#when Lyla left for the last time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedensworld · 2 months ago

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Black Card Issue | L. Jh

Genre: fluff, est. relationship, smut

Summary: after a fight, Jihoon didn't expect to receive notifications for a revenge. However, he's not complaining.

Note: having so much fun writing this with @hoshifighting please check lyla's blog here!

Welcome to the densworld woozi🧚‍♀️

Jihoon is a chill man. Very chill. He values his peace of mind so much that no one dares disturb him when he’s in the zone, writing music. His studio is his sanctuary, a place where time stops and the world outside becomes irrelevant. No one crosses that boundary. No one—until you came into his life.

A little bundle of surprise, Jihoon would say with a soft smile. You changed everything.

You love surprises. It’s something Jihoon figured out pretty early on, back when you were just dating. And now, after years together and tying the knot, he knows it’s not just something you like—it’s a part of you. You’re the kind of person who thrives on spontaneity. The joy in your eyes when you do something unexpected, whether it’s a small gift or a sudden change of plans, has become a familiar sight. Surprises are so integral to your personality that impulsivity became second nature to you, a habit you didn’t even realize you had.

And Jihoon? Well, he’s had to become well-trained in handling it.

It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. Six months into dating, Jihoon was already struggling to keep his composure around you. You were a whirlwind of energy and unpredictability, and Jihoon was the type who liked things calm and structured—especially when it came to his work. But then you would send him something, like that photo on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, just as he was about to attend a critical production meeting. A suggestive caption accompanying a picture of you that left him flushed and flustered.

He spent the rest of that day with his head spinning, barely able to focus on anything other than you.

His team noticed, of course. They always noticed when Jihoon was distracted—because it was rare. They’d been with him for over ten years, watching him pour his soul into his music, dedicated and unwavering. But you? It took you mere months to have Jihoon wrapped around your finger. And the best part? Jihoon willingly let it happen. He wanted to be wrapped around your finger.

And as much as his members teased him, he didn’t mind. Jihoon had always been the calm one, the focused one, the one who could drown out the world when he needed to. But with you, he didn’t want to drown out anything. He wanted to hear your laughter in the background while he worked. He wanted to receive those random photos in the middle of his meetings, even if they made him blush.

Now, Jihoon finds himself in his studio. Not the one at home, but the company studio. It was unusual—his fellow producers were surprised to see him there at this hour. 10 a.m.? That’s too early for Jihoon to be at work, they thought, especially since he rarely left the home studio after getting married.

“Did you two fight?” Soonyoung asked, making a quick stop before his schedule.

Jihoon didn’t answer. He simply turned the volume up, drowning out Soonyoung’s voice. Soonyoung scoffed but left, convinced that the only reason Jihoon would be at the company so early was if you two had fought. He knew Jihoon too well.

"Stop working for a while, man. Give your wife a rest," Soonyoung muttered as he left the studio. Jihoon cursed internally. How could Soonyoung read him so easily?

The truth was, last night didn’t go well. It was one of those nights Jihoon wished he could rewind—just take it all back. He came home late again, far too late. The kind of late where the house was eerily quiet, and the only light on was the one in the living room. He didn’t even realize how long he’d been working until he saw the notifications on his phone—your texts, your missed calls.

His heart sank. The guilt hit him immediately, but exhaustion numbed him from fully acknowledging it. He braced himself as he turned the knob, pushing the door open, hoping maybe you had gone to bed. But there you were, sitting on the couch, arms crossed, your phone lying idle beside you. You weren’t saying a word, but your silence screamed disappointment. And Jihoon knew—he’d screwed up again.

He paused at the doorway, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. The air between you was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made his stomach twist. He hated it when you looked at him like that, like you were waiting for him to care enough to explain himself.

But instead of apologizing, instead of doing what he knew he should have done, Jihoon snapped.

"I work for you! I work hard to afford the life you want! Why don’t you understand?!" His voice rose, frustration dripping from every word. He didn’t mean it to come out that way. He didn’t mean to make it sound like you were the problem, like you were the one pushing him to the edge. But in that moment, he was too overwhelmed to control it.

The silence that followed was deafening. He saw the way your face fell, the way your shoulders slumped as if his words had physically weighed you down. You didn’t even argue back. You just stood there, absorbing the blow, your eyes wide and hurt, like you couldn’t believe the person you loved could say something so cruel. Jihoon could see it—the disappointment, the pain, the betrayal in your eyes.

He knew you weren’t with him for his money. He knew that from the start. You never cared about his fame, his success. You never asked for lavish gifts or expensive things. What you wanted—what you always asked for—was him. His time. His presence. But Jihoon, in his frantic rush to meet deadlines and exceed expectations, had forgotten.

He was so tired. The stress had piled up to the point that it felt like he was suffocating under the weight of everyone’s demands. His work was relentless, the pressure from his team to deliver perfection was unending, and somewhere along the way, he started feeling less like a person and more like a machine. And in all of that, he had forgotten you were the one person who treated him like a human being. The only person who reminded him to eat, to sleep, to rest.

But last night, Jihoon saw something in your eyes he never wanted to see again—pain. He had hurt you, and the worst part was, you didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t even say a word as you left the room, walking away with that shattered expression on your face. He stood there, frozen, wanting to chase after you, to take back everything he’d said, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think straight. The weight of everything felt too much.

Jihoon ended up sleeping in his home studio that night, staring blankly at his laptop screen, his mind racing with regret. He didn’t get any work done. How could he? All he could think about was the way you looked at him, the way your lips trembled like you were fighting back tears, the way you didn’t even argue because you were too hurt to speak. He hated himself for it.

The guilt gnawed at him all night, so by the time morning came, he couldn’t bear to be in the same house. He thought if he went to the company studio, if he just got out, maybe it would clear his head. Maybe he could focus on work and forget how badly he had messed up.

But he couldn’t. You were all he could think about. Even surrounded by equipment and projects, even as he tried to drown himself in work, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The regret kept replaying in his mind like a broken record, and the truth settled in his chest like a lead weight—he could never stop thinking about you. He never could.

And now, sitting alone in the company studio, he could still see your face in his mind, the hurt he had caused, and it tore him apart.

"Jihoon…" His manager knocked on the door, pulling Jihoon from his deep focus. He turned his head toward the reflection in the glass and saw someone entering. Quickly, he put down his headphones.

"The bank called me," his manager said, concern lacing his voice. "Someone's been making a lot of purchases with your account, and they couldn’t reach you. So, I got worried."

Jihoon blinked, realization dawning as he remembered he had turned off his phone earlier to avoid distractions. He hurriedly switched it back on, and as expected, notifications flooded his screen. Among them were a surprising number of texts from you.

