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mmhcs · 5 months ago

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Not Tonight

Warnings: Slightly suggestive opening, implications and mentions of trauma and traumatic events, implications of flashbacks, descriptions that may be uncomfortable, reader needs a hug (and therapy)

Finally.

You sigh, hooking your arms around Miguel’s neck.

Finally, it’s happening.

After a week of barely seeing each other, you and Miguel finally have a night to yourselves.

Originally, you had planned to spend your Friday evening alone on the couch, catching up on the new season of that TV show you religiously kept up with.

Miguel didn’t watch it (he only loosely followed along during those times that you two had watched it together) but you still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the fact that tonight you would follow the show's plot from beginning to end without distraction, less-than-stellar remarks, or need for explanation every two seconds.

Well, at least I get to watch, you had told yourself as you settled onto the couch.

It wasn’t a perfect evening, but it would be a fun one. You only hoped that Miguel, probably still in his office, wasn’t overworking himself. Hopefully Lyla was there to bring some playfulness into the otherwise sterile environment that he would submerge himself well into next morning.

If only he was here.

You relaxed into the couch, bringing your blanket up as the theme song to your show began playing. Within a few seconds were immersed, but clearly not fully so as you jumped when you heard your front door open and the sound of keys jangling.

“Miguel?” you called, both excited and in disbelief.

Nobody else had a key to your apartment but you still had to see him to believe that it was true.

“¡Cariño!” Miguel replied, coming into view.

Before you had the chance, he, in two wide strides, walked over to the couch and scooped you into a hug.

“What are you—”

“I took the night off; I missed you.”

“Took the night off” was a generous term. Miguel had no boss; he was his own superior. His “staying late at the office” was because Miguel felt it necessary, that if he didn’t then something would happen and the “Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse” (as he called it) would collapse.

Since the two of you started dating, Miguel had gotten better at taking breaks. But you knew that you alone couldn’t bring him to ultimate healing—just like he couldn’t do the same for you.

But the two of you tried. Tried to work through you issues, not only for the other but for your respective selves. Which is why hearing Miguel say that he took the night off because he missed you made your stomach flutter with butterflies and an ache start to pool in its center.

Needless to say, you and Miguel didn’t make it past the ending of the theme song.

And that’s how you two ended up here: on your shared bed, you in Miguel’s lap and his mouth dragging itself against your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your neck, eliciting a sharp moan from you. Your hands flew from his neck to his hair, pulling at it as if it were a life raft, your only way to keep yourself from falling back onto the bed.

Not yet.

“Yes, Miguel,” Your breath hitches as he begins to suck on your neck, concentrating on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like that,”

He gives a moan of response, his mouth still on your neck.

Almost unconsciously, your head tilts itself to the side in order to give him more room to work.

“Like that,” you cry out once more. “Likethatlikethatlikethatlike—”

I don’t like that.

You look down, feeling newfound warmth at your side—Miguel’s hand kneading just above your hip.

Focus. Breathe. you tell yourself.

But it’s too late; you can feel the ache in center fading and being replaced with fear and disgust.

In an attempt to preserve your arousal, you gently place a hand at the back of Miguel’s head—as if to tell him to keep going—but it’s no use. What was just been considered hot, tantalizing kisses is now just slobber, each one further cementing that cold and hollow feeling into you.

Just one night. That was all you wanted. Just one night where you could enjoy yourself and Miguel’s company.

“Baby?”

You jump, startled. Slowly, you blink once, returning your attention to the moment. When you look down, you see that Miguel’s gaze is already on you, wide eyes and furrowed brows.

You frown. How long had you been staring at the wall?

“Hey, quierda,” Miguel begins gently. He readjusts himself to his full height, also slightly shifting you so that you now reside on his thigh instead of his lap. He removes his hands from where they had previously been and uses one to cup your cheek and lift your head to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Miguel, I...” you start but you don’t know how to finish.

What do you say? What can you say? How do you begin to explain how you feel? That yes, you want him but you just couldn’t get your mind to settle down. That parts of you are still stuck in a time way before this and couldn’t seem to move on?

“I’m sorry,” you say, gently removing his hands from your face. “I just don’t feel—” you pause, taking a deep breath. Your emotions are all over the place; the last thing you need right now is tears. “—Not tonight, Miguel. Not tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Miguel wastes no time answering. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes immediately start looking you over for cuts and scratches that would need to be tended to.

In the past, you’ve discussed some of your trauma with Miguel. He didn’t know the full story—he didn’t need to—but ever since that first time you informed him, he swore that he would do whatever he could to alleviate some of your pain.

He couldn’t take it away—he knew that for a fact—but he could be there for you. Which is why he’s running through his mind now, thinking of the best way to help.

“How about a shower, yeah?” he finally suggests. “You take a shower and I’ll make dinner.”

You sigh and bite down on your lip, trying to steel yourself.

Though you and Miguel had stopped, you still feel anxious. Your heart is banging against your chest and you feel a knot growing within your throat, making your voice hoarse and strained. But those pale in comparison to what you feel mentally.

Despite being with Miguel, you don’t feel safe. You feel the overwhelming urge to hide under the covers and sob and scrub yourself raw. Your senses are on-edge, gifting you a numbing headache that pummels against your temples despite there being no danger present.

You can’t focus. You want to sleep. Forget. Wake up tomorrow when this is all over.

“A shower sounds nice,” you finally say. “But I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.”

“That’s fine,” Miguel reassures you. “You shower. I’ll be in the living room when you’re finished,”

“Alright,” You give him a small nod, willing yourself to stand and head to the bathroom.

As you go through the motions, you can’t help but steal glance at your body every couple of minutes.

You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know what you’re feeling. A part of you feels scared. Scared because you’re trying so hard not to let your mind go to where your body has seemingly returned. Another part of you feels frustrated. You want Miguel—or at least you wanted him—but you...You didn’t feel fully present. It’s like no matter how hard you tried to be present in the moment, you just couldn’t. You can’t move everything out of your mind. Not by yourself, not with Miguel—hell, sometimes not even while you sleep.

You sigh, running the loofah along your arm again.

Great, another thing to mention in therapy.

You have to be patient with yourself. That was a fact that you learned a long time ago. But sometimes—sometimes it’s so frustrating that it brings tears to your eyes. You feel like a lost cause. Some days you even wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel “normal” again. To be able to relax and let go. To have both your mind and body be on the same page.

The uncertainty of it all brings tears to your eyes and they fall in fat goblets, mixing with the show water as they trickle down the drain.

An hour later, you pad into the living room wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, a light shirt, and the ends of your hair slightly damp.

“Hey,” Miguel turns from the sink to the kitchen counter, turning off the faucet. You look around the kitchen with furrowed brows, hoping that he really didn’t cook anything because you don’t think that you have much of an appetite at all now.

“I made some agua de fresa”, Miguel explains, pointing to the living room. “I know you said you don’t have much appetite but just in case you feel dehydrated, it’s there.”

You look, seeing two glasses of agua de fresa and the TV paused on the first few minutes of your show from earlier. On the couch is your favorite blanket and slightly more pillows than there were earlier.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your throat raw with emotion.

Miguel simply nods, his eyes still scanning your face. “If there’s anything you need—or anything you want—please, just tell me.”

Minutes later, you and Miguel find yourselves on the couch, blanket draped over your laps and a glass of agua de fresa in your hand. The blanket acts as a tether between the two of you—close enough for the two of you to feel each other’s warmth but not close enough that you were on top of each other, a sensation that you couldn’t handle right now.

“...Ay Dios mío, why would he do that?” Miguel frowns, angrily pointing to the TV. “I swear, I don’t know how can watch this show so calmly; some people are really stupid,”

For the first time tonight, you giggle and you feel some of the tension from earlier dissipate. You smile down at your stomach, as if it would return the gesture.

Patience, you remind yourself.

It most definitely hasn’t been a perfect night but it’s starting to get better. And, for the first time in a long time, you feel yourself relaxing a bit, getting consumed by the moment.

As you look around you, you can only sigh in relief.

In due time. Maybe not soon, but you’re on your way. In due time.

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading. Admittedly, this fic was a little personal and I just wanted to clarify that I know this isn’t everybody's experience or way or handling things but it is mine so that’s what I went off of.

To everyone in a similar situation: It will be okay. Maybe not now but one day it will. Please keep going and take care of yourselves.

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esmedelacroix · 10 months ago

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Romeo e Giulietta[a mafia love story] pt.1

mafioso!miguel x f!mafioso!reader 🂱

cw: suggestive

first part | miguel masterlist

prev ←→ next

The prevailing belief was that once Antonio Romano was too old, the Romano family's dominion over the Italian Mafia would end. Although he had a daughter, his wife had died during childbirth, so he had no son to take over. His daughter didn't take 'no' for an answer when it came to taking over the Mafia. With extensive training, she finally became the leader of the Mafia after her father's retirement...

—

You're the most powerful woman in all of Italy. Everyone assumed you couldn't be as good of a Mafioso as your father. But, they were so wrong; you are pretty reckless and never have a plan. But your carefree attitude only added more fun to your line of work.

You have a few rules in your familia. Never go out unarmed. Never be transparent about your affiliation. Don't let others read you. Blood is thicker than water. Never trust the O'Haras.

Another rule that could easily be added is: don't ever mention the head of the O'Hara Family Mafia, Miguel O'Hara. You hate each other so much, but anyone would think that, right? Your family feud dates back centuries, it's so old that no one really remembers why you're supposed to hate each other in the first place. But that doesn't matter because you do. Anytime your families have to meet to make a negotiation, you would always get into heated arguments with one another and request privacy.

When you were in private, you would argue even more. Your bodyguards would hear vases and glasses shatter onto the floor. They wondered how fostering so much hate for a single person was possible.

If only they knew what was happening in there...

Miguel would slide everything off the table to place you on it as he trailed wet hot kisses down your neck, leaving marks in areas only the two of you could see. If only they knew how hard you tried to stay quiet when Miguel had your legs spread across the table. You would resort to pulling at tufts of his hair as he feasted between your legs.

No one would ever really know the true nature of the intimate looks you exchanged when no one was looking, and they would most certainly never know that when Miguel claimed to be bringing women home from the club, it was really their biggest competitor in the Italian mafia scene in his room.

But you hate each other so much...

—

You woke up to the sun beaming through the floor-to-ceiling window that gave a beautiful view of the city. You had gotten so used to waking up in Miguel's bed. That morning you had a breakfast with your father that started two hours ago. You had to hurry and sneak out. You slowly got out of bed, trying not to wake him. Your attempts were useless, though, because, in a matter of seconds, you felt his big warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed with your back flush against his chest.

"Per favore[please], Miguel, I have a hectic morning," she said as she removed his hands from around her waist and got out of bed to change back into her clothes.

His lazy eyes watched you as you walked around the room naked, gathering all your clothes from the night before putting your pants on. He was mesmerized by everything you did, even when you've been together for eight years.

He slowly crept behind you when you were about to put your blouse on and buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes? What are you so busy doing today?" he asked as he rested his head on your shoulder, his voice still raspy; if you had no self-control, you would have folded from his voice alone.

"Well, I'm too busy kicking your ass all day as usual," you replied as you put your earrings on, smiling at him through the mirror. He rolled his eyes playfully, accepting defeat.

"Please, baby, just five minutes," he said lowly in her ear, knowing the effect he had on you. He slowly started to trail kisses down your neck. You leaned into him and hummed in pleasure, tilting your head back into his shoulder to give more access to your neck. You heard your phone buzz snapping you out of the trance he put you in.

"Mio amato[My love], seriously, I have to go, so help me sneak out of here," you said eagerly.

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed as he looked around the hallway to confirm that no one would see you; but he was always armed, just in case.

You successfully snuck to the back door without running into anyone. You draped your arms around the nape of Miguel's neck and kissed him.

"Will I be seeing you at the charity event tonight?" you asked hopefully.

"Of course, sweet stuff; now get out of here," he joked. You rolled your eyes and blew him a kiss. The moment you turned away, he landed a firm smack on your ass, causing you to yelp, turn around and shake your head at him.

"Watch it," she warned playfully before disappearing into the streets.

—

You opened your front door hoping that your father would be off at the range or playing polo with friends despite you missing breakfast plans.

"Giulietta Bianca Romano," you heard your father's stern voice call from the living room couch. you were almost fully up the stairs when he caught you trying to sneak back in. Shit.

. . .

→ next part

taglist: @dei-drei @starrygetou @decentsoupperson

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codenameredkrystalmatrix · 5 months ago

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One of Those Nights: Miguel O'Hara x (Fem!)Reader

♡‧₊˚synopsis:

Fluff fic featuring Miggy!

♡‧₊˚word count:

933

♡‧₊˚genres:

domestic fluff

Huh...no wonder you'd been feeling so down. The place was a mess. Between the increased anomaly activity, and the ensuing stress at the Spider Society, you hadn't gotten to deep-clean in an embarrassingly long time. You were home, so there was no time like the present to correct that. Popping in your earbuds, you got to work scrubbing, disinfecting and organizing the place until it sparkled. You barely even noticed the time until the text got harder to read on your phone and you were forced to look up. The stars barely peeked out from behind the clouds of a dark night's sky.

