In your universe, you got bit by a radioactive spider, but instead of fighting crime like everyone else, you built equipment. You were known as The Spider, in your world, a genius mechanic who made tools and gizmos that stopped crime without you getting your hands dirty.

When Miguel recruited you, he immediately requested that you help him with his Spider Society. You agreed on one condition.

Just a simple fuck.

You were still a Spider, you had your own version of a funny bone. It was crude and a very lewd sense of humor, but it helped stick you out from the rest. You didn't expect Miguel to say yes. Hell, no one ever took you seriously when you made your jokes.

It was the best sex of your life, you couldn't just stop there. So, the two of you made an agreement. You would have free range in the Spider Society to do as you please and Miguel would fuck you when he needed to destress.

No emotions involved.

That seemed to be easy for the both of you. Seemed. So, the fact that you felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you made eye contact with Miguel hurt. You were just harmlessly joking with some of the other Spider people who were flirting with you. It was all harmless, but why...

Why did Miguel have to give you such a look?

You didn't have time to call out to him since he left. You could feel your heart ache. You weren't supposed to have feelings for Miguel, but how could you? The endless meet ups for sex turned into deep conversations between the two of you. You fell for Miguel and now you were worried that he believed your 'no emotions' agreement.

---------

Miguel scoffed as he stormed into his office. His hand rushed to fix his hair as he tried to make sense of the scene he just saw. How dare others try to get near you? You were Miguel's and his alone. Just watching you smile towards another man irked Miguel.

This 'no emotions' agreement had to come to an end. You belonged to Miguel and no one else. Inhaling deeply, Miguel waited to calm down before sending you a message. He needed alone time with you to fuck the sense back into your mind.

Once you responded back to him, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It pleased him when you listened. Now, you just had to listen to his demand for you to stay away from others.

----------

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you finished tightening up one of the reactors. The amount of strain that they got due to all of the Spiders working out in the Society was insane. You could handle the work, but Miguel was far too busy to make more.

"(Y/N)? Is now a bad time?" Miguel asked as he casually walked into the basement.

You walked down the wall you were on, "Ah, welcome to my humble lair. For what can I offer you this time, my lord." You teased, enjoying a little cult joke here and there. Miguel, once again, was unamused,

"You always make me seem like the bad guy," He hummed, glancing in your direction, "I suppose I am to you, huh?"

"If I recall correctly, I made the advance." You hummed, approaching Miguel and pressing your body against his, "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Both,"

You felt your heart begin to race as Miguel gripped your waist, pressing you against the wall. His lips roughly sucking against your neck as you felt his harden erection grind against your clothed cunt. Oh, how you loved his rough sex.

Miguel was like a feral beast whenever he fucked you. The man was clearly touch starved and he released all of his stress with you. It was a blissful moment for you. Never had you been so rough handled before, but shit, it felt good.

You gasped sharply as Miguel's hands already worked their way into your suit. Unlike the other Spiders, you had the basic mechanic pants as your bottom half of your spandex suit. It just felt more comfortable for you when saving the day.

"Already so wet. We're you getting off on the idea of others flirting with you?" Miguel hissed into your ear as his fingers feverishly rubbed your clit.

"Hah~ Ah~ N-No!" You gasped and moaned, gripping onto Miguel as he abused your sensitive bud.

"Could have fooled me." Miguel whispered harshly as he nibbled against your ear, "Your pussy is so wet and I haven't even touched your slutty hole yet."

"M-Miguel, n-not so-Ah~" You cried, twitching as you felt your climax approaching fast.

His fingers were rubbing and pinching your clit, making your body shiver in estasy. You moaned in his ear as you felt yourself cum against his fingers alone. Your vision was blurred for a second as you tried to regain composure.

"We're not done yet." Miguel huffed.

With a yelp, you felt your self being lifted. Miguel made quick work of your pants and smirked at the sight of you. Your pussy dripping for him, just waiting to be ravished. You were clenching to air, waiting for Miguel to give you what you wanted.

"Who does this pussy belong too?" Miguel asked as he took out his dick.

"You," You whimpered, biting your lip as you eagerly awaited for him to fill you.

"Who?"

"You, Miguel! Please, just...just fuck me already." You begged.

Miguel scoffed as he slowly poked his tip against your hole. His grip was tight against your waist, watching you tremble against him. Your poor hole just begging for him to shove his dick fully inside you. Miguel could barely contain himself. With a grunt, he started to thrust into you,

"Fuck, (Y/N), why can't you listen to me?" Miguel cussed as he slapped his hips into yours, "You are mine alone. This agreement was just for the two of us."

"I-It is!" You cried, holding onto Miguel as you felt his dick hit all the right spots.

You flung your head back, gasping and moaning as Miguel's tip kept kissing your cervix. His thick dick stretching your pussy into his shape. Each rough thrust making you see stars. You could already feel another heat building in your core.

"You aren't allowed to flirt with anyone else. You are mine. I don't want to see my girl with another man. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes! Ah~ Y-Yes!" You cried as his thumb pressed against your clit, "I-I'm only yours~"

Miguel hummed as he watched your face contort with pleasure as you cam against his dick. His lips curled into a smile as he continued his rough thrusts into your needy hole. Miguel inhaled the sounds of your moans,

"I love you, (Y/N). You're all I ever need and want. So, I'm changing the agreement."

Grunting, Miguel pressed his head against your neck, rutting deeper into you. His thrusts starting to grow sloppy as he reached for his own high.

"You can still do whatever...nh...you want, with extra bonuses," Miguel panted as you clenched around his dick, "And in exchange, you will belong to me and no one else. I will fill you with every drop I have, just to make you mine."

"H-Hah, M-Miguel~"

"Unless your slutty pussy wants to be put on display for everyone to watch me fuck. It's your choice (Y/N)." Miguel scoffed.

You were too fucked out to even register what Miguel was saying. All you were understanding was that he was going to fuck you more if you agreed. Your cock drunk mind already knew the answer.

"Y-Yours. I-I'm all yours~" You cried out.

"Good girl," Miguel whispered and he filled your with his cum, "I knew you would agree. This pussy wouldn't let me go." He said with a chuckle.

You were a panting mess, relaxing from the sex session Miguel gave you. Feeling your back against one of your tables, you whimpered as you tried to squirm. Miguel kept you in place, his dick still firmly inside your abused hole.

"Miguel," You whimpered, finally coming back to your senses, "You know...my sense of humor is fucked...I've only ever had eyes for you," You admitted.

Miguel just smiled. He hummed lowly as his hips started to thrust inside you again slowly.

"A-Ah~ W-Wait, t-too much..." You pleaded, feeling him push back his cum into your womb. Miguel held your legs over his shoulders,

"Have you already forgotten what you agreed too? You belong to me now and this pussy doesn't want to let go of me just yet. Don't you want me to fill you to the brim?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine towards his words. Miguel was always a bit cruel when it came to sex, but goddamn. Such a threat turned you on so much. With a whimper, you just nodded and accepted the abuse your cunt was about to recieve.

"Good girl. I'll treat you nicely for behaving for me."

This was nice? Miguel was pounding you like a flesh of meat. His dick twitching inside you and filling you up with each thrust. You felt your mind go hazy from cumming again. This felt more like Miguel making sure that you knew that you were his.

You weren't sure how long Miguel fucked you for since you blacked out. When you came too, you were sitting on Miguel's lap as he worked on a new reactor. Your mind was still a little fuzzy and your lower half was sore.

"Damn....Miguel...could have been a little gentle?" You whispered, winching as you tried to move.

"You didn't ask," Was all Miguel said before returning to work.

"Fair enough," You replied before sighing softly, "I love you too, Miguel."

Miguel stopped working once more before facing you. His eyes were soft as he leaned down to kiss you. This was one of the agreements during your 'no emotions' contract. No kissing. So this was really, really nice.

"Mhm, you couldn't have gotten jealous sooner?" You chuckled lowly, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I like this evil side of yours~"

"It's not evil. Stop joking like that," Miguel grumbled before leaning towards your ear, "Or else I'll have to punish you."

A punishment well worth.

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

I hope you enjoyed!!!!

[bluesidez]

AHH CMON REQUESTS!! I know the inbox is flooded girl omg.

okay so as a request, i would really love to see a story where black, plus size reader and Miguel take on wedding planning. Reader is happy enjoying cake tastings, dress shopping, venue hunting etc. and groomzilla!miguel is trying to make everything perfect for her. It can be nsfw, but I trust you with whatever the vibe is! Love you down!! ✨✨✨✨

["It’s My Wife’s Day!"]

lab tester: @leoeloo 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader, black!Reader, PlusSize!reader

summary: No one is going to stop Miguel's fiancé from having the best day of her life, not if Miguel has anything to do with it.

content warning: AAVE (YAY!), sorry to anyone named Elana or Finley, Miguel gets a little mean here (I tried to keep it reasonable but he’s giving Libra Diva DOWN), mentions of food, some cultural (traditional) things from both sides but nothing crazy, there is one scene that could be triggering for my fellow big girls (but it's handled with care I promise), 18+ at the end so MDNI, it's also pretty suggestive throughout

word count: 8,888k EXACTLY (there should be no mistakes for as long as I've been working on it....but hey)

a/n: AHHHH! I was so happy to receive this request! (You have also been very sweet to me since my very first fic and I really appreciate that!!!) I said on my blog that I really love all things weddings, so this was a super fun write. I just love imagining Miguel in this position of making sure that his girl has everything while the girl is in complete bliss. (The mom here was also heavily inspired by my own mom who is much more active than I am in terms of telling people off.) As per our DMs, I did sprinkle in a little GR!Mig mannerisms! And! I added him being super in love with reader…but that’s a given. I do hope you enjoy! Also, I LOVE YOU!

Miguel refers to reader as his wife constantly before they’re actually married.

Also a headcanon for Miguel here that isn’t said explicitly is that his Libra trait of indecisiveness is on at all times. 

Miguel could never forget the day you set his heart ablaze when you said those destined words:

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He was over the moon. Weeks of him getting you to warm up to him, months of him chasing after you, years of him trying to show you that he’s the right one for you, and finally, your hand was adorned in the rock he’s been planning for you for eons. You were truly his lady, now and forever. 

The proposal was quiet and intimate, mostly because Miguel was a bit fearful you would say no, a seed of doubt growing the longer he waited. He steadily reminded you to get your nails done and paid for your hair appointments every now and then. Each time he thought he could do it, he chickened out. 

Then, one night under the stars after an unnecessary work event, his feelings just overloaded. 

You were so ethereal.

He remembers you laughing over something his drunk coworker had said, eyes sparkling as you retold the story. Your curls were parted to the side, earrings dangling past your jaw. Your legs were swinging over the edge of his trunk, not a care in the world as you talked with vigor. 

He thought that he couldn’t live without this. He couldn’t have a life without small moments like this with you. He couldn’t imagine a moment where you weren’t by his side. 

So, the words spilled out of him like water. He took your hands in his and poured his heart out. Finally, the ring box that had practically melted a shape into his thigh was being freed. 

You cried when you noticed what he was doing, emotions doing a complete 180. 

“No wonder you kept giving me extra money for my nails,” you let out a watery laugh as you leaned into him. 

Now, here you both were, almost a year later in the middle of wedding planning. 

The theme and colors were carefully handpicked, the venue was booked, and almost every week, the two of you had something to look forward to. 

Miguel was currently prepping ingredients for tonight’s dinner, listening as you chatted about your great wedding dress search of the day. 

“We stopped by one store, but the lady behind the desk immediately turned us down. I didn’t want to ruin such a good vibe, so I left it at that. Ma was ready to hurt her though.”

Miguel felt his nerves tighten at the news, “What?”

“Yeah, as soon as me and my entourage walked in, she ran up to us saying something about a short stock, but we knew she was lying-”

“What’s the name?”

You raise your eyebrows at his abruptness. 

“Miggy, it’s really ok. Don’t worry over this,” you got closer to him, taking his face into your hand. 

“I’m not. What’s the name?”

You pull his face down to yours, “Nuh uh. I’m not giving you the name. We said we weren’t going to be stressed out over this process, remember?” 

Miguel closed his eyes and brought his hands down your body, leaning his forehead against yours, “I remember.” He blew out a breath and squeezed your ass in hopes that it would help calm him down. 

“Good. Now, you stay right here and I’ll go get ready for dinner. I wanna tell you about this poor girl whose dad didn’t like a single thing she put on.”

You kiss him three times, the last kiss lingering a little longer with Miguel humming into your lips and lean back with a warm smile. Miguel’s hands clinged to you until you were too far to reach and you walked upstairs to change into your house clothes. 

Miguel stood next to the island, tapping his fingers against the granite with a tongue poking into his cheek. 

The dress shopping process was the one he was the least involved in, opting to be surprised on the day you walked down the aisle. You wouldn’t even let his family pitch in for the dress, saying something about running up your dad’s pockets. 

But how does a dress shop conveniently run out of dresses once his fiancé walks in?

Right as Miguel was considering googling every dress shop in the area, his phone buzzed to life. 

Just the person he wanted to hear from.

“Hello?” Miguel turned to toss some butter on a skillet, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“Miguel…”

He stopped in his tracks, knowing the exact tone of voice your mother was using. 

“What happened?”

“Today was so beautiful!”

���But?”

“But that one shop on James Street? Terrible.”

Miguel would have usually chuckled at the dramatics, but this situation was no laughing matter to him.  

“You should have seen the way the people in there turned they nose up at us! One lady was about to jump out of her skin. All of this for some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Miguel shifted his position and stood up straight, tossing minced garlic in the sizzling butter, “Did they say anything to you?” His hands were gripping the phone enough to leave indents on his skin.

“Other than telling us how she wouldn’t have anything we would like, no. She didn’t even want us taking a seat in the lobby.”

He moved to grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer, “Do you have the name of the shop?”

“Lady Love. They should call it Lady A Lie.”

Miguel smiled, thankful that he could count on his future mother-in-law to be his partner in crime specifically when it came to making sure that no one brought harm to you. The number one thing that he and your mom had in common was their need to spring into action.

“Thank you. She didn’t want to tell me anything.”

“Trust me, if she hadn’t begged me not to act a fool, I would have cussed that heifer out. She was so nasty and so rude. That ol’ cow.”

“They’ll have a notice from my lawyer by the morning.”

Your mother hummed, “Let me get my iPad out and get to rating they store. It was a bleach blonde butched buffoon named Elana at the front desk. She was the one giving my baby a hard time. Nobody in there was trying to stop her either.”

“I’ll remember that,” Miguel could hear you coming down the stairs, fuzzy slides creating a steady tempo against the floor. “Let me call you back later.”

“She must be coming back. Tell her to bring me back my shoes!”

Miguel chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Was that Ma?”

“Yeah,” Miguel reached to place some chicken on the hot skillet, satisfied with the simmered ingredients he added. “She said to give her those shoes back.”

“She’ll get them back! I’m using them right now. What else were you two talking about?”

Miguel turns down the boil of the pasta noodles, shoulders tensing, “She was telling me about Lady Love.”

You clicked your teeth, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I’m not!” He turned the chicken over while you grumbled into his back. “But she called me with very upsetting news. What am I but a good son? I had to listen.”

“You two are gonna work my nerves.”

“Don’t say that. We’re just not going to sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. What kind of man would I be if I just let somebody not treat you right and I have the means to stop it? So, please. Let me do this.”

You huffed and buried your face into his back, fingers pressing into his skin. His words shut you up. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you, cariño. Now, can you get the salad and the wine out of the fridge? This is almost ready.”

“What are you making?”

“Marry Me Chicken and Pasta.”

“So funny.”

“Ah, I know. It must really work, huh?”

Miguel walked hand-in-hand with you down the fancy boutiques in the shopping district. 

You both had just gotten done wandering aimlessly as you waited for the cake-tasting appointment. Miguel had to be stopped multiple times from buying everything you complimented. 

He was extremely happy to see you giddy about the cake tasting. It was something you’ve been looking forward to since the day you both confirmed a wedding date. 

He’s studied your Pinterest boards heavily, the notifications dinging with every pin. He knows you want to go all out for the cake. Something large enough to feed both of your huge families and something grand enough to match the venue and the theme. 

He arranged for the best of the best to be trying out today and if that didn’t work, he’ll seek someone else. He’ll even bake the cake if he has to, although you’d push him out of the kitchen.

“I hope they have that Biscoff flavor. I heard it was really good,” you turn to him with a hopeful smile. 

Miguel smiled back at you, “I’m sure they will.”