Curious, Jihoon opened your messages, and his eyes widened. You had sent him a series of photos—shopping bags piled high, receipts for luxury items, and then… a car. You bought a car?

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples as he scrolled through the notifications of credit charges—clothes, electronics, and more. Why did you decide to buy all of this in one day?

"Everything’s fine. It’s just… my wife," Jihoon said, a little embarrassed as he reassured his manager. "No one’s using my card without permission."

His manager chuckled, seeming relieved, before leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts.

Just as Jihoon exhaled, another text popped up. A photo of you in a jacuzzi, clearly in some luxurious hotel, wearing a brand new red bikini. The caption that followed made Jihoon’s breath hitch.

You: Want to give me the life I want? Come here. Turns out, spending your money doesn’t satisfy me enough.

Jihoon sighed deeply, his face growing warm as he hurriedly turned off everything in his studio. It was no use—he’d have to go get his black card back from you. Or maybe get something else.

You feel the dash of cold air hit your skin as you lay back against the heated tiles of the jacuzzi, legs lazily draped over the edge. You can’t help the little smirk pulling at your lips as you scroll through Jihoon’s texts. He’s gonna kill you. Well, maybe not kill, but he’ll definitely be pissed off. The shopping spree, the car, the photos—God, you knew exactly what you were doing. Pressing his buttons like that, getting him riled up on purpose, all because he had the audacity to shout at you last night.

But, you’re done with his bullshit excuses. He can whine about deadlines and stress all he wants, but you’re not here for that. You’re here for him, and clearly, he needs a little reminder.

The door to the hotel room opens, and even with the sound of the jacuzzi jets bubbling, you hear it. He’s here. Your heart skips a beat as the familiar, steady thud of Jihoon’s shoes echo in the space. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel the burden of his stare on you, heavy and unrelenting. His presence is like a storm, silent but brewing.

You stretch your arms above your head, not even looking up, knowing full well he’s staring.

“Took you long enough,” You hum, voice saturated by fake innocence, like you hadn’t been the one who set the whole thing in motion. “figured you’d be quicker if i spent a little more of your money.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of him setting something down—his keys? maybe his bag? You don’t care. You hear the shuffle of his shoes being kicked off, and that’s when you finally open your eyes.

Jihoon stands at the edge of the jacuzzi, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes dreary and locked onto you.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he finally speaks, voice low, a growl almost. “what do you think you’re doing?”

You shrug, acting like you don’t feel the tension. “Just giving myself a little treat. After all, i am your wife. Don’t i deserve the best?”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment longer before his hands move to his belt. Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just spend my money, send me those pictures, and i’ll come running?”

“Well, you did come running…” You mumble as if you were talking to yourself.

Jihoon moves, and before you know it, he’s crouched beside the jacuzzi, fingers hooking into the strap of your bikini top, pulling you closer to him with little resistance. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “this is the last thing you’ll be wearing tonight.”

Before you can even form a reply, he tugs at the fabric, and the red bikini snaps, tearing with a sharp rip.

Jihoon stands back up, the smirk on his face teasing you in a way that gets under your skin. His hand casually tosses the torn bikini top aside like it’s nothing, he looks at you, riling you up on purpose. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time pulling off his shirt, his pants.

You narrow your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance in check, but he’s pushing your buttons. “Really?” you ask. “You had to rip it off just to mess with me? You’re such an asshole”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, taking a step closer until he's right in front of you again. He leans down, pushing you back into the jacuzzi, the water sloshing as your back hits the edge. “You look mad, but I bet you’re dripping right now.”

You can even think of a response, his hand slips into your bikini bottoms just as he sits down. His fingers brush lightly over your clit, not applying pressure, just teasing, circling it slow just to watch you squirm. You twitch under his touch, your legs parting on instinct, hips bucking just slightly. He’s not giving you enough, and he knows it.

“You like to play these games, baby?” he murmurs. “Teasing me, spending all my money. What’s the real reason, huh? Just wanted my attention this bad?”

You bite back a moan, refusing to let him win so easily. “Shut up,” you manage to grit out, but the breathlessness in your voice betrays you. His thumb starts rubbing a little harder, making the bud throb on his thumb. You feel your body arching toward him, a needy moan escaping despite yourself.

“No...” he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wanna hear you say it. You knew I’d come running, right?”

His fingers press harder now, slipping lower, teasing your entrance without pushing in. Your hands grip the edge of the tub, eyes rolling back slightly as he continues torturing you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you hiss, your words catching in your throat as his fingers pick up the tempo. He’s still circling, still rubbing, but it’s not nearly enough. You need more, and he knows it.

“Oh, I’m annoying?” he growls softly, leaning his weight into you, fingers pressing harder, deeper, but still not giving you what you need. “What’s annoying is you buying cars and booking hotels like you don’t already have everything you want right here.”

Your legs spread wider, hips instinctively grinding down against Jihoon’s fingers as they tease your entrance. Your hand shoots up to grip his wrist, trying to gude his fingers in, but he stills the arm, cupping you. His other hand trails up your chest, stopping to toy with your nipples, flicking and squeezing them just enough to make you gasp. Then, wetting the valley of your breasts, his hand moves to your throat, wrapping around it in a firm grip, pushing your head back until it rests on the cold border of the jacuzzi.

“You’re so needy,” Jihoon mutters, watching as your mouth falls open, eyes half-lidded, breath coming out in shallow pants. You feel his thumb graze over your bottom lip, smirking as if he’s amused by just how desperate you’ve become. He hasn’t even given you what you want yet, but you’re already a mess for him.

Finally, his fingers push inside, just one at first, but the way your body responds—instantly clenching, your pussy practically swallowing his finger whole—makes him groan low in his throat. The water ripples around the two of you, splashing lightly against your skin as his movements grow rougher.

“God, you’re soaked,” he chuckles, voice almost mocking as his finger curls inside you, hitting that sweet spot making your hips jerk by their own. Even with the water swirling around, Jihoon can feel the heat between your thighs, the sticky slickness of your folds clinging to his fingers as he slides in another.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, trying to pull him closer, but he doesn't let up. Instead, his fingers work you harder, pumping in and out of you making the water splash with every push. The sound is obscene, the wet slaps of his fingers echoing in the room, blending with your suffered moans, and Jihoon's grunts.

You lift your gaze to him, lips parted, eyes pleading, practically begging for more. You look up at Jihoon with a needy expression that you know drives him crazy. But he just grins, slowing his movements slightly, his hand tightening around your throat.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, voice soft despite the way his fingers are fucking into you hard, relentless. “Such a pretty little mess. You like this, don’t you? Me ruining you with just my fingers?”