Leaning on the windowsill, you rested your muscles and appreciated the cool air. Your skin was a bit sticky from all your running about the house, so the combination gave you goosebumps. But you were contented. A ballad drifted through your ears and into your mind, the singer whispering of woodlands where fairies sailed down old logs after the rain. Fantastical, yes. But you loved to dream, if even for only a little while.

You were finished for the day, so you took a shower and decided on reading before bed. Much to your surprise, you heard a portal opening long before ungodly hours. Miguel was back already?

His muscular figure was in the living room when you returned, suit deactivating as he shook his sweaty curls. When your lover turned to you, the crimson frustration in his eyes deepened to relieved mahogany.

"Ah, mi tesoro."

That was all the warning you received before he pulled you into a tight hug. Gentle nips and kisses blessed your neck and cheeks, making you giggle. "Migs, I showered already!"

"Looks like you'll have to do that again. We can go together to save time."

"How convenient."

"Mhm. I'm a genius."

His hands wandered up your shirt, caressing your stomach, sides and back. You didn't want to deny him when he was in such a tender mood, but...

"Bathtime, mister-now that you've made us both stinky."

"We're going, we're going..."

...

......

.........

"Mig?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you...fall asleep standing up?"

"No."

"Right. I definitely believe that. C'mon."

Once the water was running, you squeezed out some body wash and worked it into his skin. "Hitting the right spot?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get to eat today?"

"Mhm."

He smiled, remembering how terrible he'd been at that before you became insistent. He felt so much more clear-minded and energetic. You were always so good to him- his dear, dear sweetheart. Miguel's heart fluttered as he remembered the meals you prepared together, and his surprise at finding kind little notes in the lunch containers upon opening them. His subsequent happiness made the meals ten times better. Honestly, you were almost too much for him. For now, he'd like to enjoy the feeling of your skin under his hands. "May I wash you now?"

You beamed, a little flushed at the prospect. "Yes."

He offered you a helping hand once finished, tenderly thumbing it until you were outside. The cool of the bedroom with Miguel's heat right beside you made for a comforting sensation. As the rains began again, you turned on the amber side lamp to the left of the bed. Its warm light made for an inviting atmosphere. The only thing that would make it better, in your eyes, would be a few sweet treats.

"Want to finish the brownies?"

"Yes- definitely."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. Putting on one of his shirts, you headed down, reheated the container and returned to his arms with your prizes.

When he had a taste, it was almost as though you could see Miguel's eyes light up. Compared to when you'd met a few years ago, where he'd barely survive off of stale pre-made food, he'd come such a long way.

Selecting one, you had a bite and sighed as their soft, chocolatey goodness hit your tongue. "You know, I think these get better and better the more you eat them. Want one more?"

He nodded. But, instead of handing him the container, you held the brownie near his mouth. "Open up!"

Smirking, he obeyed, but took much longer than necessary to release your fingers.

"Hey! No eating me!"

You heard something like 'I never saw that mentioned in the contract.' and rolled your eyes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth, you flicked his cheek, washed your hands and curled up facing away from him to resume reading.

Placing his arm over you to spoon, Miguel nudged his nose against your shoulder. "'His rock-hard abs rippled in the Texan sunlight', eh?"

Shoot- he'd been reading with you? "Uuuhh..."

"Didn't know you were into cowboys, sweetheart. I'll buy us a ranch."

"Miguel! It's just a book! Let me have a little fantasy, ok?!"

You felt him shift, gliding his lips up to your neck as he whispered into it. "Wanna take me for a ride, l'il lady?"

You snorted, turning away as your giggles got the better of you. "Your accent is terrible!"

"Yeah? You try!"

"No!"

"Well then mine's better!"

"That's not how it works!"

He blew raspberries on your cheek, making you laugh outright. Past your tears of joy, you caught his smile. And when they cleared, you looked into loving, deep brown eyes that caught just a twinge of gold from the lamplight.

"Thank you for cleaning, mi alma. That and…everything you've done for me."

"You're welcome, Miguel. Let's brush our teeth and get some sleep."

And, once done, you both could at last enjoy the peace of drifting off in your lover's arms.

Author's Notes:

I've wanted to write simpler, more wholesome fics. I hope you like it!

♡‧₊˚translations:

Ah, mi tesoro- Oh, my treasure mi alma- My soul

♡‧₊˚divider:

@strangergraphics

♡‧₊˚kaomojis:

@dientesdeporcelana @whoisyen

#atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel o hara fluff #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o hara x y/n

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theroseceleste · 2 months ago

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Birthday Commission - Toxic Love

@faretheeoscar very kindly did me some adorable artwork for my birthday, so when her birthday came around, I knew I had to write something for her. She gave me a little head canon prompt between her OC, Alexa, and Miguel and it was absolutely so much fun to write!

Minors DNI

Our loveable Spider Society leader is a naughty boy. Enjoys causing problems for Alexa, a spider person who helps out in HQ, and her boyfriend (a version of Peter from a different universe). When the couple fight, he reaps the benefits.

Word count - 3046

Contains - Descriptions of a toxic relationship. Smut - penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx

(art provided to me by @faretheeoscar but masterfully created by Roy - @ SpicyKfcChicken on Twitter)

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s the point, Alexa?” a hologram of Peter Parker from Earth-120703 yells at his on-off girlfriend, Alexa as she talks to him through her interdimensional watch. Once again, their love for each other is being severely tested by what Alexa thinks is the overzealous ban on travelling around the multiverse administered by Miguel.

Tearful brown eyes stare back at the orange image of Peter, her brows furrowed with frustration and heartache. “No, Peter, we can… we can make this work, I-”

“No! I’m tired of this. The back and forth. The ups and downs - although it’s more downs than ups, at this rate,” Peter retorts angrily, although there’s more pain in his voice than he wants to let on.

Alexa shakes her head furiously, unable to accept that yet again another breakup between them is happening. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

“Either get that control-freak Miguel to lift that stupid ban, or we’re done. I can’t do this any more,” the hologram vanishes, leaving Alexa in a shocked silence. Her manic gaze searches her private quarters for something to throw with frustrated anger.

Both Alexa and Peter know that Miguel won’t ever lift the ban. So in reality, his own ultimatum will only ever have one painful and upsetting outcome. God, that man makes her so angry. Her fingers clench as she considers wringing Miguel’s neck… That seems like a perfect idea... Why take her frustrations out on an inanimate object when she can do it to the source of her emotional turmoil instead?

All rational thinking has left the building as she storms through HQ with a face like thunder. White and light blue streaks across walkways as she weaves speedily between her countless multiversal counterparts, heading to the lab, where she bets any money that’s where he’ll be.

After ignoring several groups of Peters who wave at her as she passes, she approaches Miguel’s usual hideout.

“Whatcha doin’?” asks a female voice as a little hologram of a woman, positioned like she is lying on her stomach, appears next to Alexa, striding through the long corridor.

“Going to give Miguel a piece of my mind,” the youthful-looking woman growls angrily, fists still clenched. The closer she gets to the lab, more of her body feels tense. Her shoulders are raised and her heart pounds within her chest.

“Oh boy… the usual?” the hologram called Lyla asks as her position changes immediately to standing after the spider person’s answer.

“Yep,” Alexa snaps as she pushes through the door to Miguel’s lab. “Lock the door, Lyla.”

The floating AI salutes and fizzles away before activating the lock on all access points to the lab.

The Spider Society leader, a six-foot-nine-inch man, sits at a desk, working away on a device he has been developing. He sits in silence, so completely fixated on his work that he doesn’t even notice Alexa storming across the vast, cavernous workspace.

As he reaches for a screwdriver, Alexa fires a web at it and yanks it back, causing his large blue and red hand to clasp around nothing but air. The clattering sound of the tool makes him turn his head towards her. He stands up immediately, turning his body to face the Spider Society member.

“Alexa-“

“Shut up,” she growls as she shoves at him, shunting him against his desk, causing everything to wobble upon impact.

Miguel takes a step away before she tries again, hands raised placatingly. “Que pasa?” he manages to blurt out as he dodges another attempt of a shove.

“You know what,” Alexa retorts with a snap. The society leader’s heart pounds with anticipation. He does know, and he can’t wait for what it leads to.

“Chiquita, you know why I can’t lift the-“ he gets shoved again, but he lets it happen while his hands grasp at Alexa’s wrists, however she pulls back before he can.

“Don’t call me that,” she demands as she advances on Miguel again. She’s far too angry for any cute pet names - besides, they’re coming from the wrong man.

Finally, a series of flying fists barrage Miguel as a tearful Alexa finally explodes. Both of her clenched hands strike his broad and well defined chest.

“Lift that ban, or I swear to God I’ll-“

The towering leader’s arms wrap around her tightly, restricting her movements. He turns her so his front is pressed against her back as he leans down and whispers hotly into her ear. “Or you’ll what, chiquita?”

The sensation of his breath caressing the side of her face, mixed in with his proximity and restrictive grip on her, makes her pause and try very hard not to moan.

She hates him for the situation he’s put her in. His actions frustrates her and breaks her heart almost on a day-to-day basis because she can’t see the man she loves. While Miguel’s excuse is mostly valid, she knows there’s another agenda for keeping her close, under his watchful gaze. And once again, she’s fallen into his trap.

His arms snake around her body, holding her diagonally across her chest as well as her stomach. His left hand grips her right shoulder, while his right hand takes her left hip.

As her body moulds against his, she can feel his arousal making its presence known by throbbing against her rear.

Miguel’s hand resting on Alexa’s hip presses her against him more as he starts to grind himself into her. “Mhmm… but chiquita, you always enjoy this bit, don’t you?” he thrusts his hips again and groans into her ear, finally eliciting a moan from her parted lips. “Sí, that’s it, mi amor. Make those pretty noises for me.”

Alexa jabs her elbow into Miguel’s ribs, procuring a grunt to vibrate against her cheek. She can’t lose sight of her purpose for storming into the lab. Not again.

“That’s it. Take your frustrations out on me. I love it when you do. It’s so rewarding for the both of us,” he continues to encourage her, his words punctuated with a few more grinds against the groove of her backside.

What he’s doing doesn’t even make her feel good, but the mere fact that he’s doing it makes her hot - not just under her suit, but under her skin. Her core pulses wildly as she hears yet another deep moan against her ear.

“Tócate por mi,” (touch yourself, for me) he mumbles softly as his hands squeeze her in his grip.

Obediently, her hand slowly goes between her legs, her dainty fingers finding her sensitive bud through her suit. As she runs her digits in tight circles around her clit, she starts to moan louder. Her need increases, but so does her frustration.

“Good girl,” he growls as he grinds, before letting out a sudden grunt. “Ay coño!” his hip movements still for a moment. “This feels so good; I nearly came.”

Alexa whimpers with mounting need before she makes another desperate plea. “Miguel, please lift the ban-“

“No.”

Anger spikes again, momentarily breaking her out of her climbing arousal. In a sudden movement, she spins to face him. “Hijo de puta!” she spits as her seething brown eyes lock onto his red ones.

His arms tighten around her back, sealing her against him. He can feel the anger in her body and can practically taste the venom in the air coming from her beautiful lips.

There is now an unignorable throb against her stomach and an intense heat coming from the prominent bulge under his suit.

“Now, now, chiquita,” he coos as his right hand glides down her left ass cheek before gripping the underside of her hamstring and pulling her leg up so it hitches over his right hip. With a gentle lift, he has her pinned against his body, and her legs wrapped around his waist. And now the hypnotic throbbing is pressed against her entrance, but separated from one another by his and her suits.

“That’s better, mi amor,” he continues with a soft voice, edging between soothing and teasing.

Her expression is still etched with anger, but it’s slowly slipping away with his charm and the use of his body.

“Do you have anything else to get off your chest?” he asks as his large hand squeezes under her leg again, the tips of his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of her thighs. “Or shall we both skip to the bit you know you enjoy?”

She slaps him across the cheek; not too hard, but enough to make his head jolt to the side as a grunt escapes his throat. His red eyes lock back onto Alexa as he bites his lower lip, displaying the tip of a fang. “You’re getting feistier… but I deserved that,” he grins.

Alexa lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips crash into his in a passionate and anger-fuelled kiss. Air hisses through their noses as the pair of them kiss, nip and suck on each other’s lips.

The hand that struck Miguel’s face slides into his hair, gripping it tightly as he does the same to her.

His actions are passionate and possessive while hers feel like she still has some anger to vent out of her system. She kisses harder - her bites are sharper and her grip is tighter, but he can take it. In fact, he likes it and welcomes it.

Miguel begins his grinding again, this time his efforts will directly contribute to making her feel good and most likely take her mind off Peter temporarily. He smiles proudly against her lips knowing her ban on travelling to Earth-120703 means Peter doesn’t get any action with his girlfriend, while Miguel gets it all. It’s glorious, satisfying and downright pleasurable.

Needy moans start to enter Miguel’s mouth, coming from Alexa’s lips. His grinding mixing in with their heated kiss is increasingly turning her on and driving her wild. She hates him, but it feels so good taking her frustrations out on him during passionate, verging on angry sex.