He only lets go of your hand to hold the door open for you, eyes enjoying the view of your body in the flowy dress you were wearing. Earlier, he couldn’t stop kissing over the deep Queen Anne neckline of it, claiming that you smelled too good. You two almost didn’t make it out of the house on time.

“Hello! Welcome in!”

The bakery was bright and homey. The desserts on display were placed on light peach stands and risers and the smell of caramel and cinnamon was strong in the air. Square canvases covered the walls with cute paintings of some of the featured desserts.

“Miguel, look!”

You pull him over to some Miffy-shaped buns filled with different flavored custards. 

“That is too adorable to even eat.”

“But I do hope you’d still be willing to give it a taste!”

You both look up to the friendly face behind the counter. They were a lanky figure with a glitter tattoo of a unicorn cupcake planted on their arm and pink gauges in their ears 

“You two must be the future Mr. & Mrs. O’Hara. Lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Miguel reached his hand out to give a firm shake. 

“My name is Finley and I’ll be assisting you all today. We have several beautiful flavors for you to try.”

Finely directed you both to a square table booth in the corner of the bakery. Miguel slid next to your right side in order to wrap his arm around with one hand and eat with the other. 

“Other than the standard Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry & Cream, Red Velvet, Marble, and ‘Wedding Cake’ flavors that we offer, the samples for you here include Tiramisu, Passionfruit, White Chocolate Raspberry, Lemon Blueberry, Cookies & Cream, aaaand Dulce de Leche!”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up, feeling skeptical but open. 

“Woah,” your eyes grew at the neat display of confections before you. “I’m so excited.”

 “I’ll be right over here if you guys need me. Enjoy!”

You picked up a fork and dug straight into the Strawberries & Cream.

“That is so freaking good,” you groan out, eyebrows scrunching. 

“Let me see,” Miguel turned to you with his mouth open, eyes full of mirth.

“Miguel, please.”

“What? It’s practice for the real deal.”

“When we’re the only ones in here?”

“It’s going to feel like an intimate moment just between us, no?”

You sigh, defeated. He doesn’t even budge when you shove a giant piece of cake in his mouth. He grabs your hand before you can retreat, licking slowly away at the leftover cream. 

He focuses on the golden fork, working in between the prongs. Time slows down as you watch the white icing disappear into his mouth. His eyelashes are long and pretty and his lips are plump and a little wet from his tongue. 

One more pass of the fork through his mouth and he’s looking up at you with the same fire from this morning. 

You clear your throat, “Is that how you’re going to eat the cake?”

“Something like that.”

You two slowly but surely make it through the rest of the flavors with you trying to stay unflustered and Miguel trying to up the ante. 

He’s grinning and chuckling at your ruffled state until you get to the Dulce de Leche cake. He harrumphs as you cut into it. 

“No, no, you wanna eat cake so bad, so eat it!”

“This isn’t the cake I was talking about-”

“I’m going to shove this fork so far down your throat if you even think of finishing those thoughts out loud.”

 “You know I love it when you get that way,” Miguel sighs and reaches to eat from the fork before you can say anything back. 

You wait in silence as you watch his face contort from disgusted to neutral to pleased. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“A little too sweet. Abuela wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you like it, though?”

He paused as he watched you take a bite. 

“Maybe.”

“Would you like it as our wedding cake?”

“No….”

You smirked at him, “But you want it as your groom’s cake?”

“…Yes.”

He looks so conflicted about it that you almost feel bad for him.

“Miguel it’s ok if you like it, no one is going hurt you. You know you have a sweet tooth.”

“It is really delicious, like eerily so. It’s not my favorite cake, though.”

“Oh? Was it the Cookies & Cream one?”

“Close.”

You look around the plate, confused as to how fruit flavors have anything to do with sandwich cookies. 

Miguel got closer to your ear, lips grazing the top, “My favorite is you.”

You push his face back with your hand while he grins into your palm. 

“I see you two lovebirds are enjoying everything,” Finley walks back over to the two of you. “Any standouts?”

Miguel lists off the ones you were enjoying the most with ease. 

“We also enjoyed this Dulce de Leche one but we decided it would be best for my cake but before we move on, do you have any Biscoff cake samples that we can try?”

“Of course, let me go get that for you.”

He looks back at you cheesing at him.

“You remembered!”

“Always.” 

Finley comes back with a small Biscoff bundt cake. 

“Now, unfortunately, we don’t offer this flavor for any tiered cakes.”

You took a bite and almost soared. The flavors were just the right mix of salty and sweet, some caramel coating the top. 

Miguel looked from you to Finley, “Can you just do it for one tier?”

“Um, I can ask my boss when she comes back-”

“You can leave her number with me. I would really love to talk with her face-to-face.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good,” Miguel reaches over to wipe some salt off of your lips. “My wife wants a pretty grand cake and she has some particular ideas. We want to be really involved in the process for the best result. No surprises.”

“Absolutely. Would you still want to place that order for the groom cake? We have a sale on toppers for them right now.”

They place a pamphlet on the counter with countless toppers of grooms in pure agony. Some are being dragged by their wives and others are running away. Miguel turns his lip up and moves his eyes to Finely without lifting his head up. 

“These are very tacky and senseless, so no. We’ll place the order for it at the same time as the main cake.”

Finely moves to remove the pamphlet, face red and eyes wet, “I apologize. A lot of the future husbands enjoy them.”

“Do I look like the other husbands that come through here?”

“N-no sir! Not at all.”

“Tell you what, give me your boss’s number and your business card. We’ll circle back. Thank you for today’s tasting.”

“L-let me at least give you some extra dessert before you leave. Free of charge!”

Miguel helps you stand as Finley hops around the store grabbing any and everything. 

“I really hope you consider choosing us for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“Your! Your wedding!”

“Hmph.”

Miguel grabs the box from Finley’s shaking hands and promptly leaves the store with you on his arm. You turn back to Finley with an apologetic look and a quiet sorry leaving your lips, though you’re sure they’re still shocked by Miguel’s behavior. 

“I’m going to set up more appointments. We need a backup cake,” he says as he guides you back to the car. 

“You loved those cakes and you scared that poor person to death.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just me eating these cakes. And those were some of the most horrible toppers I’ve seen yet. Who does that?” 

“You would be shocked to know that not every man is willing to celebrate and proudly love their partner.”

Miguel turned the car on and let the cool AC hit his face. 

“But, if you still want to look at more bakeries, we can. More cake for me.”

You turn his face to yours and kiss his lips gently. 

“Now what’s all this about eating me-flavored cake?”

He shifts the gear into reverse, “Let’s get home and you’ll find out.”

When you said you wanted creative and unique pre-wedding photoshoots, Miguel didn’t hesitate to make sure he could pull it together for you. Now he’s starting to regret it. 

You walked out into the studio apartment with an oversized button-down that looked like it could be his, some thigh-high stockings squeezing at your thick thighs, and some black lingerie peeking through the thin shirt material. Your makeup was simple but jaw-dropping with glossy lips and a lovely blush that brought out a glow to your skin. Your hair was in a blowout style, curls bouncing with every step closer to him.

This specific photographer that you had mentioned in awed passing was known for her eye for romantic detail. Her pictures truly captured the love between couples in raw form. When you showed Miguel the pictures on her website, he was quick to get in touch with her to set up a decent amount of photoshoots. What he didn’t expect was for her to have an influx of assistants and protégés to have wandering eyes. 

“Are you going to move the lights or are you going to keep gawking at my wife like an idiot?” 

The one assistant who clearly didn’t understand what Miguel’s death stares meant jumped at his voice and rushed to move things within the set, the entire back of his neck beet-red. 

“Baby, don’t be like that, he might just be nervous,” you slid your hands up his chest, straightening out his “work” shirt. “Don’t fuss at him.”

 “He should do his job then,” Miguel shifted his gaze from the scrambling boy to you, voice getting quieter as he peered down at your excited face. “You do look beautiful, though. Can’t blame him.”

“You like it?” There was a spark in your eye. It was something that Miguel knew all too well.

He glided his fingers down your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the shirt. Your eyes never left his lips as he drew closer. You could feel his breath covering your skin.

The flash of a strobe light caused you to jump.

“These are going to make such stunning outtakes,” Xina gasped as she moved her camera back up to her face again. “Sorry to scare you. Please continue this and we can do the original plan in a second.”

You laughed as Miguel pulled you even closer, pressing kisses against your neck to avoid ruining your makeup. 

The original idea of the shoot was to have Miguel look like he’s coming home from work and walking in on you dancing around in his clothes. The idea was cute, domestic, a little sexy, and true to life. While it wasn’t the set of photos going out with your wedding invitations, it was something fun for your socials. 

As the scene played out, Miguel didn’t expect you to open up your shirt even more as he came back through the entryway. It made for a nice expression when he looked up to see you passionately dancing around the couch. 

You urged him toward you with your finger, hips moving to the music blasting over the speakers Xina had behind the equipment. Miguel grinned and headed your way. 

With Xina’s direction, the both of you were able to get out lively photos as if it were just a normal day in the soon-to-be O’Hara home. 

By the time you all were finished, Miguel was only in a tucked-in tank top with his hair tossed and turned. You still looked perfect on his lap, grinning down at him as he mischievously bit his loose necktie that you placed on your shoulders.

“Perfect!” Xina smiled behind the camera. “Now, one little thing I like to do at the end of each shoot is have the couple face me with their faces together for one final picture.”

You kiss Miguel on the corner of his mouth and lay his tie on top of his head before turning to Xina. Miguel follows with a lazy grin on his face.

It would have all been so well if that same assistant wasn’t still staring at you like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before when Xina started to wrap up. 

He met Miguel’s eyes and almost turned blue in the face trying to look busy.

There were so many more photoshoots to go in the near future. He’s not sure how he’ll make it through the next ones without making a scene. 

“Miguel! The invitation samples are here,” you knocked on his office door, giddy with excitement.

Miguel rolls back from his desk, glasses perched on his nose, “C’mon, let me see.”

You stride eagerly to his seat and he’s waiting with the same energy, pulling you into his lap once you’re within arms reach. You make a noise of excitement as run your finger under the envelope flap. Miguel leans his head on your shoulder waiting to finally see the design you so meticulously planned. 

You slid the cardstock out, gasping as you saw the paperdoll drawings of you and Miguel on the page. The artists did a fantastic job of designing you both in such a stylistic, yet recognizable way. 

“Oh my god, look at the little outfits!”

You panned through the cut-out clothes, one with you all’s work outfits, another with casual outfits, and the last one with a wedding dress and a tux. You brought the papers up to cover your mouth as you laughed again. Miguel’s heart soared at the charming way you reacted. 

“Look! They even captured your cute nose right!”

“You love my nose, huh?”

“Stop,” you snicker as you pull out the last picture. It’s one from a more recent photoshoot with you both in formal, dressy attire with scissors and measuring tapes in your hands and paper hearts everywhere to match the paperdoll invitation. 

Miguel took the invitations from your hands, wanting to get a better look. It really was one of a kind, something you both would be able to look back fondly at. 

He ran his thumb across the words, really taking in the fact that you’ll be walking down the aisle right into his arms. He read the words once more. 

Save the date…

2025…

Miguel &…

“How the hell did they spell your name wrong?”

You looked up from the picture in your hand with a frown, “What?”

“We waited this long for samples and they spell your name fucking wrong.”

You read over the invitation again and let out a groan, “Of course. Let me call the company-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You looked busy when I knocked, I don’t want you to get sidetracked.”

“Making sure that my wife’s name is spelled correctly on our wedding invitations isn’t getting sidetracked. I’ll handle it.”

You felt your shoulders drop, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying releasing from your body. 

“Thank you so much, baby,” you sent him the number with a small smile on your face. 

Miguel gave your lips a peck, “Anything for you. Don’t worry your head about it.”

You stood up to leave, but not before he gave your thighs a squeeze. 

When he was sure you rounded the corner, he immediately pressed the number, blowing slowly through his mouth. 

He was about to work his way to free invitations and a year's worth of service once he was finished. 

Miguel laughed at the video you sent him. You were practically glowing with the turquoise waves in the background and braids in your hair. A giant plumeria was tucked behind your ear and you held a big fruity drink in your hand. 

You were out on your bachelorette’s trip, enjoying the waves in the sand as you caught up with your bridesmaids. He hadn’t seen any annoyed texts yet, so he assumed that the trip was not falling to pieces. 

He could hear your friends in the background bickering about how they had to take your phone away sometimes to stop you from texting him. 

“She got a few more months of being a hoe!”

“Will you shut up?! I’m making a video.”

“It’s true, though! We’re about to go get drunk as fuck. Don’t worry, Miguel, we got her!”

You just rolled your eyes and smiled at their antics before the video ends.

The mood of the video contrasted your texts entirely. They really did get you drunk.

“i miss you alreadyyyyyy”

“I miss you too but you need to have fun”

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport in just a few days.”

“good”

“you better be waiting for me”

“i wont you”

“shit”

“want you”

“you and your dick”

“gonna sing to him”

“Him?”

“yeah him”

“he’s mine”

“gonna love on him”

“and you”

“miss you so baaaaad”

“the bed is empty without you :((((“

“I hope you remember all of this when you see me baby”

“my name is mrssss oharaaaa”

“idk who baby is”

“Ok well Mrs. O’Hara you need to go to sleep”

“i will go to sleep mr ohara”

“gonna dream of you”

“and my big dick”

“You do that”

“Send me a pic when you wake up”

The night could have ended perfectly. He knew you had fun and crashed safely in your room. There were no problems with the resort or the reservations. You were constantly flooding his phone with pictures without talking because of the “No Miguel” rule he was sure your friends set. 

Miguel wanted to close his eyes in peace. 

So when his assistant sent him the picture of one of the most crucial parts of your wedding, he could feel his neck tightening. He called Ben instantly.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

“The broom! They had a lot of them at the store but this one was plain and white, so I feel like it’s perfect for the wedding.”

Miguel pinched his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyebrows from molding together, “Do you have a schedule for when you’re this stupid, or is it only reserved for me?”

Ben was silent for a second, “I don’t understand, I thought you said you needed a broom? Is that not what this is?”

“A broom to jump over Reily. For weddings. I told you to check with Jess about it because I knew you weren’t going to have the slightest idea what I was talking about. Imagine if I brought this home to my wife. She would be offended.”

“W-what’s the difference?”

He might find out the difference once Miguel hits him over the head with it. 

“I’m going to fire you.” 

Miguel wasn’t really. He was just so tired. 

“Return the broom. I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

Ben was stuttering and blubbering as Miguel smacked the red button. He needed to look at the pictures you sent again. He didn’t need to fall asleep in such a bad mood. 

Miguel was certain that if he were a celebrity, this would be the wedding of the century with the way the bill was racking up. 

Not that it really mattered, because it was his wife’s day. Anything you wanted, he was going to get it. 

You both agreed on a buffet-style dinner for the reception with different stations and servers to accommodate your huge families. 

Currently, you both were tasting the traditional foods that the caterer had to offer and it was looking less than desirable. 

The greens were a bit bland, the catfish was ok, and the mac & cheese was delicious. 

The pork was a bit dry, the wedding cookies could have been better, and the mole was missing something. 

“I think,” Miguel pushed his food around the plate. “It’s missing banana.”

“Really? I’ve never thought to add that before.”

“For future reference, it’ll really make the difference.”

You wiped your fingers above the plate, “I think this might be a sign to leave the traditional stuff to our dessert table. Some of these are great but I’m sure both of our families will be up in arms with complaints. And maybe this is for the better! Tradition is too on the nose.”

Miguel admires your positivity because this is probably the sixth caterer you both have tested out. 

“We know you’re popular from your page, so what is it that you’re most confident in?”

The woman before you all smiled, “Since you're both looking for a pretty ambitious spread, I think things like a pizza bar or build-your-own stations should be the way to go.”

Through another round of dishes, you and Miguel were amazed by the specialties that the chef had to offer from the customization to the endless amount of options.

After a long Q&A trial between the chef and Miguel:

“Do you have simpler options for the kiddos?”

“Is it possible to do this station and this station right next to each other?”

“Should I hire more help for you?”

“Do you sell this mac & cheese separately?”

“Can you try this mole one more time?”

You both settled on five different stations with food ranging from BBQ to fries to candy. No one will be able to say that they went home hungry.

“Are you satisfied?” you rub Miguel’s chest on the way out to the car.

“Completely. I think it’s going to be great.”

The big day was getting closer and closer with finalizations being made and arrangements galore. The cake flavors were chosen, your dress was being edited to perfection, makeup and hair appointments were already made, and Miguel’s suit was tailored like no other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all fitted, especially after Miguel’s constant trips to Lyla’s shop. He was there for nearly every snip, tuck, and seam.