You can’t form words, your head tilting back more as his pace quickens again, fingers curling deep, hitting the spongy spot that makes your vision blur. The water splashes harder now, droplets spilling over the edge of the tub as your hips buck in time with his thrusts. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking, and all you can manage is a soft whimper, your entire body arching toward him.

Jihoon chuckles again, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, fingers pumping in and out faster, thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles. “You’re so fucking tight… taking it so well. What do you want, huh? You want more?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words making your body ache. You nod frantically, too overwhelmed to say anything. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue their brutal pace, fucking you deep, and you know he’s not stopping until you cum around his long fingers.

You feel your stomach flip when Jihoon curls his fingers and stills them, making your body arch off the jacuzzi edge as you instinctively reach for him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him down to kiss you.

The kiss is brutish, dirty—his lips smashing into yours, teeth clashing as his tongue slips into your mouth. He sucks your tongue hard, biting down on your bottom lip in that way that always makes your legs tremble. You can’t focus, the pleasure building too fast, making it impossible to keep up with the kiss. But you try, you desperately try, your hands clutching tighter in his hair.

It’s only a matter of seconds before your body betrays you. You moan into his mouth, the sound low and drawn out, muffled by the kiss. You pull him closer, your grip tightening painfully in his hair as the pleasure crests, your body trembling as your back arches impossibly high.

Your nipples graze his chest, the sensation of your sensitive skin brushing against his, makes him shiver, his breath hitching as your slick cunt clenches hard around his fingers.

Your moans become more frantic, desperate, and you can’t keep kissing him anymore. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as you gasp for air, your body seizing up with the strength of your orgasm.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum, the water splashing violently around you from the press of your movements. Jihoon smirks down at you, clearly proud of himself, fingers still thrusting into you even as you come down from your high. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but teasing. “Cum all over my fingers.”

Your mind is still swimming in the hangovers of your orgasm when Jihoon suddenly pulls his hand away. You’re left panting, trying to catch your breath, but he’s already manhandling you, turning you around and pressing you into the edge of the tub.

“Get on all fours,” he orders. You don’t hesitate, your body moving on autopilot as you shift into position, knees pressing into jacuzzi, hands bracing yourself against the edge.

Jihoon’s grip is firm as he presses you down, making sure you don’t slip on the slick surface. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady while he strokes himself behind you. You glance back, seeing him gripping his cock, pumping himself slowly, the tip flushed red and dripping with pre-cum, some veins popping up when he cuts the blood circulation. The sight makes your mouth water.

He lines himself up with you, the head of his cock teasing your wet pussy, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he grabs your bikini bottom—what’s left of it anyway—and yanks it harshly to the side, exposing your swollen, sensitive folds. You feel the fabric digging into your skin, tight and uncomfortable.

Jihoon watches, mesmerized, as your pussy clenches around nothing, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Slowly Jihoon pushes inside. He takes his time, savoring the way your walls squeeze around him, they way you slick starts to coat him too, your body struggling to accommodate his size. You whimper, fingers clawing at the edge of the tub, trying to keep yourself stable as he fills you inch by inch.

He moans deep in his throat, the sound oscillating through his chest as he bottoms out, his cock buried fully inside you.

You bite your lip, arching your back even more, desperate to take him deeper. “Jihoon… please…”

But he just chuckles darkly, pulling out slowly, only to slam back in, making the water splash around you both again. “Oh, you’ll get what you want,” he promises. “Just keep taking it like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. The sharp pull has you arching back, your spine curving as he yanks you up against his chest, your back pressing flush against his front. The new angle makes his cock hit even deeper, your breath hitching as the tip grazes that swollen spot inside you.

Jihoon glances at the nearby mirror, his eyes glued to the reflection of your bodies. Your tits bounce with every thrust, soft and flushed, his eyes darken, watching the way your skin sticks to his, the way your body—though trembling—melts against him, sacrificing to the pleasure despite every nerve in your body wanting to tense up.

He moans suffered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, feeling the warmness radiating off your skin. You’re burning up, both of you are, your bodies slick with sweat despite being submerged in water seconds after. Jihoon can’t help but bury his face against your neck, breathing you in, skin to skin, letting the sensation take over him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin, almost as if he's talking to himself. “I missed this. Missed you.”

His hips don’t stop, driving into you harder, your thighs shaking as you try to keep up, but your body is already on the edge. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your head falling back against his shoulder, mouth falling open as breathless moans slip out with every thrust.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon suddenly murmurs, his voice softer now, tender. He keeps thrusting into you, but there’s an apology laced in every word, every snap of his hips. “I’m so fucking sorry… for everything.”

You don’t answer, can’t even if you wanted to. Your breath is caught in your throat, the only response you give is the way your body clings to his, melting further into his hold as his hands roam down your body.

He doesn’t expect you to answer. Maybe he doesn’t even need you to. He just keeps going, fucking into you like he’s trying to apologize through the way his body moves against yours. His grip loosens in your hair, his hand sliding down the curve of your waist, lower, until his fingers find the puffy bundle of nerves between your legs.

The second his fingers brush over your clit, your whole body tenses again, only to relax almost instantly as he starts rubbing teasing circles. You whimper, legs trembling, hardly competent to hold yourself up, and Jihoon groans into your skin, feeling the way you melt even more against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, his voice raspy in your ear. “Always take me so well… fuck… so tight, baby… you feel that? You’re clenching around me.”

You don’t say anything, just a soft gasp escapes your lips, your head falling back further onto his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. His fingers quicken their pace, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, every brush of his thumb over your swollen clit making you cry out.

“I know I fucked up,” Jihoon whispers, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "But I can’t stop… I can’t stop thinking about you. About this. About how good you feel around me.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as his hand continues working you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, anchoring you to him. His fingers press harder against your clit, drawing tight circles that make your whole body twitch, every nerve ending alive and buzzing.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, his voice dipping into that familiar, filthy tone, the one that drives you insane. “Cum for me… I know you’re close. I can feel it. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You’re so close, your vision blurring as the heat in your core builds higher. Your body’s completely given in to him, to the way he’s fucking you deep and hard while his fingers expertly play with your clit, not giving you a single moment of respite.

And then it hits, hard and fast. Your back arches, body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, ripple after ripple of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenches tight around him. Your hands reach back, desperately grabbing at anything—his hair, his arms—trying to ground yourself as you moan out his name, breathless and trembling.