His left hand starts to unzip the back of her suit. All this teasing and her pent-up energy is making him impatient for her. He has been hoping Alexa and Peter would have another falling out as he has been desiring to fill her and feel her tight walls stretching around him once again.

The zip travels lower down her back, exposing her beautiful skin to his fleeting touches as he pulls it even further. She shivers in his grip and goosebumps rise on her flesh.

Their passionate kiss has not stopped for one second since it started. Her arms come free from the suit, followed by her gorgeously plump breasts that he can never get enough of.

Reluctantly, he gestures for her to release her grip on him with her legs in order to get the rest of the suit off. He often considers giving her a coded suit like his so it can fade away with ease and they can get down to business much quicker.

Finally that suit is off, and she’s back in his arms again. He carries her to the desk he was working on, and sits down on the chair with her on his lap.

His suit dissolves away, revealing his mouth-wateringly toned body and allowing them to feel each other’s skin properly, producing a moan from both of them.

Alexa gazes down at him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her legs straddle his lap as she watches him run his fist up and down his hardened shaft.

It’s sad that she knows Miguel’s body far more intimately than Peter’s. But she knows the sex she has with him is fulfilling.

“Ride me, chiquita. Ride me until you’re all spent,” he whispers, encouraging her to take her place over his cock.

Leaning further back in his chair, he slides his hips further forward, making it easier for her to get into position.

Long, tanned fingers reach upwards to tease her sensitive folds and to test them. She’s certainly ready as the tips of his fingers practically slide into her entrance. He loves how wet she gets for him.

Gazing up at her, he smirks as he watches her bite her lip at his touch between her legs. Her hands resting on his broad shoulders squeeze his muscles as she feels another wave of arousal drench his fingers.

“So wet… So ready for me…” he murmurs as he pulls his digits out and uses her arousal to coat his member, before directing her hips right above it. “Go on. Work out some of your frustration on that cock, chiquita.”

Oh, how she’d love to wipe that smirk off his face. Ride him hard until he begs her to stop, or the chair breaks. The thought of seeing him whimper as she rises and falls on him makes her even wetter.

With the help of his hands, he guides her down onto him. Her arousal ensures he glides in easily. Her breath hitches, which is a sight and sound he always loves to witness. Her body’s initial reaction to him invading her will never get old.

As he’s enjoying her sinking down onto him, she takes him by surprise by stopping, rising up until the tip nearly pops out of her heat, and then comes crashing down, burying him to the hilt.

“FUCK!” he shouts and grips the sides of his chair.

Alexa’s face was full of determination to ride him within an inch of his life. Her anger is still evident and desperate to be released before she goes insane.

The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, mixing in with her moans and his grunts.

He fills her completely, making her begin to wonder how Peter would compare. But the thought hurts too much. To forget her on-off boyfriend temporarily, she rides harder and faster.

Large hands easily cup her breasts as he watches the sexy display before him. She has never bounced on his cock like this before, but he hopes she’ll do it again. He loves how hard and fast she’s going, and hearing her enjoy the way she’s riding him is pure perfection.

Miguel’s fingers pinch her nipples to see how she’ll react. She groans and tips her head back as she drops down on him harder. Then, he introduces a rolling motion between his fingers and thumbs which melts her even more.

The longer this continues, he notices her noises are sounding softer. All of her aggression is leaving her and she’s now simply riding him out of enjoyment. He feels slightly relieved as for a brief moment he thought he heard unhealthy creaking sounds coming from his chair.

To add to her pleasure, he releases one breast and brings his thumb to her clit as she continues to bounce on him. The pad of his digit runs tight and warm circles around it, making her moan more desperately as they both feel her tightening up inside.

“Come for me, chiquita. Let it all go for me,” he encourages her, feeling excited to experience her clenching on his member.

It doesn’t take much convincing for her to unravel. The entire lab fills with her squeals as she climaxes hard all over his cock. She clenched and pulses around his thick length filling her to capacity.

He pulls her close, her glistening, slightly sweaty skin sticks to his, emphasising just how hard she worked for that delightful orgasm. “Good girl,” he praises her as he strokes her curly brown hair. “Now it’s my turn,” he growls as he stands, lifting her up with him.

Miguel cradles her effortlessly with one arm as he swipes everything he was working on earlier off his desk, sending everything crashing to the floor. In his haste, he places her down unceremoniously on the table. He hears a slight “ooof” as she thuds against it.

A charming smile but laced with a bit of danger crosses his face as he enters her suddenly.

“M-Miguel!” Alexa squeals as she arches her back against the cold hard surface.

He smirks as he slams into her in a punishing rhythm, the desk now creaking unhealthily under his efforts. “Time to vent my frustrations, now,” he grunts as he thrusts harder. His hands grab the back of Alexa’s knees and push them as far back as he can.

“When will you realise that no matter how much you ask- Ffuuuck…” he groans with mounting pleasure. “The answer will always be no. Hmmmm…” Miguel screws his eyes shut as he bares his fangs.

Anger spikes in Alexa once more, but the near orgasmic look on his face distracts her.

“Why don’t you just accept that and have me all. The. Time. Instead?” Each word is punctuated with hard, punishing thrusts which meet with her howls.

“Tócate por mi, chiquita,” (touch yourself for me) he orders her, hoping to get one more climax out of her before he is done.

While one hand grips onto the edge of the table, her other hand makes its way to her sensitive bud. Miguel watches in delight as she obeys his command.

“Good girl,” he coos as he spreads her legs wider. “Fuck, you’re so tight!”

Another tightening sensation builds within her as she continues to touch herself and feel the head of his cock tease her g-spot. Her mewls become desperate as she gets closer and closer.

“That’s it, chiquita. Release everything you’ve got,” he growls as he nears his climax.

Alexa’s body writhes uncontrollably as she comes undone for the second time. Her screams and her body’s reaction to her orgasm generates a grin full of pride on his face.

“Sí, sí…” he grunts. “That’s it. Only I can give you the pleasure you need. You don’t need anyone else, mi amor!” Miguel’s body tenses at the end of his sentence as he explodes inside her. His seed spilling from his slit and filling her insides. “Fuck!”

He leans over her and rests his weight on his arms on either side. “You can either continue with your delusion that you and Peter can be together,” he pauses to catch his breath and nuzzle his sweaty face into hers. “Or you accept the truth and have me whenever, wherever you desire.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading Toxic Love. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I'm pleased to say that the birthday girl loved it too.

If you wish to follow me on Twitter, please click on the link below.

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #commisions open #smut #oc x character #toxic relationship #miguel o hara fanfic #fanfiction

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whateveryouiguess · 1 year ago

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idk if you take requests but!! i think reader and miguel getting a pet together would be super cute :> i wanna see mr anger issues calm down for once in his life cause of a cute puppy or something

HIII i’m still deciding if i wanna take requests but. i couldn’t NOT do this. like cmon. hope this does the trick anon 🫶🏼

el perro dinero.

Also known as: Miggy O’ Hara and his inability to tell you no ❤️

Pairing: Miguel O’ Hara x Reader

Word Count: abt 1.5k

Warnings: None :) just lots n lots of fluff, maybe improper grammar on the spanish (im not fluent yet, sorry native speakers. feel free to critique me!!!) Not beta’d, I tried to keep this one gender neutral, I don’t think I used any pronouns but if Y/N throws you off, I apologize :)

Sunday Afternoon.

“Absolutely not.” He didn’t even need a minute to think before the words left his lips.

“Miguel!” You draw out the syllables of his name in a whiny response. It was a decent question, honestly: the two of you had been together for a steady two years, going on three, and having just moved in together, the topic of “next steps” in your relationship was pretty fair game! Miguel had mentioned wanting a family before—very vaguely, but it was something you two had discussed—and it seemed like the present was a good time to make those kind of choices together. Despite his hope for your future together, he had been vehemently against the idea since you first brought it up, but you couldn’t understand why! Maybe he’d had bad experiences in the past, or he just wasn’t that kind of person? Or maybe he had an allergy you’d never heard about?

“Amor, we can not get a dog.” He slices open the tape seal of the box in front of him, leaning his elbows against the countertop as he unpacks it. “We’ve just moved in, rent here is already ludicrous…” he rambles as he unpacks thin stemmed wine glasses from the neatly packed box. You sit across from him at the bar, admiring the view of his messy hair and black wife beater against his amber skin, cheeks rosy from all the back and forth from moving vans. The love of your life—too stubborn to use a dolly, like you suggested—stacking empty boxes on the kitchen floor and using words like “ludicrous” to describe the best idea you’ve ever had. “Neither of us are home often enough to take care of a puppy-“

“We don’t have to get a puppy!” You suggest enthusiastically. He quirks an eyebrow and fights a smile at your excitement. “We’ll adopt a grown dog, maybe we’ll find one who’s already trained. You know, a lot of people forfeit perfectly behaved dogs just because they-“

“Amor.” He walks around the kitchen island to ground your shoulders with two big hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words are stolen by the pang in his heart at the disappointment in your eyes. The same eyes he’d spend hours gazing into without a care in the world, hearts full and minds at ease. The hopeful eyes he’d have to let down easy.

“We’re not…Not right now, honey.” His voice is kind and quiet, but to the point. “I’m sorry.” He squeezes your shoulders tightly as you sigh in disappointment. Walking back to his station by the sink, he slides a few glasses into the kitchen cabinet and continues speaking. “Possibly in a few months, if we’re stable enough and we have the time-“

“Really?” Your tone perks up immediately. His back shakes a bit, laughing at your excitement.

“Possibly. It’s possible. Don’t make any plans just yet.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head, walking towards your shared bedroom. “Póngase sus zapatos,” he pulls a light jacket on over his shoulders, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto the neckline of his tank top. “Let’s go find some lunch.”

————————————————————————

Friday Evening.

Since moving in with you, Miguel has quickly grown fond of the ends of his days. Taking his new route to his new home, hopping the steps up to the third floor two at a time. Mind exhausted from a long day at work, heart pulling his body through the hall to you, like a Looney Tune drawn euphorically to a pie in a window. The sound of the key twisting the lock mechanism is like a Pavlov bell, and before he’s even opened the door, he knows the treat of your arms is waiting for him behind it. This time, however, when he swings the mahogany door open, he’s not flooded with the soothing scent of your favorite candle, or pulled into your sweet embrace: he’s greeted with an empty living room, and darkness.

“Amor?” He calls out, toeing off his loafers at the door, placing his jacket over the back of the sofa. “Estás en casa?” He says quieter, padding through the house in search of you. All is quiet in the apartment until he reaches the shallow hall leading to your bedroom. His blood freezes at the faint sound of crying, high pitched and seemingly pained. Bounding to the door, footsteps heavy and shaken, he swings open the bedroom door to find you hunched over on the floor, and he can only imagine the worst has happened. Although, now that he’s closer the sound of the crying, its much more high pitched than he knows your voice to sound. When he hears you mumbling over the crying, he knows he’s severely misunderstood the situation.

“Honey?” he calls quietly. Your whip your neck around and see him standing in the doorway, concerned and disheveled in his work clothes. The sight of your red face kills him, you look as though you’ve been crying. His eyes travel to your lap and finds the source of all the noise, and his tightly knit eyebrows unravel in realization. In your lap sits a small, shivering puppy, whining as you try to wipe its eyes clean with a wet rag.

“I—I didn’t…” you stutter. With the conversation you two had been having a few days prior, you didn’t want it to seem like you’d gone against the decision you both had made . Miguel figured from the size of the pup that he couldn’t have been even a month old, and was almost certainly betrayed on the side of the road somewhere. On the streets at that age, it would’ve either been left for dead or found by someone soft hearted enough to give them a second chance. “He was all alone, he was hurt,” you sniffle as Miguel kneels beside you. “I know you said no, and I’m sorry, but I…” the desperation in your eyes is enough to make him wish he’d never denied you. “I couldn’t just leave him there.” You’ve started to cry, really cry, and even with the stress of the situation, he can’t help but curl his arms around your shoulders and hold you as tightly to him as he can. “I’m really sorry, baby.”

“Hey, no, amor. None of that.” Miguel rubs his palms up and down your arms to soothe you, careful to avoid the sad babe between your legs. “It’s…it’ll be okay. Alright? It’s okay.” He lets go of you and leans back to get a good look at the puppy. He was a little thing, no doubt the runt of his litter, but still a bit fluffy. His fur was matted and dark, the spots you’d wiped clean a few shades of brown lighter than the rest of him. Even with his staunch, no dog policy, the puppy’s floppy ears and pointed nose pulled gently on his heart strings. she watches intently as you siphon water into the little guys mouth, dabbing a drop onto your finger, then letting him lick it off. Miguel couldn’t help but smile at how the little thing preened under your touch, hoisting itself up into the palm of one of your hands, gathering more of your warmth. The love that radiates from your eyes is almost motherly, and he knows it’s love at first sight for you two. Leave it to his lover to help the lonely pup—a helpless wret in their time of need, no home to return to and no means to make anew. Left behind, forgotten, just in need of a little love. Sounds familiar, Miguel thinks to himself. The puppy wanders across your leg towards Miguel’s territory, and as soon as he presses a small paw onto his thigh, a switch is flipped for him, his hand shooting out to help the puppy climb. Mierda. He’s silent as he scoops the baby up with one hand, inspecting it like a broken package. The sweet little eyes peering back at him dismiss the perma-scowl on his face.

