#miguel o'hara love language | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orestesimp · 1 year ago

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [TBC]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something.

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…”

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either."

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself.

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes.

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set.

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause.

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude.

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak.

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong."

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways.

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination.

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter.

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!"

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap.

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head.

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn?

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely.

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out.

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.

Now that he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl.

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you.

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side.

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest.

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller.

"It's okay," you say.

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oh rip my heart out #for a second i was so into the dark comedy that i forgot miguel has a tragic backstory #it really tugged at my heartstrings #he’s so soft and gentle #give him the world #but gosh i love this reader so much #i feel like she knew him in another universe and it didn’t end well for her #but i’m sorry this universe reader is awesome af #the whole coffee scene was so fucking funny #and the spanish my god that was hawt #it’s the way he’s angry and rambling and switches back and forth between the two languages #(also it’s picturing oscarito speaking Spanish oooof no puedo mas indeed)#thank you for sharing this beautiful intriguing story with us #miguel o'hara #fic rec

2K notes · View notes

yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tw: Nsfw, explicit smut, my writing.

This man is sexually insane, seriously, he will fuck you practically every day he can, not many opportunities because of his responsibility as leader of the spider society, but whenever he can he will fuck you without thinking twice.

Miguel is a very needy man even if he hates to show it to you or anyone, he is extremely needy and jealous, seriously, Miguel will fuck you a lot when he's jealous and will be extremely aggressive.

Miguel is also a donor, he loves sucking and praising your pussy with his tongue, if he could he would stay 24h between your legs while sucking and sucking the soft flesh of your pussy, teasing with his lips, tongues and even biting the part inner thighs with his fangs, he loves and will leave you marked, for all to see that you are his and no one else's.

♡He's a fucking walking kink, he likes to try a little bit of everything, some of them being:

Aggressive sex - his favorite when he comes home stressed from his Spider-Man job or when he needs to punish you for pissing him off, teasing or making him jealous, even if it's not your fault, your poor holes won't escape his rage.

Passionate, slow sex - when he feels needy and just wants to slide his thick, needy shaft inside you and move his hips slowly while whispering sweet nothings in Spanish, his native language, while pounding into you at a slow, steady pace. Provocative, Miguel is a very difficult man to talk his feelings about, but fucking him slowly and passionately makes the spider leader loosen up with you.

Recorded sex - Miguel loves to record you having sex, he always has all the recordings he can make of your lusty reactions while you two make love, he feels a strange warmth and relaxation watching your beautiful reactions on video, while working in the spider society, even using their sweet moans to soothe herself as their worked.

"-Look at the camera mi carinõ, I need to get your best angle, smile for the camera while I fuck you" - Miguel spoke authoritatively while positioning the cell phone camera in your pussy, moving the cock in and out, while getting his best angle .

Daddykink - Believe me, Miguel loves being called "Daddy" it's a title of power for him, it's a title that reminds him that he commands you and you are his little submissive in bed and in your couple life, he loves to make you moan in bed and scream calling him "Daddy", "Papi" and "Papito".

Unprotected sex - Spiderman 2099 is a sex freak without a condom, Miguel has enough money and opportunities to buy a suitcase full of condoms for you to use but, he doesn't want to, he'll fuck you skin to skin, for you to feel every thick vein pulsing on the sides of his cock as he thrust the head of his cock into your womb easily, rhythmic strokes and leaving a wet trail between both groins.

He's a great partner, loving when he gets to be, but he has a problem, O'Hara is a jealous and possessive madman.

If he sees you flirting with someone else, whether male or female, especially if it's another Spider-Man, you will suffer the consequences, they will be the lightest: he has a little fight with you in his office, saying he doesn't like it of your closeness with another Spider-Man, or ignoring you for the rest of the day and pretending you two aren't a couple or worst/best of all, fucking you with all the rage and strength he has at the moment, degrading you like a slut .

"-You're just a hole for Daddy to use." Miguel growled, his voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and anger. "This is your purpose - to please and obey me. Remember that, (Y/N), while Daddy fucks your mouth without mercy."

"-You can feel my cock slipping out of your mouth, but this is far from over"

"-I will not release you (Y/N), not until you submit fully to me, until you understand the consequences of testing my patience."

"-That's it, you slut," Miguel growled, his voice thick with the Mexican accent present, as he pulled your hair back and thrust harder and harder without mercy into your pussy.

"-Take every inch of my dick. Show me you're mine, completely and utterly mine, you're just a dick-hungry little whore, aren't you?" -Miguel spoke in a hoarse tone, letting out loud moans that echoed through the walls of the room, while he threw you on the bed and thrust his length into your pussy again with a painful and pleasurable thrust.

"-That's what you were made for, to adore my cock, to satisfy my every desire, you're a whore to Daddy, aren't you?" -Miguel chuckled sadistically as he lifted one of your thighs, rubbing the throbbing cock on your aching clit, thrusting the tip of the cock in and out again to tease you, then ramming it all into your overstimulated hole; "-Take it all, choke your tight pussy on my cock, show me how much you need me, how much you want my dominance (Y/N)."

"-Tu condemned coño es mío."- Miguel continued to speak as he pounded his cock into her soft and tight folds, while you could feel Miguel's balls hitting your clitoris painfully.

"-Go and follow it and make sure you never forget who you belong to."

"-Daddy's going to make you come so hard, my sweet (Y/N)."

"-You're mine to pleasure and possess me in to the pleasure, my little slut, cum on my dick, cum on your Papi's dick."

©𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

3K notes · View notes

truetogaia · 1 year ago

Text

come awnnn ya'll knew I had to write a longer one..

pairing: fiancé!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+

synopsis: Miguel wakes up to a... hard... problem, one only you can help solve..

warnings: just pure smut with a lil plot, p in v, unprotected sex, depictions, mature n explicit themes, no pull out sorry lolz, size kink, morning sex, vulgar language, breeding kink,

word count: 950!

requests: open !

NOT PROOFREAD! I Miguel masterlist

His buff arms crept around your middle, wrapping securely around you as your head rested on his broad chest. Mornings like these were rare, ones where you could just relish in the loving embrace of your boyfriend, and soon to be husband. The newly acquired ring weighed heavy on your finger as you reached a hand up to tuck some loose hair behind his ear. The material of it shimmered in the gentle light of the setting sun, casting reflections onto a white wall just in front of you.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest, synced with his breaths, lulled you into a state of drowsiness. He had been asleep for quite a while now. You glanced at the clock on his wrist, careful not to move too much despite the tight hold he had on you. It was exactly 8:43. And as if he could sense it, he began stirring, throwing you on the floor in the process. You landed on the wooden floor with a loud thud, wincing as your tailbone took the hit.

Miguel shot up, looking around frantically for the source of the sound. His gaze landed on you, sprawled out on the floor as you tried to process what had just happened. A soft chuckle left your lips, which soon turned into a fit of giggles. Your fiance looked at you with a puzzled expression, one eyebrow quirked in response to your strange antics.

“What are you doing?” His deep, raspy morning voice sent a slight shiver up your spine, making you abruptly stop your giggling.

“Well, you woke up and I… found myself down here..” You said, smiling sweetly at him. He began removing the blanket from his body to get up, stopping suddenly as he realized. You peeked up at him, wondering why he had suddenly frozen.

“Hey, sweets, I've got a little problem, fear I'm gonna need your help..” You hummed, getting up as you rubbed your tailbone slightly. It stung, but it was bearable. Your eyes finally landed on said problem, raising your eyebrows slightly at his huge bulge.

“Morning boner? Really? At your grown age?” You teased, earning a light scoff from the man. He narrowed his eyes at you, before shooting up to catch you in a hug before pulling you down with him towards the messy bed.

“Come on, you love me.. So help me out, yeah?” You giggled, nodding as you gently pulled away from his embrace. Your legs straddled his hips, struggling to wrap all the way around due to the difference in size.. And muscle.

Now he had his large, rough hand planted on your love handles, pressing your soft hips down onto him with ease. His cock pumped in and out of you at a pace which had you blabbering incoherent nonsense, body slumping forward to rest against his chest. Miguel tried his best to stay as quiet as he could to relish in your sounds, but the way you were squeezing his cock just right sidetracked him.

Soft moans spilled from your plump, kiss-swollen lips as his own attached to the sensitive skin of your neck. He placed gentle, sloppy kisses along the curve of it, paying extra attention to your sensitive areas as if it would drown out the blissful pleasure of his length dragging in and out of your squelching heat.

Your hands tirelessly gripped at his larger forearms, nails digging into the skin in sync with his relentless thrusts. You were still sat atop him, legs aching from the stretch the width of his brawny hips offered.