Jihoon groans at the feeling, his cock throbbing inside you as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck… that’s it,” he rasps, his hand slowing its movements on your clit, letting you ride out your high. He’s still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching, and he watches in the mirror as your body shudders against his.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shifts you forward, placing you on all fours again, his hands steadying you as he lines himself up once more. His hand slides down to your ass, pushing your bikini bottom further to the side so he can watch as your tight puffy walls flutter around him.

Without delay, he starts thrusting again, his pace slow but deep, watching as your body tenses, clenching around him every time he sinks in.

Jihoon lets out a series of the neediest, whiniest moans you've ever heard from him, and it hits you differently—vulnerable, like you’ve broken through every layer he keeps guarded.

Then he sinks in fully and stops.

You slouch forward, your whole body going limp as you brace yourself on your forearms. You feel him pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin sticking to yours as his breath hitches in your ear.

And then it fills you—heat as his cum spurts deep inside you. Hot, thick, and it has you crying out, your voice breaking as your body quakes beneath him. You can feel every pulse of his cock as he fills you up, making your insides feel impossibly full.

Your back trembles under his weight, every muscle in your body quivering as his release continues to flood you. Your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, trying to milk every last drop from him, and it only makes him groan louder.

“Shit,” Jihoon breathes, his voice a wrecked, breathy mess as he leans forward, his forehead pressing into the back of your neck. His hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s using you to anchor himself through the intensity of his orgasm. “Fuck… you feel s'good.”

Your head drops onto your forearm, unable to do anything but take it all in. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a warm, slick sensation as it mixes with the water around your thighs. Your legs are shaking, your core aching, but you don’t want him to pull out, you want to stay like this, to feel him deep inside you just a little longer.

Jihoon’s breathing finally starts to slow, his body still pressed flush against yours as his arms snake around your waist, holding you tight. You hum softly in response, his cum continues to spill out, and you can feel every slow drip as your pussy flutters, trying to recover from the relentless pounding he just gave you.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to glance down at the sight of your trembling back. A soft smirk tugs at his lips as he watches how your body reacts to him, still sensitive, still on edge. “Look at you,” he whispers, his tone soft but teasing. “You’re still shaking. Did I fuck you that good?”

You don’t answer him; just let out a shaky breath. Your body is completely spent, and you can narrowly keep yourself upright. Jihoon chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your damp skin before pulling out slowly, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty and aching. The last bit of his cum leaks out of you as he does, and he watches, fascinated, as it mixes with the water beneath you.

He moves to your side, pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

Jihoon gently lifted you from the jacuzzi, his hands steady as he wrapped a robe around your body, drying you with care. His touch was soft, and the tension between you started to ease with each moment. He laid you down on the bed with tenderness, his eyes flickering with a mix of concern and regret.

As he stepped away to quickly clean himself up, you could feel the weight of his emotions lingering in the air. When he returned, Jihoon slid into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his warmth pressing against your skin. His embrace was tight but comforting, as though he was trying to hold on to more than just the moment.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the sincerity in it was undeniable. He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. "Please forgive me."

You could feel the vulnerability in his words, a side of Jihoon that he rarely showed.

You lay there in his arms, feeling the tension in his body slowly release as he held you close. His apology lingered in the air, filled with emotion you hadn’t heard from him before. For a moment, everything was quiet—the warmth of his skin, the sound of your breathing, and the beating of his heart against yours.

Jihoon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. His brows furrowed, and he seemed almost afraid of what you might say. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the familiar sensation calming you both.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you whispered, the weight of the past argument starting to lift. “But it’s hard sometimes, Jihoon. You get so lost in your work…”

He nodded, the regret still heavy in his gaze. "I know. I promise I'll do better. I can't stand the thought of losing you, or pushing you away."

His words tugged at your heart, and you could see how much he meant it. There had always been that side of him—driven, focused, and dedicated—but sometimes it made him forget everything else. Still, here he was, trying, apologizing, and making the effort to put you first.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. Jihoon sighed against your mouth, relief and gratitude flooding through him as he deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around you as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched again, both of you breathing a little more steadily now.

“I forgive you,” you said softly. His eyes brightened at your words, and you felt the tension finally melt away completely. Jihoon smiled, a rare, gentle one that you didn’t see often enough, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you closer again, as though he couldn’t get enough of having you in his arms.

Jihoon sighed deeply as he glanced around your living room, cluttered with bags and boxes of things you'd bought earlier that day. His eyes scanned the array of items before he asked, half-jokingly, “Is it even possible to empty my bank account in a single day?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you tried to ease his worry. “Don’t stress. I can sell them all on the marketplace. They’ll be gone in two days, tops. I promise.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow and picked up one item that particularly caught his attention—a pair of leopard-printed underwear for men. He held it up with a bemused expression, “Leopard print... for me?”

You grinned mischievously, “Yup! Oh, and I got you the hot pink one, too. Thought you’d look great in it.”

Jihoon groaned, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You know it was a joke when everyone said i wear these kind of panties, right? There’s no way I’d ever wear these.”

You crossed your arms, stepping closer with a playful smirk on your face. “Oh, I can make you wear them,” you teased, your tone light but daring.

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your grin widening. “I have my ways. Just wait until you see how good you look in them.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You stepped even closer, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear, “You’ll thank me later.”

Jihoon’s laughter filled the room as he pulled you into a hug, shaking his head. “You never give up, do you?”

“Never,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. "And trust me, you’ll look amazing in leopard print."

With a defeated sigh, Jihoon gave you one more playful glare, “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m wearing the hot pink ones too.”

“We’ll see about that,” you replied, your voice full of challenge and laughter as you leaned into his embrace.

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slushycoookie · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 4 ~ Praise Kink

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Miguel discovers something new about himself. Minors DNI!!

A/N: This man deserves praise idc. Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

It was two simple words.

“Good job!” You praised with a high five after taking down an anomaly together.

Miguel reluctantly reciprocated the gesture, but those words have been stuck in his mind. He hardly remembers the last time any of his other teammates told him good job or good work. So why does his heart beat fast when you say it? Sweat forms on his skin, and he almost opens his lips to get you to say it again.

You were clueless about his seemingly normal reaction.

Now, he starts doing things to get you to say it again to him.

That means an influx of missions where it’s just you and him. A vast difference from before, when you hardly went on one with him every couple of weeks.

Miguel knocks over anomaly after anomaly to hear you say, ‘Good work’, ‘Nice job!’, ‘You’re amazing Miguel!’

Your positive words make him all fuzzy on the inside, butterflies soaring in his stomach.

Just hearing it from you that one time isn’t enough. Miguel starts recording your missions with him together. You get his permission as he uses the excuse of the recordings being for training exercises. So other spiders can learn and adapt. He wasn’t lying. He has Lyla set up the recordings in the training area. But he has a separate file comprising snippets of you praising him. You having that smile on your face, eyes soft whenever you gaze at him.