“He kinda looks like you, Mig.” You observe humorously, your perception of the strong, frightening man as “cute” still baffling to him. He scoffs out a laugh and sighs, gaze never leaving the puppy wriggling in his hands.

“How much is pet rent?” He says dryly. You snap your head towards him, a new hope awakened in your eyes. He pretends not to see it, smug as always.

“Are we keeping him?” You ask timidly. Miguel sets the dog back down between your legs, it’s stubby little tail wagging ferociously, shaking his entire rear, as if in understanding. Miguel smiles slightly as he repeats himself.

“How much is pet rent?”

THIS WAS FUNNN 🤭🤭 I imagined the puppy to be a norwegian elk hound but if you imagined something else, lmk in the comments!! im curious lol :)

#miguel is 1000% that dad that didn’t want that dog at first but is absolutely smitten within two weeks of having it #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #spiderman #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara fluff #miguel o’ hara fluff

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jupi1er · 11 months ago

Text

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings:not proofread!

Word count (391) -Blurb

A/n:This is my first fanfic in a whileeeeeee, so new old writer. This is inspired by the song The end of the world by Skeeter Davis. Also any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

“Miguel!”

You frantically call out, panicking and frightened, as the world; you’re world, withers away right in front of your eyes. Glitching as if it were a game, watching the people you’d known vanish into thin air.

Tears sting your eyes, falling down your cheeks, drop by drop. Feeling as if this was all a movie, and you were the main role in your eyes, and this was all a set.

Except it wasn’t, this was your life; it wasn’t a game or movie, you built this, your family, friends, and husband. Why was it all being taken?

You continue to look for both Gabriella and Miguel, stopping near the pizza shop you three loved to go to after Gabby’s soccer games, a common routine between you three.

Spotting Miguel holding your dear daughter in hand running along with the plethora of other people rushing by, pushing and shoving one another just to see themselves dissipate.

And As if the world just stopped, seeing your daughter disappear from her father’s arms. Chocking on your cries, unable to move, frozen in time. your heart is racing as if it were about to beat out of your chest, thump by thump you see Miguel running closer towards you, tears welding his eyes, as he stops. You know, he knows. And you like the others, fall thin, disappearing into thin air. There was no way to stop or reverse it, it was done.

He had lost his daughter and wife, in a blink of an eye. And the last memory of the two were, scared tears welded in your and Gabby’s eyes, that he’ll never be able to erase. His daughter crying out his name as he watched her falter and vanish. All the memories he had rebuilt, watching you both for years.

Just waiting for the right moment, just for all of it to be turned into nothing. Hands on his waist he stood, watching the actions of his consequence. Watching it all perish.

#miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o’hara blurb #dad miguel o'hara #dad miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #Spotify #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 10 months ago

Text

Childs play (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) Part 1

Hiiiii! I’m so freaking excited for y’all to read this I’m literally shaking! This will only be 1 part. (Edit: I’ve changed my mind it will get a second part but it won’t be put right away) Shout out to @chickenshit03 for beta reading the one shot. Absolute sweetheart 🫶🏼. Not proofread, enjoy!!

(Y/N)-Your name.

NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! Cursing, light choking during the deed , protecting PinV, Miguel being a big meanie near the end, Comfort/Hurt, lmk if I can’t think of anymore

Word count: 4.6k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Knock knock…

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I wanted to introduce myself, me and my family just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.” Your mother said as she stood at her neighbors door, you hid timidly behind her leg as she spoke to a Hispanic woman with curly dark hair. Your eyes wandered around her living room, or at least as much as you could catch from your spot. Not paying any mind to the conversation they were having when your eyes spotted a young boy around your age, about five or so walking past with a few legos in hand.

Your shyness was quickly overtaken with curiosity as you went to pull on your mother’s hand, she must have been watching you stare at the brunette, because before you could even turn up to ask her if you could go play, she was already shooing you in the direction of him as her and the other lady went to go talk over coffee in the kitchen.

He didn’t glance up at you as you sat down in front of his spot on the living room floor, being too preoccupied on the Star Wars set he was working on.

“Hi.”

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

You paused, shifting to sit down better before speaking again.

“Can I help? I love legos.”

He stayed quiet, and for a second you think he’ll say no, until he shrugged and moved the instruction book so you both could read it, making your lips come up in a smile.

“Sure.”

—

“You can teach me to play street fighter a million times and I will never understand it.” You huffed as you dropped the controller on your lap and leaned back on the couch, the tv in his living room sounded out a “finish her” as Miguel’s character killed yours, you couldn’t even be bothered to remember the names, peeved off that’d he beat you for the upteenth time, him not even having the courtesy to let you win one round.

“I’m not gonna be sorry for you being bad.” He retorted in a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue at you, and blew a raspberry. Your arms quickly crossover your chest as you puff your cheeks out with a pout.

“You’re so mean to me Miguel, I hate you.” You mumbled the half-lie to the other ten year old, looking away as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, you didn’t even notice his movements until you felt him grab for your hand, turning your head to realize he was now standing in front of your spot on the couch.

“You don’t hate me, I’m your best friend.” He states, making you nod your head in confirmation after a beat, “Good. Because you’re my best friend too.” You smiled.

“Can we play something else then?”

“Nope.”

“Ughhh.”

—

“(Y/N), it’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Mj’s voice snapped you out of your head, suddenly aware of all the other fourteen years olds turning to stare at you. Was it a bit embarrassing you were about to lose your first kiss in a game of spin the bottle?

Half-dried nail-polished fingers gently grabbed the base of the empty Coke bottle, praying to god no one saw the way your hand trembled slightly, as you gave it a good twist. As your eyes tracked the blur of clear glass, you got your lower lip, silently hoping it was someone who you wouldn’t fluster up in embarrassment when you had to tell them who was your first kiss in the four walls of the lunch room. Like Kyle, or Ben or-

“Oooo- you got Miguel!” One of the other girls giggled as your eyes shot up to where the tip was pointing and surely, there he sat in front of you. Miguel was good…yeah, great even! You trusted him, he was your best friend since you were practically in dippers…So with a fine silent look of confirmation, you crossed the circle, closing your eyes as your lips connected for the first time.

Is it normal for your heart to skip a beat during a kiss? God how red is my face right now? Have I been holding it for too long? I wonder if he’s enjoying it, he hasn’t pulled away so that’s a good sign right? I should probably stop now. It's been like four seconds.

You finally pull away, sitting down on your knees as you bring a hand up to wipe some excess saliva away from the cover of your mouth. The sound of the next person going to spin the bottle muffles out around you as you focus on the weird flutter in your stomach.

—

“SLOW DOWN MIG-YOU’RE DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC!” You yelled as your left hand flew to grab at your seat belt, right hand gripping the overhead handle so hard your knuckles were turning white, pushing yourself as much as you could into the passenger seat at you could while he just let out an eye roll and chuckle as you were being dramatic (you weren’t).

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who doesn’t have their license yet.”

“You got your license yesterday! I don’t turn sixteen for another four months!”

“Don’t care, you could ever shut up or take the bus.”

You couldn’t respond right away because another scream came from your throat as he turned a corner.

“If I die in this stupid car, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you O’Hara!”

“I’m not gonna let you die, stop being dramatic.” He scoffed, finally pulling up to the school parking lot, finally slowing down as he looked for a place to park. His arm comes around the back of your car seat as he goes to backwards park in an empty spot. “See I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m actually traumatized…” You muttered, eyes still wide as you kept still in your seat. Miguel let out a huff and he goes to take your seatbelt off once the car was shut off.

“If I buy you some subway during lunch will you stop complaining?”

“…yes.”

—

“Maybe I could just take a gap year-or-or go to the community college nearby, just until I can transfer, then I can try for Columbia again?” You kept fumbling your words, looking at the rejection letter in your hands. If you tried to focus on it enough, you’d be able to hear the paper shaking lightly in your hands. Glossy eyes trying to rapidly blink away tears before they fell on the paper. Miguel quickly shook his head as he placed his coffee cup down on the table of the cafe you two would frequent.

“No. Not happening, I’ll just reject my application and we can go to Stanford together in California.” He told you, making you copy his actions as you placed the paper down next to your other University letters.

“Are you crazy? That’s your dream school! I am not letting you do that for me. I’d never forgive myself for that.” You admitted, looking at him in those familiar brown eyes, praying to god yours weren’t growing bloodshot from the emotional moment between you both. Miguel letting out a heavy sigh, his hand going to run through his pushed back brown locks as he looked down at his letters again. The silence that grew over you two was almost suffocating, a thing it never felt like around him. It made your heart ache, trying to keep back a whine and some tears as you closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath before opening them again and finally breaking the silence between you both. “I mean…FaceTime is a thing right?” Miguel raised a brow at your sentence, before it clicked in his mind what you were implying. Quickly shaking his head, his hand coming up to stop you.

“No. No. I can’t even go a week without seeing you, I’ve lived next door to you for thirteen years and you expect me to be okay with us being two thousand miles away from each other!?” You glanced around you when Miguel raised his voice slightly, luckily other than you and the owner the place was practically barren.

“Mig, we’ll figure it out! We’ll call and text, FaceTime, and I’ll come back for breaks! And besides, you don’t strike me as a type to enjoy California.” You attempted to lighten the mood, thankfully being met with an amused grunt and his lip twitching up slightly.

“Fine… just, promise we aren’t going to end up like all those friends who stop talking because we’re going to separate college’s alright?”

Your smile grew. “I promise.”

—

Ring…

Rin- “Hey it’s Miguel,” your ears perked up, quickly scrambling up from your position on your bunk bed, where you were laying on your stomach, “I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.” Beep.

“Hey Miguel… just wanted to see how you were, I finished my exams for the semester, and I’m going back to Neuva York tomorrow. I wanted to see if you’d want to hang out during the break, let me know… bye…” You mumbled before you hung up the call, tossing your phone on the other side of your bed. Running your hands through your head, letting out a heavy sigh. Closing your eyes to keep any forming tears of frustration from spilling out.

You and Miguel weren’t as close as you’d like to be anymore. How did a few months apart completely unwind the tight knit threat that had kept you both close for years? It had started out well, you did good at keeping your side of the promise and he did as well. Texting every hour, FaceTiming him every weekend, calling every night while you both studied, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then, classes became harder, you’d both start to develop new friends, new routines. The text became less frequent, now lagging to every few days, FaceTime sessions were now non-existent and your daily calls now became monthly, never lasting more than half an hour. You hated how you two were growing apart, and it hurt to see that Miguel didn’t seem to care. You didn’t have to see him in person to notice his new friend group was starting to change his personality. He was starting to seem more stoic, dry, it almost seemed like he was constantly agitated or something of the sort when you finally would get a hold of him. Still… despite the gradual change he seemed to be going through you still had hope that deep down he was still the same old Miguel you had grown to love and cherish. And that spark of hope only grew when you heard the faint buzz of your phone from the foot of your bed, quickly grabbing it to read a new message.

Text me when you get in tomorrow.

—

This was not what you had in mind.

Somehow Miguel had convinced you to go to some random bar that didn’t ID with him and his college buddies. “I’ll be fun” he said, “you’ll love them” he said. Now here you were forced to listen to some snobby trust fund kid bitch and moan about how he had to inherit his father’s company and blah blah blah. You weren’t even paying attention anyways, his words were going into one ear and flying out the other, opting to sip on your mixed drink to help keep you from banging your head into the bar counter. Tonight had simply e been the worst. Not to mention Miguel had been acting… different.

Maybe he just wasn’t good with distance, but it still struck you as odd how the second you were both finally in close proximity it was almost as if nothing had happened, like your friendship with each other wasnt badly strained for weeks on end. It didn’t stop there though, no no no. Because now that you were with him in front of his new friends and all dolled up he had been more… touchy, and not in a way he had been before.

A hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, a finger idly twisting and twirling your hair. It was so… intimate… like he wanted them to think there was something there that was more than just a childhood friend. You couldn’t say that you hated it, it was just unexpected.

“Hey… let’s get out of here?” Miguel’s whisper snapped you out from your thoughts. The way his voice murmured lowly against your shoulder as he all but rubbed against it like a cat making your cheeks flare up and a shiver ran down your back. Quickly ignoring the feeling of the spike in your heart rate and the wetness growing in your panties, nodding as you go to stand up, not wanting to be in the over cramped bar any longer and just waiting to head back to Miguel’s place since you were staying there for a week. Feeling like your knees were going to give out from underneath you when he slid his large hand from between your shoulder blades and upwards to squeeze your right shoulder.

Not sure if your hazy mind was from the alcohol or from his actions anymore. Not sure if things would go back to how they were before you’d left when he went to leave sloppy wet kisses on your neck as soon as his apartment door was closed and locked. Not sure if you could look at him the same way after he made you see stars from the comfort of his sheets. Still you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, he felt too good.