“There sweetheart.. I thought I was the one.. who- fuck.. who was supposed to receive help.” He tutted, voice deep and dripping with.. adoration? love? lust? All of the above? He didn’t really know what to feel, all he knew was that he loved the feeling of his soon-to-be wife’s smaller body enveloping his.

“Y..yeah.. you’re just.. too big, couldn’t move properly..” You said between broken moans. He chuckled, gently grabbing your arms, hands sliding down your forearms to hold your hands. He leaned forward, catching your lips in a lazy kiss.

“Fuck.. can’t wait to marry you.. To have a family” he muttered in between sloppy kisses, tongue dancing with yours as he fucked into you from below.

“Mhmn.. Y’know, some people create families before they get married..” Your soft voice felt like clouds in his ears, and his hands found their place on your hips again, a groan escaping his mouth at your words.

“Yeah? You wanna have kids now? Want me to fill you?” He smirked as you nodded desperately, feeling your hot cunt clamp down on him and throb around him. “may as well give you what you want, no? Early wedding gift..” His hips stuttered, cock twitching inside of you as you ran your hands down his chest, mouth agape. With one final thrust, he came deep inside your womb, painting your gummy walls white as you spasmed on top of him, reaching your own high.

“There we go, now we wait” His voice was raspy as you laid on his chest, catching your breath. He smoothed a hand down your spine, resting it in the small of your back. You giggled lightly, the bedroom now filled with the smell of sex.

“Come on, let's take a shower, we stink!” You said, grabbing his hand to pull him with you. You smiled as you got up, hissing slightly from the ache in your legs. You heard a chuckle erupt from your fiance's mouth, turning around to scold him. “You owe me big time, mister.”

“Is a baby not enough?”

#miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut

5K notes · View notes

hoshigray · 1 year ago

Text

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

6K notes · View notes

spdrvyn · 1 year ago

Text

touch-starved headcanons — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel isn't the most touchy person when you and him first meet but as your relationship with him developed over time and things started to get more intimate, you discovered new things about his love language.

THIS POST CONTAINS: like my last one. literally nothing but fluff. sleep-deprived and stressed out miguel.

NOTES: do you guys think miguel needs a hug because i think miguel needs a hug, reblog and like if you think that miguel needs a hug because i think that he needs a hu

– through the most painful methods (to his heart), miguel had found out that you really liked touching people. every time you greeted him, it was a big hug that he would hesitate to return. it's not that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that it wasn't something he was used to. it's not like people in the spider society were walking around giving hugs.

– although, it's not like he was opposed to it. it was you, after all. gradually, he began getting more comfortable. resorting to wrapping an arm around you and dragging his hand up and down your back, it would make the hug last just a little longer and he enjoyed the soft gestures. they meant a lot more to him than you thought.

– it took a little time to get him to fully hug you back. the reason for that was how he looked when doing so. he doesn't like being so public about it, he can hear the murmurs and light giggles from the passersby around him when you hug him. besides, the face that he makes is one that he finds quite embarrassing. he looked so content, compared to the stone-faced and distant demeanor he always walked around with at work.

"Miguel!"

He felt his body stiffen as you called out his name, head turning frenetically as to locate where exactly you were calling him from. Not until he feels a finger tap him on the shoulder, he turned around and looked down to see you with a grin tugging at your lips.

He isn't even able to get a single word out as you embrace him, head buried into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his torso. You're about to pull away before you feel two strong arms envelop you as well.

Your heart fluttered a little. Ever since the start of your friendship with him, you'd gotten used to him not reciprocating the hugs. You couldn't blame him honestly, some people aren't into it but it also perplexed you because it's not like he hated it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have continued.

After a few long moments, he finally pulls back and whatever just happened left a look of awe on your face that he reacted so adorably to. His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing into a straight line, the crimson eyes that you would lose yourself in averting from yours as a shade of deep red settles on his cheeks.

"So, what are you here for? How'd you even get in?" You wanted to laugh at the strain in his voice, but just this once, you decided to spare him the embarrassment.

Quickly digging into your bag, you bring out a small container. "Admittedly, some of your coworkers were a little... surprised when they saw me head up but I told them that I was your friend and they were slightly less mortified!"

You handed the tupperware over to him as he carefully took it in his hands. "I just wanted to bring you a snack. Haven't seen you in a while so I assumed that things were getting busier around here."

Miguel pried open the container as the scent of freshly baked banana bread wafted through the walls of his office. For a moment, you were concerned that he didn't like it. He stared blankly at the food for a moment before closing it once more to conceal the scent.

"Thank you, that's- that's very thoughtful of you..."

Your head cocked to the side ever so slightly to get a better look at his face, watching lovingly as the blush that painted his cheeks continued to deepen.

Oh, how embarrassed he would be if he knew you could hear his heartbeat during that hug a while ago.

– you weren't all that surprised when the affection picked up ten-fold when you two started dating. whatever sense of yearning and longing for a loving relationship that miguel had was definitely all pouring out now but it's not like you were complaining. if anything, he seemed to be more physically affectionate than you at times. he'd work towards trying to be gentle towards you at the start of your relationship, he was scared that he'd hurt you but once you reassured him that he didn't need to walk on eggshells, he didn't hold back.

– greetings went from hugs to straight up kisses, when you got back home from work and he happened to stop by your shared apartment just to fetch something, he would always pull you into a kiss which would always leave you breatheless by the end of it. whenever you two were watching a movie, he'd constantly have his hands all over you. he liked playing with your body, his fingers would rake through your hair and gentle massage your scalp, his hands would wander down to your stomach to trace shapes into it, then to your thighs to knead into the soft flesh like a cat making biscuits.

– let's not leave out how much he bites as well. he has a tendency for marking you up, sometimes you'd be cooking something on the stove and he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. when you finished preparing your meal and perhaps wanted to get a change of clothes, you'd see a small bite mark in the crevices in your neck. you were more than okay with it, of course, you just had one rule to not make it uncoverable. a rule that he had forgotten to obey at times because "you just taste so good".

"Fuck..."

You groaned as the blaring sounds of your alarm rung painfully in your ears, you reached over to the bedside table and looked at your phone screen (basically getting flashbanged as you forgot you didn't turn down the brightness last night). It was still early in the morning but you still had tasks to care of and a job to do.

You turn off the alarm and sit up from the bed, wincing as you take a big stretch. You're ready to actually stand up and start the day until an arm wraps around your midsection, forcing you back down onto the bed with a yelp.

Your back hits Miguel's chest as he cages you, his face buries itself into the crook of your neck. "Stay, s'early..." You can hear him mumble, hot breath tickling your skin and it sends a tingle up your spine. You giggle, your hand moving down to the ones that he has firmly digging into your belly.

"No matter what I say, you're going to keep me here anyway."

"Mhm. Just surrender."

You mumble out a small "okay" as you properly settle back into his warmth, a small hum escapes his throat as you can feel his nose digging into his neck and lips pressing the back of your shoulder.

Time seems to pass by slowly, surprisingly enough you're used to this. You barely get to see Miguel some days due to the nature of his job however the moment that you're together again, it all feels so heavenly.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you feel a shift of movement, Miguel maneuvers your body so that you're now facing him.

Only now do you get to see how cute he looks. His regularly slicked backed hair all messy, stray hair strands falling onto his forehead. Lips curled into a small pout and eyes lidded as it seems like he's staring into your soul or something.

"Corazón," He breathes out, your fingers move to cup his cheek. Your thumb swipes at the deep bags that formed under his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You let your actions speak for you as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his. One of the hands that he wrapped around your waist moves to your hair like always, fingers combing out the locks as the kiss continues to deepen.

Once you two finally part, a small grin makes itself present on your face and on his as well.

You realized now that whatever jobs you had, whatever lives you two lived didn't matter as long as both of you were happy. A thought intensified as he pulled you in for another kiss.

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #cute #domestic

4K notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 4 months ago

Note

Hey bestie 😘

Can you write about reader giving Miguel kisses every time she enters/ leaves the room. And her kisses range from quick pecks to full on make out session and Miguel is never prepared for which one he is getting.

I crave for some tooth rotting fluff in my life.

😘

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Kissing

A/N: This is so cute I can't stop smiling!!!

Unedited

This is his favorite game to play with you.

You've always been the spontaneous one in the relationship, balancing the strictness that Miguel carries. He loves that about you, loves the excitement and adrenaline that you make run through his veins. Makes him feel young again.

He's on the edge of his seat whenever he sees you. His red eyes track your every movement, scanning your body language in hopes of catching something that will reveal your intentions as you approach. But despite how well he knows you and how long you've been together, he can't completely guess what you'll do.