You were always friendly, striving to be helpful and praising others whenever possible. You were so kind and so sweet.

Miguel swore he almost broke the rewind feature on one of his screens the way he kept going back to your words. He takes in your gentle smile and the way your eyes twinkle while looking in his direction. And gets aroused.

Heat goes to his cheeks as his suit starts getting tight. No, he couldn’t be sexually attracted to getting praised. Could he?

It’s all because of your looks, he thinks. Miguel does think you’re attractive, but he wasn’t going to act on his feelings. Yet, you telling him ‘good work’ was making him hard.

He decides to reluctantly take care of it, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen again. The way he pumps his cock, watching you praise him for taking down that Scorpion anomaly so quickly. With a pat on his back. He recalls the warmth left on his body once you did that. His stomach in knots.

Miguel bites his lip, watching cum leak from his tip. He collects it and smears it down his shaft for extra lubrication. Would you keep telling him ‘nice work’ anywhere? If he helps you with any villains’ in your universe? Watching your pretty lips compliment his work ethic.

Or would you praise him in bed?

Say what a good job he’s doing while he’s eating out your soaked cunt. Sucking on your clit, two fingers inside you while your legs were spread wide for him.

“You’re amazing, Miguel…” You’d say, hands gripping his head and tugging on his brown curls.

That gets him going, picking up the pace in pumping himself.

“S-Say it again…” He mumbled, squeezing his shaft. His chest rises as his breaths start picking up the pace.

“You’re such a good boy.”

Miguel chokes, head back and lips parted in pleasure. Yeah, he’s good. So good for starting a group of elite spiders to help save the multiverse. So good for taking on this burden that no one else could because it may be too much. That’s all he wanted to hear. From you.

He wished you were here to say that to him in person. To give him the praise he needed in his line of work. Instead he let himself linger on your kind words, more pre cum leaking, tip aching for relief. The talons on his feet dig into the platform as his strokes are sloppy. He lets out a few groans, not caring if any other spiders could hear him from the lab.

Miguel lets go, abs tense as his cum shoots out, staining his hand and the nearby console. All while growling your name.

Miguel takes a moment to get himself together before a picture of clarify hits him. He can’t believe he came due to a few praises uttered by you. Something new about him he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Uh, Miguel?”

His heart drops to his stomach at your voice. “U-Uh one moment.”

Miguel desperately tries to clean himself up with some tissues he had Lyla stashed. He hoped you didn’t hear any of that. He did say your name awfully loud, but there are other people with the same name as you. He could play it off as he was bringing up someone else and not you. While in a fit of ecstasy.

This wasn’t going to work.

When he lowered the platform, he noticed your face was flustered. Yeah, you definitely heard it.

“I can explain…” But when the air was quiet, he couldn’t. Words not able to reach past his lips.

“Well, I heard my name as you groaned and…” Your brows furrow, trying to make sense of it yourself.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again-”

“Why not?” You tilt your head.

Miguel pauses, still hearing his heartbeat. “What?”

“Why…not?” You say while inching closer to him, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. "I liked it..."

He gulps, unsure what to say at your odd confession.

“This…you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“You mean a strong, handsome man like yourself?” He releases a sigh at your praise, muscles that were previously tense, relaxing. “Who’s such a good boy?”

Miguel took in a heavy breath before calling Lyla. “Lock down the lab. I won’t be out for a while.”

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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lyla … what are your thoughts on performance team giving you a strip tease 👁️👄👁️

hoshi with him, it’s a show. always. the lights are low, and the music's blaring through the speakers, something with a heavy beat that matches the rhythm of your heart as he moves. he's got this cocky smirk on his face, his eyes locked on you the entire time. he starts slow, teasing, rolling his hips to the music, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “like what you see?” he purrs, his hands slipping under his shirt, lifting it just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned abs before he pulls it back down, making you groan in frustration.

then, he laughs—god, that laugh drives you insane—and yanks the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side like he’s been waiting to do this all night. his body is glistening under the soft light, every muscle defined as he moves closer to you, hips still swaying, like he’s about to devour you whole. he pops the button on his jeans, slowly sliding them down his thighs, and you’re practically drooling at this point. “you’re not even ready for the rest of this,” he teases.

when the jeans hit the floor, he's left in nothing but his boxers, and it takes everything in you not to jump him right then and there. he comes closer, sitting on your lap with a grin, his hands trailing down your tits before pulling back. “nah, not yet,” he whispers, standing up again, giving you one last show before he finally lets you have him.

jun’s strip tease is a full seduction—smooth, slow. the second the music starts, you’re hooked. he moves like liquid, hips swaying in time with the beat, his eyes locked on yours. he knows he’s got your attention, and he’s going to make you beg for it. he starts with the jacket, sliding it off his shoulders with a slow, tantalizing roll, letting it drop to the floor as his fingers trail down his chest. “i can tell you’re enjoying this,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile when you nod, practically glued to your seat.

he makes every little movement count, unbuttoning his shirt one agonizingly slow button at a time, revealing inch after inch of flawless skin. his muscles flex with each movement, and by the time he slips the shirt off completely, you’re practically melting. his hands drift down to his pants, unzipping them at a pace that’s way too slow for your liking, but he’s doing it on purpose—he loves seeing you squirm. “impatient?” he teases, his voice a low rumble as he lets the pants pool at his feet, stepping out of them gracefully.

he’s left in nothing but a pair of snug boxers, and he knows exactly how to show off what he’s got. his fingers toy with the waistband, but he doesn’t pull them down just yet. instead, he walks over to you, his hands on either side of the chair, leaning in close. “maybe you should help me with the rest.”

minghao’s got this quiet, sensual confidence that pulls you in without even trying. when he starts his strip tease, it’s like you’re the only person in the world—his movements are fluid, his eyes never leaving yours. the music is slow, sultry, and he moves with it effortlessly, swaying his hips just enough to make you bite your lip. he starts by unbuttoning his shirt, each pop of a button feeling like a slow build-up of tension between you two. his fingers are graceful, teasing, slipping the fabric off his shoulders in a way that makes your pulse race.

he lets the shirt fall to the ground, his bare chest illuminated by the soft light, and god, the way his muscles shift under his skin as he moves is mesmerizing. he doesn’t rush, never once breaking eye contact as he undoes his belt, sliding it out of the loops with a sharp snap that makes your breath hitch. he smirks at that, clearly pleased with your reaction, before unzipping his pants and letting them fall, revealing the toned lines of his legs and the big bulge of his cock inside his boxers.