“Fuck- felt so fucking good…” He hissed as he pulled out from between your legs, taking a moment to let himself to catch his breath before rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can. You didn’t respond, still out of it from the aftermath of experiencing nirvana in the form of drunk sex. Letting out a sigh as you turned to your side and closed your eyes as drowsiness starts to seep into your bones. Feeling the other side of the bed dip before a strong arm came around to hug your waist.

“…Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“This… was a one time thing right?”

A pause, a heavy sigh before you felt his soft lips kiss the nape of your neck.

“… of course.”

—

A flash of light shined through the darkness of your studio apartment. You didn’t even need to check the notification screen in order to know who it was. Only one person would text you at two in the morning.

Come over?

If you told your high school self that the only time you ever saw Miguel was in the deeps of night while you were tangled in his sheets, she would have thought you were lying. The most fucked up part was that it was starting to affect you mentally, how your best friend had turned into a booty call because of one night from a drunk fuck seven years ago, it was painfully obvious you’d never get to the point where you’d be able to go back to the way you both once were. You couldn’t help but cling to the last broken bits he was willing to give you though. So every time he calls or texts you at random hours of the night since you’ve moved back to Nueva York, you’d show up at his doorstep like you are now.

“I know it’s late, I'm sorry, these Master exams are kicking my ass.” He apologized while letting you in after a few seconds. Closing and locking the front door before gently pushing you against it, his lips already finding their usual spot against the crook of your neck. Calloused hands began to slip underneath the baggy material of your hoodie, his large fingers gently grazing the exposed skin, you’ve learned to stop wearing shirts to these sessions a long time ago. “Need to blow off some steam…”

“Miguel…”The way you’d breathe out his name always made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven, your hands wandering upwards against the black fabric of his tank top. His lips separated from the blossoming red and purple mark they left in their wake so he can pull your jacket off before stripping off his own shirt. Your arms quickly wrap around his neck, any guilt that had been lingering in your mind quickly melted away when his hands ran down to your hips underneath your waistband, thumb fidgeting with the thin fabric of your panties. “Need you-“

“Need you too Cariño.” He muttered before going to place a gentle peck against the edge of your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the movement. You’ve noticed he never kisses you directly on your lips, always on the edge, on your neck or cheek. You would have felt your heart ache if the feeling of your core throbbing when his hand dragged your bottoms down to squeeze your ass wasn’t more overwhelming, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Half of the time you two didn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding a spot on the hallway wall or against the kitchen counter. This was one of those times, he stumbled over to the couch, too distracted on leaving hickies all over your chest and dipping his fingers into your wet cunt. You let out a gasp when you landed on the brown leather rather harshly, making the couch move a few inches from its original spot due to the weight of both of your bodies hastily climbing on top of it. He made quick work to strip the rest of your clothes from both of your bodies once he made sure you hadn’t accidentally hit your head. Quickly slipping a condom before lining himself up.

“Fuuuuck-fuck…” He groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock between your folds. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream from the deliciously painful stretch that he always provides. Giving you a second to adjust to his length and girth before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours, each thrust making your silent whimpers and whines turn into pornographic moans and incoherent babblings. “Love filling you up. You love this cock don’t you?” He taunts, it was so cruel the way the words fell from his mouth but you loved it nonetheless. Nodding rapidly as you gushed around him for the first time tonight.

“Nah uh… need to heard you say it. Use your words.” He smirks, enjoying the plop plop sound that started to quietly reverberate off the walls of his living room. Glancing down momentarily to watch a thin layer of cum that was forming a ring around the base of his cock. “Tell me how much you love it.” He urged.

“Fuck-fuck… love it so much.” You moaned, overstimulated from your orgasm, squirming underneath him just the way he liked. He couldn’t help the way his ego swells at the way you feel apart for him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed as he propped your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, his sweet words always messed with your foggy mind. “Such a sweet little thing, all for me.”

“Don’t-don’t say that Mig.” You whined, head turning to the side, as your hand dropped from his chest to drop off the couch. His right hand quickly leaves your hip and runs up to your neck, keeping his grip light as he props your head back to face him with his index finger.

“Aww poor baby, can’t handle when I talk all sweet to her, huh?” He let out an airy half chuckle. Despite the honey-like toned he’d use, the underlying taunt was always present. “Let me make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrust deeper into your core, making your hips subconsciously jump up to meet his.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m so-so close.” You whimpered and whined, clenching around his length, his hips stuttering slightly as you felt the heat building in your lower belly start to grow with each thrust.

“Cum with me baby… Cum all over this cock.” He groaned.

“Fuck-Fuck.” With one final thrust, you finally came undone around him, his name falling from your lips over and over like a mantra. Miguel followed suit, stopping his thrust while fully inside your cunt, letting out a deep groan as he came.

“Shit… You okay?” He asked once he was able to collect himself enough, climbing off top of you before rolling the used condom off his softing member, picking up his forgotten boxers and placing them back on.

“Mhm…” You nodded, trying to stabilize yourself on shaky arms and legs. Miguel seemed to have noticed, picking up your clothes from the floor and making his way over to hand them to you.

“Let me get you some water.” He said before retreating to his kitchen. The only sound in the air now was the faint noises of him rustling around his cabinets, and the quiet shuffling of clothes. Hating the feeling of putting your legging and hoodie back on due to the thin layer of sweat still on your skin. Once you were decent enough Miguel came back with a glass of water and handed it to you. Mumbling a “thank you” before taking a sip. Miguel cleared his throat as he sat down on the other edge of the couch, eyes cast down, hands rubbing anxiously together, finally deciding to break the steadily growing awkward silence. “Look, (Y/N), I wanted to talk to you about something… something kinda important.”

You raised a brow, noticing the sudden change in his behavior, taking another quick sip before placing the half empty glass on his coffee table. “What’s up?”

He released a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, still not making eye contact as he continued. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just put it out there…” He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, “We need to stop seeing each other.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry what?” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop, your face quickly filling up with confusion and a bit of disbelief as you stood up. Miguel follows your actions as he puts his hands up in defense, but you continue before he could try explaining. “You can’t just fuck me on your couch then tell me afterwards we need to stop. You know how much of an asshole you sound?”

“I know, I know it makes me sound like an asshole.” He tried to reason with you, going to finally put on his shorts and tank top that were still on the floor. Not feeling like being half-naked during this conversation. “Look, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing and it’s getting pretty serious-“

“A girl you’ve been seeing?” You repeated in disbelief. “You can’t be for real.”

“Well, we never agreed to be exclusive. It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.”

Ouch.

You had to turn away so they didn’t see the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but even with your face hidden your body language gave you away.

“I know we weren’t exclusive but fuck Miguel.” You shake your head, going to make your way to the door. “I’ve known you since we were five and you’re just gonna throw me away like some old toy?!”

“Hey-no. That’s not-that’s not what I mean, you know that.” He takes a step forward, grabbing your arm before you could get too far. “We can’t sleep together anymore, but we can still be friends.” You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, finally gathering yourself enough to pull your arm away and face him again, not caring if he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s made you cry one too many times, it’s about time he saw what he did to you. “We can still be friends! You’re still my best friend (Y/N)!” He couldn’t help but let his voice come out in more of a panic, a bit more rushed. You quickly shook your head.

“No. No, we aren’t best friends anymore Miguel, we haven’t been in a long, long time. I know that, you know that. So don’t pretend like we are just because your afraid of losing your emotional support fuck buddy.” You finally head toward the door and towards your car in the driveway, not turning to face him as you hear him call your name. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. If you're as serious about this girl as you say you are, you’d do the right thing and block me. Because I’m so tired of waiting around and pretending like one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m in love with you.”

You froze once the words came out, hand still on the car door handle as you came to the realization you finally admitted the secret you’ve been holding for the past ten years. Your free hand going to cover your mouth as you finally turn to look at Miguel, the look of shock from the confession was evident. You shook your head as you attempted to back track.

“Wait, Miguel I didn’t mean to tell you that-it just happened-“

“… You should leave.” His voice suddenly became stoic, his face hardening so it was hard to read his emotions. “This is just helping my case. Leave.” The tears flowed harder down your face as he slammed the front door shut. Leaving you to sob into the emptiness of the night as you finally let all the pain from the last seven years catch up to you.

You weren’t surprised to see your text bubbles turn green the next morning.

—

“I really think this one is it.”

“Me too!”

“He’ll love you in that dress.”

“Aww I can already see the waterworks.”

All you could do was smile, your hands repeatedly smooth non-existent wrinkles as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a real life princess. After what felt like hours you finally found the wedding dress. You couldn’t be happier.

“Alright Miss future Osborn.” Your maid of honor squealed, finally getting your attention, “You need to get out of that dress, you need to meet up Harry to look over the venue.”

You sighed, as you turned back to admire the white wedding dress one more time. “You’re right, I don’t wanna keep him waiting just cause I can’t stop staring at myself.” You giggled, before heaving to the back.

You and Harry have been dating for four years now, and he had proposed last month during your anniversary. You couldn’t be happier, he treats you like a queen, better than any other Man you’ve ever been in romantic contact with.

Once you had finally finished changing out of your regular clothes, you grabbed your phone out of your purse. Sending a quick text telling him that you found a dress, before doing a quick check on insta, wanting to look at the engagement pictures you posted on your page last week. But the soft smile on your face quickly dropped, like your heart did to your stomach when you checked your activity page.

Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.

Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.

1 message request from Miguel.Ohara.99

Fuck.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @scaryplanetdestroyer @miguels-aranita @beezusvreeland @raginghomo62 @miguelbaby @thedevax @vera4luv @alialucille

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cherryredstars · 5 months ago

Note

1 Thank you for the follow! If you haven't noticed by now I flipping love your writings and how you always portray the characters and I deeply apologize for not addressing it when I made my first request!

2 Sorry if my teen parent request made you uncomfortable if it has, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just wanted to point out that teen pregnancy/parenting is a real thing and it hardly been addressed as much.

3 Possibly my final request for the day since I'm working almost all week: Miguel having the ✨ audacity ✨ to think he has every write to make us cock drunk and go stupid every time we argue because he's always wrong and we're not? Like srsly we are always right and not finding excuses to make him fuck us stupid. 💅🏻

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Male Masturbation, Sex Ban. Brief Mentions of Somnophilia

A/N: Thank you, lover!

Unedited

He did this to himself.

It wouldn't have been like this if he simply learned when to keep his mouth shut. All it took was a grumbled 'I'll just fuck the attitude out of you anyways' under his breath as he walked away from you to seal his fate. Now he's subjected to this pathetic mess.

You haven't touched him in nearly a week, declaring that you're putting him under a sex ban until he learned his lesson and got his shit together. Since then, he's been an annoying bug near your ear, whining for the slightest bit of relief. Begging and whimpering for anything you're willing to give him: let it be a hand cupping his balls, a few licks to his leaking tip, or humping against your thigh. He's sent to hell every time you give him a stern no and ignore him.

You even avoid some of his more indirect advances. Always finding a way to slip out between him and the closest countertop as he tries to subtly dry hump you from behind. Shifting your position whenever he tries to trail a hand up your thigh to slip into your pants. Locking him out of the bedroom with nothing but his pillow and a thin blanket as you subject him to the couch for trying to feast on you while you slept. You totally ignore him when you walk into any room, pretending not to hear the pathetic whines he lets out towards you as he tugs at his neglected cock, begging you to swap his hands for yours. You just grab what you need and leave with a dismissal reminder to throw out the trash when he's done.

He's grasping at straws until he submits. Comes home the next day with a bunch of gifts and a winded apology. Giving you the cutest puppy dog eyes as he apologizes for fighting with you. If he had a tail, it would be waggling aggressively as you give him a quick peck on the lips and drag him into the bedroom. He doesn't even care that he comes the second you give his angry cock two slow pumps, dirtying your hand before you even got the chance to completely undress.

He's just happy that he doesn't have to suffer from sexual neglect anymore.

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nagycyra · 8 months ago

Text

Miguel O´Hara

Si me lo pides, te daré mi corazón (próximamente)

Un marinero sin rumbo. (próximamente)

Entre detalles

Más de una nota / Español /Inglés

Mi única oportunidad / Español / Inglés

Novio Miguel (próximamente)

Celos (próximamente)

Mi pequeña consentida (próximamente)

Cotilleos/ Español / Inglés

Pequeña esposa Español / Inglés

Aturdimiento (+18) / Español / Inglés

Sin llamadas (+18) / Español / Inglés

#miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel ohara oneshot #spiderman across the spiderverse

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esmedelacroix · 9 months ago

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Romeo e Giulietta[a mafia love story] pt.2

mafioso!miguel x f!mafioso!reader 🂱

cw: suggestive

first part | miguel masterlist

prev ←→ next

"Papá..." you started.

"Giulietta, where do you always go at night? You barely ever sleep in your own bed," he questions. Long silence ate away at you not knowing what to say to him. You didn't want to lie to your father but you didn't want to tell him the truth because it would hurt him.

"Papá, I can't tell you..." you said, getting nervous because you felt like you were letting him down.

"I just hope it's nothing that will disappoint me, Guilietta," he said sternly.