Some days you walk to him with a slow sway to your hips, a coy smile on your lips as you stalk towards him. He braces himself as you throw yourself over his lap, arms loose over his shoulders. He can feel his heart beat pounding in his chest as you lean in, eyes going half lidded as he turns his face up towards you. The slow lick of your bottom lips makes his mind buzz in a rapidly numbing way, leaving him in a total daze when you connect your lips with his for a second. There is barely any pressure behind it before you're dismounting his lap and walking out of the room with a lazy call of 'running to the store real quick'. You leave him blinking dumbly at the wall, unable to process that you've done.

Other days you storm into the room like a whirlwind, rushing to grab everything you need from the coffee table or dining room or kitchen as you prepare to leave for work or an appointment. Miguel turns his body towards you the moment you step in, not taking his eyes away from what's in front of him. When you quickly make your way beside him, he turns his head for a quick peck, but is pleasantly surprised when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck and fists his hair. He groans into your lips as you give him a sloppy kiss, your tongue caressing his bottom lip before licking into his open mouth. It's a slow clash of teeth and sensual licks that make his brows furrow and his hands reaching for your hips to pull you closer the tighter you dig your fingers into his scalp. But then you're pulling away with glossy, swollen lips and wiping the smudge of your lip product from his mouth. You chirp out a 'Love you, big guy' before you're off, leaving him to deal with his own problems in the bathroom.

To keep him on his feet, you occasionally do exactly what your body says it will. Seductive walks leading into moan worthy make outs and rushed ramblings being cut off with a quick smooch. He just never knows, dubbing your little surprises as The Kiss Game. He really doesn't have a preference for any of the kisses you spring on him. He's too dazed and worked up after each one to care.

All he knows is that he wins either way.

733 notes · View notes

reidsfilm · 4 months ago

Text

SPOILED ROTTEN — MIGUEL O'HARA

divider credit: cafekitsune. art of Miguel credit: _insomniac_red_

PARING: miguel o'hara x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with a little plot, p in v (wrap it before you tap it folks) dirty talk, swearing, fingering, blowjob, pet names; mi corazon, bebita, mi amor, baby, etc. age gap (miguel is in his early thirties, while the reader is in her early twenties)

SUMMARY Miguel takes you out to celebrate your birthday. A catfight occurs between you and a woman, who thinks you are nothing more than Miguel's trophy wife. Miguel shows you you're much more than that.

WORD COUNT : 6,5k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. Still not over this man after watching ATSV last year. This is probably super messy because I honestly lost track of what I was writing.

Miguel and you were going out to a party to celebrate your birthday. You had dolled yourself up with a black bodycon dress that fit snugly to your slim yet toned body. You wore a pair of black stiletto heels. Miguel had surprised you with a beautiful silver necklace with an 'M' engraved in it, for the initial of his name.

Miguel was your sweet and caring mafia husband. You had known him for around a year now, and he was a couple of years older than you— well over a decade older. ''Do I look good?'' You questioned softly as you did a quick spin, letting out a soft giggle.

A low chuckle escaped Miguel as he pulled your face against his to kiss you softly. He ran a hand up your thigh teasingly before you both walked out the door.

“You look stunning mi corazon, now let’s get a move on before I decide to take you back inside and give you an early birthday present.” You felt your cheeks flush at his words.

Miguel opened the car door for you, smiling that charming smile that made you lose your thoughts. You got in and Miguel followed suit as he settled in next to you in the backseat. ''Thank you for this, by the way. I love it.'' You muttered as you touched the necklace, looking at him with a soft smile.

Miguel's hand placed itself on your thigh, giving a soft squeeze. ''Anything for my beautiful girl. Happy birthday.'' He muttered before pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

When the two of you arrived, there were already a few others there. The place was huge, a mansion that could probably fit in at least a couple of hundred people. Miguel always knew the right places to take you, which wasn't odd: considering he was a mafia boss who had quite the list of contacts, for various things. People flooded in through the large doors, music playing.

Your eyes scanned around the place as you stepped inside, seeing people dressed in fancy attires, which probably cost a fortune

Beautiful women in gorgeous dresses, and men in elegant suits.

''I think I picked a dress that was too short...'' You mumbled, making Miguel chuckle as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, ''Should've picked something even shorter. Give everyone a little show with that pretty little ass of yours.

Your eyes widened as you turned your head, meeting his dark eyes, ''Miguel!'' You exclaimed with a small huff. Miguel smirked as he watched you try and keep yourself presentable.

He took a hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles, grinning. “I have to go say hi to an old friend. Make yourself comfortable.” You hummed at his words, before watching Miguel start to head towards the back of the estate.

You're eyes landed on the small bar by the corner, and you headed over as you were in desperate need of a drink. Miguel's earlier words had made something stir in the pit of your stomach.

''One martini, please.'' You said to the bartender, who nodded while you patiently leaned against the bar counter. You tapped absentmindedly on the wooden surface.

“Hey, sweetie. Why are you standing here all by yourself?” A womanly voice made your head turn, a brunette wearing a gorgeous red maxi dress. Her lips were painted red, matching her dress.

She was beautiful.

She held her own martini in her hand, eying you.

''Just waiting for my drink and my husband,'' You replied back with an awkward smile as your gaze wandered around.

You were never good around huge crowds of people, especially so many gorgeous-looking people that were scattered around the place. Made you feel slightly out of place. You'd been with Miguel for a year, but you were still not used to all this prestige stuff: the riches and all its glory.

“Ohh a husband, huh?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked you up and down. You could tell what she was thinking. Typical gold digger.

“What’s his name?” She asked, the corners of her red lips curving into a smirk. You shifted a little, feeling slightly nervous as she stared at you, almost like she was trying to make you feel small.

''Miguel...'' You replied back nonchalantly as you shifted a bit on your feet, your heels making a clinking noise against the marble floors. You watched as a few men were standing around a couple of strippers who were dancing. Their moves were gracious and alluring: you wished you could dance like that.

“Miguel? Don’t tell me you married the Miguel?” She tilted her head, smirking. It almost sounded like she was shocked by your words. “You’re very lucky, you know that?” Her eyes seemed a tad resentful and jealous at the same time.

''Mhm..'' You simply hummed as you ignored her presence beside you, your eyes continuing to wander around the area as you rubbed your bare arm— a nervous habit you'd have, but you supposed a lot of people did certain things when they were nervous or anxious.

''Here's your drink, miss.'' The bartender's voice broke you out of your little daze as you turned back, ''Thank you.'' You muttered before taking the martini in your hand and taking a sip.

“That man is so fine, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him and showing him a good time.” The woman scoffed, laughing to herself. As if she’d even have a chance.

“He must make quite a living, right?” She questioned though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Of course, he did, Miguel was the epitome of money and wealth. But he didn't let it get to his head, which you found endearing.

''And?'' You turned your head to face her, raising an eyebrow.

What was she trying to accomplish?

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a gold digger. We all know it.” She smirked at her own comment, crossing her arms under her breasts. “You’re obviously only with him because he’s rich.”

Who was we? She had never seen this woman nor any of the other people her in her entire life. So who was she to judge you?

You placed the drink by the counter

''Obviously.'' You mocked back as you rolled your eyes, mimicking her posture as you crossed your arms under your breasts, feeling them push up against the material of your dress.

You loved Miguel, with all your heart and soul. And you couldn't give a flying fuck if he was rich or not, it never mattered to you. All that mattered to you was him. You remember how frightened you were of him when you first met him, and weeks into your marriage you still were. It was an arranged marriage after all. And you hadn't actually wanted to be married, well you did, but on your own terms.

At first, you found him to be an arrogant prick who had a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass. But after a while, you saw a softer side of the man, behind that rough and stoic demeanor. You grew to care and love for the man.

“Hah, well at least you admit it finally.” She groaned, smirking. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” She laughed lightly, looking down at your dress.

“You got the dress to match his money too? Or were you going for a bit of slut in there somewhere?” The comment had caught you off guard, her laugh was a bit too loud for comfort.

This bitch.

You felt your jaw clench as you stared her down. ''Listen here, you perky little bitch. If your goal here is to try and have your pretty little lips wrapped around my husband's cock, you'll have to try better.''You snarled at her as you narrowed your eyes.

“Awe! Aren’t you a feisty one? Come on, you just can’t get enough of the rich and famous, yeah? Just looking for someone to fund your every need and want.”

“You want my advice?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly sweet and bubbly again as she took a step closer “It’s better if you start talking to the strippers here. You and they have more in common than you do me or any of the other women here.” She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, waiting for a reaction from you.

Who the hell was she to talk to me like this?

You flinched at her words, taken aback by her blatant rude and berating words, ''Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that.''

''Damn, don’t get your panties in a twist sweetheart'' She chuckled, taking another step toward you, your faces close. “I know someone as pretty and as young as you has to struggle. Do you not have food to eat at home? Does Daddy not care for you anymore and leave you alone? Is that it little girl?”