The time was really winding down and you both could really feel that as you walked into the reception venue. 

Miguel woke up that day to a phone call claiming that the venue had been overbooked and was seeking him out to cancel his event. He’s never called people faster in his life. The threats that were made was not something he was proud of, but he’s glad he didn’t wake you up.

Now he has the pleasure of watching you glide around the tables in awe.

“Miguel! Look at the plates! The silverware! The centerpieces!”

It truly was magical watching your vision come to light. 

Miguel followed after you with a grin painting his lips, checking every table for faults. The wedding planner was also next to him, waiting with bated breath for direction from Miguel.

“This should be here,” Miguel pointed to a lone party favor in the middle of a plate.

The planner moves it with ease, used to Miguel’s demands at this point in the process. 

Miguel kept walking towards the tables closest to where you and he would be sitting. 

“I thought I said that these two weren’t supposed to be next to each other? We don’t have time for arguments that night,” Miguel picks up two placeholders. “I don’t want to have to carry our aunts out of here myself. Fix it.”

The wedding planner grabbed them and made a note on their clipboard.

“And where’s the centerpiece for our table?” Miguel checks his watch. “It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There was a delay in the flowers. They were the wrong shade, remember? They should be here first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll have the final touches to it.”

“And you’ll have the pictures sent to me?”

“Of course.”

“Miguel!” you were on the other side of the hall by the dessert table. “The lights over here are shaped like hearts! How cute is that!”

Miguel’s arms unfolded, demeanor shifting as he watched you get excited by the different labels. His chest rose up and the scowl on his mouth disappeared. 

“You really love her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“This is a toast to everyone who has been with us on this long, long journey.”

Your closest friends and family laughed at Miguel’s words. 

Who’s to say that Miguel essentially blacked out making sure that everyone walked down the aisle correctly just a few hours earlier? No one brave enough to bring it to his face.

“You guys have been here from the start. From the moment I decided to pursue this angel of a woman, you guys were right there cheering me on. Now we’re here years later about to take on one of the biggest days of our lives.”

The table was a mix of happiness and nostalgia, excitement and fondness.

“I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of our bridal party. I can’t even thank you guys enough for encouraging us as a couple. The love in this room truly knows no bounds.’

Miguel lifts his glass up with one hand and squeezes your hand with another.

“So here’s to the present and the future. To family and friends. To us, your future O’Hara’s.”

The table clinks their glasses together with a cheer, watching as Miguel kisses you with so much adoration. 

Tomorrow was going to be whimsical.

Today was starting out obnoxious. 

Anything that could go wrong was going wrong for Miguel.

First, woke up almost an hour late due to playing stupid games all night with his groomsmen. He would have preferred one my night with you before the “I do’s,” but apparently that was bad luck. Instead, he got an extensive game night with a couple of beers. Nothing to have him over the edge, but definitely something to make him feel like he was in college again.

Second, he couldn’t find his cufflinks that he had made specifically for this day. They were custom with your initials and your birthstone on them. The room looked like a whirlwind after he searched top to bottom only for Gabriel to have them the whole time and tell him almost forty minutes later. 

He wanted to strangle him.

“Miguel, I have the rings too. There’s no way you think that Peter B. is a better ringkeeper than I am.”

“If you lose them, I swear to god I’m going to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Death, Grim Ripper, stabbing, big whoop. Go calm down.”

Third, for some reason, Peter B. had Mayday in the hotel suite when the only children that were supposed to hit the aisle were his niece and your nephew. 

“Why is that baby here?” Miguel tried to keep his voice level because it’s not Mayday who ran in here, it was Peter who’s constantly doing what he wanted. She was walking around and chatting with the groomsmen who were kind enough to keep up her conversations. Four-year-olds had a lot to say.

“Ah, she’s just here until her grandma comes by to pick her up!”

“Peter, if I pass out before I see my wife today, you’re going to be the first reason.”

Lastly, when everything was finally settled and he was ready to go to the ceremony venue, Gabriel came running in and almost gave Miguel a heart attack. Something about you and crying and Miguel almost broke the door down trying to get out.

“Miguel, don’t look at her!” Gabriel ran after him as he made his way to your suite.

“I’m not, damn it, I just need to make sure she’s ok.”

He was on your floor in a flash, your friends waiting outside the door. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s inside. We calmed her down for the most part, but her aunt got up here somehow and started to talk shit.”

“Miguel, if Jess and her mom weren't able to remove her, it would have been bad. She kept saying things about how you’re being tricked. She kept telling her that she wasn’t worthy enough to be a bride.”

“What?” Miguel walked towards the door. “Let me in.”

“Let us make sure you can’t see her, first.”

“I really don’t give a-”

“Miguel.”

He turned to Gabriel who pushed his hands down in a pressing motion, “Ya relájate, yeah? She’s not going to be centered if you aren’t centered.” 

With that in mind, Miguel waited at the door until he was allowed in. Your friends said you were in the bathroom with the door cracked. He walked over and turned his back to the door, tapping in a light rhythm so as not to startle you.

“You ok, baby?”

He could hear your sniffles and it took everything within him not to take the hinges off the door just to get to you. 

“No, not really. I, I’m terrified.”

“Honestly, me too.”

The door moved a bit, and your voice sounded closer, “What if I’m not the woman you need?

He scoffed, “And what if I’m not the man you need?”

You were quiet for just a moment, “You are more than what any man has ever been for me. I don’t think there’s been even a day where I could fix my lips to say that I haven’t felt your love and your heart. You’re…you’re everything to me.”

“So how do you think I feel when someone has convinced you that you aren’t enough for me?” Miguel turned his head to the crack. “No woman has opened my eyes like you have. No person has stolen my heart and cared for it the way that you have. I can’t even begin to describe the ways in which you’ve changed me for the better. You are my world.”

“Miguel,” your voice was watery as you took a deep breath. 

“If you want to call this entire thing off and go to the Justice of the Peace, that’s fine with me. We can send our family straight to the reception. I don’t care, as long as I have you.”

“No, I want to still have this ceremony. I still want to present our love. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

Miguel moves to slide his wrist through the door, “Give me your hand.”

You laugh as you take his hand in yours, careful not to lean on the door and smoosh it.

“You are worthy to me and this is only a new chapter in the foundation that we’ve built. No jealous aunt nor any other family member is taking what we have away. I chose you, you chose me, ok?”

“Ok,” you squeeze his hand as rubs the top of yours with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Miguel’s heart was hammering in his chest like a hummingbird fluttering around nectar.

He stood at the end of the aisle with his one hand grasping one wrist and a knot in his throat. The seats were filled with waiting people, but he didn't think anyone was more ready than him. Gabriel had patted him on the back once he was down the aisle, now he stood with his daughter at his side making sure Miguel really didn’t pass out.

Miguel’s tunnel vision shifted as everyone got up to watch you come around the corner. Miguel’s breath stopped. 

You really were his world. 

Your smile was blinding as you stepped towards him, your father’s arm wrapped tightly around yours. The closer you got, the more Miguel could feel the air coming back into his lungs.

As he waited for your father to put your hands in his, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was so lucky, he couldn’t believe it. 

As he held his hands out, he had to will himself to relax. 

You stepped closer to him, your warm palms bringing life back to his. 

“You’re shaking.”

He looked to his hands and they did have a faint tremor to them, “I’m excited.”

With eyes for only each other, you both made it through your vows. Miguel damn near brought the audience to tears with his imagery of a lost younger version of himself and you finding him in his aimless pursuit of living. How you opened up to him like a waterfall behind thick vines. How you wrapped your arms around him. How you upgraded his life. 

You almost brought him to tears when you spoke about how he loved you. How he stood tall between all that was against you and guided you to better days. How he never went a day without showering you in some form of love, even when he was feeling like shit. How he made you want to grow old with him and walk through life together. 

To the shock of no one, you both said “I do” with ease, no objection to be heard. 

When he kissed you, the world stopped for only a second and came back down with the celebration from your guests. His hands on your jaw brought you closer to him and one swipe of the tongue before he pulled away had you excited for later. 

One more kiss and you both turned to the crowd ecstatically. The broom was placed in front of you both and with three taps on your hand you both took a huge jump over it. Your family and friends cheered even louder. 

Walking down the aisle to the doors, Miguel could actually pay attention to the crowd. So many people were smiling and wiping tears from their faces. It only solidified the love that he had for you. 

You both laugh as flower petals fill the air around you on the way to the car. 

It was really a joyous occasion. 

Miguel was so happy, he didn’t care what anyone else did.

Ok so, he did stop one of his baby cousins from sticking their entire head in the fondue machine, but other than that, he was so relieved.

The DJ announcing you two as Mr. & Mrs. Miguel O’Hara elevated his mood and the trip to the dance floor for the first dance had his spirits high. 

The two of you had a sexy number, with his hands barely leaving your hips and his fingers sliding up the slit of the sparkly dress you changed into. 

After that, it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He tried to distract himself with catching up with family, grabbing food from each station, having dance competitions, laying sleeping kids more comfortably in chairs, anything to stop himself from just dragging you to your reserved hotel room. 

When you two stood near the cake feeding each other bites with hearts in your eyes, he couldn’t help but to lean into your ear and whisper, “Still the second best flavor.”

You hit his chest with one hand and covered your cake-filled mouth with the other. 

By the time you drove off with ribbons and flowers trailing the back of the car, Miguel was practically buzzing getting you all to himself. 

He made that known by carrying you bridal style to the room without a care in the world and you laughing into his neck. 

You kissed his neck as he refused to let you, even for the elevator, “You’re so silly.”

“The better to make you laugh, Mrs. O’Hara.”

“I love it when you call me that. Say it again.”

“Mrs. O’Hara. My beautiful bride today, my beautiful wife for life.”

He passes through the door after you reach to scan the keycard. As soon as he closes it you’re on his face kissing all over. 

“My husband,” you say in between the passes of his lips against yours. “Mr. O’Hara. Will you put me down?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then how will we finish off our night with a bang? C’mon, baby, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine,” four more kisses and Miguel let you go. 

“Just go sit on the bed and I’ll be right back.”

Miguel laid his jacket on a chair and walked over to the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive material. He slid his shoes off carefully too, sliding into the fluffy slippers the hotel provided. 

He would say he wishes he could have done more for tonight, but the two of you will be enjoying the fresh air of a foreign country in about two weeks time. 

He sat on the bed as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. There was no telling what you had in store, and he can’t wait to find out. 

“Close your eyes!”

Miguel obeyed, curious as to what you had in store. He could hear the padding of your heels on the carpet getting closer. 

You took his hands and guided them to your ass and with muscle memory, he took a handful.

“I’m already sold,” he said, feeling some light fabric hit his wrists. 

You chuckled at his face, seeing his tongue poked out to the corner and his hands feeling and kneading your body. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Miguel parted his eyes to see you in beautiful white lingerie. A white open lace see-through babydoll set hugged your tits tight. Panning down, he could see your thin panty with the string pulled over your hips and the curve of your body on display. Going further down, on your left leg, there was a garter digging into your skin that read “Miguel’s Wife” in bold, red cursive letters. 

“You like it?”

Miguel looked up to you with a tinier veil adorning your hair.

“This garter might be the only thing that makes it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he leans forward to plant kisses along the top of your chest, pulling your thick thighs around him. “We’re gonna get a complaint.”

“Good,” you raked your nails down his nape, earning a groan from Miguel as you continued to his back. “I want you to make love to me.”

You start to grind along him, feeling the bulge in his suit pants grow. Miguel hummed and started to remove your top. It looked gorgeous on you, but it was useless to him at the moment. Your skin was sparkling all the way down to your nipples and it only made Miguel want to devour you more. 

You gasp as he smacks your ass and hikes you up, his mouth latching onto your areola like it’s fruit from the chocolate fondue today. 

“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “You looked so amazing today.”

“So did you,” you tilt his chin up to look at his face. “I saw you looking at me all night. You’re not very discreet.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

He got up with you in his arms and flipped you over, “Everybody there should know how I feel about you by now.”

You were a vision. Smooth skin contrasting with the stark white of the panty and garter, veil sprawled out behind you like a halo. Miguel bent down to kiss you again, truly in awe that this was who he had as a spouse. 

“I want you to know how I feel about you too,” you whisper against his lips. 

You guide his hand from your face to your breast to your panties. You part your legs, thighs shaking in anticipation. Miguel's eyes get wider as he sees your lips through the peek-a-boo hole of your underwear. One swipe and your essence is on his fingertips. 

Miguel brings his eyes back to you as he takes his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking it off with a pop. 

You bite your lip watching him lick his fingers and unbuckle his pants. 

The air is tight and heated, with you open and waiting and Miguel watching and wanting. 

He leans back and pulls his pants down. You look down hoping to see a peek of what’s about to rock your world. 

At the sight of your name and “MIC” in bold black letters across the band you bust out in giggles. 

You sit up as he comes around to the side of the bed, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

You laugh even more when you see it up close.

“Help me take this off,” he turns around to show your name and “Husband” printed on the back.  

You lean into his back in a fit of giggles, shocked but giddy. 

“We really are soulmates,” you say as you pull the briefs by the leg. “Meant to be.”

Miguel turns back around, bending to slide your mouth with his, “Forever and ever.”

True to his word, it really felt like you were his favorite flavor with the amount of marks he left on your skin before he got back in between your legs. You were so wound tight that with one lick from your hole to your clit, you were already trapping his head there. 

Miguel hummed and hiked your hips up, mouth moving to kiss your lips as if he were making out with the ones on your face. It was absurd how loud it sounded. His tongue kept swirling along your walls while the tip of his nose rubbed against your clit. 

You didn’t know where to keep your hands, but it did look good with your ring dazzling on your finger as you brought your hands to his head buried deep in your pussy. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried as he started to nod his face along your flower. 

Just when you could feel yourself ride to the edge, he took his middle and ring finger and spread you open. You shouted his name as you felt the cool touch of the ring slide in and out alongside the heat of his tongue. 

You don’t remember when you came down, but you remember Miguel’s drenched face kissing along your shaking thighs. 

“No Dulce de Leche is beating that, Mrs. O’Hara,” he reached to pull the soaking lace off, careful not to move the garter. 

“C’mere,” you hold your hands out, wanting to feel him on you. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

Miguel groans into your mouth, grinding his dick along your wet folds. He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I love you,” he sighs into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

One sweet session later, he had you on your stomach, back arched, and yelling into the pillows as he pounded into you. 

You could see stars as his hips smacked loudly against your ass. The headboard was knocking against the wall with every push. 

Miguel was really feeling the wedding attire as he had one hand gripping your veil by your back and the other pulling at garter. 

When you came around his cock, he was diving in right after, letting go into your sea. The shudders of you afterwards had him moving a little more and turning your face to the side to kiss your panting lips. 

By the time you two finished, you were sure the sun was soon to rise. 

Your hair was a mess, the veil was somewhere across the room, and you both were tangled up in the sheets. 

You laid your head on Miguel’s chest, content to listen to his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. He’s rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. 

“Thank you so much for stepping up and making this day so magical for me,” you look up at him. “Words can’t explain how appreciative I am.”

Miguel looked back at you, eyes warm, “I just want to see you smile. Thank you for giving me space to handle things.”

You pucker your lips and he reaches to comply. 

“Now, we need to get some sleep. Gotta regain some energy.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you say as you tilt your eyes down to the sheets. “Because I’ve got a show to put on when we wake up.”

Miguel just laughs as he pulls you onto his chest. 

The birds chirping were a nice background noise to you all’s slumber. 