You gave him a weak smile and continued to climb the stairs.

"Oh and sweetheart, do not forget the charity event tonight; everything must go according to plan, and stay far away from those damned O'haras, especially Miguel," he said, his voice dripping with pure venom and hate as he said the name of your love.

—

The day went on without a hitch; you spent most of the day planning the charity event, which was just a money laundering scheme, but what else could you expect from a mafioso? Besides, you were taking money from rich people. So it wasn't all too bad.

That night you wore a tight black dress with a sinful slit going up to your mid-thigh. Miguel had bought that dress, but you never got to show it off. It was still a bummer that Papá wouldn't let you converse with the O'haras. There was no fun in sulking because you couldn't talk to your sweet boy, so you teased him all night. Wearing that beautiful dress that he had bought, the maroon lipstick that stained most of his button-up collars. Your hair was in an updo so he could see your cleavage, collarbone, and back tattoo perfectly.

When everyone had arrived at the event, you descended the stairs. All eyes were on you. The bright grandiose golden chandelier shone above you. You could feel Miguel's gaze piercing through you as you greeted guests. You gave him a quick smirk as you made your way across the room to welcome more people. You looked delectable and Miguel was lovin' it.

Until he wasn't 'lovin' it' and you would occasionally be touchy with many of the guys your father wanted you to marry. Miguel hated the flirtatious looks that you were giving them, the way you would touch their forearms and run your fingers across your collarbone drawing attention to your cleavage.

That was just enough to tick Miguel off completely. He knew what you were doing to him but how could he resist, when it came to you he was a fool.

When you walked up to the cocktail table and there was no one around he took you by the wrist and dragged you to a nearby powder room locking the door behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" you asked, backing up until the counter stopped you. He put his hands on either side of you on the counter trapping you.

"I think you know what I mean," he whispered as he brought his face closer to yours. His scent was intoxicating, you could smell the vodka and cigar in his breath. That scent was enough to make your knees go weak.

"Papá wouldn't let me talk to you, I just wanted to have some fun," you taunted.

"When do you ever obey your father when it comes to me? If you want fun you come to me," he smirked as he brought his face a single centimeter away from yours.

You nodded and draped your hands over his nape. "I'm yours," you said as you pressed your lips against his. He responded immediately to your kiss lifting you on the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist and deepened the kiss that was already dripping with passion.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked into your eyes, getting lost in them. "You know I love you right?" he asked, still lost in your eyes.

"Yes, of course," you smiled and sat up getting a little serious.

"Then you that I'm a fool for you, and you make me do crazy things," he said as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder. He breathed in your scent. You were wearing his favorite perfume too. Fuck. He thought to himself trying to resist ripping your clothes off right then and there.

"What is this about? What are you saying?" you questioned as you looked into his eyes a little panicked because he wasn't fully explaining himself.

"Just watch the news tonight at 10. Come, your guests will start to wonder where you are," he said as he led you out of the room.

The rest of the night went on smoothly. You stayed away from the guys you initially spoke to, you got what you wanted out of flirting with them. You spent the rest of the night admiring each other from afar all up to the moment after he got kicked out because his brothers were drunk and jumping into the infinity pool.

—

After the party was done and your social battery was intensely drained, you unwinded with a shower and some skincare. Afterward, you get into your bed and watch RuPaul's Drag Race with a Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Ice Cream.

Once the clock struck at 10:00 pm, you put on the news just like Miguel had told you to. It was the usual reports about politics until it was interrupted by a breaking news segment. The title read "8 WEALTHY SONS OF CONGLOMERATE FAMILIES MURDERED". When you saw the photos of the men who were killed your jaw dropped.

They were the bachelors you flirted with hours before. Just then you received a text message from Miguel saying "Ti amo[I love you], this is how crazy I am for you." you still couldn't believe your eyes, but what else was expected from Miguel? You were both crazy for each other and would do anything for each other. Except for going public about your relationship and disappointing your families. How could you tell your father that you are in love with the son of your mother's killer? How could Miguel possibly tell his brothers the woman he was seeing was the daughter of his parent's killer? You never do such a thing...

right?

. . .

→ next part

taglist: @dei-drei @starrygetou @decentsoupperson

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codenameredkrystalmatrix · 9 months ago

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Made with Love- Miguel O’Hara x FemReader

You could always trust him to bring the perfect close to a day at the café.

"Alright folks, keep it up. I want you all out of my place by 6 o'clock sharp!"

Translation: I know it's been a busy week, so I want you all to get some time off. I'll clean up here.

You smiled, joining in the teasing "Yes, sir, manager, sir!" with your co-workers. Isaac groaned, keeping up his unsmiling exterior.

Tables to wait, orders to write, customers to chat with- why hadn't Amanda made the amaretto yet? Oh, Jayce was here for his pound cake- did they have enough pumpkin for the muffins?

Yep, the post work rush was in full swing.

There was strain in your legs and and a bit of a rasp to your voice, but you wouldn't trade this for the world. Seeing people's faces light up when they tried something new, or close their eyes in contentment when they had their old favourites- this was your little slice (pun absolutely intended) of heaven. Although, there was one more thing that could have made it perf- oh crud!

"I have to do deliveries!"

"Nope! My turn!" Daniel gave you a two-fingered salute before putting on a bike helmet. "Check the roster!"

When you did look, he was right. Huh. You were certain it was yours, but you dismissed it. There was plenty to do inside.

The tide of activity ebbed and flowed as the hours wore on. As always, the hustle and bustle eased as daylight faded. The heat of many bodies crowded in one little café dissipated. Newcomers and regulars alike bid their goodbyes, and you could finally catch your breath.

You'd been sitting in the back kitchen when it happened. Dani called your name in that unmistakable singsong. “Someone’s here for you!”

He came? Your heart soared. It had been a while since Miguel last visited you on work. You could have your little evening ritual together.

You headed into the employee fridge, and picked up your packages, hoping he'd like the treats you'd chosen. As per store policy, employees got some of the goods that hadn't sold immediately to minimize waste. They were all well-kept, so there was no fuss about it. The rest would be donated wherever they could bring smiles.

Speeding into Entering the main dining area again, you saw the tall, mocha-toned man you loved smiling at you. “What brings you here, stranger?”

Reaching out, he slid his hands around your torso, guiding you into his chest for a gentle hug. “I missed you too.”

Hands occupied, you burrowed in with the rest of your body and smiled.

“How's work?”

“Busy. I thought you had all those new contracts to review, Mr. CEO!”

He stepped back slightly, the golden light dancing in his curls and giving a warm tone to those mahogany eyes.

“Sólo quería ver tu bonita cara.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Isaac tap the sign before heading out back. It featured a crossed-out can, then a crossed-out plate of noodles. Customers were told that it was the store policy on fast food. Your dear co-workers who knew the truth, however, snickered.

You huffed, deciding you'd ignore them all.

Once comfortable at a table, you produced your personal favourites, plus his cheesecake bars and mangonada sorbet from the bag. "I had to fight my way through Melinda and Sean for those, so enjoy them!"

"Your trials will be remembered, noble knight." He smirked, tasting the sorbet and giving a satisfied hum. You took a spoon and delved into your own treats, already feeling more relaxed.

The two of you fell into the comfortable rhythm of conversation, jokes, and the occasional silence. Given he worked in a much bigger business, there was always some new project or opera-worthy employee drama to discuss- told in his sarcastic, deadpan style that made you laugh to tears. You'd won the jackpot, my friend.

During a lull, one of Miguel's hands rested on the table as he reclined. An idea came. With a burst of courage and affection, you took his hand with both your own, lifted it to your lips and kissed it gently. You whispered what you wanted to say in Spanish, so he'd truly understand how much you appreciated him.

"Cada vez que se vuelve demasiado pesado, pienso en casa y pienso en ti."

A tiny gasp escaped his plump, parted lips, before his expression melted to fondness. The hand in your grasp moved to cradle your cheek. Leaning over, Miguel left a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then cheek, then trailed butterfly kisses down your neck.

"No sabes lo feliz que me hace, mi tesoro."

Shivers ran down your spine at the feeling of his lips. You'd reached up to pull him closer, but a tiny voice in your head reminded you of the sign.

You sighed, trying to think past the lightheadedness he always caused. “My…erm...boss doesn’t want us to…”

Miguel laughed, pulling back and looking at you one more time. “Let’s go home, then.”

Nodding enthusiastically, you went to get the rest of your belongings. The roster lay on its usual shelf, and you signed your name before leaving...wait. For all the other weeks, today really was supposed to be the day you you did deliveries. That sneaking Isaac had reassigned you so you could see Miguel more often. You shook your head, both amused and grateful.

As you headed out together, Miguel smiled to himself. One day, he’d tell you each secret and regret that weighed on him. He trusted you. But for now, he’d enjoy these happy days.

Translations:

“Sólo quería ver tu bonita cara.” : I just wanted to see your pretty face.

"Cada vez que se vuelve demasiado pesado, pienso en casa y pienso en ti." : Every time it becomes too much to bear, I think of home and I think of you.

"No sabes lo feliz que me hace, mi tesoro." : You don't know how happy that makes me, my treasure.

(Please accept my humble offering to the community. *runs back into the forest on all-fours.*)

#miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara x you #miguel o hara x y/n #fluff #coffeshop #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic

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theroseceleste · 6 months ago

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Jessica - @ Lizzie_Miggy on Twitter commissioned me to write a Bridgerton inspired AU for our lovely comic book Miguel O'Hara and her OC Lizzie Cunningham.

A Duke who has already suffered loss, reluctantly marries again. Will he allow himself to move on and embrace his second chance with love?

Thank you so much Jessica for the opportunity to write about comic book Miguel and your OC and explore the setting of Bridgerton.

Contains : 18+ - Minors DNI - Wedding day, wedding night, SMUT : oral, fingering, first time sex for OC.

Word count : 6805

Any interaction with post such as liking, commenting or reblogging is greatly appreciated. Thank you xx

Enjoy! xx

----------

Elizabeth Cunningham stands before her tall looking glass in her chambers. Her emerald green eyes wander over her elegant reflection. A slim-fitting silk wedding dress with a lace overlay adorns her beautiful form. A shakey, nervous breath escapes her parted lips as her gloved fingers trace delicately over the intricate lace design. Her long, dark, wavy brown hair is styled in a bun formed of tight ringlets, while a long ribbon of her wavy locks sweeps over her face and wraps around the elaborate arrangement at the back. A veil sits proudly atop the hairstyle, its smooth netted material drapes down her back, ready to conceal her face with the time comes.

Today is the day. A day that she has been waiting for what seems like an eternity. A day she gets to marry the man she truly loves - Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy. Their long journey of courtship had come to a close and a new chapter of their lives together will soon begin. Their relationship did have its challenges. Reluctance on his part being one of them. A feeling born from grief over a lost first love, his first wife and mother to his daughter Gabriella.

Elizabeth leaves her bedroom for the last time, for today, after the wedding, she’ll be the new Duchess and will be living at her husband’s estate. The bride will miss her old room as it provides a certain comfort to her, a level of security that she grew up with in her family home. In fact, she’ll miss the grand house in Mayfair she lived in her whole life just as much as her bedroom. The family home contains countless memories of a happy childhood.

A whinny from a horse outside the house alerts her that her carriage awaits. It is time…

‘Lizzie’ - as she’s better known by close friends and family - watches the ton go by as her elegant horse-drawn carriage takes her to the church. The rest of the world continues with their normal lives as she’s about to embark on a new stage in hers.

Her father joins her in the carriage. He's proud to be the one to escort her down the aisle and give her away to the Duke. His darling girl will become the new Duchess. A title grander than anything a nobleman would give her. She is a vision of beauty in his eyes, but he supposes he’s biassed. He thinks Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy should consider himself a lucky man, being given a second chance in love and marriage.

Church bells ring merrily as the carriage comes to a gentle stop outside. Not only will the rest of her close family be in there, but the King himself, the Duke’s mother, and his daughter will bear witness to their union.

This dreamlike moment is becoming more and more a reality as time passes by. Pre-wedding nerves flutter like butterflies inside her as she is assisted out of the carriage gracefully and brought to the church doors.

Entering the house of worship, Lizzie can hear the hushed voices inside as the bells stop ringing. Silence falls upon the ton.

“Are you ready my darling girl?” her father asks in a low whisper as he holds out his arm for her to take delicately.

The blushing bride nods with an excited and nervous smile. Her hand rests on top of Lord Cunningham’s arm.

A large oak door stands between Lizzie and her future. She takes in a deep breath to calm her thumping heart and settle her buzzing nerves. With a loud creak, the door opens slowly. A sea of wooden pews stand before her, and at the other end of the aisle are her family and most importantly, the Duke.

Sun rays dazzle through the large windows, illuminating the pure white walls of the church. The groom stands there facing the altar. As he waits, he holds both of his hands together in front of him. His formal red military attire takes her breath away as she watches him from afar. The uniform compliments his build, making him look rather dashing.

As the Duke’s back is turned, the sunlight shines upon his dark brown hair, highlighting a deep red tint to it.