That was the tip of the iceberg.

You harshly slapped her across the cheek, sizing her up. ''Don't ever speak to me like that again.'' You spat as you stepped back from her. A few people in the room looked over at the scene, eyes glued as we stared each other down. The woman stood there for a moment, her hand slowly traveling to her cheek before her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

The woman’s face turned bright red, both from embarrassment and rage. She took a few steps towards you, the people surrounding you clearing out quickly, knowing exactly what a heated exchange between the two of you would turn into.

Miguel was nowhere to be seen and that only worried you a little. She pulled herself closer, her words sounding like fire on the tip of her tongue.

''That was a mistake. A huge one. You’re lucky my father taught me restraint'' She hissed, her face almost touching yours, making her teeth and breath seem closer.

''Yeah? Did he now? I don't think he taught his little girl any manners.'' You seethed as you pushed her back, making her stumble against the bar on the side.

The woman stumbled, her dress rising a little more to reveal more of her skin. Her face turned a deeper red due to both the embarrassment and the heat of the situation.

“I can buy you.” She threatened, reaching out a hand, and grabbing your wrist.

“And it wouldn’t take me even a quarter of the money my father has in his back pocket.” She snarled, her grip tightening on your wrist as she squeezed it tightly.

You groaned from the intense pain of having her hand around your wrist, squeezing it. Your mouth was set into a hard line as you stared at the woman before you. ''Let go!'' You snarled as you tried yanking your wrist free. You could stand your own ground, always had. But you knew well enough that Miguel would be furious by this, but it wouldn't be directed towards you.

“Nope.” She chuckled, tightening her grip on your wrist before leaning closer, her nose almost brushing against yours.

“Your just a little bitch.” She hissed, her hand moving to your other wrist as she held both tightly. You let out a soft cry, feeling her grip tighten around your wrist, and would most likely leave faint marks.

“You want to talk about your ‘husband’ Miguel? I’ll take him from you in a heartbeat.” You let out a scoff at her words, making her eyebrows furrow a little, ''You think he wants you? A dried up fucking wrinkly bitch like you?'' You seethed as a mocking smile formed on your face.

She let go of one of your wrists, raising her hand up, about to smack the shit out of you...That's when you heard the loud and firm sound of your husband's voice.

Miguel was now standing there, his broad shoulders towering above the two of you, his face cold with anger. His eyes narrowed at the woman, his mouth set into a hard frown.

“Don't.” He didn’t ask, his tone firm and cold with a slight growl in the back of his throat.

The woman huffed as she dropped her hand, finally letting go of your wrist, but not before turning to you and rolling her eyes. You looked down at your wrists, noticing how they had turned all red and irritated from the grip the woman had on them. You rubbed them, trying to ease the pain. ''Bitch...'' You muttered in a low tone.

''I can see you’re an uneducated little whore who can’t help herself,'' she sneered, her face turning a deeper red as she looked at Miguel. “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Sorry, handsome.''

Miguel rolled his eyes, his hand slowly traveling down to your back while he spoke. “Apologize to my wife.” His tone was still cold and sharp.

You gazed around the area, noticing how everyone was looking at you. This was supposed to be a fun and delightful birthday for you, and yet it had turned into full-on chaos the minute you arrived here.

Your gaze went back to the woman, narrowing your eyes at her. Just the mere thought of this whore trying to get her little mouth anywhere near Miguel's cock, was making you angry.

''I said apologize'' Miguel’s voice turned a lot grittier, the woman noticing how his eyes looked like they were filled with actual hatred towards her.

The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s barely your wife!” She hissed, before looking at you.

“How could you even get married to the son of the big boss? You’re not good enough for him, are you?”

Your lips curled up into a smug smirk, ''Is that so? Are you sure you aren't jealous that Miguel's big cock is buried deep inside me every single night, and not inside you?'' You snickered at her, putting on a mocking pout as you stared at her.

''Bebita...'' Miguel warned lowly, despite it he found your words sexy as you put the woman in her place. It made pride stir within him.

You knew she was extremely jealous that you got to have sex with Miguel whenever you wanted and this cheap whore would never even get a glance of his body naked.

You also knew despite your slightly unruly long hair, that you looked so fucking sexy while you were putting this woman in her place.

''Go along. I'm sure your mouth has a better use elsewhere.'' You made a 'shoo' motion with your hand.

The woman’s eyes lit up with rage, and she took a step forward, her face only inches away from yours as Miguel kept his hand on your lower back.

You were both staring each other right in the eyes as her lips started to curl into a small grin and then they widened into a big smile as she laughed.

''I’d gladly take your place. In the bedroom. And I know he’d enjoy it.'' She turned her head to look at Miguel, who was watching the whole scene with a stoic expression.

''Yes, I'm sure he'd very much enjoy someone as loose as you,'' You replied back mockingly.

“At least I’d keep his cock satisfied for more than five seconds,” she chuckled.

''Enough,'' Miguel said, before he sighed, turning to you as he looked at you with concerned eyes. He was always so careful of you, always making sure that you were okay. But he couldn’t stand hearing someone talk to you in such a vile way.

''Come. Outside with me.'' He asked softly, gently taking your hand as he started to walk away. You stared back over your shoulder at the woman with a smirk as you walked away with Miguel. Your stiletto heels made click-clack noises against the floor.

Miguel held your hand as you walked outside with him, the two of you stopping a few meters away from the estate as he sighed and leaned against a tree. He looked at you with concern in his eyes, his lips parting to speak before he shook his head and looked down at the ground.

He chuckled awkwardly, running his free hand through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Let’s forget about that woman back inside, eh, mi amor?”

''Forget who?'' You replied back with a smile on your lips. You snaked your arms around his strong waist.

Miguel huffed, turning his head to look down at you as your lips brushed against his chin.

''That woman was a complete bitch to you.'' His voice sounded almost worried as he looked at you.

He smirked, his own arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against his hard body. “Don’t you feel like you need some sort of revenge?”

''I've got my revenge, right here.'' You let out a soft giggle as you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. And it was true; as that woman wanted nothing more than to spend a night with Miguel, if not more. Your sweet revenge was the fact that he was all yours.

''Hm, true.'' He chuckled, his hand slipping down your back to your hips as the kiss lengthened and you two stayed there under the moonlight together.

His free hand held the hem of your dress, gently lifting it to reveal more and more leg as his eyes locked onto yours.

A soft kiss on your cheek as he looked back at you. “My naughty, naughty wife…”

''You're the one trying to take my dress off, right here in the open.'' You chuckled softly as you stared up at him. ''Plus, I'm not wearing any panties,'' You whispered, your tone sultry.

“How scandalous.”

Miguel continued to look at you as his hand continued to travel up your thigh, moving ever so gently. His voice was now a lot lower with lust in it yet it was full of playful sarcasm.

''Maybe I’ll just have to bend you over this tree and show you how naughty your husband thinks you are.''

''Yeah?'' You looked up at him as you slotted your bottom lip between your teeth.

God... you wanted nothing more than him to stuff his thick cock inside you, right here. You stared up at him with doe eyes, an almost pleading look in them. ''I want it. Please.'' One hand slipped from around his neck and down towards his crotch, palming his cock through his dress pants, making him let out a soft groan as you simply stared up at him with an innocent look.

He was already so hard, the little brawl inside and the way you had put that woman in her place had made him extremely horny, but there was nowhere that was far enough away from the estate to get some privacy. Not with guests still arriving.

His eyes locked onto you as he tried fighting back his urges, his breathing steady as he spoke. “Wait til we get home. Don’t torture me like this, mi corazon.”

''Then take me home, show me how good you can fuck me.'' You purred and that's all it took for him, ''Anything for the birthday girl.'' He said before quickly hauling you up into his arms, making you squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

''You were so sexy back there,'' Miguel muttered as he carried you through the large lawn. His words make a cheeky smile form on your lips, ''Yeah? Made you all *hard*, hm?''

''You have no idea.''

You sat in the car next to Miguel, staring out of the window as you passed by different cars and buildings and such. You fiddled with your hands as you thought back to what that woman had said about you.

Gold digger.

Sure, you stood your ground and wouldn't take any bullshit from anyone, yet the words she had said had stung. And it had made your head spiral. You turned to look at Miguel, ''Baby...'' His head turned and his dark brown eyes met your own eyes.

''Si? What is it, mi amor?'' He questioned as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. ''You don't think I'm a gold digger right?'' You mumbled as you looked at him, and his eyebrows furrowed, confused by your words.