he steps closer, his hands brushing your thighs as he leans in, his lips just inches from yours. “enjoying the view?” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin before he pulls away again, standing back to give you the full show. he rolls his hips, fingers teasing the waistband of his underwear, but never quite pulling them down, leaving you hanging on the edge of your seat, wanting so much more.

chan’s playful, fun, but also just the right amount of cocky. the music is something upbeat, and he’s moving his hips to the rhythm, already grinning like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “you ready for this?” he asks with a wink, before he starts unbuttoning his shirt, moving his body in time with the beat. he’s not one to draw it out too long—he’s all about giving you a show, but also driving you wild in the process.

the shirt comes off, and he tosses it to the side, showing off his toned abs as he rolls his shoulders, making sure you get a good look at every inch of him. he’s dancing now, moving his hips in circles, grinding to the beat on your lap, grinding his cock on your glowr belly on the process, and you can’t tear your eyes away. the way he moves is hypnotic, and it’s clear he’s having fun with it—his smile never fades as he het up to work his pants down, wiggling his hips to slide them off in the most teasing way possible.

he’s left in just his boxers, and he gives you a little show, rolling his hips, flexing his muscles, and giving you that cocky grin that drives you crazy. “how do i look?” he asks, knowing full well what your answer is going to be. he steps closer, hands on your knees as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “let’s see if you can handle the rest,” he whispers before pulling back, letting you savor the moment just a little longer.

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year ago

Text

Aphrodesiacs PT. 5

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel were bitten by the same spider….what could possibly happen?

bro i hit 600 followers three days ago and now i’m at 1,000? wtf thats insane i love u.

NSFW AS ALWAYS 18+

It was months since you saw Miguel.

Well, thats what it felt like. In reality it was just 3 days.

Honesty was never a big deal with you, but when you promised Miguel you’d kill him the next time you saw him: you felt it in every cell to be true. It was delusion kicking into mass hysteria at this point. What was startling though and quite frankly alarming was that Miguel believed you.

You were akin to that of a bloodied and mauled rabid dog when he saw you last, he had never seen your face look so ashen and convincing. Normally, when you were away from him, your cheeks were stained pink as you enertained whoever you were talking to, you were happy. He was taking that away from you and he was beginning to feel slivers of guilt make home in his chest. So he did what he had to.

You were stood looking like an idiot in your apartment, fiddling with your interdimentional watch, slapping it and messing about with it to the point you were sure you were breaking it further. That was until a blaring orange screen showed up: Access Denied. You ogled at the glitchy words like a shell shocked fool, that look soon dissipated into an indignant frown. Miguel…again. Of course.

You threw the object closest to you at the wall, a large gaping crack left in the wall due to sheer force of your poisonous indifference. You sighed heavily as a disgruntled sound fell from your throat. That dick was cutting you off entirely, your needed to get back in the lab, all of the materials you lacked here were there.

You didn’t learn your lesson.

You wanted to see him.

You said you’d kill him if you did and right now you were contemplating it.

But he put his foot down and pushed you out, forcing you away which was counterproductive as it made you want to see him more. You groaned in frustration: what the fuck is wrong with you? It was like you were all for yet going against every intuition and feeling in your body, you wanted one thing and felt another and all it did was leave you bewildered mess in heat.

How could you contact him?

No, you definitely shouldn’t.

You’d just cause more problems relating to this.

But you needed answers.

Fuck.

An embittered look crept on your face as your finger hovered over the button that called Lyla. If you couldn’t contact Miguel…you’d just use Lyla and your incredible convincing skills. You pressed it and she popped up looking happy and over her head as usual.

“If this is about your restriction-“ She sighed, rolling her eyes in the process.

“Well yes. I need to talk to Miguel about it.” You winced, not entirely believing yourself and she just raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hm.” She muttered under her breath. “You’ve definitely talked enough recently.”

“Look. I know Miguel told you he didn’t want to see me at all and I get it, hell, I’m trying to get through it too. But he needs to answer some questions I have a right to know.” You raked a hand over your exhaused face and breathed out heavily as you met her look. “I just need to speak to him, I don’t need to see him. Fuck, I don’t want to see him because I’d kick his teeth in. Maybe just give me his phone number or something?” You cringed internally as you said it. No one was close with Miguel let alone had his phone number, Lyla looked like she saw a ghost.

“Like as in calling him? On the phone? Old fashioned? God, humans are so strange. All this tech and you want to call him on the…phone?” The mention of something so menial such as a phone made Lyla retch back in digust and all you could do is look at her unimpressed at her overreaction. “I mean I guess you aren’t actually near each other…and I love scaring Miguel shitless so…yeah okay.”’ She brightened up at the idea or irritating Miguel, she showed an orange screen of a smattering of numbers. Your face cleared of cloudiness as she showed it on screen. “Be quickkkkk. I’m leaving in 10 seconds.” She giggled. You haphazardly lunged to your desk to find a sticky note to write the numbers on, you almosr fell to the goddamn floor.

“5, 4, 3…” Lyla taunted and you finally grabbed a pen and wrote the numbers down on a note.

“Good. Now go away.” You mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re just like Miguel.” She then disappeared to where she came from. You pondered the words she left ungracefully hanging in the air, the thought made you shiver grotesquely.

You clutched onto the sticky note with those fated numbers on it and you honestly felt like a teenager who finally got her crushes number. Pacing around the room seemed like a great option. Your feet went wild, staring into space then back at the numbers. Okay, okay. Just call him. Give him a piece of your mind. Self soothing didn’t work. Just do it, just call him. This is a healthy way of communicating since you couldn’t just show up and speak to him. Adrenaline and fear pumped your veins raw as you put his number into your phone. You raised your phone to your ear and heard the defeaning and soul eating dial.

Miguel was at home for once, just trying to occupy himself in an environment that didn’t have eyes poring all over him and every move he made. He was trying to get some sleep after all the agitation you put him through, but he was failing terribly, again.

It felt like having you was the only thing he was put on this Earth for. His bare chest tightened at the thought. All that was sketched onto in his peripheral was that fucking picture. You looked like a wet dream. Fuck, you were just perfect. Your pussy was begging to be pounded and he couldn’t wait until-

His phone lit up the black of his nightstand.

Miguel opened his eyes as he saw the screen brighten and the blaring of a ringtone he’s long forgotten. He was astonished even though his eyes were seeped in tiredness. This was so odd. He barely ever used his phone, even for hookups, he’d fuck them and then ditch the number. Miguel stared at the white of the screen and the black outside, only lit by a few orange streetlamps that seemed to creep in through his blinds. He groaned as he grabbed his phone and stared at it, it was an unknown number, is this was a cold caller he would rip their head off with his teeth and spit it out into a gutter.