Either side of the aisle, bouquets of white and pink flowers sit on the end of each pew. At either side of the altar, two large elegant vases stand atop plinths with flowers and verdant leaves spilling out, cascading down the sides in a beautiful display.

The train of her silk and lace wedding dress slides along the smooth floor of the church as her father guides her slowly.

On the left, her family watches in awe at the elegant girl before them. On the right, the King and the Duke’s mother smile in approval at the stunning bride for their son.

Upon hearing slow footsteps approach from behind, the Duke finally turns. He probably feels the most nervous of all about his marriage to Lady Cunningham. Pressure has been mounting from his mother and father to marry, and the longer he courted Elizabeth, unpleasant gossip within the noble society prompted the Duke into proposing.

As of right now, however, he is blown away by her beauty. She is presented in a modest manner, but looks exquisite all the same. Their eyes meet after he turns to watch her as they reach the end of the aisle. The father of the bride bows to the King and then his daughter’s future husband, before taking his seat with the rest of his family.

After giving her own polite curtsey, Lady Cunningham looks up at her groom and smiles. Even through her veil, her green eyes shine brightly. Despite the nerves he feels, his expression remains fairly neutral, not revealing much in the way of feeling and emotion. Eventually, they turn to the altar to begin proceedings.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest begins. “We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and woman in Holy Matrimony.”

Silence rains within the church as all the guests listen.

“The union of husband and wife is intended by God for the mutual joy; for the help and comfort given to each other in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord.”

The soon to be new Duchess blushes at the priest’s words, ‘procreation of children’, feeling thankful that the veil should help neutralise the pink hue on her cheeks.

“Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”

A pang of trepidation shoots through the Duke’s heart as his eyes remain fixed on the priest. He knows Elizabeth’s true feelings, but he worries his reluctance will affect them both.

“Into this union Lady Elizabeth Cunninham and Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.”

The silence within the church remains resolute as no-one comes forth and speaks out, much to Lizzie’s relief. She subtly releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I charge you both, here in the presence of God and the witness of this company, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be married lawfully and in accordance with God’s Word, do now confess it.” The priest waits for any potential response from the couple.

Lady Cunningham has nothing to say and turns to gaze up towards her love. Her optimistic green eyes searching the Duke in silence.

Miguel swallows hard. He is lawfully within his right to marry, however he can’t help but feel hesitation, but does not open his mouth to speak.

Satisfied that neither of them have any reason not to continue with the marriage, the priest continues onto the next segment by turning to Lizzie.

“Lady Elizabeth Cunningham, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

The sweetest smile grows across her pink, plump lips. “I will.” A promise she truly means. A promise she had been wanting to make to the Duke for such a long time. She felt it challenging to not cry with happiness in this moment, however she keeps her composure.

Now, the priest turns to the groom and repeats the question and waits for his response.

The Duke holds his answer for a moment longer than his bride. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry her, however he has reservations that he hasn’t yet confided in anyone and now perhaps he feels it is too late to express his worries. Finally, he replies.

“I will.”

The priest now asks for the bride and groom to face one another in preparation of the exchanging of vows.

Miguel takes his lady’s right hand and repeats the vows he’s been given.

“In the name of God, I, Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy, take you, Lady Elizabeth Cunningham, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death…” he pauses for a moment and swallows hard again. “This is my solemn vow.”

The groom releases his bride’s right hand. Now it is her turn to take his. His large hand dwarfs hers as she holds it, giving it a delicate squeeze. His heart warms as he feels her fingers tighten around his.

“In the name of God, I, Lady Elizabeth Cunningham, take you, Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.” Her words are spoken clearly and precisely without a single moment's hesitation. The pair release hands but remain facing one another as the priest takes a cushion bearing the rings to be exchanged by the bride and groom.

“Bless, O Lord, these rings are a symbol of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

A chorus of “Amen,” follows the priest’s prayer to God to bless the rings.

Before placing the ring on his bride’s finger, he must remove her long silk glove. Taking her hand gently in his, he tugs at the material, causing it to slip down her arm with ease.

Now that her hand is bare, Duke Miguel takes Elizabeth’s ring from the white velvet cushion presented to him. Holding her left hand, he positions the ring just at her fingertip. This moment transports him back to his first marriage but he presses on as he feels his father’s eyes fixed on him.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you, in the Name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” After he speaks, the fine jewellery sits proudly on her ring finger.

The Duke’s ring is now lifted from the cushion as Elizabeth prepares to do the same.

It seems like an eternity sliding the gold metal band up his left ring finger as she speaks her vows. Each digit is so long and slender. She loves admiring his strong hands. Just doing this makes her feel giddy.

The priest now joins both the bride’s and groom’s right hand and begins to speak once more.

“Now that Lady Elizabeth Cunningham and Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he pauses for a moment. “Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder.”

Another chorus of ‘Amen’ rings out from everyone within the church.

“Lady Elizabeth Cunningham and Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife,” he pauses to face Miguel. “You may kiss the bride.”

Elizabeth’s heart flutters at the priest’s permission for the Duke to kiss his bride. She waits patiently as he gently lifts her veil and leans in to give her a soft, delicate kiss on her lips. While he does it quickly, he feels her press into him which makes his heart pound momentarily.

Alone at last - in the carriage - the pair are on their way to the wedding’s reception. It feels strange to know that they’re married now. Strange how the deal is sealed by simply speaking a few words and sliding a ring on the bethrothed’s finger.

Sitting side by side, a slightly awkward silence rests between them. A well-manicured hand reaches out and takes the Duke’s, causing him to stir from his deep thoughts. The silent man looks down at his new Duchess and a soft smile breaks across his face.

“You look beautiful, my dear Elizabeth,” he whispers to her as he squeezes her hand back.

“Please, my love, call me Lizzie. We’re married now, we can act rather more familiar with one another.”

The handsome smile fades slightly as fear creeps up on him at her words.

“Of course - Lizzie,” His Grace repeats the affectionate name for his new wife as if testing it out on his tongue. He tries to smile again, but it does not reach his eyes.

With such a caring heart, Elizabeth can sense her new husband’s troubles but is not yet privy as to what they are. A feeling of concern washes over her. Another gentle squeeze presses against the Duke’s hand to provide some kind of reassurance. Silence falls once more within the carriage as it gently rocks down a road of the ton, on the way to his father’s palace.

In comparison to the number of guests at the church, the reception is certainly a lot busier. An array of colours fills a large room. Ladies, Viscountesses, and Baronesses brighten the place with the latest fashion. Some wear gowns of bright colours that dazzle, while others are sporting flattering paler shades. The male guests of course look handsome and sharply dressed for the joyous and momentous occasion.

An orchestra plays at one end of the room while a banquet for the guests is beautifully presented on a large table. An impressive five tier wedding cake stands proud, adorned with pink flowers wrapping around each layer elegantly.

Her Grace, Elizabeth, finds herself separated from her husband as she greets guests. Duke Miguel O’Hara Fitzroy appears to be speaking with his father who sits at the other end of the room. She receives bows and curtseys, compliments on her dress and the stunning reception that is being thrown in honour of their wedding. Between speaking with guests, the Duchess notices that the discussion between the King and his son is looking rather heated, despite speaking in hushed tones.

A little while later, the dancing begins. The bride and groom join hands and stand at the centre of the wide open space in which they will dance together. The orchestra begins to play, prompting the newly wed couple to waltz. The Duke and his new Duchess spin and twirl in beautiful circles around the dance floor. It seems his wife is rather well practised and performs with grace and elegance. She follows his lead as though she has danced with him for a lifetime.

In his gentle but firm hold, she stares up at Miguel as she tries to read how he is feeling as he looks subdued, hesitant and retiring. Occasionally she is met with a smile and kind eyes from the love of her life, making her heart flutter once more.

Curiosity still grows within her as to what his discussion with the King was about, but the Duke’s face is giving nothing away.

After their dance, many other couples begin to join them on the floor. Dancing and twirling under elaborately designed gilded candelabras hanging from the ceiling. Flames from the candles themselves flicker and sway in their own performances while illuminating the room as the sun starts to set, painting a golden glow through the windows and onto the walls.

By sundown, the Duchess has spoken to everyone in the room, including her now father-in-law, King Tyler Stone and Miguel’s mother, Conchata. They both seem very approving of their son’s new wife; he couldn’t have chosen a better candidate for his hand in marriage. They believe her optimistic outlook will brighten Miguel’s life, with the help of his beautiful daughter, Gabriella.

Climbing into a horse-drawn carriage once more, the bride and groom set off to their estate and her new home. As their carriage trundles down the dark roads, Lizzie notices that her husband has fallen silent once more.

“What was your discussion with the King about, my love?” she asks, doing her best to be careful on the subject.

The Duke sighs as his gaze remains on the view outside his window. Candle-lit street lamps pass by momentarily, illuminating the beautiful houses of Mayfair.

“He was just interfering in my business; pay no mind to it my dear.”

Her beautifully shaped brown eyebrows furrow at his response. “But it’s clearly upset you, Miguel-”

“It has not,” the groom interjects. While it is a response that cut his wife’s words short, it was not said sternly, or in a cold manner. However Elizabeth notices he is not looking at her. A strong sense of resolute willpower encourages her to persist. She will get to the bottom of this conundrum and fix whatever it is that has put her husband in a sombre mood.

A clear night sky twinkles above the pair as they climb out of the carriage after it arrives outside their grand home. The air is still warm and comfortable. Lizzie cannot wait to see her new home during the day. She’s sure the house’s beautiful features are hidden in the darkness that enshrouds it at night.

Arm in arm, the Duke leads his new wife into the family home, where his daughter is already sleeping. She had retired early from the wedding reception as it was approaching past her bedtime.

After tucking her in, Miguel gives Gabriella a soft and loving kiss on her forehead as she sleeps soundly.

Once the groom emerges from his daughter’s bed chambers, he reunites with his new Duchess.

“This will be your room,” he says softly as he guides her into a large bedroom, full of opulence and luxurious furniture.

Her Grace raises a questioning eyebrow at her husband.

“My room? And where is yours? Do we not have a marital bed?”

Miguel frowns at her questions. This is what he and his father were discussing earlier. The King was pressuring the Duke to ensure his new marriage was consummated on this night.

“I’ll just be along the corridor and on the right,” he answers, glossing over Lizzie’s final question.

Long ago, before he was married to his first wife, His Grace considered himself a ladies’ man. Many a woman swooned and flapped their feather fans at him as he passed. He enjoyed their attention, and loved to see how their faces blush when he paid any one of the lucky ladies a compliment.

Of course he calmed down once he found his wife. He was loyal and loving towards her. His daughter completed them as a family once she arrived. He was happy and full of contentment, nothing could bring him down… Except for his wife’s untimely passing.

His better half, his significant other, the sun to his moon - gone, and never coming back. His ‘ladies’ man’ persona, totally diminished.

After the mourning period, the King and his own mother began talking to him about remarrying. Something he felt reluctant to do. To keep the peace, after much deliberation and disagreement, he re-entered society.

Instantly he was swarmed by many young ladies, totally overwhelming him at balls and other social events; until one evening, one lady in particular caught his eye. While still displaying a level of attraction towards him, she seemed to care for him and his feelings, unlike the other ladies wanting to marry him for his title and status. She was indeed beautiful and a very talented young woman. However, his reluctance to marry made him draw out their courtship as long as he could, before feeling more pressure mounting on him, and his own guilt of taking up Lady Elizabeth Cunningham’s precious time searching for a husband in society.

His now wife shakes her head at her husband. This is not how things should be, and this is not how she wants it to go.

“What troubles you, my love?” she asks, stepping forward and taking his hands in hers. Tension stiffens his body, making him look more rigid as he feels her touch. She notices her groom try to pull away but her imploring emerald green eyes stops him in his tracks.

“Nothing troubles me-”

“Something clearly is,” she interjects. She hopes he will open up for her, but she is met with nothing. “Need I remind you of our vows we made just this morning?”

His Grace breaks eye contact and looks away, however his hands grip hers back.

“I, Elizabeth, take you, Miguel, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by-”

“I know!” His serious, wide eyes snap back to his wife. The pair remain standing before one another, their fingers interlinking.

“Did you not mean your promises to me and to God, Your Grace?” The fact that she refers to him as ‘Your Grace’ and not as her usual ‘my love’ or his actual name hits him hard. His expression softens before he lets out a long sigh.

“Of course I meant them, Lizzie…”

“Then what in God’s name is the matter?” The Duchess has kept her cool the whole day. Acting with grace and decorum despite experiencing several moments where her new husband hasn’t behaved with his new bride as she hoped. The desperation to understand his troubles is clear in her voice.

Silence - an all too familiar sound for her falls between them again. But before she speaks to prompt him further, the Duke begins to confess.

“I’m scared,” his voice almost breaks with emotion. A pause fills the air once again as he breathes heavily. Lizzie’s shocked, wide eyes are fixed on his.

“Scared of what?” she mutters, his confession almost renders her speechless.

“I’m scared - no - petrified that if I allow myself to get too close, I’ll…” He bows his head down, almost in shame. “I’ll lose you too…”

A surge of love floods her entire body as tears well up in her eyes. His words confirm that he does in fact feel love for her and relief washes over her.