''What? Why would you say something like that? No, no of course I don't think you're a gold digger, bebita.'' He reached up to place his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

''It's just... the woman—'' He cut you off, placing his finger over your lips to silence you. ''Don't listen to whatever that vile woman said. You're anything but.'' He reassured as his eyes softened, ''I know you love me, and I love you. No one's going to come in between that, okay?''

You nodded as he spoke, ''I know.'' Miguel didn't seem fully convinced that you believed his words, and he took your hand in his, placing it against his chest. You felt his heart going thump thump against the palm of your hand, as his own hand rested over yours.

''My heart beats for you, and you only.'' His words were reassuring and so gentle and sweet, and you knew that you had the best husband in the whole wide world.

''So does mine.''

The car stopped outside your shared mansion and Miguel gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before stepping out. He reached his hand out for you to take, and you gladly did before letting out a soft gasp as Miguel hauled you up into his arms.

''Miggy!'' You exclaimed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, looking at him with wide eyes. ''My beautiful bebita is not walking a single step.'' He smirked as he looked down at you, though his dark brown eyes softened the more he looked at your face.

''You're making me feel like a queen today.'' You muttered as Miguel carried you into the house, ''Just do today? I thought I always made you feel like a queen.'' His playful jab at you made you roll your eyes.

''You always make me feel like a queen.'' You corrected yourself and Miguel looked at you with a prideful smile. He carried you up the large stairwell before walking down the hallway to your shared bedroom.

''I have one more present for you.'' He said as he placed you down on the large king-sized bed, making your eyebrows furrow, ''Miggy, you already gave me this beautiful necklace. I don't need anything more from you, I just need you.'' Your words were soft and sincere as you looked at him.

Miguel let out a small chuckle as he bent down to give you're cheek a kiss, then the other, before his lips met yours, ''You deserve everything there is in the world. Mi precioso.'' You're stomach fluttered at his words as he pulled away from your lips.

''Stay right here, I'm gonna go and get it,'' Miguel said, his words sweet yet commanding at the same time. So you sat there and waited as he headed out of the bedroom. You took off your heels in the meantime, and oh did it feel good to get them off.

What had he gotten you?

Miguel came back after a few minutes, and your head perked up as he stepped back into the bedroom, with a glittery black box in his hands. You shifted a little on the bed, watching as Miguel crouched down in front of you, before extending his hands towards you, presenting it to you.

''Happy birthday, mi amor.'' Miguel said with a wide smile on his lips as you took the box from his hands, ''Thank you, baby.'' You muttered softly before you opened the lid of the box, settling it next to you on the bed. You removed the black tissue paper sheets, and your eyes widened at the sight.

You plucked out what was in the box, ''Miguel...'' You started at the pretty black lacy two-piece set of lingering, it was pretty yet so sexy as well. ''I love it!'' You exclaimed as you turned to look at him and he chuckled at how happy you seemed by it; just how he hoped you'd be.

Miguel leaned up to brush some hair away from your face, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, ''I want you to wear that when I fuck you.’’ His words sent chills down your spine, making you shudder.

''Put it on bebita.'' Miguel placed a soft kiss below your ear before pulling back and getting back up on his feet. ''Okay, I'll be right back.'' You mumbled before taking the two-piece set with you and heading into the bathroom.

The thought of Miguel having bought you a present, and fuck you senseless with it on made heat pool between your legs. You slipped the straps of the dress off of your shoulders, reaching to your back to drag the zipper down. You shimmied out of it, letting it pool to the floor.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in your flushed cheeks and pink lips; you look disheveled and you hadn't even been fucked yet.

''You almost done? I can barely wait.'' You heard Miguel's voice outside the bathroom door, ''Give me a minute.''

You slipped on the new set, taking yet another glance at yourself in the mirror. The lingering set fits snugly on your body, showing off your curves in just the right way.

Damn, I looked fucking hot.

You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping out. Miguel was seated on the bed, having slipped off his tie, and opened a few of the buttons on his tight-fitted black dress shirt. The man was the epitome of sexiness. His eyes landed on you as you stepped out, and you caught his dark brown eyes looking even darker as he stared at you.

''Fuck, look at you.'' He purred as his eyes raked over your body, his tongue coming out to lick over his bottom lip. It was like he was devouring you by just looking at you, and that alone made you sure that you looked amazing in the lingering.

''You like it?'' You questioned as you did a quick twirl, making Miguel let out a small growl. ''Do I like it?'' He said as he got up from the bed, walking over to you. His larger and taller frame loomed over you, almost enveloping you.

''I fucking love it. God, you look so good.'' He placed his hands on your hips, his hands squeezing at the flesh. ''Could practically eat you up.'' He said gruffly as he stared down at you.

You looked up at him, ''You've been so sweet to me. Let me repay you, baby.'' You didn't let him respond as you sunk down to your knees in front of him, with doe eyes as you grabbed onto his belt buckle. Your eyes were locked onto his as you unbuckled his belt, and undid the zipper of his pants.

You licked at your lips, ''Can I?'' You questioned in such a soft and innocent tone.

“You can have anything you want,” He muttered, trying to remain calm for your sake if you were even aware of what you were doing to him.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you dragged down his pants along with his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles. Your mouth was salivating at the sight before you. His cook stood tall, practically begging to be worshipped. ''Have you been this hard since the party?'' You questioned softly, your eyes gleaming as they flitted up to meet his own dark brown ones.

''Ever since you put on that pretty little dress of yours'' Miguel placed his hand underneath her chin, pulling your chin up slightly.

''Gonna take me like a good girl, hm?'' His body began to quiver at the thought of you taking all of him down your throat. He felt almost powerless with the way you looked up at him.

'Yes.'' You purred as you looked up at him. He traced his long digit over your bottom lip, before tucking it slowly into your mouth. You stared up at him with blown-out eyes, your cheeks a rosy hue as you began to suck at his finger. The whole scene was sensual and so erotic.

The act itself made Miguel's cock twitch with anticipation and need. His tip leaking with pre-cum. “Just as eager as I thought you’d be.” He muttered as he watched you.

''Always eager to take anything you give me, papi,'' You muttered softly as he slid his finger out of your mouth with a pop. He traced his wet finger over your swollen lips, making you whine softly. ''Need you to fill my mouth up,'' You whined once more, eagerly shuffling closer to his cock.

You looked perfect, on your knees, your lips parted, and looking up at him.

''Need to make you feel good. Been taking care of me so well.'' You purred softly before you wrapped your delicate small hand around his shaft and inched it closer to your mouth. You stared up at him as you wrapped your lips around him, taking all of him in.

You let out a small gag sound as he hit the back of your throat, saliva trickling down the side of your mouth and down her chin. You pulled him out of your mouth, letting out a small cough. It certainly had been a while since you'd done this.

''Sorry.''' You mumbled sheepisly.

His hand caressed the back of your head, as his breathing grew heavier. “S’okay, you’re…you’re doing fine.” He panted out, fighting back the urge to not just take what he wanted, the urge to push you down further on his cock.

''Go slow, bebita. No need to strain yourself.''

You licked at your lips, taking a deep breath as you took him back into your mouth. The sound of gurgling and gagging bounced off the walls, as well as Miguel's groans and growls as you continued to suck him off.

He held the back of your head, gripping onto your hair as he guided your head up and down on him. ''So good for me. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.'' His words only spurred you on, making her moan as you sucked on him, tongue swirling against his cock.

Your eyes started to tear up as you steadied your hands on his thighs. Miguel's praises were going straight to your core; making you even more wet than you already was, if that was possible.

A few of his grunts and groans escaped his mouth, the sounds were loud and evident, and he couldn’t do anything but grip your hair harder. It felt good.

''Keep going... feels so good... yeah that's it,'' Miguel growled as he pushed your head further down on him, feeling him hitting the back of your throat continuously. ''Fuck... gonna cum.'' Miguel's head tilted back as his hips pushed against your mouth before he let out a guttural moan as he came. His body shuddering as his hand in your hair felt almost painful but pleasurable at the same time.

You swallowed the salty substance before taking his cock out of your mouth with a pop.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, her cheeks a red hue and your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Miguel was panting and coming down from his climax. ''Did I do good?'' You questioned softly, as you licked over your lips.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, his lips curling into a small smile. He brushed away a stray piece of hair from your face.

“Mi amor, you did more than good,” He muttered, before tucking his cock back into his pants.

Miguel helped you up from the floor, your legs a little wobbly and your knees feeling a little bruised due to having them pressed onto the hard floor. ''You always taste so good when you come in my mouth,'' You muttered softly. Miguel pulled her into a soft kiss, cradling the back of your head as you whined into his mouth.

Miguel pulled away from her swollen lips, before bending down a little to reach out to the back of your knees, hauling you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. A soft giggle escaped your lips as he carried you over to the bed.