I went through several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in order to finish this. BUT! I am happy with the result. As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[satoruxx]

sorry to go feral in your inbox but ghostface!miguel who is crazy about you (in a good way I promise) and does everything in his power to protect you and keep those horrible college guys from your classes away from you but you only know him as the mysterious gravelly voice who calls you every night that you’ve grown fond of as your personal lullaby-

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader | 1.5k words summary: ghostface!miguel, stalking, possessive miguel, violence, death, killing, obsessive behavior, suggestive, killer miguel ofc, reader is WAY too trusting, miggy just loves you so much !! rheya’s note: NONNIE BABES YOU GENIUS !! he absolutely would oh my fucking god. i am so normal about this (going feral) i was literally squealing while writing this it was rough. why is this concept hot? do i need therapy? probably. anyways he's a creep in this but in a good way? (the way this ask literally got me inspired to draw ghostface!miguel UGH) anyways ENJOY !!

miguel isn't a bad guy. he's not. he's one of the good guys actually, a hero. he's always been a hero.

it's not his fault that there are some assholes in the world that are fucked up, preying on innocent people who just want to live their lives.

sweet, innocent people like you.

how a girl as sweet and precious as you managed to get yourself surrounded by such horrible people is beyond him. and you're so nice too, always assuming that nobody has it out for you or that everyone has some good in them. with that mindset, you were just asking to be put in danger.

so, being the hero that he is, it's his obligation to look out for you, right?

it starts off quietly. he doesn't make an effort to connect with you, choosing to watch you from the shadows as he silently tracks your day. miguel is nothing if not observant, mentally noting every single person you interact with or looks your way. and if they get a little too close, a little too comfortable? well, then he'd just have to take care of that for you, wouldn't he?

he hates that one flirty coworker of yours, always leaning a little too close to you and chatting like he's your fucking boyfriend. miguel can see the little crease of discomfort in your brows whenever that coworker is nearby, and he decides that he hates that expression on you. but you feel fine afterwards, because when your coworker goes missing the next day, you send a quick thank you to the heavens, trying to push down your guilt.

he finds out that you try to make some extra money by tutoring a guy at your school. and when miguel watches the two of you through the windows of the library he feels hatred like no other run through his veins because he doesn't like how this guy looks at you. that asshole probably didn't even need tutoring to begin with, using it as a pathetic excuse to get close to you. what a fucking joke. but you don't have to stress about tutoring anymore because the next day you get a text saying the kid has transferred schools. you never hear from him again.

oh but the worst ones are the ones who ask you out on dates. they don't even know how lucky they are, getting to see you all dolled up and pretty for them, only to absolutely destroy your hopes for a good time. it makes miguel so angry he sees red. every fucking time one of those losers makes a comment that has your shoulders slumping with disappointment, a miserable frown on your pretty lips by the end of the night, he feels sick to his stomach. but he hopes that when you see your date's body on the news the next morning, you won't be so disappointed anymore.

only after watching over you for a while does miguel decide to finally talk to you, finding the perfect hiding spot to watch you through your window as you pick up your ringing phone. he has to stop himself from groaning because your voice sounds so much sweeter when it's in his ear, smooth and precious as you ask who it is. and he can't resist playing with you, dying to hear more as he sighs behind his mask.

"tell me your name and maybe i'll tell you mine." miguel answers, gravelly voice practically purring through the speaker. he can see the confusion on your face as you pace your kitchen, reaching for a bag of chips before walking back to your couch and settling in to watch a movie. he hears the screams from the tv and bites his lip. "what's that noise?"

"a movie." you reply, the expression on your face getting less guarded as you listen to his voice.

"a scary movie?" he asks, leaning against the edge of the roof so that he's got the perfect view of you. you take a chip and pop it in your mouth, chewing quietly, and he follows the movement of your lips with eager eyes.

"mhm," you nod, and miguel thinks it's so fucking cute the way you move your head even though you think he can't see you.

"you like scary movies?" he asks with a hum, and you voice out a yes. his eyes remain hooded and attentive as he effortlessly continues the conversation. "you got a favorite, sweetheart?"

he catches the way you melt under his sweet words, and miguel decides then and there that he's never letting you go. he listens to your answers with a grin, tucking his knife away and watching you animatedly talk to him for the remainder of the night.

and the rest is history.

you tell him about a guy who's bothering you? he'll bury him. someone made you cry? he'll break their legs. your date stood you up? he'll stab them so many times he loses count. and then after all of that, he'll call you like he always does, rumbling honeylike words into his phone as he casually watches you from behind his mask.

"and how was your day today, sweetheart?" he'll drawl out, late at night as he perches on the neighboring roof to your apartment. with the way he's angled he can perfectly see the innocent little smile on your face as you settle in bed, talking on the phone like you're not scared of him at all.

and you shouldn't be, because he'd never hurt you, of course.

some nights you'll giddily tell him about the most exciting parts of your day, smiling and giggling until you fall asleep without a care in the world. but on the nights when you complain or whine about somebody that's made you upset, wronged you, or god forbid, showed interest in you? well, those are the nights miguel has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, trying to control the flare of pure rage that courses through him. he lulls you to sleep with sweet words, trying to keep his cool but still vibrating with anger because who the fuck do they think they are, getting near you like that?

"don't worry, pretty girl," he sighs into the phone, twirling his knife between his fingers. "i'm sure they'll stop bothering you soon enough."

and they do. but you being the precious oblivious little thing you are, assume that you're just lucky. a guardian angel, you had said, was watching over you. miguel had just chuckled into the phone, deep and rich as he smirked at you from the roof once again.

"guardian angel? well lucky you, huh?" he had asked, feeling all too pleased with himself. you agreed with a nod.

well, if that's what you wanted to see him as he had no problem playing guardian angel for you.

and no he doesn't even want you to find out, because the last thing he wants to do is scare you. no no, he'd much rather protect you from the shadows, eliminating every single threat could ever harm a hair on your pretty little head. his reward comes in the form of you living your life, carefree smiles and all.

and granted he feels much more rewarded when he calls you late at night, deep voice teasing with an underlying sense of possessiveness as he speaks to you about anything and everything. he doesn't understand why and how you decided that he was safe to talk to, but you do, laughing and sighing into the phone until you've dozed off.

and if you've accidentally left your windows open, well of course being the gentleman he is, miguel will close them for you. but not before he stands at your bedside, raising his mask to watch you sleep peacefully. such a pretty little thing, so sweet and gentle. and after pulling himself away from your sleeping form, he quietly shuts the window behind him, yanking his mask back down with a smirk because he doesn't want anyone else to see you all vulnerable like that.

you were too trusting to begin with, but you trusting him is alright. after all he's the only one who's been looking out for you. anyone else tries to get near you and he'll have no choice but to tear their limbs off. they could be a threat to you, right?

but that's why he'll never let you out of his sight.

you're his after all.

[barefoot-joker]

Two Lonely Hearts  Yandere!Miguel O’Hara X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are doing well. This is my first time writing for Spider Man and for Miguel O’Hara. I just think he’s neat. The Spanish I did Google Translate so please let me know if it’s wrong so I can fix it! I hope you guys all enjoy and have a great day/ night!

Words: 2010

Warnings: Implied suicidal thoughts, anxiety, depression, yandere tendencies, kidnapping, talk of forced mothership

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEP!

I sighed and groggily turned off my alarm. Last night I did not get a lot of sleep, even with my sleeping pills. It has been like this a lot lately and it sucks because the night is when my mind wanders the most. I hate that I have to deal with my anxiety and depression even while I try to sleep. It really sucks the life out of you.

Today I was in the mood to not get out of bed. I just wanted to lay there and let the day pass while I wrapped myself up in a blanket cocoon. I indulged myself and lay there for a while when I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I brought the blanket over my head similar to what a child does to try and get rid of the feeling. 

It didn’t go away.

I might as well get up. 

With that, I shrugged the blanket off my body and slumped my way out of bed. My bare feet slid against the wood floor as I was too tired to try and lift them. It’s going to be one of those days. 

I tiredly made my way to my closet and picked out a f/c t-shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and my undergarments. With those in hand I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I set my clothes down on the toilet seat and when the water was scalding hot, I got in. I liked hot showers. They felt like they got rid of some of the grime my emotions left. After I completed my normal routine, I just stood there and allowed the warm water to run down my body. Let the water take it all away, Y/n. Let it take it all away.

Soon the water turned frigid and I knew this was my cue to get out. While I didn’t like wasting water, it felt nice to just stand there and not have to worry about anything. The shower was like a safe haven for me. I could block out my adult responsibilities and emotions for a while and just concentrate on the water. 

Turning off the spigot, I allowed the cool air to pass by the shower curtain and tingle my skin. It was like my actual wake up call for the day. Sliding the curtain open, I stepped out and grabbed my towel to dry off. The fuzziness of the towel was calming and as soon as I dried off I slowly put on my clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror when I was all done. My eyebags had gotten worse and I looked a bit pale. I could almost compare myself to that of a zombie with how tired and dead I looked. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, seeing if that would take the dreadful image away. Of course it didn’t, so I left the bathroom in search of breakfast. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a long time. Being around people lately was scary to me. It felt like their eyes were always on me and judging my every move. Looking in my fridge I knew I would have to conquer my fear and go out today to get some food. Especially since the only things I had in my fridge were apples, two slices of bread and some jelly. Jelly sandwich with some apple slices it is.

I took out my ingredients and set them on the countertop. I turned to my cutlery drawer and took out a butter knife. Looking at the blade, I regretted taking it out. My hands started to twitch as I gazed at it, ashamed of my thoughts going through. Breathe, Y/n. Breathe. In. And out. In. And out.

I followed along to my breathing technique and placed the jelly on one slice of bread. As soon as this was done, I disposed of the knife in the sink as fast as I could. My thoughts still lingered on the blade, but now that it was out of my hands I felt a bit better. Turning back to my breakfast, I placed the top piece of bread on to complete my sandwich. I also decided not to slice up my apple. I took my breakfast to the couch and began to eat, the silence in the apartment was deafening. I took my time since I wasn’t in a hurry to go outside and be an adult quite yet, not that I liked being in my apartment either. I was hoping to be in a place that was away from the world, my own little dimension. It would be so lovely.

I finished up my breakfast after a while and then wrote out my to do list. After this was done I put on some sneakers, grabbed my bag, and headed out. The walk from the fifth floor down wasn’t a bad one fortunately, so soon I was out on the street. The surge of people out and about made me want to crumble, but I forced myself to trudge on. Once again it felt like I was being watched, but I assume it’s all the people around me. Things can get like that sometimes. 

It only took me a few minutes to get to the grocery store, which is nice that it’s not too far from my abode. I grabbed a basket from the front entryway and began my journey. I had only gotten a few items in when I saw a child looking scared on the side. She had tears in her eyes and I felt bad for her. Even though my anxiety was high, I wanted to see this little girl safe. I walked over and knelt to her height. “Hi there, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I can’t find my M-mommy-y,” she said through sobs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said as nicely as possible, “I’ll help you find her.”

“R-really?”

“Uh-huh. Now, do you know what color shirt your mom was wearing?”

“It was r-red, a dark r-red.”

“Okay. C’mon, kiddo.”

I held out my hand for her to take and luckily she did. The two of us walked around the store when the little girl gave out a happy shriek. “Mommy!”

A woman with a dark red shirt and braided hair quickly turned and smiled wide when she realized her child was safe. “Sarah!”

She ran towards us and hugged her daughter tightly. It was honestly a very fulfilling scene. “Oh I was so worried about you!”

“I’m sorry, Mommy. But this nice lady helped me!”

The woman looked up at me and smiled wide. “Thank you so much, dear. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“I understand, Ma’am. It was my pleasure.”

She nodded at me, took her little girl by the hand and walked down the aisle. I sighed happily and continued my shopping trip.

It took me a bit to get everything, but in the end I completed my to-do list. Walking back to my apartment, I thought about the events in the grocery store. I helped out others all the time. Even though I was suffering on the inside, why should somebody else? However, even my kind deeds did not make my sadness go away, no matter how hard I tried. It was pointless. 

After I got back to my house and put everything away, I decided to take a nap. I was tired after all the social interaction. Quietly, I snuck back to my bed and laid down. My eyes closed and it took about twenty minutes before I finally fell asleep.

It felt like a few hours had passed when I finally woke up. I yawned, stretched and got up…or at least attempted to. I was confused when I felt more bed when normally I’d have my feet on the floor by now. Sitting up quickly, my eyes widened. 

I wasn’t in my room.

I was somewhere completely different.

I scooted myself over to the side of the bed and rushed out of the room towards the nearest door. I got out a few feet before I smacked into something muscular. I tilted back and strong firm hands grasped at my arms. “Hey slow down, Y/n,” a voice I didn’t recognize said.

I looked up and gasped. The man standing before me I had seen a couple of times in my city walking around. He was so tall with light brown skin and dark brown hair. He wore a skintight dark blue and bright red jumpsuit and his eyes. God his eyes. The red irises stared down at me and seemed to eat me up. He guided me back into the room I just left and I finally took a long look. It was minimalistic in design. All it had was a king size bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a couch, coffee table, another room off to the side and a balcony. He sat me on the end of the bed before sitting next to me. He grabbed my hands with his and squeezed gently. “Now I know all of this is new to you, but I can assure you you’re safe, Y/n.”

“Where exactly am I? W-who are you?”

“I am Miguel O’Hara, but you can call me Miguel. You do not need to know the exact location, just that you are safe.”

“How did I get here? I mean you kidnapped me-”

“Think of it as relocation, not kidnapping, mi amor. As for how you got here…you were sleeping and I grabbed you. I thought it would be the best time so you wouldn’t panic and stress yourself out.”

“Grabbed me?! That sounds like kidnapping to me! And of course I’d panic, I was taken by a guy I don’t even know!”

“Calm down-”

“No! I won’t! I want to go home!”

“You’re safer here.”

“No! I want to leave! I want to go home, please!”

“But mi querida, you were so unhappy there. I saved you! This way I can protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” “Yourself!”

There was a deafening silence between us. “M-myself?”

“Yes. While I was watching over you I saw how sad you were over everything. I figured you needed some company and this way I can keep an eye on you. You’ll come to love it here, I assure you. Besides, I feel better knowing you’re here. I will protect you, that I can promise.”

I didn’t know what to say. This man claims he’s been watching me and knows what’s best. I stayed silent. Miguel grasped at my hands a bit tighter and he tried to look into my eyes. I kept them forced on my lap. “Why me?”

“Querida, you have such a kind heart. I’ve seen the things you have done to help those in need. You’ll be a perfect mother.”

“Mother? Mother?! What are you talking about?”

“Yes, madre. I have lost so much and so have you. Why not let our two broken hearts mend together?”

“Because I barely know you!”

I ripped my hands from him and stood up. He followed. “But you will come to know me. I will be the best husband you could ask for.”

“N-no. No! Get away from me, you creep!”

I turned and started to run but Miguel leaped on top of me and restrained me with his arms. “Let go of me! Let go! Please!”

“Shh, mi amor. You’re just tired. I understand. Let me help you.”

I struggled until I felt something pinch my neck. Within minutes my body went limp and numb. Miguel picked me back up and laid me under the covers in the large bed. 

I struggled to blink.  

I struggled to breathe.

“Hush, mi amor. All will be well when you wake up.”

He leaned down and nuzzled my forehead. Just as he was going to pull away he gave my forehead a kiss as well.

My blurry vision then became dark.

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 269 (spoilers)

(TCB still doesn't have their own translation but some parts of this need to be cross checked with more translations. I'll do that tomorrow.)

We start the chapter with an ominous flashback that brings Mei Mei to an old woman before we make a hard cut back to where we left off last chapter

To my pleased surprise Yuta managed to get his body back though truth be told I did NOT understand the minute details on how that happened. Need to read up on that.

Megumi still feels the aftereffects of Gojo's UV that had crippled Sukuna's DE. This could mean Megumi himself will have trouble expanding his domain but would that be a short term problem or possibly even a long term problem 👀

(Way back when, I had also made a speculative post that Gojo's UV that hit Megumi's soul might've left Megumi with Gojo's ultimate knowledge from all his life but that doesn't seem to be a thing in the end.)

The first years are told not to feel guilty about anything and to be teenagers again. This echoes what Gojo said in the beginning on how children should be able to enjoy the spring of their youth.

We learn then how Yuta survived: because of Rika who independently kept his body alive. When Kenjaku's CT burned out after Yuta used Gojo's DE, he should've died because he couldn't keep the connection to Gojo's body.

Kenjaku shouldve had the same problems but they speculate that he circumvented that with barrier techniques.

Now comes the part where I need better translations because what's said here is too confusing: which CT recovered and was Yuta now dead or unconscious when Kenjaku's CT burned out?

The next question is: how did his consciousness end up back in his body? All this time I thought Kenjaku transferred his entire brain from body to body but that's not the case apparently? 😄

Also, the biggest question right now: what happened to Gojo's body?

I made a speculative post on how this body hopping through Kenjaku's CT might actually end up reviving Gojo.

The main point for that theory is that Kenjaku revives the bodies he transfers into. Second and third points are that the revival is a one time thing and isn't bound to the continuous use of the CT (speculation) and that Yuta "dies" through the end of the CT and through other means

Say what you will but this about Miguel and Larue was extremely funny but also give Larue some respect, Sukuna was in love with him for a few seconds.

The part where everyone discusses their battle strategies is interesting. Gege does sth here I have done while writing fanfics as well: acknowledging how varied and complicated the choices in the plot where and have the characters discuss it.

This gives the chain of events that did end up happening in the end a grounded feel and here it also gives the characters room to interact with each other.