“My love,” she begins as her hands rest upon either side of his face, “I understand your worry. But is it not better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all?”

The Duke considers her question in silence.

“We are married now, my love. We must embrace this.” Her thumbs caress his cheeks. “My love for you is as true as the days are bright and the nights are dark. From the moment we met, I have loved you. My feelings have never wavered, never dimmed, never waned. Instead, they have grown, like the warmth of the sun builds on a summer’s morning, resolute as mountains that bow to nothing and everlasting as the wedding band that encircles my finger.”

A beautiful smile breaks across her face the very moment she sees her words warm her husband’s heart. His expression softens, along with the rest of his body.

“It is my dream to be the one to make you happy, to be the one you wake up next to every morning and to be the one you see last at night. Please let me live my dream and you’ll never regret it… I swear it.”

“Oh, mi bonita…” A whisper rushes through his parted lips as his hands find her face. Long black eyelashes flutter at his touch, while her heart feels a similar sensation. There have been fleeting moments when she has heard him speak Spanish and it gives her a thrill each time. She doesn’t know much, but she understands that he just called her his pretty.

With such an unblemished reputation as hers, the Duchess had never been touched the way her husband is touching her now. His closeness takes her breath away. While it feels nice and very much welcome, it will take a while to get used to.

“Lo siento, mi amor.” His Duchess is right, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. It’d be a miserable existence to be married and too afraid to show love and give affection. Even worse, to be married and to never feel love or affection. He couldn’t do that to Lizzie.

A hand slides from the side of her face to the back of her head. His fingertips getting lost in the bundle of curls collected together in a bun. A desire burns through him as he looks down at his new wife. He remembers her pressing into his kiss earlier at the church and would very much like to experience that again.

Her breath hitches as she feels him lean down closer to her. A series of gasps fill the room as his lips press against her forehead and travel delicately to her cheek and jawline. In the corner of his eye he watches her eyelids shut while her lashes flutter against the side of his face, tickling his skin. The sound of her soft breath emerges from her beautiful, kissable lips. The Duke wants to take his time. Make the moments she spent earlier being so tolerant with his behaviour worthwhile.

A smile spreads across his face as he feels her lean in against him, her parted lips in search for his own. More faltered breaths punctuate the sound of his tender kisses, the warm air fanning across his cheek.

She gasps as he misses her lips all together and plants kisses on the other side of her face. Her head turns the other way, following him as her search for his lips continues. It has become a game. She giggles while he chuckles as hands caress and their breathing quickens.

Lizzie’s search is becoming more desperate and Miguel finally relents. His lips travel slowly from her cheek down to her ready lips.

Both of their bodies come alive the moment he captures her mouth with his. Eyelashes flutter again as their kiss excites her.

She feels something warm and wet tease at her lips. His tongue seeks entry to deepen the kiss. A strange sensation but a welcome one. Lizzie has always wondered what a proper kiss feels like and now she’s finding out. Her fingers travel from his cheeks up into his wavy reddish-brown hair as she allows his tongue entry into her mouth.

Rocking forward, she stands on the balls of her feet to give herself extra height while his arms wrap around her, holding his wife close to him.

“I think…” His Grace begins before he quickly captures her lips and pulls away again. “I shall sleep in here after all…” A smile grows against his lips, upon hearing his comment.

“Excellent idea, my love…” Elizabeth replies before sighing sweetly, her husband’s lips have found her neck, peppering her skin with tender kisses and light grazes with his teeth. A grunt vibrates against her flesh as she grabs his hair and gently tugs it. The sensation shoots right down to between his legs, awakening a certain part of his body.

Pins that support the bridal hairstyle start to get pulled out one by one by the groom. He longs to see her beautiful, long, dark, brown hair frame her pretty face again. Intricate curls and ringlets fall, bouncing into place as he lets more of her hair down. His hand collects all the hair accessories and places them on the bedside table. As he does so, he continues to kiss his bride, showering her with the love that she deserves. Fingers run smoothly through her hair, loosening the curls until it resembles more of her normal style.

“There you are…” he whispers after pulling away, his eyes taking in the view of her gorgeous wavy mane. The Duchess giggles; she’s enjoying this side of him and can’t wait to experience it more.

Now that her hair is down, his hands focus on the buttons on the back of her dress. As the bridal gown loosens, his warm lips ignite tingling sensations coming alive from the side of her neck while he stands behind her. He hears soft moans and sighs come from her mouth as she tilts her head to one side, allowing him better access. A strange sensation pulses out from between her legs. A feeling she has never experienced before. It feels pleasant but it pushes her to want more, strengthening the urge for something she doesn’t yet fully understand.

“Such beautiful sounds, mi bonita…” he whispers against her skin as she unfastens the last of her buttons. Another lusty sound rings out from her parted lips. His Spanish makes her melt.

Not much effort is required to let the dress slip down her shoulders and arms, collapsing in a half inflated heap on the floor. Now her short stays corset and the silk bottoms is all that is left for him to negotiate.

It isn’t long for them both to lay together on the luxurious four poster bed. An opulent canopy hangs above them. Hands roaming the skin of each other’s naked bodies as their lips are connected once more in a deep and passionate kiss. Fingertips leave goosebumps in their wake as they reach the crest of her perfect breasts. Her manicured hands traverse the sculpted muscles on his chest.

Then, he leans further forward over the top of her. Her smile falls slightly the moment she feels something hot and throbbing rest against her stomach. She can’t resist a look and almost yelps in surprise.

A strong hand gently cups her chin and pulls her head to make her look back at his face.

“Do not worry, mi amor. I’ll take great care of you,” he leans in close and kisses her lips quickly before speaking again. “I’ll go slowly, I’ll be tender and we can stop at any time if you so wish.”

Lizzie gives a slight nervous nod, but she trusts him unequivocally.

After dancing tight circles around her hardened nipples, his fingers slip further down her body. Over her ribs, over her stomach and slowing down where her legs join her hips.

“First, I need to make sure you’re ready for me, mi amor…” He watches her close her eyes and sigh as he calls her his love in Spanish. Her reaction to his second language makes him smile before planting more kisses against her neck. This time he adds the sensation of his tongue trailing tantalisingly on her skin, tasting her.

“M-Miguel…” she whispers softly. Feeling him lick and kiss her neck while his hands gently parts her legs is taking her breath away. Giving her sensations she’s not at all used to.

“You’re in good hands, my love.”

A bigger gasp fills the room as the tip of his middle finger begins to circle deliciously around her sensitive bud.

“Enjoy it, mi amor. Does it feel good?” he asks as he murmurs in her ear momentarily.

The blushing bride bites her lip and nods while she tries to stifle a moan.

As time passes, his fingers travel lower down over her entrance. He discovers his efforts so far have already excited her. Biting his lip, he looks down at her with a smile.

“You’re nearly ready…”

After coating his fingers in more of her arousal, he slowly runs them up and down his hardened shaft and around the tip.

The Duke repositions himself on top of his Duchess. His lips crash against hers in a fiery kiss, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. He has missed this feeling of closeness and intimacy. Feeling glad that he has this opportunity again and allowing himself to enjoy it.

Lizzie’s body instinctively arches upwards against him, seeking more contact, more heat and looking for something that’ll calm her inexplicable urges.

Kisses, licks and nibbles proceed down her body, starting from her neck, over her collarbone before stopping at her breasts.

“Miguel!” she moans urgently as she feels his lips close around a nipple and suck on it gently. Her hands go straight into his hair, unable to resist keeping him there for a while. A warm pulse emits deep inside her core, bringing a fresh wave of arousal that threatens to seep from her needy pussy. All she hears is a warm chuckle against her skin in response.

“That’s it mi amor, enjoy me…” he finally mumbles after releasing her nipple.

Moving over to the other, he does the same again. Drawing it into his mouth with a delicious suck, prompting her to arch into his body and moan once more.

The attention from his mouth advances down her body after releasing her nipple. Tingles erupt around her flesh, generating goosebumps to flare all over her skin.

“I wager you taste exquisite…” he mumbles between kisses as he continues to move lower.

“Miguel… w-where are you go- oh!” Her hands grip the bed sheets as she feels his tongue tease her clit, bringing a different sensation to when he used his fingers. The added warmth and moisture from his mouth made it feel even more irresistible.

Flicking in a teasing manner, between sensual circles and tender sucks, his tongue works hard to bring her absolute pleasure.

“You do indeed taste wonderfully…” The vibrations from his words only add more to what she’s already feeling, making her go crazy.

Elizabeth is now done with stifling her louder moans. It only gets worse when she hears him begin to groan against her, dissolving her into a bigger mess than she’s already in.

Just when she thinks she couldn’t receive more stimulation down there, she feels two fingers brush up and down her sensitive folds again. But soon, they begin to enter gently. Teasing the tight entrance, opening the lips just slightly.

His Grace feels her body stiffen as he pushes his fingers in further.

“Breathe, mi amore, breathe and relax…” he instructs before sucking on her clit a little bit harder in an attempt to distract her from his fingers.

As per his instructions, she relaxes and begins to enjoy the alien sensation of his digits sliding gently in and out, twisting and turning. The bride closes her eyes once more. All of this pleasure is transporting her to cloud nine.

Finally, Miguel believes she’s as ready as she’ll ever be for him. Crawling back up to face her, caging her underneath him protectively, he whispers to her softly.

“As I said, I’ll go slowly and I’ll be gentle. This may hurt, just a tiny bit.”

They keep their eyes locked onto one another. His gaze searches her expression for any kind of pain as he slowly starts to take her. His hips push further and further forward with every passing second, until she gasps out loud and tenses. His Grace stops pushing immediately and waits for her to relax again.

“You’re doing so well, mi amor.” His words bring a smile to her face and her blush deepens.

He begins again, slowly pushing until the hilt of his cock meets her fully aroused entrance.

“There we go…” Another whisper fills her ear. With little movements, he pulls back slightly before pushing back in, testing her for her reaction. Moans erupt from her parted lips as he watches her brow furrow with pleasure.

Dainty hands rest on his sides as his thrusts begin to grow stronger. With every pump, his body ripples, making sure her sensitive bud gets attention from his perfectly defined hips.

Knowing that his bride is fully comfortable with him inside her, he allows his grunts and groans to join her beautiful moans and sighs. A symphony of pleasure in time to his expert lovemaking fills the room.

The bed creaks under his efforts, but neither of them care. They’re too wrapped in their intimate, passionate lovemaking.

The Duchess’ mind is totally blown. She feels complete with him inside her, thrusting and grinding away, filling her with nothing but pleasure and love.

A new sensation is starting to build, one that makes her brow furrow more as she cannot see where this will take her, but she knows it’s doing something to her. With every movement from her husband, the sensation grows stronger.

Miguel grins, he can feel that sensation in her grow too as she begins to clench around him. Squeezing him harder with each pump.

“Miguel… what… I’m feeling something new… I-”

“Hush… do not fear…” he whispers between thrusts. “Let it go… let it happen…”

Her fingers grip his sides harder as she listens to him. Instinctively, her hips begin to move with him, making them both start a fresh chorus of moans and groans.

The Duke’s mouth hovers teasingly above hers, they exchange each other’s air as they stare into their spouse’s eyes, deepening that connection further still.

Movements get faster and perhaps a little harder. His Grace can tell that his wife is well on her way to her first ever climax.

“Let go, mi amor, good girl…” he praises her as he thrusts even harder.

She lets a sudden moan escape her lips, the loudest one so far. An even more pronounced back arch pushes her body into his, creating further friction between them and pushing her over the edge of pleasure.

“Oh! Miguel!” Lizzie cries out, totally lost to the sensations swirling and rushing through her body. All the while, His Grace watches admiringly, enjoying the view of his wife feeling the powerful orgasm he has just delivered her to.

“Si, mi amor, si…”

His thrusts increase in speed, giving him the stimulation he needs to join her at the peak of pleasure. Miguel certainly isn’t that far behind.

“Make more pretty noises for me, my love… please…” he begs as he pants heavily.

He’s desperate for that release. Desperate to give her every part of him. And he’s so, so close.

Every moan that parts from her lips edges him nearer. His hands ball up into fists, clenching the bed sheets. Every thrust is accompanied with a wild sounding grunt. He watches her body rock under his efforts. The sound, the feeling, the display all working together, bringing him to the cusp of his climax.

With one final pump, his body stiffens as tingles erupt everywhere all around his body, spreading like wildfire. A beautiful sensation he thought he’d never feel again.

The Duchess feels the deep pulsing within her as her husband climaxes and fills her with his seed.

Strong arms wrap around Elizabeth, allowing her to bury her head between his neck and shoulder as the throbs of his orgasm die down.

Laying with her back pressing against his front, they snuggle together in their marital bed, their marriage consummated on their wedding night. The afterglow shining brightly between them with no regrets whatsoever. The groom kisses the sensitive area near her ear as his hand glides up and down her arm on top.

“Te amo…” the Duke whispers softly.

A warm smile spreads across her lips as she wriggles further against him, making sure she fits perfectly.

Today has been her dream come true and she cannot wait to see what her new life will bring, with the man she loves so loyally and so truly.

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I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

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