You let out a small oof as you landed on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed. You shuffled closer to the pillows, letting out a soft sigh as you snuggled up to them.

Miguel lifted and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his tan and muscular upper body, before chucking it onto the floor. Miguel's eyes widened a little as you noticed a new scar on one of his shoulder blades. That wasn't there before.

You shuffled to the edge of the bed, settling yourself onto your knees. ''Did you get that one when you were away for the week?'' You questioned softly, your eyes locked on the scar on his shoulder blade. It was a nasty scar, and Miguel was a mafia boss. Of course, he indulged in dangerous things. It was a part of what he did.

A soft smile curled on his lips, but it grew tight with pain as he remembered where the scar came from. “Yeah…” He muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his sleek black shoes.

He let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing the scar as he listened to your soft voice. “Bullet wound. Took it on that last job.” He muttered, sounding distant, the scar was still fresh, and he was still learning to cope with the reminder of their failed operation.

You moved closer to him, settling yourself behind him, your arms wrapping around him. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on the scar, humming softly. ''Did you at least get the fucker who gave you that?'' You placed your chin on his shoulder, tilting your head a little to meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” Miguel mumbled, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. “Beat the information out of him.”

A hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading themselves through your hair.

''Damn... didn't know my husband could resort to such violence. It's sexy.'' You purred as you leaned into to kiss his cheek, before pulling away and falling back against the bed with a soft giggle.

Miguel chuckled at your words, before standing up and removing his pants, leaving him in his black boxer briefs, before stepping back over to the bed and sliding in beside you. His chest pressed up against your back, as he moved some hair away from your neck before leaning down to place wet kisses against your neck.

You hummed softly as he pressed himself more up against you, feeling his hardening cock press against the material of your underwear. ''Mhmm.... Miguel.'' You mumbled as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your neck, and his cock pressing up against the globes of your ass.

His hand snaked around your waist, skimming down to the waistband of your underwear, before slipping inside. You instinctively spread your legs a little, giving him more room to explore. His fingers found your clit, dragging two of his digits through your soaked slit. ''So wet for me, hm?'' He crooned into your ear and you only whined in response, your back pressing up against his chest.

''You like that, mi corazon?'' He asked, mumbling against your neck. You nodded, as you spread your legs wider for him. Miguel stopped, as he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and made you look at him. ''Use your words.''

''Yes, I do...'' You said softly, almost like you were embarrassed. Miguel couldn't help but smile as he went back to circling his fingers over her clit. Your soft little whimpers drove him wild, and he wanted to hear more. He slid one finger inside you, pulling back to watch your face. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, and the sight drove him feral.

''Mierda, you're beautiful,'' Miguel said, pushing his finger a little deeper inside of you, curling it. After a while, your moans were growing louder as he added another finger. Your hand grabbed at his wrist, but he kept going, going faster. Your back arched against him,, and your moans reached a higher pitch.

''You're doing so well for me.'' He whispered, nipping at your neck. ''You're such a good slut for me, hm?''

''Yes... oh god.... please don't stop.'' You replied, your legs closing up around his hand as the pleasure built. Miguel nudged you to open with his free hand, holding onto your inner thigh as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

''Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. So I can lick it all up after.'' Miguel purred as he continued to thrust two of his fingers up into you, feeling his curl and twist his wrist, hitting that spongy spot.

''Miggy... gonna come.'' You whined as you arched into his chest once more. ''Not yet, need to fill this pussy up with my cock first.'' He muttered into your ear, voice sultry and sexy. Miguel removed his fingers from your aching pussy, making you whine at the loss of contact. Your head tilted a little to the side, seeing him slip his two fingers into his mouth, tasting your essence. The sight made you bite your lip.

Miguel took out his hardening cock from his boxers, before nudging the head between her folds, coating it in her slickness. ''You ready?'' He questioned and you hummed in response, ''Yes, please. I need it, need you.'' Miguel didn't need any more confirmation than that, as he slowly nudge the head of his cock into your tight and wet hole.

Your hand gripped around the bed sheets, head tilting back against his chest as he slid into you, slowly. ''Fuck you're tight, bebita.'' Miguel groaned as he pushed in further, feeling your walls clamping around him, squeezing him.

His hand snaked around your waist, holding onto you as he let you adjust to him before slowly rutting his hips against you. Your hand wrapped around his arm that laid around your waist, nails digging into his skin. ''So good... faster,'' Miguel growled at your words as he started quickening his pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he slid in and out of you.

''This pussy was made for me. Just me.'' Miguel said as his breathing quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling up the room. ''Just you.'' You echoed back as you felt yourself reaching your climax. Miguel could feel it too as you squeezed around him.

''You close?'' He rasped into your ear, ''Yeah... close.''

Miguel almost slid out of you before slamming back in, making you jolt as a wanton moan slipped from your lips. ''Then cum, want you cumming all over my cock. Milk me dry, bebita.'' And that's all it took before the coil in your stomach snapped and your orgasm washed over you, nails digging harder into the flesh of Miguel's arm.

Your buddy shuddered and twitched as your vision went white for a second, feeling your body slowly come down from the high. ''That's it, good girl.'' Miguel cooed as he continued to thrust into you, reaching for his own release.

And he wasn't far behind before he emptied himself inside you with a growl, painting your walls white. Your chest heaved up and down as Miguel slipped his cock out of you, feeling his cum dripping out from you and down your inner thigh. Miguel reached his hand down between your thighs, collecting your cum and his before pushing two of his digits inside, making you whine at how sensitive you were.

He leaned over and grabbed your chin, turning your face to meet his as he pulled you into a searing kiss. Your hand came up to the side of his face, slipping up into his dark luscious locks as you hummed against his lips.

He pulled away, putting both hands on your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands, ''Happy birthday, mi corazon.''

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel smut #miguel o'hara one shot

727 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 28-Gynecologist!Miguel x Nervous!Reader (Teasing/Fingering)

*Requested by reader ;) Also, early update due to working both jobs tmw*

It was that time of year again for you. It was always a nerve racking experience since you always worried about anything being wrong with you. After a long shower, you changed into a fresh pair of clothing, ready for your appointment. The fear of you smelling or sweating or anything for that matter made you nervous. It was just a regular checkup. Nothing changed from last year, so there was going to be nothing wrong.

Besides, your friend, Lyla, worked at the gynecologist as an assistant. She always helped you calm down. Lyla even tried to set you up with one of her friends. A handsome man named, Miguel O'Hara. You had dated him a few times and found him very attractive. If only you weren't so timid. During those dates you barely uttered a word, just a small squeak here or there. You were honestly surprised that he even asked you out a few more times.

You were starting to get comfortable with him. Perhaps on your next date you could ask him about his job and his likes. Miguel was so kind. He was defiantly your type. You even thought about him at night. Gasping lowly, you slapped your cheeks. Now was not a good time to think about Miguel. It would be embarrassing to be wet for your checkup.

"(Y/n)~ Come on in!" Lyla chirped, motioning you inside.

You took your regularly deep breathes, slowly following Lyla's lead. You friend gave you a quick hug before leading you into a private room. Lyla hummed as she closed the door and asked the routine questions.

"Alright, and did the front desk girl tell you about the new gyno? I hope so,"

"S-She did. I was okay with it being...a male," You whispered, trying to hide your stutter. Lyla just curled her lips into a smile,

"Don't worry, (Y/n)! You'll be perfectly fine! Anyway, how's it going with Miguel?" She asked, changing the topic. Your eyes lit up,

"T-Thank you again for giving me his n-number! He...He is really kind...and sweet. He doesn't r-rush me when I try...try to talk to him," You explained, "He doesn't mind me texting him....instead."

"I told you he was a good one!" Lyla grinned from ear to ear, "He likes you a lot too~"

"H-He does?!"

Lyla chuckled at your flustered expression. Upon hearing a knock at the door, Lyla hummed as she got you ready. You were getting nervous again. She helped you relax before opening the door.

"Hello, Miss-(Y/n)??" Miguel paused as he stared at you. You squeaked in response before turning to Lyla.

"Oh, totally forgot to mention that Miguel is your new doctor~" She said with a wide grin, "Now I know I'm supposed to stay in here with you both, buuuuuut you guys know each other~ Bye!"

Just like that, Lyla left both you and Miguel alone. Your face was a million shades of red as you tried to fit your gown, recalling that you were naked in front of the man you were dating. Miguel cleared his throat as he took a seat by the computer. He glanced over your files before turning towards you.

"This must be awkward," He started and read your body language, "Would you like your phone to text me?"

You nodded violently in response. Miguel resisted a chuckle and went to your pile of clothes on the separate chair and looked for your phone. He glanced at your panties, restraining himself. He gave you the phone and grabbed his, waiting for your response. A smile on his face as he watched you. You were so cute. Someone worth his time. Someone worth his love. Miguel would do anything to keep you happy and relaxed.