My complaint about these scenes are that they downplay Sukuna's threat and power

Talking about what they should've done differently and how they could've won more easily is ok, but for me this entire conversation was too couched in "we won because of course we did, this was easy but it could've been easier"

Higuruma is alive though but I had that on my bingo card already, his apparent death was pretty vague

It's a funny reveal how the watch room was Rika this entire time, and apparently Yuta/Maki is basically canon

We also learn that it was indeed Miwa who clung to Maki and used Simple Domain against Sukuna to stop his MS. Todo managed to get her and Maki out with his CT at the end.

Without Ui Ui the battle would've been lost, so he really is the MVP

Now comes the part about the New Shadow Style: Simple Domain that was interesting but also added unneeded elements into the story this late in the manga

Some parts of this was mentioned previously like how you made a Binding Vow to learn NSS. There was a woman in a wheelchair once that resembled Miwa in parts who was probably one of those people who's lifespan was sapped away by the Shadow Head.

But did we really need to give this so much panel time? I guess with the mention of Tengen (who was apparently the one who told the good guys who the Shadow Head was) we'll go back to what happened to her and the merger in the next chapter.

What we also got was commentary on how JJ society hindered itself from becoming better because of the greed of people who wanted more power.

Mei Mei speaks of sorcerers who could've survived with Simple Domain and she probably means Nanami. Their stories in Shibuya acted like foils to each other (without that or them being in conflict with each though) so it's relevant to Nanami what she said here.

Overall I think some parts of this chapter should've been cut so close to the finish, especially when this really is the end of the manga. I still have hope for Part 2 though, this chapter was (as I expected) ambiguous about that happening or not.

[angelflms]

Okay, so I have been thinking so much about this (I have been talking aloud to myself for like ten minutes bc I've invested myself wayyy too deep into this), but I think I know why Miguel bothers me so much despite being my favorite character.

The writers suck.

Now, I know I don't have screenwriting credibility and I'm merely just a girl and I know that perhaps they can't cram all of this shit into the show and make room for literally everyone else, BUT I think the reason why so many people don't like Miguel as a character is because he doesn't have much of a character to work with. So whenever he does something that shows character (the Mexico storyline, the Stanford storyline), no one feels bad for him. I think that maybe if he had definitive arcs for each season, while weaving it better into Robby's arcs (since they're foils and tethered to each other), he would actually be likeable. So I wanted to show you what I feel like I would do to write Miguel's post school fight arc. Feel free to tell me your opinions. (buckle up, this is a long one)

S3a

similar to what we see

but we actually get to be more into Miguel's mental response to the aftermath

I dont' think they went enough into his feelings with everything and that everything went a bit too fast (for Miguel) during the season.

perhaps they could've gone deeper into his PTSD, similar to what they did with Sam.

but instead it preventing him from going to school, it prevented him from doing karate all together.

it was clear early on that karate and Johnny slowly became all that Miguel cared about.

Johnny was sending mixed signals and Kresse's entry into CK was conflicting as their ideals were different.

Johnny made it clear that CK's mottos are a way of life, so Miguel was moving the exact way one would in karate irl.

Karate was his life. And it nearly ended it as well.

I don't believe Miguel would immediately still want to be so gung-ho about joining karate again after nearly dying from it.

Johnny would lose Miguel's trust and would fight for it back. He already lost Robby. He can't lose Miggy too.

Miguel doesn't want to be around him for now, despite feeling bad for pushing him away

S3b

When finding out he was paralyzed, it hurt to find out, but at the same time, with his conflicited feelings about karate, he would feel a bit relieved.

I like to think that when the surgery worked, everyone was happy but Miguel because now people are going to expect him to want to go back to doing karate.

Eventually he and Johnny have a heart to heart and make up, though he's still a little bit hesitant on trusting him

he does reluctantly join Eagle Fang and he tries to make an effort to train again and get past his fear

Though things still feel like what it was like at CK, which isn't something Miguel is enjoying

Plus him being the only shot they have for the All Valley is putting presure on him, mainly due to Johnny

The scene where he tries to kick but fails happens

He falls and flashbacks of the school fight happen

He gives up and says he isn't doing karate anymore

That is until the finale fight when CK comes in and fights the EF/MD kids and Kyler beats him up

he remembers why he started karate in the first place and starts fighting again

He chooses to do karate again

S4

Again similar to what we see (Johnny and Carmen, the intro to Kenny, etc)

I think he still feels weird about being back in the world of karate and latches onto Daniel more as a sensei now with the conjoint dojos situation (he's a lot softer on him knowing his situation)

Which pisses Johnny off and makes him jealous (he just misses his kid ya know?)

He tries to make an effort with Miguel but he grows more distant after hearing Daniel's side of the events during TKK

This season could heavily parallel s2 with Kiaz as they're on the opposite sides of the coin now with Robby being with CK and Miguel learning more Miyagi-Do techniques

This could also bring more tension with Lawrusso because of how they're both treating and training him and how Johnny thinks Daniel is taking Miguel away from him

(maybe a fight scene about this idk)

Perhaps Miguel starts feeling bad about pushing Johnny away as he very much still cares about him and sees him trying

Daniel does talk to Miguel about how Johnny does care about him and how he's beaten up about everything and how he wishes he could change everything

This will make the whole "I love you" "I love you, too Robby" scene a lot worse

Miguel feels lost again

The sprain he gets during the All Valley was the final straw for him as he has a panic attack and in a heap of emotions, he leaves for Mexico, not just to find his dad, but to genuinely run away from everything

Also throughout this season, I really wanted to see more of Robby being guilty for what he did during the fight but pushing it away until he sees what Kenny does to Anthony and realizing that history is already about to repeat itself

Also also we do see Miguel talk about collage but brings up that he wants to become a PT (did I take this from someone who reblogged my other rant, yes) and probably want to go Boston University (they have a PT degree program)

S5

Same as we see for the most part

I was hoping Miguel would bring up the whole "I love you" situation but he never did and I wonder why

I wish we saw bits of the car ride home from Mexico and the awkwardness between the boys (there's a good ao3 fic that does this pretty decently)

Perhaps Robby can tell that something is off with Miguel though and tries to spark conversation but the latter refuses to talk to the former because of the school fight

I think the break up should still happen

Both because with everything going on with him, the breakup would just be another stab in the chest, but also because that fucking scene was so good!! Like idk if Mary and Xolo get their flowers for that scene but I'ma need them to get their flowers for that scene

Now he's just this ball of emotions

Johnny still wants to push for the boys to be close since he's caring for both of them now (and ofc the baby) so like in the actual s5, he still tries to get them to talk

Now I would've preferred a heart to heart reconciliation (similar to samtory s6) but since the dudebros would think that's too soft and this is a fighting show, the balcony scene would be fine

Though I do think in a later scene, Kiaz should have a more emotional talk with each other

Miguel just talks about how hard it has been since the school fight and how everything keeps on changing and everything gets a lot for him

Robby tells him that he gets it and confesses how guilty he feels for being the one to put him in the hospital

And then I feel like the rest of s5 can go the way it did

i don't know. maybe this is too convoluted but I do think that the lack of characterization and constant mischaracterization of miguel diaz is due how poorly the writers went about him post s3a imo. i think they could've done something great with him in a way people felt for robby you know? they always randomly bring things up as a way to say "hey he has trauma too" but it's always at the most inopportune times and it always comes off half-assed instead. i love miguel so much because of his happy-go-lucky energy but he has so much wasted potential which is wild to say when he's the main character.

[amazingmsme]

The Boo Brothers

AN: Late, I know, but class doesn’t get out til 9. This prompt was really fun to write! Peter & Miguel are really goofy & I just love them. How you enjoy day 10!

Peter B. Parker was a class A goofball. He liked playing games and being silly, but most importantly, he liked making people laugh and have some fun. And he was damn good at it.

Halloween always put him in a bit of a spunky mood, and he felt inspired to cause a little mischief. Maybe the chill in the air put a spring in his step, or the fun and spooky atmosphere reminded him of his love of lighthearted pranks. Whatever it was, he felt the need to pull one over on someone. He was walking down the hall when he passed an open door and saw the usual spider-gang hanging out in the wreck room: perfect.

The idea popped up so suddenly and without any preamble, that it nearly startled Peter. But he shoved his hands into his robe pockets and casually strolled in, going along with it as if he'd had this plan all along. He had a natural commitment to any bit tossed his way the likes of which you have never seen.

That is not to say that the others don't know when he's doing a bit. Quite the contrary. It is rather obvious when Peter begins some long winded ruse, but everyone is too interested in where he's going with it to put an end to it.

He flopped his right hand around in his pocket, wiggling fingers, anything he could to make it look like something was caught in there. Pavitr was the first to take notice, doing a double take when he noticed the frantic movement of his pocket and stared with wide eyes.

"Dude, what's going on with your pocket? Did you catch a squirrel or something?" he asked, drawing the rest of their attention to Peter, and now they all wanted to know what the hell he had in his pocket. Peter played along.

"Heh, no. I wish it were that simple," he said in a serious tone. He schooled his features, lunging a trapped hand at Gwen, who happened to be the closest. She squealed and jumped back as Peter reigned in his arm.

"What the hell Peter?" she asked, cheeks faintly flushed. He did his best to act apologetic.

"I'm sorry, but that's why I came to see you," he said, clutching onto his right wrist with his other hand, forcing it to stay inside the pocket. They all stared at him with confused looks.

"I'm sorry, what?" Gwen asked, arms crossed. Peter rolled his eyes, as if annoyed he had to explain himself.

"Um, look, I'll just cut to the chase. Ghosts and demons and stuff are cool now, right? And you guys are all pretty cool kids, so you're keeping with the trends-" he rambled. Miles furrowed his brows in worry and utter cluelessness, looking to Hobie for any indication of what the actual fuck he was talking about. Hobie arched a brow and shrugged, sporting an amusedly confused smirk. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is, do you guys know anything about possession?"

Gwen scoffed. "You think you're possessed?" she asked skeptically.

“Absolutely! And I’d appreciate it if you took this seriously,” he said, really hamming it up. “I mean, if you don’t believe me, just look!” He “released” his hand from the robe pocket and it made another grab at Gwen, this time being successful. He latched onto her sides and squeezed, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You liahahar!” she squealed, doubling over as Peter scribbled over her tummy.

“Nu uh!” Peter insisted, continuing the ticklish assault. “See, it happened after MJ got me last night. My hands have been restless ever since,” he lamented, working up Gwen’s sides. “I’m afraid I’m possessed by some kind of tickle monster!”

“You ahahare not!” she denied. Hobie shrugged, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Don’t know mate, seems legit to me,” he teased. Peter smirked himself and turned on the tallest teen, making him stumble back with a yelp. He managed to wrestle his arms above his head, alternating scribbling in each pit.

“I just can’t help who I attack! Sorry Hobie, I really can’t help it!”

“Shuhut it you bahahastard!”

“Hey, I’m just as much a victim in this as you are!”

Miguel stood in the doorway, dumbfounded, and crossed his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

“Is there a reason you’re torturing them, or are you just bored?” he asked in a neutral tone, arching a brow.

“Peter’s possessed by a tickle monster!” Pavitr supplied. Miguel couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough.

“Is he now?” he asked, seemingly uninterested. “Well I guess I’ll leave you all to it.” He turned to leave and felt a hand around his wrist yank him back. He stumbled a few feet, being caught by Peter from behind.

“Sorry bud, but I can’t help myself right now,” he said sympathetically as Miguel hissed and thrashed in his hold. He tried to fight back the deep laughter that wanted to spill out when Peter started kneading his hips.

“G-go toho hehehell,” he giggled out through clenched teeth. Peter gasped.

“Well that’s rude!” Peter exclaimed, one hand roaming down to squeeze his thighs. Miguel burst into loud belly laughs, shoving weakly at Peter’s hands. He made a show of taking a deep breath before blowing a raspberry against Miguel’s neck.

A string of curses gave way to helpless cackles and snorts, especially when Peter started nibbling. “Ohohokahay, oho fuhuhuck thahat’s bad! Peter!” Miguel scolded through hysterics, and needless to say everyone in the room was thoroughly amused.

Peter backed off with a smug grin. “You alright?” Miguel stood there, catching his breath and shot a harsh glare at him. He also shot him the bird. If it was even possible, Peter grinned wider.

“What?” Miguel snapped, though it wasn’t as harsh as you’d expect.

“I bit you. You’re possessed now, it’s how it works,” he explained, oh so casually. Miguel scoffed, furrowed his brows, doing anything to try to appear not amused.

“Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true! It had to be how MJ transferred it to me!” he explained frantically.

“You’re really gonna blame your wife?” Miguel quipped. Pavitr barked out a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand.

“You’re missing the point. You’re possessed by the ghost too now,” he said, acting as though it was grave news, but the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at Miguel said otherwise.

“Oh so it’s a ghost now?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his amusement anymore. “Well then, it’s a good thing they aren’t real.” He walked to the doorway, but only made it about halfway.

Miguel suddenly doubled over in pain, a dramatic and very convincing groan emitting from his throat. They all watched on in concern as he jerked upright, arching his back. He unshed his claws with a dramatic motion of his hands. A deep, low chuckle left his lips as he slowly turned towards the group.

“Well well well, it would seem that Miguel is no longer with us,” he said in a threatening tone. He caught Peter’s gaze and flashed a sharp grin, winking. He addressed the rest of them, “But he wanted me to tell you: run.” He really didn’t have to tell them twice.

They scattered like mice, and Peter easily caught Miles in the rush. He was giggling before he even touched him, but the laughter doubled once he dug into his ribs.

Miguel was able to snatch Pavitr by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and into his clutches. He clawed at his belly and Pav immediately let out a giggly shriek.

They carried on like this for some time, playing this odd game of chase. Every once in a while, Peter would glance at Miguel and see the way he was smiling and actually laughing along with the rest of them.

Maybe Peter should get “possessed” more often.

[moonlight-prose]

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw. 

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end. 

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

[parvulous-writings]

Miguel O’Hara SFW Alphabet

 ​

Warnings: Mild ATSV spoilers, mild angst (due  to past things)

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!   If you’d like to support me more, consider donating to my kofi! I’d appreciate it loads!!  

not my  gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Miguel doesn’t typically show his affection outwardly - I.e, through hugs and such. His affection comes more through letting you spend more time with him, and at times when he is stressed, he tries to avoid you so that  you don’t take the brunt of it. This doesn’t always work that well, because he does actually seek to be near someone he feels he can trust at times, which leads to some conflict in his mind. He likes eating with you, allowing himself to be somewhat vulnerable around you for a time. Though he doesn’t actually  say that he trusts you, this is how he shows it.  As your relationship develops, he likes to be affectionate in private; keeping you close at night, cradling  you close to  his chest to make sure that you both  sleep reasonably. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Miguel is... The quietly protective friend. He shows his care in other ways than words. Such as quality time, or checking up on you (”... You alright?” or “... Have you eaten today?”). If you’re being intimidated or harassed by someone, Miguel will subtly use his scary dog privelige to keep you safe, and out of trouble - though sometimes this can go a little too far, and he’ll scare off someone who you were actually enjoying talking to. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

It would take a LONG time for any PDA to be shared by Miguel. He’ll be almost... unresponsive, to most things, such as side hugs or torso hugs, but he’ll still allow them and suchlike. Even when he does start doing things such as cuddling, it’ll be late at night, when you and him are both half asleep, and he’ll likely deny that he does so for an equally long time.  Miguel likes all sorts of cuddles, but a few of his favourites are:  - The spoon (a classic, he likes being big spoon most of the time), the shingles position (he likes being able to hold you, and also likes laying on his back), and Sweetheart’s cradle. Being able to physically support you gives him the fuzzies, and makes him feel somewhat safe himself.  It isn’t until quite a bit into your relationship that he’ll move cuddles to elsewhere; hugging you from behind if you’re doing something, inviting you to lay/cuddle with him on the sofa during a movie, things like that. Turns out Miguel is quite a softie at heart. 

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Due to having a previous family that is no longer with him, Miguel is rather,,, sceptical, of settling down again. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s more that he’s still hurting from his past, and couldn’t bear to see it repeated. It will take time - and a lot of work - to heal this, but eventually, he may do. 

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be blunter than blunt. He wouldn’t even vaguely try to dress up the situation to let you down easily. If something wasn’t working out for him, he’d bring that up to you and address it head on. He’s slightly more likely to shy away from praising you, or commending you on something, and this is where that idea is most prominent.   This will, however, stick with him for a long time, and he will most likely feel very guilty  about it. 