Miguel rubbed his eyes and answered, holding the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He said in a strained, raspy voice- it wasn’t quite obvious that he was trying to sleep.

You felt yourself gush when you heard his voice, your mouth popped open into a gape, you winced but kept a normal voice. “Miguel?”

His eyes glazed open wide as he heard your voice, what the fuck? How did you get his number? Why were you doing this? A wild amount of questions shot through his head but he was confused and didn’t know how to handle it, the majority of him was exhausted and seething. He leaned up and spoke. “Y/N?” He attempted to sound calm but he wasn’t convincing. “How did you find-? Whatever. Don’t call me. Ever. Again.” He gritted through clenched teeth.

“Lyla.” You said in a clipped tone.

Of fucking course.

“Stop using your damn power to fawn over me and restrict me from using the damn watch you gave me.” You were chafed you even had to say this.

Miguel sat on the edge of his bed and plaved his feet on the cold marble, his elbows dug into the skin of his thighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out the signature annoyed huff. “You know exactly why I had to do that.”

You paused and bit your lip, pacing around your room, reminding yourself that you’re barely even clothed right now. Your tank top and sleep shorts barely covered anything and you were still feeling searing hot by his voice alone.

“Stop… Just stop.” It was just above a whimper and Miguel’s ears pricked up the sound. Fuck, your voice was like velvet. “Miguel…we were honest with each other once before. We can do it again.” You breathed against the phone and it was taking everything in him to not moan at the pretty sound. “We shouldn’t be close to each other. I fucking know but…are you shutting me out of the society completely?” Your lip quivered at the mere idea.

Miguel was taken aback. He really didn’t know what to say or do about this now. Being honest or lying didn’t seem to do him any favours at this point. “Don’t ask me that. Please…just don’t.” His voice was so close to breaking but he was dampened by such a pure need for you it was distracting as fucking always.

You both sat in silence, hearing each other’s soft sweet breath on the line. Waiting for the other to break such a tense yet natural thing. Miguel could hear you lick your lips, every shift of that tongue and pretty mouth.

“Do you still want me?” You said flatly, so damn nonchalant like you weren’t even realising what you were talking about.

Miguel was left speechless for a solid 60 seconds. Are you dumb? He wanted just leave and kick your door down, rip all your clothes off and not let you leave for an entire weekend. He would mark every inch of your skin up to show everyone who you belonged to, he wouldn’t be soft at all and you would fucking love it. He’d pump you full of his cum.

“That’s a very stupid question.” He grunted huskily. His talons dug into the sides of his mattress as he said it. You heard the way he was holding back and it made you that much more desperate.

“You told me that it was manageable. How are you managing Miguel?” It was like you were taunting him, waiting for a big fat massive ‘I told you so.’

“I’m finding my own ways of coping.” He stipulated, fingers trembling into the mattress at your words. His dick was rock hard in his boxers at just hearing you breathe against the phone. He felt pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Hm. Like just so happening to know that I take nudes of myself and send them to my fuckbuddies.” You hummed, catching him out with that teasing cock stimulating voice of yours. Miguel swallowed thickly as you called him out.

“It’s 2099 here. Fuckbuddies aren’t taboo, sending nudes isn’t either.” He didn’t directly answer the question, he wrapped it up in a lie that it was normal and he just guessed that you did not that he literally violated your privacy.

“Then why do you not want me to send them anymore.” You whispered on the phone and the sensation of hearing such a honeyed voice made him shudder. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, exasperated but voice calm.

“Because it should be me seeing you like that. Only me.” He avowed in an unexpected admission. Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard it, exactly what he wanted to hear. You paused and your silence scared him.

“Did you like it?” You asked sweetly and he thought he could’ve came right then and there. He could just…slip his hand down and touch himself as you talked. God, he could. He wanted to so bad.

“You have no idea.” He rasped out and you tried to gulp down your arousal, instead it arose out in words.

“Miguel, I get wet just listening to you talk.” You said softly, not even ashamed anymore.

“Whenever you say my name I think my dick wants to snap in half.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this then.” He could feel you smiling lazily, your tone deceptive and teasing. You didn’t want to stop at all.

“Yeah we really shouldn’t.” Miguel teased back, his voice low and inherently dishonest.

“I won’t call you again then.” You smiled sweetly, eyes half lidded and flirty. “Let’s just say that this was… a little moment of weakness between us. We can go back to avoiding each other later.”

“I wonder how we’ll manage.”

“You better get rid of my restriction on my watch too.”

yoooo. I’m not gonna be able to post anything in the next week bc I’m on holiday and I probs won’t have wifi. I’m still writing chapters I just dk when I’m gonna be able to post it. I know i edge yall but this specifically isn’t on purpose I swear forgive meeee.

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house @defnot-bri @awkward-d3rs3-dramer @hasai69 @unnisumi @irongardenermaker @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @spiderman2099sgf @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

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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

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #astv x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel astv #smut #Spotify

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faretheeoscar · 10 months ago

Text

NEEDY MIGUEL pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, sex toys, brief mentions of sex, a form of voyerism (?), oral sex, Peter B. mini cameo that could lead to something else in the future

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel who was siting down on his desk having a bad morning after not sleeping enough last night, having to conduct meetings all morning leaving him in a very cranky mood.

Needy Miguel that shifted uncomfortable on his seat thinking about how today was another day when he was a coward and instead of trying to get closer to you, he sent you away on a 3 day mission

Needy Miguel that searching for one of his tools on his desk to occupy his mind in something else that wasn’t frustrating him more, notices a small gift on one of his drawers and inspects it, his face turning 5 shades redder as he opens the box and quickly tosses it back

Needy Miguel that is fuming in anger thinking about who could’ve pranked him that way, stuffing a sex toy on his desk? That was a very untaste full joke that made his blood boil.

Needy Miguel that overthinks and calls out for Lyla, she says to him that only one hand full of people had come to his office, she includes your name on that list and he quickly dismisses her, for him to be alone with his thoughts feeling a pressure tightening on his chest and his mind clouding.

Needy Miguel that stares at the toy and can’t stop thinking about the subtle looks you gave him that morning on the meeting, could it really be you that left him that in there? No, that was ridiculous, it was probably one of Parker’s jokes, he’d always be nagging him about not getting any action, and that he needed to blow off his frustrations some way, hinting to the two of them maybe… well thinking about that let’s not go that way, that’s a total different story for another day

Needy Miguel that reaches out for the toy and takes it out of the box, to inspect it, the toy looking so small against his big palms, he introduces one finger and his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head at the feeling of it.