'Did you know I was going to be your patient?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at the message,

"No, I just started here two days ago. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I can get another doctor." He replied. You hesitated before typing,

'No, it's okay. I was just surprised. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.'

"Not at all," Miguel chuckled lowly and stood from his seat, "Just let me know when you want me to start. I'll take as much time as you need."

Your eyes soften as you looked at Miguel. You remembered when you first met him. He was so tall and seemed so threatening. Putting your phone to the side, you played with your fingers as you took a deep breathe. You looked into Miguel's eyes and gave him a nod, allowing him to start.

Miguel was slow and gentle. He asked you to raise your right arm before moving your gown. He watched your facial expressions, making sure that everything was okay. You whimpered quietly as his large hand took ahold of your breast, gently massaging it to check for any lumps. Normally, you would just tremble as the doctor checked you, but this was different. This was Miguel touching you. Something you only dreamed of. Not only was he making you shake from nervousness, but also giving you those dirty thoughts.

"All good on this side, now for the other." Miguel's hand gently trailed your back as he repeated the process on your other breast, "You're shaking, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," You whispered lowly.

You inhaled deeply as you tried not to focus on Miguel touching you. He was just doing his job. So what if his large hands felt good as they massaged your breasts. So what if he was more gentle with you than your previous doctors. So what if he smelled amazing? You were here for a check up, not to fantasize on him railing you. It wasn't like you were up for such a task anyway.

"Alright, you're all good there, no lumps. Now for the main part, just let me know when you're ready by propping your legs up for me, okay?" Miguel told you, rubbing your shoulder.

God, he was so fine. You gave him a nod, watching as he got his gloves and tool ready. Now this, you were embarrassed about. You always hated this part. You could feel your heart about to leap out of your chest. Miguel was about to look at your pussy. You haven't even kissed the man yet and you were about to skip a bunch of steps. It was hard to think about his job now. All you could focus on was Miguel examining your wet pussy.

"U-Um," You gulped, reaching for your phone. Miguel handed it to you,

"Want some water?" He offered.

'No, I'm just...please be gentle with me. I know this is your job, but I can't help but feel even more nervous since we're dating.' You texted him. Miguel looked at his phone and chuckled lowly,

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" He said, switching his glove, "I won't judge. How could I?" He gave you that sweet smile you loved.

Nodding once more as he stole your breathe away, you got ready. You placed your feet in the little prompt set up they have and spread your legs. A shiver ran up your spine as the cold air hit your pussy. Miguel tighten his gloves and sat on his chair, rolling towards you. You bit your lower lip as he sat directly in front of your cunt, spreading your legs out even more. This was just a check up. Just a check up and nothing more.

Miguel withheld a groan as he noticed your cunt already wet. Despite your nervousness, it seemed like you were practically excited for him to be looking at you, to be touching you. This was turning him on. Normally, Miguel would get these over with since every other girl would not hesitate to spread their legs for him. Miguel was loving this change of pace. He was loving everything you did. Miguel wanted to hear your voice. A voice only for his ears.

"Alright, let me know if anything feels uncomfortable. I'm just going to feel around for anything, okay?"

"O-Okay," You stuttered.

Miguel had to bite his cheek. He proceeded to enter a finger inside you, with holding a groan at how tight you were. So wet and so tight, just for him. As he felt around your velvet walls for anything strange, Miguel could not help but hear a quiet whimper coming from you. He glanced at your expression, watching as you closed your eyes and biting your lower lip. God, Miguel was going to lose his patience with you. He knew that you were only like this because it was him. Lyla had told him about how difficult it was for other doctors to even touch your breasts. The fact that you were letting him do this was just so tempting.

"How are you doing?" Miguel asked. You gasped lowly as he pressed his finger up,

"F-Fine," You said, shaking from his touch.

Miguel's finger was just exploring your insides for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't like he was actually fingering you. However, his finger was so thick and it was making you hot. You tried to think of something else, but the idea of Miguel doing more was turning you on. You whimpered lowly as you felt yourself clench against his finger. Why did these thoughts have to come now? Miguel was just doing his job and here you were getting horny.

"I'm going to insert the tool now. It will feel uncomfortable for only a second, okay?" He told you.

You just nodded in response and followed his orders. Once he finished with the tool, Miguel approached you. He was so close. Miguel took his gloves off, bringing his hand to your cheek,

"You did so good for me. Are you okay?" He asked you.

"Y-Yes," You told him and rubbed your legs slightly, "U-Um...S-Sorry...But...I..."

Miguel raised a brow and read your body language. Your perky nipples and the juices that were streaming down your cunt were just all so tempting. He glanced into your eyes that screamed, 'fuck me'. Knowing that he couldn't or he would lose his job, Miguel inhaled deeply. He leaned down to peck your lips,

"Can I just say, that you are so goddamn tempting?" He whispered, enjoying your expressions, "I know what you want, and I can't give it to you here...But I can help release that tension."

"P-Please?" You nearly squeaked.

Miguel nearly cussed. He returned to his chair, sitting directly in front of your poor, lonely cunt. He leaned forward and blew against it, watching you twitch. A smile formed against his lips as he entered two fingers this time. He stood up and pumped his fingers inside you, watching your face contort in pleasure. You were so tight for him. So needy.

"I want to hear your voice later tonight, could you do that for me?" Miguel whispered in your ear as his fingers pumped into you.

"Hah...hah....Y-Yes....I can," You whimpered a soft moan, raising your hips slightly.

Miguel hummed happily and curled his fingers right at your sweet spot. Your body arched as you grinded your hips against his hand. Miguel quickly swallowed your moans with a kiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. As much as he wanted to hear those sweet moans, he knew that if he did, he would fuck you right here and now. Feeling your pussy tighten against his fingers, Miguel curled his fingers again. You held onto him as you reached your orgasm.

"That's it. That's my good girl," Miguel whispered, removing his fingers and licking them, "Taste so sweet. I'll have to reward you later,"

"M-Mig," You whispered, panting softly as you sat up. You reached for you phone, 'Want to come over to my place after work?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at his phone,

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned down to kiss you again, "Get dressed. I'll see you later."

You smiled softly as Miguel left. Quickly putting your clothes back on, you noticed that your panties were missing. Your face turned a million shades of red, knowing that Miguel must have swiped them. You whined softly before grabbing your phone.

'Please bring my panties back!'

'Sure, when I see you tonight.'

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

2K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 1 year ago

Note

I saw ur taking miguel requests!!! 🫢how about grumpy x sunshine trope with miguel trying to ignore his feeling for r (who doesn’t hide hers) until one day he just snaps bc she’s so perfect that if he doesn’t kiss her he’ll explode

AN | My first attempt at Miguel, but I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Miguel x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You know, Miguelito," you popped up behind him and caused him to start slightly. He cringed at the fact that one, he hadn't heard you coming, and two, that you were there, "you'd be pretty cute if you weren't so grumpy all the time."

He made a small sound of frustration as you made one of satisfaction. There was almost nothing you loved as much as getting under his skin with your eternal cheeriness.

"You'd be a lot more tolerable if you weren't so obnoxious all the time," he huffed as he walked past you, leaving you staring after his tall, brooding figure. His lack of response and disinterest weren't enough to detour you. You followed after him, a small skip in your step as you picked a few sunflowers from one of the market stalls, leaving behind a large bill for the owner.

It took a few beats to catch up to the man but you soon fell into stride next to him. He turned his head towards you, raising an eyebrow in question but otherwise remained silent. You took the bright, fresh flowers and pointedly pressed them into his hand. They had felt so large in your grasp but were practically tiny in his hold.

"Why?" He grunted as you smiled brightly at him. His stomach churned with what he was positive was sheer annoyance.

"Why not?" You moved so you were in front of him and started walking backwards. You could feel a few annoyed passersby step out of your way, grumbling but you weren't bothered. It was a beautiful, summer day and you were enjoying it with Miguel. He might have been your neighbor and reluctant friend, but you held a great amount of feelings for him, "everyone deserves something a little special now and then."

"Not-"

"Even you, Miguel O'Hara," even if he'd never admit it to another living person, or even out loud to himself, he thought you had the prettiest smile, "you're a good man, Miguel. Even if you don't want to see it. And just so you can't say no, I'm telling - not asking - you to come to dinner at mine on Friday. A few of the neighbors are coming too. Be there or be square!"

You offered him a parting wave before darting away and leaving him alone with nothing but his flowers and thoughts. Miguel let out a long, heavy sigh as he watched you go until you disappeared into the crowd. You often made comments about how good of a man he was; he wondered what you would think if you ever learned that he was Spider-Man.