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)  

Similar to the domestic section, there’s still this open wound around letting people in. He can do it to an extent without thinking about  it, but after a while he starts to consider two things: 1. how his life used to be, before it all faded away in his arms,  2. How his job could potentially put you in harms way, physically and emotionally. He wouldn’t want any harm to come to you because of his life, so this weighs particularly heavy on him. 

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

When Miguel eventually does start to reciprocate anything, he’s very nervous about it. It starts with little things - just a token of gratitude or affection here and there, a snack or something that made him think of you. Slowly, he tries to learn your love map; what do you like? What makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside? That’s what he wants to know, and what he takes his time in finding out. In that case, I suppose he’s quite gentle! 

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

Hugs are few and far between - fewer than even cuddles at the start. The only times he gives hugs are after finding you safe and sound, but is in front of others so has to reign in his affection for fear of embarrassing himself in front of his co-workers. He’s not particularly fond of how brief hugs are either - if he really had to choose he’d have cuddles instead. Hugs don’t overly change into the relationship, though - purely because of how short they are, Miguel doesn’t like that. 

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

It takes what feels like forever for him to say it. It isn't until he feels safe/healed enough from his past, and confident as he can that you won't be directly in harms way or that you can take care of yourself that he'll basically allow himself to admit it to you and himself. After the first time he tells you, some days it feels like he never stops saying it to you, constantly reminding you of the fact. 

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Miguel tries not to get outwardly jealous all that much- but in truth? Things like that do kind of eat at him. This can make him snappy, or more closed off than usual in an effort to try and save his own feelings.  This doesn’t work all that well, and eventually he may end up lashing out and angrily  trying to come to a solution with you. This may take a while, as of course he’s still grieving over the loss of those he held so dear.  In terms of dealing with the other person? He dials it up to 100 right away, he will do practically anything to get them away from you; and if that person is making you uncomfortable? Well, it’s certainly going to be a bad day for that person, I can tell you that much. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

When you’re outside of your home, his kisses are no more than quick pecks - he doesn’t want to be caught by any of the other spider-people, and these are usually on the cheek, too, so nothing lewd could be taken from the interaction if you were discovered. When you’re in private, though it’s a different story. He’s passionate, and kisses for a loooong time. He loves kissing pretty much anywhere he can get to, anywhere that’s exposed to him.  He, on the other hand, is incredibly sensitive - your kisses never fail to make him weak at the knees. A kiss on the side of his lips? A kiss on the back of his shoulder? His chest? LITERALLY ANYWHERE? He loses all concentration. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Miguel used to be pretty  good around kids - practically perfect, even. But since that event, he’s been very reluctant to be around kids, besides when he’s forced to. He still takes care of them, and looks out for them when he’s around them, but he tries to draw no attention to it, and brushes people off when they point it out  to him (similar to him catching Mayday when she fell). 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

Miguel is always, without fail, up at 6:00 am, on the dot. He has a very light breakfast, then goes to work. So, mornings with him are virtually non-existent, unless you spontaneously get up at - quite literally - the crack of dawn. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Miguel ALWAYS comes home late - if at all. Early hours of the morning are not an uncommon occurrence, and unfortunately he does not always try to be quiet to allow you to sleep.  So what little time you may actually get together, he will be apologising for waking you (again) whilst he clambers into bed, nestling himself up to you, so that you can take comfort in the fact that your partner is finally home, safe and sound. 

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Very, very rarely. You have to ask the right kind of questions, in the right kind of way. Everything in his past still hurts him, a lot, so he tries to avoid it if he can; if he catches on that you’re trying to get information about what’s happened to him in the past, he will shut it down. Part of him thinks that you’ll think of him differently, or treat him differently if you know what he’s been through, ergo he tries his best not to open up too often. You’ll get a bit of information every now and then; he used to have a family, he has an incredibly rocky relationship with his father - if you could even call it a relationship. It’ll take him a lot of time to learn to open on his own; it’s not that he doesn’t trust you - of course he does - it’s more that he doesn’t cope with the painful sting of the past all that well. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It honestly depends on the day - though his patience is usually fairly short anyway when your relationship is in it’s early stages, there are days when it’s even shorter, due to various stressors, or interactions with certain people (namely like... 90% of the spider people). He tries to keep himself vaguely calm by self-soothing affirmations and saying some positive phrases quietly to himself, but rarely do these tactics have any lasting effect.  Later on in the relationship, though, he seems to calm down around you a lot more, and doesn’t really use his self soothing techniques anymore - clearly you have a positive effect on him. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

He remembers quite a bit - your habits and routine in particular. Does he understand them all the time? No, not really, but he remembers, and sometimes leaves things out or in easy places for you to retrieve to try and help you out a little bit. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

The time you found out about his secret identity - he hadn’t  planned on telling you at any point, he’d hardly even though about it as he though he could somehow balance both sides of his life.  One day, however, he came home so injured, that he had to ask you for help. Though he was wearing the clothes he had left in that morning, he wasn’t able to change out of his spider-suit underneath. When you saw it, you paused only for a second, before focusing your attention on helping Miguel. Neither of you really brought it up again, until a few days later, when Miguel started to try and speak about it. You hugged him tightly, and that kind of acceptance, despite your voiced worry, has always stuck with Miguel. 

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Very. He has to know your schedule for the day, and if you deviate from that he panics. If someone starts to flirt with you, or make you uncomfortable in any sort of way, he’s there immediately, looming over the aggressor, saying very little, but the look on his face would say it all.  If he has to go out for any extended period of time (I.e more than one day at a time), he’ll tell you - as much as he dares to - where he’s going, and how often he’ll update you. He’s also devised a whole plan for you to protect yourself, in case people somehow find out that he is spider-man, to keep you safe. He just hopes it never comes to that. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

Miguel tries to match the effort you put in as much as he can. You planned something special for him? He will definitely be returning the favour. If it’s a special occasion, he’ll be making sure he looks his best, or at least looks the way he knows you like. There have also been times where he’s denied calls from other spider people, just to gain some more precious time with you. 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

A couple of things - the fact  that he doesn’t sleep much, or particularly well and STILL is determined to push himself to his limits, which then makes him crabby and very sleepy; but he refuses to acknowledge this, unless you talk to him veerrrryyy gently, and help him to slowly calm down.  He’s also increeeedibly stubborn. If he gets something into his head, it’s very hard to shift it, and he tends to get agitated if you repeatedly try to do so. 

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

When he was on his own, he’d only do enough to look presentable or professional, but when you start taking an interest in him, he puts more effort in. He learns the way you like him to dress, the way to style his hair where you love to run your hands through it, the whole deal. He doesn’t consider it vanity - because it’s not for him, it’s for you. 

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, without a doubt. He wouldn’t voice it - he’s unsure if he can find the right words himself, so whether you or others would know depends on how much they pay attention to his behaviour; staring at photos too much, too often, and being extra snappy with anyone who dares bring up you or your past relations with Miguel. 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

Miguel likes his hair being played with. Feeling your fingers run through the strands, massaging his scalp, he loves it. It’s one of the few things that actually gets him to relax; but he attributes part of that  to just you being you. You calm him, keep him grounded in a way no one has for a long, long time - and though he may not say it to you, he does appreciate it. 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Someone who isn’t willing to listen; he doesn’t think you have to agree on absolutely everything, but if you’re not even willing to listen to his side or his opinion, and consider it, he doesn’t really want to know. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)  

Miguel doesn’t get much sleep - but when he does, he sleeps like a baby, unbothered by the rest of the world. The only time this changes is if there is a massive, stressful change, in which case he tosses and turns all through the night, getting sleep, but not feeling rested. 

[trash-king18]

M pt. 1

disclaimer: before i say anything else, this was inspired by another persons post and i have been trying desperately to find it to ask for permission to post this. so if the creator finds this or someone knows what i’m talking about please tell me so i can tag them for credit or take it down if they want. Part 1 is almost entirely inspired by what i read but the rest is my work.

summary: reader is 26 and puerto rican from Brooklyn on her earth, she and Miguel are coworkers and they have an intense working relationship. plot takes place a couple months before the events of Across the Spider Verse

cw: 18+ minors dni, swearing, suggestive, angst, miguel is seemingly not in his right mind because of the spider dna and gets a little rough.

note: reader is spanish speaking, translations in italics under any and all spanish. however i picked up my spanish from puerto rican girls i played volleyball with in highschool and am trying to learn (because i’m going to be a tia soon!! and i want to make sure mis sobrinos y sobrinas grow up with the language) so if you’re fluent and things are wrong lo siento/sorry and feel free to correct me

2619 words

this is my first time writing or posting anything, be nice🫶🏼

————

you and Miguel always had a different connection than everyone else at HQ. in the endless universes a surprising few spider people spoke spanish or were even not white. you were often spotted bickering ~en español~, and you enjoyed being the only one he allowed to talk back to him. you wouldn’t say you were friends, Miguel didn’t have friends, but you had more leeway with him than everyone else.. except probably lyla 

everyone thought he was just broody but to you he was a broody overgrown man child with a superiority complex and you never failed to take an opportunity to tell him off. 

—

“déjalo ya”

knock it off

he rolls his eyes turning his head away from you in every direction like a toddler that doesn’t want to eat the food on the spoon. 

he gets cranky on extraction days

“do i need to do the airplane”

he scowls at you 

right now you’re in the exam room in the back of your lab, there’s nothing much in there just the exam chair and the specialized vials you use for extracting and storing his venom. it was soundproofed and locked from the inside, per miguel’s request. 

he was a very private person. when he brought you onto the team to create an injection to help keep him.. subdued he was very specific that it be kept between you two 

“you’re extra grumpy today, what’s wrong jefe”

boss

“no te preocupa”

it doesnt concern you 

you turn to look at him skeptically but his eyes are hard set and while he allows you to tease him within these four walls, emphasis on allows, you know better than to push especially when he hasn’t had an injection in a while

“ahora vamos, let’s get this over with”

cmon now

“do we have to do this today i’m really very busy”

“si! now open”

you push the viles up towards his face hoping he’ll just cooperate. but as per usual, no such luck 

he pushes your hands away over and over 

you sigh in exasperation 

“seriously?”

you feel like you’re trying to get your nephew to eat his peas 

he just looks at you smirking slightly, he thinks he’s won. 

“eso es suficiente por hoy.”

that’s enough for today

he starts to get up, but if there’s one thing that always works when your sobrinos are acting up it’s letting your inner tia out 

“Miguel O’hara! usted no es un bebé, así que deja de actuar como uno! ahora siéntate.”

you are not a baby so stop acting like one, now sit 

he stops in his tracks and sits back down. he looks sort of shocked, you’ve never actually yelled at him, you don’t think anyone’s yelled at him in years, but he is particularly frustrating today. 

he grumbles under his breath like a boy who got scolded by his mama 

“lo siento” 

im sorry

you turn around to put gloves on since your sure he’s going to make you do this the hard way. you expect you’ll have to hold them in place so he doesn’t try and take them out early 

“eres insoportable”

you’re unbearable 

“what was that?”

you breath out. 

“nothing”

your back is still turned so you can’t see his bemused half smile

you turn back around with the viles in your hand again and he’s no longer smiling. you can never tell if he hates doing this because its uncomfortable, it wounds his pride, or he hated being vulnerable but you assumed all the above. but he’s a grown man, a very large very attractive, grown man. who also happens to be the most disagreeable person you’ve ever met. 

“you gonna cooperate now?”

“i make no promises”

he smirks 

you scowl and it drops off his face immediately 

apologetic was a new look on him, it was sort of hot. 

too bad it didn’t last.

“seriously though, Y/N, i have a lot to do right now I really don’t have time for this”

“well if you’d actually do it yourself like i asked we wouldn’t have to do this”

he looks at you unimpressed. he knows and you know that as soon as he wants to get up he will and there’s nothing you can do. but he has one bottle of the suppressant left and he’s not the only one feeling stubborn today. 

as soon as you try to get him to bite the vials again he starts resisting you.

“Y/N stop”

you ignore him 

“Y/N.” he warns you 

“just sit still”

“No! will you—“

you cut him off by climbing on top of him and trying to force his hand off to the sides. it worked.. for a second 

until he grabs your wrists and just stares at you in shock. 

“really?”

“I-“ you stutter his red eyes are staring into you 

his hands still gripping your wrists but you steady yourself

“abrir”

open up 

“no.”

you put on your best tia voice again

“~Miguel~”

he raised his brow at you 

he relents and let’s go of your hands 

but he doesn’t open his mouth 

you wait expectantly but he turns his head away again

you give him an annoyed look he looks at you out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t turn back 

“don’t make me pry your mouth open”

“id like to see you try”

“you know what spider boy i’ve had enough of your attitude today”

you start to climb off 

“just get out of my chair”

but your surprised when he stops you, you feel his hands on your hips. 

you look back at him and practically growl 

“what now”

now it’s his turn to be surprised. he doesn’t let go of you but you feel his hands loosen. 

“I- im sorry”

never in a million years did you think you’d hear  miguel o’hara apologize to anyone but he seems genuine. 

“i just.. i don’t- i don’t like-” 

“save it. i don’t care about your feelings and i’m not here to help you work through your emotional constipation i just want to get this done.”

he stares at you and you fully expect him to just pick you up off him and leave… but he just starts laughing. another thing you didn’t expect to hear. it’s a full laugh leaving his fangs exposed 

you just sit there staring at him confused 

“guess i’m not the only grumpy one today huh”

but instead of making a sarcastic quip you took the opportunity and leaned forward with one gloved hand and peal his upper lip up and put the viles on his fangs before he can react. 

he mumbles trying to talk with the viles in his mouth 

“que diablos!”

what the hell

he tried to pull your arm away from his face but you swat his hand away 

he grumbles a series of curses but you hold the viles in place 

“cállate.”

shut up

you use your thumb to tug his lower lip down slightly to make sure his lower fangs are in good condition. he finally sits still but you can feel his hot breath, you know he’s not happy. 

but you couldn’t care less. 

as you wait for the venom to finish dripping from his fangs you become aware of how compromising a position the two of you are in. his hands are resting on your thighs and youve propped yourself on his chest with your hands 

not to mention the lowlights in the room because of his headaches. 

his eyes are closed, he refuses to look at you. 

the tension is thick and you desperately want to get off but you don’t trust him not to pull the viles off so you pretend to check the wrest of his teeth.. which are perfect of course. 

he shifts under you and you can’t help but notice the creases in his forehead. you almost feel bad. 

he’s not like the other spider people, he’s literally half spider. which gives him heightened senses and insane reflexes, but sometimes it also means his emotions and actions can get out of his control. that’s what the suppressor was for, helped him keep hold of the reigns but you know he didn’t like having to do it this way. 

unfortunately for him, his venom was the base for it and you couldn’t make it without it. 

finally the vials were filled and you go to take them off. he cracks his jaw while you seal them. you place them in the pocket of your lab coat. 

“now. was that so bad?”

he rolls his eyes

you sense that you may have pushed too far this time so you move to get up but he holds you in place. 

“just so we’re clear—“

his eyes darken 

“don’t. do that again”

your breath catches. you nod and start to shift but he holds you in place 

“and Y/N”

you look at him warily 

he grabs your chin and leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear

“never call me spider boy”

you say nothing 

he smiles against your ear 

“comprendida?”

understand 

you let out a shaky breath 

“si”

he holds you like that

“miguel?”

“shhh”

he hushes you as he slowly moves down and ghosts over the skin of your neck with his lips 

he opens his mouth and gently runs his fangs over your skin 

you let out a light breathy moan before you can stop yourself 

your face flushes but he doesn’t let go 

“are you going to bite me… spider boy”

he growls against your skin 

you know it’s stupid but even after seeing him at his worst and most untamed you have a hard time believing he would hurt you intentionally 

but still you shouldn’t have teased you were just in shock that this was actually happening. 

“i told you—“

“not to call you that? you may be my boss miguel o’hara but i will not let you tell me what to do”

his grip on your chin tightens slightly but it’s not bruising  

his hand holds the crease of your thigh 

he chuckles deeply 

“would you like to test that”

he pulls back to look at you 

“niña bonita”

pretty girl 

he looks at you through his eyelashes with those scarlet eyes his hair falling into his face and fangs just slightly peaking out over his lips 

he starts to question himself internally 

but you just whisper 

“eres tan hermoso Miguel”

you’re so beautiful 

now he’d never admit it but hearing you say his name always made him feel some type of way. like he wanted to hear you say it.. over and over

and the entire time you we’re on top of him he was fighting to keep his breathing under control 

he’s still holding your chin 

he holds the scowl on his face

inside though he’s just fighting to keep control 

he can smell everything, your vanilla perfume, the sanitizer, the latex, but underneath everything he just smells you. your scent is intoxicating right now,  he had grown used to it, you had been physically close before. but not like this, not when he was like this. 

his brow furrowed in frustration. he hasn’t gone this long without an injection in a long time and it was starting to cloud his head. 

You search his eyes, but they’re closed off as ever. his breath is slowly getting heavier 

you snap him out of it suddenly when he hears his name the second time 

you had spoken softly at first but even though he was looking right at you he didn’t seem to hear you 

“Miguel?… i’m going to get an injection ready..ok?”

you look over him warily 

he just keeps looking at you but he slowly comes back to himself. and you finally notice a tiny spark of something under the annoyance and frustration. 

he’s nervous. 

you knew he hated when he couldn’t control himself, it was the whole reason you had this job. But you had never actually seen it manifest as anything other than a sour attitude. 

“O’hara puedes oírme?”

can you hear me

he blinks hard and drops your face. he clears his throat abruptly 

“si”

“i’m gonna get an injection”

he catches your wrist, it’s quick but gentle 

“no”

he’s staring into your eyes intensely 

“save it until the new batch is ready, i’m going to need it.”

“you need it now”

“ay will you just listen to me for once for once por favor”

he holds your wrist and moves so that you have to look at his eyes. you know he’s right, which is infuriating 

you huff 

“fine.”

his lip quirked slightly, satisfied that you actually listened for once

you sit there for a moment in awkward silence before he finally drops his soft hold on your wrist and you awkwardly clamber off, a difficult task considering how… large he was. 

you go to the counter and start to get the viles ready. 

he doesn’t move from the chair  just watches you work. 

you can feel his eyes on you. 

“uhm i’ll have the next round ready by tomorrow morning, so you’re good to go.”

you don’t hear him get up, of course. you never understood, half spider or not, how such a large man could move without being seen or heard. 

you just feel his presence behind you. 

he doesn’t say anything. 

“seriously o’hara out of my lab”

he could tell you were frustrated with him, which wasn’t unusual but now it lacked the usual playfulness. 

he finally speaks. 

“it’s late.”

“i’m aware”

he sighs in frustration 

“i mean— it’s late. you should go home.”

“im good.”

you know as frustrating as you insist on being i am  still your boss and i am telling you to go home. this can wait until the tomorrow.

you turn around

“that’s not up to you.”

“oh it’s not?”

“no. you brought me here to develop this serum but you also did it because deep down you don’t trust yourself not to do something you’ll regret”

he grabs you again and snarls in your face. 

too far. 

and yet today you don’t care something, maybe not an entirely innocent something, just wanted to egg him on more than usual. 

“see?”

“no trates de decirme por qué hago lo que hago”

do not try to tell me why i do what i do 

you just stand there inches away from one another. he towers over you. you don’t back down and he doesn’t let go. he’s seething, you’re done with his bullshit 

but you’re trapped. not just by his body but his eyes. you feel like a bug caught in his web. 

your eyes dart to his lips and back. 

he notices, you know he can feel your heartbeat quicken, he can probably sense the flush on your kneck. 

and your certain he feels the chills creep down your spine as he leans in closer. 

you whisper 

“que estás haciendo?”

what are you doing 

he leans in more so your lips are almost touching before answering 

“no lo sé”

i don’t know 

you lean into it just enough that your lips ghost over one another. your arm slips up so your hand can grab the back of his neck. 

your lips chase one another gently but never quite touch. 

you’re so close. it’s taking every last ounce of restraint not to just pick you up and indulge every thought racing through his mind. but he knows he can’t, not right now, not like this. 

he pulls back so suddenly you almost fall over 

“go home, you can finish tomorrow.”

“i- wha- o’hara what the fuck?”

he storms out of your lab without another word leaving you breathless and confused. 

[tarjapearce]

Lips Anon! Hi Pookieeee

Okay so I've been seeing some asks about Mama's design and it's pissing me off.

Y'all, this is Tarja's take on Mama. NOT her official design.

Mama can be whatever you want, Tarja never said Mama's curls were loose or tight. Mama can be imagined as whatever the heck you want!!!

All of Tarja's reader inserts are Latina coded because in early Miguel fandom none of the popular works had a Latina reader that felt authentic. We Latina readers were starving! Before you think I'm making massive assumptions, I've actually been talking to Tarja for some time and we talked about this in depth.

Mama is coded as a Latina because she was originally meant for Latina readers.

However as Tarja's aucience grew, it expanded outside of the Latina audience. Which is amazing!

We've both noticed an alarmingly little amount of the realistic Latina pov in reader inserts so we made our own.

Just making this clear because frankly this is starting to get out hand. Please let us Latinas have something!

Tangent incoming. We barely get shit, we get stereotyped as this big busty booby spicy women but not for the right reasons. Sure a lot of Latinas have these features, but you always get skinny Latinas (not hating btw you go skinny queens) with these features. A lot of Latinas have a lil chub but where the fuck do you see that in media?

I'm speaking as a Latina who feels underrepresented, and Tarja has said the same, thus the creation of the reader inserts.

I'm not mad that people have a problem problem with the design, but when people keep thinking that this is the official design for Mama and get all pissy in the inbox, that's really fucking shallow.

Again, let us have this. Tarja's design is not the official, and if you don't feel represented...please scroll and don't bitch.

Thank you for reading! This is not meant to hate on anyone, I just don't like the amount of boundry breaking there is.

You go Queens 💕

I know this will be controversial to some, but in truth, it is kind of Annoying and repetitive to keep clearing this sort of things. I'm not being rude or mean (Feeling hella awkward if honest) , just it makes me sad and a bit angry that none had complained about it before, until MY take on her design dropped.

I just wanna enjoy writing for her. In one of the many asks way way before I stated that Mama was a latina, but as more people kept reading, her ethnicity and the like passed to a second layer, and I rather focused on her personality, trying to make her as a relatable character as possible.

I KNOW none looks like her. I just took physical traits I often see in Latina women. I know I won't please everyone too (and that's alright cause that's not my job either.)

I truly don't mean to sound arrogant or something, but I don't like repeating myself over the same thing.

[writingonleaves]

and there are some days when i think that, somewhere, you're watching - the blue au

universe: the blue au

warnings: cancer, grief, sadness, the usual with anything to do with the blue au's premise lol

title: "chemtrails" by lizzy mcalpine

word count: 1.1k

author's note: lol hey!! there are a million other wips i should be working on but here we are! if you haven't read at least the first part of this au yet, you probs should for context. we are also manifesting here all three hughes brothers make it to the olympics. inspired by the beautiful players tribune article kevin hayes wrote for his late brother jimmy. i thought a lot about which brother would write something like this and ended up settling on quinn <3 enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

*****

The Ones We Play For 

for The Players Tribune 

by Quinn Hughes 

Written February 4, 2026

I’ll never forget the first time I put on a USA jersey for an international competition. 

It was for the 2015 World Under-17 Challenge when I had just turned 16. I didn’t think much of it at the time. The only thing I thought about was playing well, but it was an honor nonetheless. 

Every time you get the opportunity to represent your country in any way, it’s an honor. I know everyone says it, but it’s true. The whole nation is looking at you and cheering you and your teammates on. The playing of the anthem means more than ever. You look at the jersey and feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Next week, hockey at the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano-Cortina will begin. I’ve always dreamed of being about to play at the Olympics, but now that it’s actually here, it’s surreal. 

The team is great, and I feel lucky to even be here. As I look around at my teammates, I feel confident that we can bring home a gold medal. But it’ll take hard work. That’s nothing that we don’t know though. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to put on the jersey and who we wear it for. Of course, I think I speak for every single person at these Olympics when we say we wear it for our country and the fans watching us, whether here in Italy or back home. 

But we’re all playing for someone in our own support group. The village that has brought each of us here.

First, my parents, who have been there since the very first day. My mom, who taught me how to skate and my dad, who taught me how to see the game. My extended family: my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family who aren’t technically family but who might as well be. Everyone in my life who’s always offered support and encouraging words, who has sat in cold rinks and watched me play. Whether they’re here in Italy or watching from various parts of the world, I’m playing for them. 

I’m also playing for my brothers, who will be on the ice with me. That’s still crazy for me to think about. We never could’ve imagined this when we were playing mini sticks in the basement as kids. Of course, we dreamed about it. But to see it come to reality? I feel very grateful. In the locker room, I look at Jack on my right and then Luke at my left. We’re playing for each other. 

But most importantly, I’m playing for Miguel Sandoval. 

I don’t talk about Miguel often, but he was one of the most important people in my life. Still is. He met my parents before I was born and automatically became a second father to me. To be honest, I don’t think I talk about him often because it still hurts to think about. 

Miguel was one of my biggest cheerleaders from the beginning. The fact that he’s not alive to see me take the ice next week is, well, it’s a lot of things. Sad is the first word that pops to mind. Unfair is another. The one who was at the rink next to my father in the stands before I even really knew how to play hockey isn’t alive to see me play in the Olympics? There’s no words to describe how devastating that is. 

He never got to see me play in any USA jersey, even though he was always confident I would put one on eventually. He died of pancreatic cancer on New Year’s Day, 2015. 

It’s been over 11 years without him, but he’s still in everything I do. A huge part of the reason I wear 43 is because of him — his birthday is April 3. I still remember his boisterous laugh and his kind eyes. He wrote Jack, Luke and I letters before he died that were specifically addressed to be given to us on our draft days. I still carry mine with me on every road trip. That’s how long and how strongly he believed in us. Somehow, he just knew that we would be drafted long before it happened. 

I have every word of that letter memorized. Sometimes, I trace over his handwriting with my thumb, and it feels like he's still with us.

During his brief battle with cancer, even when his body had almost no strength left, he always greeted us with a smile and an enthusiastic greeting. Even when he was advised not to, he made it to the games he could until his last days. To the very last day, he lived life with the biggest smile on his face.

If anyone should be here to see his “talented boys” take on the ice, it’s him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like Miguel who loved them so unconditionally. I’m grateful for the time I had with him, even if I desperately wish it was more. We weren’t his sons by blood, but he treated us like family. But sometimes life is unfair, and we have to hold on to the fact that everything happens for a reason.

Here’s a reason: Miguel’s wife, Maeve, who is like a second mother to me, will be watching from Boston. Maeve is the best, always keeping it lighthearted and reminding me that life is supposed to be lived to the fullest. She has this youthful energy that’s just so infectious. She’s the one who always reminds me that hockey is supposed to be fun. I wouldn't be half the person I am today without her support.

And then their daughter, Clementine. Clem, I call her. Jack calls her Clee and Luke calls her Clemmy. Clem’s my best friend / older sister — the universal older sister, to be honest. It doesn’t matter if our last names aren’t the same. She’s been there for me ever since I could remember. Even when we were states, sometimes countries, away, I knew that if I called her, she’d always pick up. Currently on the journey to becoming a doctor, Clem is the kindest, most intelligent, most selfless and strongest woman I’ve ever met. She was the one who lost her father, but she made sure that all of us were okay. Even now, she can’t ever seem to take off the big-sister hat. But I wouldn’t have her any other way. 

Miguel, wherever you are, I can tell you a few things. First, I promise that we’re taking care of your wife and daughter as best as we can. We’re gonna try our best to get to the final rounds of this tournament so that they can fly out and watch us play. We love them and they’ll always be family. Second, whenever I feel a bit lost or need to be grounded, I think of you and your calm demeanor and bear hugs. I wish I could have just one more hug. Squeeze you one more time.

Miguel, when I put on that USA jersey and step on the ice, I will be playing for you. Jack, Luke and I will all be skating for you.

We miss you. 

We love you.

This is for you.

Yours, 

Quinn

[thedevilssinner]

The Spider Sleeps Tonight

I got an idea that got out of my hands. This was actually supposed to be an ask for @oharahive (check her page btw, she has amazing Miguel O’Hara fics. I can honestly recommend all of them💖) but I got carried away and it ended up like this so… enjoy.

I’m not a writer in any way. I honestly don’t know what possessed me but I just had to write this. Also, english isn’t my first language so if something is wrong, let me know. The same applies to spanish.

Before you start… let me tell you about the diapause phase to understand what I’m writing about. Diapause is a phase in a spider's life cycle where their development is temporarily paused due to harsh environmental conditions, like winter. During diapause, their metabolism slows down, and their body goes into a kind of "standby" mode. They don't eat much or move around much. Instead, they conserve energy and wait for more favorable conditions to resume their normal activities. It's like they're taking a winter nap to survive the cold.

What if the Spider-reader gained not only spider-like abilities but also this? Not exactly the same as the spiders but some variation of it.

The result is under the cut.

Pairing is Miguel O'Hara x spider!reader. Should be gender neutral if I didn't miss something. No smut, only fluff.

Imagine that your universe has harsher winters. Imagine that the outside temperatures are dropping lower and lower, the nights are getting longer, and you feel like you're not getting enough sleep. Not only are you trying to protect New York in your own universe, but you're also helping Miguel track down anomalies. You were constantly jumping across the multiverse, which confused your body even more, and you tried to brush the feeling off, thinking it was just because you had become so active. But you could sleep as much as you wanted and still feel dead tired. You became sluggish, your limbs felt heavier, and your movements became more thoughtful and deliberate as if your body was adjusting to a new rhythm you didn’t know. Your heart also beat slower and you felt very confused, but your duties as a hero of New York and a member of the Spider-Society kept you busy enough to stop thinking about it.

Other Spider-persons noticed your change, your easy going personality was still there, but your smile got smaller, your voice quieter and you mostly kept to yourself instead of talking to the people around you. But when they asked you, you brushed it off again, and blamed it on the winter blues, not wanting them to worry about you.

When you had time, you would often find a dark and quiet spot in the Spider-HQ, build a makeshift hammock out of your webs and take a nap there, or just lie down while you ate some food, because you were finally hungry. The building with all the spiders felt safer than any other place for some reason. It made you feel better. But as winter progressed in your world, even the Spider-HQ wasn’t enough until you found a safer place within - Miguel’s office. You went in to give him your report, but he wasn’t there, so you put it on the table and were going to leave, but something held you back. You could smell him all over the office, and in your mind you saw his image on the platform, looking at the footage and materials on the screens as usual, his fingers dancing across the keyboards as he quietly argued with Lyla. The image made you smile, because you had experienced this exact scenario countless times before, and it comforted you.

You always felt safe around Miguel and it has nothing to do with your teeny-tiny crush on him. You knew that despite his grumpiness, he was a good person who cared for each Spider-person in his own way. Maybe that’s why you did what you did. Because before you could think about it, you have another one of your web hammocks in between two pillars of Miguel’s office. You quickly crawl into it and fall asleep with a contented sigh.

*******

Miguel, who is always so observant, especially when it comes to you, also notices your behavior. To be honest, he had a soft spot for you. Actually… it was more than that. In almost a year you were in the Spider-Society, you were anything but reliable, your missions usually went smoothly, your reports were always straightforward and to the point, and although you were a gentle person that rarely got angry, you weren’t afraid to stand up to him when he was overly harsh with others – a trait he actually appreciated. At least from you. There was just something about you. Something more that others didn't have. You were also the only person who could successfully calm him down. You even made him smile. 

Both of these things surprised him. He did not think he was capable of really smiling or having romantic feelings for anyone after everything he had been through, but your arrival changed everything. You were just so gentle and kind-hearted and always smiling… smiling on him, and that made him feel things he hadn’t expected to feel. Want things he wasn’t supposed to want. It made him terrified, but also desperate to be in your presence every waking moment.

But now you were acting differently and it made him worried. He heard you talking to other spiders and blaming your change on winter depression, but he had a feeling there was more to it than you were letting on. He wanted to talk to you soon to find out what was going on with you, because when he checked on your universe, there was nothing to make you like this. 

What he didn’t expect was that one day he would find you asleep in his office. You were in a dark part of the office, curled up on yourself on a hammock made of your own webs, sleeping peacefully. Your breathing was shallow, shallower than it should be, and your heart was also beating slower than is normal for a sleeping person.

“What in the world is happening to you?” he wondered as he watched you sleep, thoughts running wildly through his head. “Lyla, find out if there is another Spider-person who has had or is having symptoms similar to theirs.” Miguel redirected his attention to his AI assistant. Deciding this would be probably the quickest way to figure things out. In fact, he didn't understand why he hadn't thought of it before.

“How about you add the magic word first?” asked the little holographic woman, and Miguel huffed in annoyance.

“Lyla! Find that information…" he ordered, “...please.” he decided to add.