A heavy sigh escaped him as started walking towards the office where he worked at his day job. It might have been mundane and mind-numbing but sometimes he appreciated the monotony it provided compared to, you know, running a team of spider-people.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Today, however, he was very unthankful for the quiet and stillness. It allowed his mind to reel all over the place and somehow, annoyingly in his book, everything went back to you. You were so…incessantly happy, bright, and kind. It was almost disgusting but he loved it. Ugh. That realization practically made him nauseous.

He stared at his computer screen blankly but his attention shifted to the vase now containing the flowers you'd gifted him. His fingers drummed along the top of his desk, and he couldn't help but think of the smile on your face as you'd given to him. You looked so pretty today, all cute in a summer dress and sandals, with your beautiful face and perfect hair.

And your lips…they'd looked so glossy and plump. He wondered what they would feel like and what you'd taste like and - wait.

No. No, no, no. He shouldn't be having thoughts and feelings like this. He was definitely just having a moment. He felt nothing for you besides the appropriate friendly neighbor feelings. Right? Right.

He was just a normal guy that was totally normal about you. Besides, he was positive that whatever odd flutters he was experiencing was probably something bad he ate earlier. Yeah.

"O'Hara?" Miguel snapped out of his daze as he looked up to find his coworker standing in the doorway of his office, "everything alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" His voice was pitched about two octaves higher than normal and his cheeks darkened.

"No reason," Diego shook his head in amusement, "just seem a little distracted is all. Nice flowers - your girl get you those?"

"She's not my girl," he almost choked on the words. His heart felt like it was fluttering around his chest with nerves, "she's just…my friend."

"Whatever you say man," Diego held up his hand in a small little salute before darting down the hall. He'd rather not be on the wrong side of Miguel's annoyance.

The man in question, meanwhile, was left staring at the space Diego formerly occupied. Was it…were his feelings that obvious? Whatever those feelings were anyway. Did you like him more than a friend? Surely not. But…if other people thought that there was more than friendship between the two of you, maybe there was something. Maybe…

"Fuck," he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. There was way more going on in his head than there should have been.

He hated it. He hated the fact that he'd probably been blind this whole time even more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time Miguel showed up at your apartment on Friday, it had been a whole two days since you'd seen him. Two days too long you would argue.

He'd arrived almost an hour earlier than you'd had expected with an anxious smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. These were daisies mixed with other seasonal flowers - your favorites. You'd mentioned them maybe once in passing but he'd remembered. You knew that this was no accident.

"Hey there," you welcomed him inside, noting that there was something different about him today. Something just slightly…off, "you're early, Miguelito."

"Came to see if you needed some help with anything," he admitted sheepishly, watching as you gently took the flowers and put them into a vase before displaying them on the countertop. A shiver ran down his spine at your reverent actions, "and wanted to come and annoy you."

"Well, you're out of luck," you offered him a cheeky little grin, "you could never annoy me. So."

"So…" he snorted in amusement as you motioned for him to come around the counter so he could help you. You set him up with chopping veggies for a salad before turning back to finish your desserts.

"Can I ask you something?" your voice almost dropped to a whisper as you focused on the task at hand and all but refused to look him in the face.

"You just did," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as you groaned at his terrible little joke, "but you can ask me something else."

You were silent for a few moments, carefully mulling over your words. But then - you decided just to go for it, "how long have you been Spider-Man?"

You felt him stiffen, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he balked at you. There was at least part of your answer; you knew that you were right on the money. After a few moments of floundering he set down his knife and turned to you, "I-I have no clue what you're talking about. But you're funny! I mean me being Spider-Man? That's-"

"A true story?" You turned so you were facing him head on and crossed your arms over your chest. This was turning out to be thoroughly entertaining, "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not dumb."

"How did you…you know?" His shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh escaped him. It had been a long time since he'd shared his secret identity with anyone else. Sure, he had his team of elite spider-people, but no one else knew. There was a bit of him that was relieved to have someone else know. It made him feel so vulnerable but so…alive.

"I wasn't born yesterday," you nudged his arm and he let out a huff of air that you figured was amusement, "let's see - the mysterious injuries, the coming and going at odd hours, you 'happen' to be near anything bad that occurs…"

"Those could be…coincidences."

"And I've seen your suit," you turned to him with your hands on your hips and a little smirk on your features. Miguel's eyes widened in surprise as instinctively looked down at himself to make sure he wasn't wearing it, "you're not the best at hiding it under your clothes. Don't worry, I don't think anyone else has noticed. I'm pretty sure no one's looking at you how I do."

"And how is that?" He was practically vibrating with nervous anticipation. The idea that you were watching him in any sense made him feel electric, "how do you look at me?"

"Miguelito," you put your hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, "you don't really need me to answer that, do you? You're a smart man after all."

"Oh," he nodded as though he understood what you were saying but you could practically see the gears in his turning as he processed your words, "oh. Oh?"

"Oh," you teased, giving his chest a playful shove. Not that it mattered, he was built like a mountain and didn't move an inch, "are we on the same page now?"

"Y-yeah," he answered while every single alarm in his mind and body was going off. Did you…had you really just confessed that you liked him without saying it?

Maybe you'd meant you'd liked as a friend. Surely -

"Not as a friend," you answered for him, turning back to your dessert. You couldn't deny that you were enjoying this just a little too much.

"Are you a mind reader now?"

"Nope," you smiled sweetly, "I just happen to know you well. You're not as mysterious as you like to think. Not to me anyway."

He hummed in response as he leaned against the counter. He had the desperate urge to turn you around and kiss you dizzy. He'd been thinking about it for so long now, even if he'd never admit it to himself. Honestly - he'd dreamed of doing the same thing, and then some.

He'd been lying to himself for so long now that it had become his truth and his armor. In the past, when he'd let people in and opened his heart to them, bad things always happened. It never ended well for him or anyone else. And he wasn't about to be the source of anyone else's pain…not again.

And you. You were so kind and sweet and lovely, a practical ray of sunshine and he was afraid that he'd just bring you down. That's why he'd put up a wall between the two of you. That's why he'd been lying for so long now. If anything happened to you…he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from that.

"You're thinking much too loudly," you turned and mirrored his position. He easily dwarfed you, which made you chuckle to yourself, "don't shut me out, Miguel. Talk to me."

He met your eyes and swallowed thickly before nodding in response. You offered him a small smile, hoping to coax him out of his shell.

"I want to kiss you."

Now that caught you off guard. He sounded so positive and unsure at the same time that it made your heart melt. You were about to say something but he quickly cut you off as he took your face in his hands, his touch gentle as he brushed his thumb over your cheek.

Your mouth parted in surprise before forming a small pout as you looked at him. You were going to be the death of him, he was sure about that. But it would be a sweet, wonderful death.

"Miguel?" Your voice sounded so small and gentle as you waited for his next move.

And then he did it - he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and gentle against yours. He was hesitant at first, making sure it was okay to even kiss you but when you melted into him and sighed softly, he knew he was doing the right thing.

His large hands found your hips as he effortlessly picked you up and set you on the counter. You looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, eagerly to finally experience his touch.

It felt so right, kissing him, like you'd been doing for so long and it was second nature for you. He kissed you until you were left dizzied and breathless, looking up at him with starry eyes.

"Are you okay?" He ghosted his fingertips along your jaw, admiring your pretty face as you tried to catch your breath.

"Yes," you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrists as he rest his hand on your cheek, "took you long enough."

"Yeah well…" he rolled his eyes playfully as you laughed softly, "you know how I am."

"Stubborn? Thick skulled? Bull headed?" You raised an eyebrow as he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah," he agreed, "all of that."

He kissed you more, stepping into between your legs as you sighed into him. This was definitely going to be your favorite place in the world - his arms.

"I really like doing this," you pulled back but rested your hand on his chest, "but people are going to be here soon so we should probably finish dinner."

"Fine," now that he knew what you were like, he was addicted. He needed more, he wanted to know all of you in all the ways, "but this is far from over."

"Oh, I'm counting on that," you brushed a hand through his dark locks before kissing his cheek, "I'd be disappointed if this was it."

"Yeah," he let out a long exhale followed by a small laugh, "me too."

"What caused you to finally….realize?"

"You drive me crazy," he eyed you with eager eyes as you slid off the counter, "all the time. It just all made sense. So."

"So," you echoed and the two of you exchanged a small giggle, "hurry up, O'Hara. The sooner we finish all this up, the sooner people leave, the sooner we can-"

You didn't have to finish your sentence - he was already back to furiously chopping the vegetables.

You were glad the two of you were finally on the same page.

So was he.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #across the spider verse

2K notes · View notes

xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year ago

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

3K notes · View notes