“See, it wasn’t that hard.” replied Lyla, disappearing and working on what Miguel wanted her to do. It only took a few minutes and she reappeared. “So… there are a few Spider-persons who have the same symptoms. Most of them aren’t that known here so no one ever explored it that much but it’s nothing dangerous. It's related to the spider part of her. She’s going through something called diapause. It’s kind of like hibernation, but for insects and she’s still going to be able to function, more or less.” she explained.

Her words reassured Miguel, who was glad that it wasn't something dangerous, as he went through the information she found. He read folders about Spider-persons that had symptoms similar to yours. Everything he read reassured him more and more that you'd be fine, but it also made him not want to take you on any more missions. At least not the bigger ones. He knew you wouldn't like being cut off, and so far you’ve done well on your missions, but he didn’t want to risk it. He cared too much about you to let you continue.

His eyes wandered back to the spot where you were sleeping. You looked so small, snuggled up to yourself, and your breathing was so quiet. His fingers twitched with desire to touch you, and he unconsciously took a few steps toward you before holding back. He didn't want to wake you up. His eyes roamed over your body, listening to the soft sight that escaped your mouth as you wiggled in the hammock, making it sway a little. Your hair fell in your face and you scrunched your nose when it tickled you. Now he really couldn’t hold back. He stepped closer, reached out his hand to your face and brushed the hair out of your face as gently as he could.

*******

You are awakened by a gentle and warm touch on your face. You eagerly grab the hand and snuggle your face against it, enjoying the warmth emanating from it until your sleepy brain finally begins to function properly and you realize that you fell asleep in Miguel’s office and the hand you are snuggling to is probably his. You let go of it and slowly open your eyes, which immediately meet Miguel's maroon ones.

“Hey..." you murmur softly, cheeks slightly red and not knowing what to say. Should you apologize for using his office as your bedroom? Or just… say nothing about it?

“Hey..." Miguel replied, watching you. He didn’t look angry, which was a good sign. “I think it’s time we had a talk,” he continued, and you swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. Those words almost never meant anything good, but you nodded in agreement and slowly sat up in the hammock, your gaze now fixed on the floor.

“Do you know what’s happening to you?” Miguel asked, getting straight to the point. You wanted to answer that nothing was happening to you, but you held back. You didn’t want to lie, not to him.

“I… no. I don’t.” you admit, still not looking at him. “I just feel… tired and my limbs feel heavy and I feel like my whole body is slowing down, but I…. I swear I’m still able to do my missions. I’m still useful. It’s not that bad, I swear.” you finally look back up at him, your eyes filled with fear. You were afraid that Miguel would tell you that you were done with Spider-Society.

“Calm down, arañita,” Miguel said gently, which surprised you a little. It wasn’t often that he spoke to you like that and gave you a pet name, but it was nice. “Lyla has already found other Spider-Men with similar symptoms. You're in diapause, which is common for spiders. Your metabolism is slowing down because of the winter in your world, but it'll be fine. When spring starts, you should feel normal again,” he assured you, and your body relaxed as you processed his words.

“So, I’m okay and you... you're not kicking me out?” you wanted to make sure you understand correctly.

“Yes and no. I’m not kicking you out, but there will be some changes..."

*******

After the conversation you had with Miguel, few things really changed for you. Miguel no longer let you go on big missions, only smaller ones and only occasionally, even though you protested that you were capable of handling it. The only consolation was that he gave you another task instead, which was to organize his office. Putting all the equipment in its place, cleaning up his tools, and so on. You knew he was doing this to distract you from not being able to go on missions, but you were still grateful for it, and you still had to protect your own version of New York. Patrolling at night and fighting with villains that decided to show even in the freezing temperatures. But whenever you could, you walk through the multidimensional portal into the Spider-Society’s lobby and then right into Miguel's office.

You felt safest when you were with him. Your tired body relaxes and your mind becomes still. Enjoying when you worked silently alongside him. Miguel would fix or update the multiversal gizmo, look at something on the screens, or just do whatever he needed while you organized different parts of the office or handed him the tools he needed. But sometimes you also talked… about everything and nothing. About your lives, about the weather in your universe, the diapause you were going through, the embarrassing moments you both experienced when you started out as Spider-Man and woman and it was just so nice. It introduced you to new sides of Miguel, but unfortunately also deepened your feelings for him.

You already knew that the admiration you had initially felt for him had turned into a bit of a crush, but now that you had spent much more time with him, your feelings had deepened. Every smile you saw before he hid it, every tender word he graced you with, made you fall even more in love with him. Besides, there were times when you fell asleep in the hammock you still had in his office, but you never slept for long because you were always awakened by Miguel's hand in your hair. You didn't understand how he never noticed that you were awake, but his fingers lightly stroking your head was something incredibly pleasant, and you had no intention of ever stopping him, your eyes still closed and enjoying his care until you fell asleep again. It made you hopeful that there could be something more than friendship between the two of you, but Miguel never said anything and you were too afraid of ruining the friendship you had to say anything.

*******

After a month and a half of you spending your time with Miguel, things changed for both of you. He was checking surveillance footage, when you walked into his office. You were a little bit late, usually appearing soon after you're done with the patrol in your universe but he tried to not stress about it. 

But when he turned his head to you, he could see that he should have been stressed.

“Mierda..." he gasped “What happened to you? How bad is it?” he asked, quickly jumping to your side and letting his eyes wander over your body to see where you were hurt. You had a busted lip, and your suit was torn in some places, showing your bleeding skin underneath. It looked like someone had tried to shred your suit apart with claws while you were still wearing it.

“I’m… fine. I just met my own version of Prowler, who was actually a younger Hobie. That was really weird, if you ask me,” you replayed tiredly, dropping into your hammock and groaning in pain.

Miguel paused for a moment, but quickly recovered. Your health was much more important to him than Hobie Prowler right now. He shot out one of his webs, which momentarily illuminates your surroundings red, and pulled a nearby first aid kit towards him, rummaging through it. 

“I’m sure it was, and we can talk about it later, but for now…. take off your suit so I can treat you.” he finally spoke again and immediately after that, he heard you gasp.

“Um… Miguel, you do realize that I’m only wearing my underwear underneath, right?” you ask him and Miguel stills, lifting his head up and looking at you. He could see your wide eyes and red cheeks. To be honest, he did not realize that, even though he should because no one was wearing much under the suit, your words repeating in his head. The image of you only in underwear flooding his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his throat.

“No, I uh… I didn’t realize that. Wait a second,” he said and quickly disappeared into the depths of his office. He knew he had some clothes here, for whatever reason, and quickly found them. “Here, put these on,” he said, handing you a shirt and a pair of shorts. Your hands touched his as you took the clothes from him, and you gave him a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and your soft voice and the touch of your hands make him clear his throat again.

“No problem. I will… leave you alone for a moment. Call for me when you’re done.” replied Miguel, quickly walking away and trying to calm himself down. You’re injured and the only thing he can think about now is your almost naked body? He really should do something about his growing obsession with you.

Seriously, get a grip, Miguel! 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to hear the sound of you changing.

“Miguel? I’m done.” he hears your voice after a minute, quickly returning back to you. Immediately noticing how good you’re looking in his clothes. 

This is torture.

"Good… let's get you patched up." he says outloud, kneeling before you and taking the first aid kit again. Pulling out stuff he needs. “Show me your left hand.” he orders while he’s spraying the cotton ball with antiseptic. 

*******

When Miguel gave you his clothes and left, your eyes followed him for a few seconds, but then you put the clothes on the hammock, quickly got up, and took off your suit. When you were done, you first took his shorts and pulled them over your legs. Thank goodness the waistband could be tightened with a drawstring, otherwise it would have fallen off for sure. Then you took the shirt and before you put it on, you slowly brought it up to your face and sniffed it. It was a clean shirt, but still…. it smelled like Miguel. You grip the shirt tighter for a moment, take a deep breath, and then finally pull it over your head.

When you were sure that every important part of your body was covered, you called for Miguel and watched him as he came back to you. There was something in his eyes when he saw you in his clothes, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Watching him quietly as he knelt in front of you and rummaged in the first aid kit again until he asked you to show him your hand.

You obediently offered him your left hand, with three angry scratches on your upper arm.

Miguel took you by the wrist, his large, warm hand squeezing gently, pulling you a little closer while he moved his other hand closer to the scratches, running the cotton ball lightly over them. You hissed softly at the burn of the disinfectant, but otherwise held still, feeling his thumb gently stroking your wrist.

When he was finished with the left hand, he immediately took you by the right one and carefully disinfected the wounds there. He patched up deeper wounds with a band-aid and then went to your legs, your breath catching in your throat as his hand grasped the underside of one of your thighs. He pulls your leg closer, foot between his legs, almost pressing in a place you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your heartbeat quickened despite your slowed down body, and you were sure your cheeks were red. The silence between the two of you was heavy, interrupted only by Miguel's apology when he pressed a little too hard on a wound.

You always assured him that it was okay, your voice wavering a little. Obediently lifting your… well, his shirt up,when he wanted you to. Showing the wound on your stomach and feeling his fingers stroking your skin as he was cleaning it. This wasn't supposed to be sexual under any circumstances, so why was it with Miguel?

“There you go, done.” your thoughts were interrupted by Miguel’s voice. You let the shirt fall back down, covering your stomach again. You are glad it’s finally done and look back up into Miguel’s face, ready to thank him but the darkened gaze of his eyes makes you choke on your words. You gulp and instead of just saying thank you, something urges you to say something different.

“I should kiss you,” you whisper, “you know, as a thank you for taking such good care of me.”

You could see Miguel’s Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed, his eyes starting to glow more red. “There… there’s no need.” he replies, his voice sounding deeper than before, but even as he refuses, his hands grab your hips and pull you closer to the edge of the hammock.

“But I want to..." you breathe out, and your hands find their way into his hair. Before he can say anything, you lean closer to him and press your lips to his. You feel his body tense, briefly convinced that you've made a mistake and should pull away, but then he returns your kiss. It’s slow and gentle, both of you feeling each other up. His lips are surprisingly soft and full, making you hum happily and lean into him even more. It's exactly what you've wanted to do for a long time, your fingers gently stroking through his hair.

It took you some time to finally break away from his lips. Both of you are breathing erratically, your cheeks are hot and his hair is disheveled. Honestly, you could kiss Miguel forever and it still wouldn't be enough.

“Cariño..." Miguel sighs and presses his forehead against yours. “What are you doing to me?” He asks, and you can hear the heat in his voice, making you shiver as his hands grip your hips tightly.

“I can ask the same,” you reply, still stroking his hair. “What… What does this kiss… mean to you?” you ask afterwards, still unsure if you both have the same feelings.

“Everything. It means everything to me,” he answers and you give him a soft smile. He looks so vulnerable at this moment. His usual scowling face is gone and all you can see from the color of his eyes is a thin red circle around his dilated pupils and…. are his cheeks pink?

Is the grumpy leader of Spider-Society blushing? Is he blushing because we kissed?

You ask yourself and immediately decide that yes… he is blushing and definitely because of the kiss. It made you unbelievably happy to see him like this.

“I love you,” you say softly and without thinking about it, but still… your words are true.

“I… feel the same.” Says Miguel after a moment of silence. You could hear that he wanted to say something else, but you also knew how hard it was for him to talk about his feelings sometimes, and that was okay. You both had time. There was no need to rush into this.

“I’m glad you do,” you smile again and give him a light kiss on the lips.

“Will you lie down with me now? Please...", you ask him, making a pleading face. You were tired after your fight with Prowler and Miguel’s arms looked so inviting.

Miguel had the audacity to chuckle. Chuckle! But then he nodded.

“Of course,” he replied, rising from his kneeling position and then climbing into the hammock with you. It wasn’t very big, so you had to lie on top of Miguel to fit in, but that didn’t bother you in the least, your head on his chest and his hands around your waist.

A happy sigh escapes your lips and you close your eyes. You have never felt this cozy before, and after a few seconds you started to fall asleep. One of Miguel’s hands slowly traveled up your back and into your hair, gently stroking it as he had done before, and before you fell completely asleep, you heard Miguel’s soft “I love you too.”

The End

(Note: The first Prowler was indeed a teenager Hobie Brown)

(Note 2: The name of the story is a remake of 'The lion sleeps tonight' song, idk why)

[sockiestupidity]

desc: miggy and reader bond over catholic guilt🤭

warnings: probs religious trauma, (possibly) bad spanish and bad writing, bad dialogue, ooc miguel (probs), panic attack, VERY SOFT MIGUEL LIKE ACTUALLY IM NOT EVEN OVER EXAGGERATING

VERBAL READER?????

you were roaming around spider society as usual, finding comfort in the unusual ambiance. as you walk to miguel's office to turn in your reports (lab?? room?? idk) you feel slightly off but are unsure as to why. as you enter the room you're met with miguel's back. you snap to get his attention.

he turns around "I've been expecting you for a while. Do you have the reports that I asked you for?" he looks at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow slightly.

you hand him the papers and watch as he sifts through the papers. he lets out a satisfactory hum "perfect." he pauses for a moment, setting the papers aside "are you free? i'd like to give you some pointers, your hands on combat is still sloppy" he explains.

your monotone expression changes to one of shock, surprised that miguel wanted to offer you training. you begin to rack your brain, you knew you were supposed to go somewhere, but you weren't sure where. all you knew was that something was wrong. you hesitantly nod, still having a slightly off feeling as you do so.

your brain makes a sudden realization, tuning out the world as you begin to panic somebody is trying to speak to you but it sounds muffled, as if you're underwater. you watch as the blurry figure approches you with worry.

"hey. look at me for a second" the voice speaks out. you dont respond as the figure attempts to console you. "Mírame por favor. Mírame" strong large hands grip your shoulders, attempting to bring you out of your daze.

"Escucha mi respiración" you hear calm breathing and attempt to match the steady breath. you let out a choked cry, feeling a pain in your chest, a tear rolls down your face "shh shh. Escúchame" your breathing begins to calm "that's right, you're doing so good" he praises you as your breathing starts to steady out.

you look up, eyes meeting his face "m-m sorry" you manage to get out. your lip trembles. you couldn't believe that this was happening infront of the man who was basically your boss.

you watch as his face softens, and he speaks once more "it's not your fault" he reassures you. you begin to walk away from him, ready to leave "wait" he pauses, grabbing your attention "do you-" he hesitates "do you want to talk about it?" he asks you.

you look at him in surprise. you take a shaky breath and nod. he pulls out a chair for you "go ahead, sit" he offers. you're still in shock, having never seen miguel act like this. you take the seat.

"go ahead, whenever you're ready. you can take your time if you'd like" his chair is turned to face yours.

you nod and take another breath. "so um. i dunno. i guess i just. i just freaked out thats all" you try to downplay the situation at hand. your voice is small, not used to talking to other people.

he frowns slightly "what..what led to that?" he asks you, wanting to get a better understanding.

you shrug in response "realized that i forgot that i was supposed to be somewhere today" you respond vaguely.

he gives you an expression that tells you that he knows you're not telling him the full story.

you let out a heavy sigh "um-i uh.. i was supposed to um attend church today and i..forgot" you admit.

his face contorts into a surprised expression "i didn't know you were catholic"

"i mean, not really. my parents were though" you look down at your feet "you know, it's kinda funny, theyre gone and i still feel guilty when i dont go"

he hums in understanding "i was raised catholic too" you perk up at his words "we're more similar than you may think" he smiles sadly "you're not bad for not going to church, okay? plenty of people have done worse. you shouldn't be attending out of fear, you should be attending if it's something you want to do and enjoy"

you hesitantly nod, still feeling terrible about the situation. you wipe away your stray tears.

he suddenly gets up "i wamt to show you something" you quirk your head in intrest "come on" he gestures for you to get up.

you nod and follow him. you find yourself in an elevator heading up. the both of you end up on the roof of the building.

"sometimes i come up here to have a bit of thinking time to myself" he explains as if he could sense your confusion"there's so many things ive done in my life that..i think god would be displeased with, and i often find myself thinking that maybe all of..the stuff that's happened in my life happened because of what i did. whenever i start thinking like that i come here" he looks into the skyline

"if you ever start feeling like that, i want you to come here, close your eyes, and take a deep breath" he speaks in a fatherly tone. you nod.

something about being in that space felt therapeutic to you, and you felt comforted by a sense of familiarity "thank you"

he looks at you softly "of course" you then bring him into a hug. his body stiffens for a moment but then embraces you in return. "you can talk to me if you're having these kinds of thoughts again, okay?" you nod and just let him embrace you. the both of you let go and just stare up at the sky in silence. you close your eyes and let yourself feel the wond brush against your skin.

A/N: not my best work but i had to get this idea out of my brain😮‍💨 anyways i rlly hate this qnd will probs delete later lol