Needy Miguel that quickly made disappear the crotch part of his suit as his hard rock cock spring out already leaking precum that will do as lube for now

Needy Miguel that slowly takes the toy and push his cock inside it groaning loudly at the sensation not even caring if anyone could hear him outside his office

Needy Miguel that made a mess of himself in less than 3 minutes just by the sensation of something different than his hand, and how the semitransparent small thing looked rolling against his thickness as it squeezed him hard cause it could barely fit around him

Needy Miguel that kept jerking himself with the toy even if he was sensitive and his thighs twitched by the overstimulation of it, cause for him one orgasm simply wasn’t enough

Needy Miguel that got the urge of having a visual aid and while still moving the toy up and down his length reached out for the footage of you before you left for the three day mission he sent you and zoomed in on his screen

Needy Miguel that whined desperately as he watched how your eyes were focusing on him the whole time he conducted the meeting, hips buckling up and thinking about how he’ll keep your eyes focused on him not letting you close them even if he rolled his girth so deep inside you that he would reach your cervix and make you both moan in need

Needy Miguel that let out short gaps of breath as he focused on stimulating his tip with the wrinkly parts of the toy as he saw your pretty face pouting when he said he was sending you away with other members that weren’t him.

Needy Miguel that started to think about how your lips would look around his cock, how they would stretch out due his thickness.

Needy Miguel that indulged better in that fantasy, imagining,the lingering stickiness of his previous load inside the toy, acting as if it was your saliva, how your tongue would lap over his tip to then take him fully.

Needy Miguel that started murmuring to himself praises he’d give to you as he saw you biting your lip on his screen while you payed attention to him on the meeting this morning.

“look at you princesa, taking me— so well”

Watching his cock disappear on the small hole of the toy picturing your stretching lips and how would you hallow your cheeks so suck him better

Needy Miguel that imagined how he’d take your head and bob it up and down his liking making you gag and plead silently for a breathing

“que bonita te ves, sucking my cock at work—-“

Needy Miguel that fastened his pace hips fully fucking the toy at the thought of how your warm throat would feel around him, when he’d fuck your mouth making tears roll down your cheeks, imagining how you’d drool for him.

“Coño cariño , keep on going, just like that”

Needy Miguel that kept on fantasising over you as he rolled his hips up sensually keeping himself on edge as his calls of your name resonated all over his office.

Needy Miguel that gasped for air as he felt his balls tightening making his eyes roll to the back of his head trying to suppress a moan biting his bottom lip and making a small cut to it with his fangs

Needy Miguel that looked down at his twitching member and how it spurt out ropes of cum all over his desk, as he stimulated it for a few more seconds before stopping

Needy Miguel who’s chest was lifting up and down uncontrollably and he let out a pathetic whine when he finally took his cock out of the pocket pussy to shove it back to the drawer.

Needy Miguel that started to feel the embarrassment of his actions and felt his anxiety creeping back up at him, but before he could close his eyes and lean back on his desk chair; saw a little white piece of paper shining on the back of the drawer

Needy Miguel who got confused when he saw a little note on the back of his desk drawer and his face turn white when he read that it was from you and quickly, went through his history of calls on his gizmo, noticing that as your note stated he had in fact called you in his alone time yesterday…

Needy Miguel that reached back down his crotch to feel his once again hardening cock to start to tug it again even though it hurt at this point by how hard he have been jerking off, reading the note over and over again, picturing your mischievous smile while you wrote it:

I enjoyed your call from last night…. I hope my little gift serves you better than your hand, that only until I get back to see you again ;)

Oh, you were a little brat…and he will show you the consequences of your little prank, but for now he’d probably just kept his office locked and forget about work for today due to his new entertainment source and your tease that will keep him hot and bothered.

Shock you’re gonna be the death of him

AN: Guys I gotta thank you for he overwhelming response to the first part of this thing!

It was supposed to be a one time dump of horny thoughts but I’m so grateful for y’all and hope you enjoyed this second one too!

Thanks again for the new 100 of y’all and over 1k numbers on the first part! 🫶🏼

PS: can’t stop imagining Miguel jerking off all day, god… so pathetic and hot 🥵

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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Fic Masterlist

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spidersona

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greensagephase · 3 months ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 18

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Miguel and you attend the Spider Society's beach trip. Word Count: 16k Warnings: a pregnancy reveal; discussion of second chances, children, and parenthood Music (Spotify playlist): "beanie" - no/vox, karaokey (instrumental version) “Beach Baby” - Bon Iver “Armstrong Cabin” - Justin Hurwitz “Moon River” - Audrey Hepburn Masterlist

Part 18

Standing in front of a large window at the Spider Society’s HQ, you gaze at Nueva York. You stand there for a few minutes, simply admiring the view in complete silence despite the different thoughts running through your mind.

First, there’s Peter. Your Peter. Another year has gone by since his death, officially making it five years. In the blink of an eye, somehow, half a decade has passed since that day when you lost him so unexpectedly. You still miss him, every day. The pain has slowly faded, though there’s still a heartache that you’re sure will remain in your heart forever, but it’s easier now. You still visit him at the cemetery every weekend and place fresh flowers for him and your other loved ones. And of course, like every year, you also visited Peter on his birthday to spend some time with him a while back.

For some reason, there was a moment in which you found yourself thinking about how ten years ago, you were someone completely different. You had someone to call yours and that someone called you ‘mine.’ At night, your bed was shared with him. Strong arms embraced and held you like you were the most precious being to ever exist. Kisses were pressed to your forehead tenderly. Your cheeks were cupped by gentle hands, the same ones that left goosebumps across your skin on passionate nights. You danced in the living room and soft laughter filled your ears. Your hand was held when you walked around the city, a thumb brushed over the back of your hand in comforting motions.

You’ve always been loved, still are, but no longer in that way. In a romantic sense.

You were loved like that once. So much.

The thought that maybe — just maybe — you’re still loved like that by Peter, even if you can’t feel, see, or hear it, crossed your mind while you sat there. It brought you comfort, it really did, but the realization was still there: you haven’t felt romantic love in so long.

Staring at the clouds now, you try to figure out why you even had that thought to begin with.

You sat on the ground with Miguel behind you because something in you decided to invite him along to your cemetery visit this year.

It felt right to do so considering Miguel has spent two of Peter’s birthdays with you already. Two years ago, you lied to Miguel and Lyla about your plans by saying that you were going out to watch a movie with friends, only for Miguel to find you at your apartment with a birthday cake and tears streaming down your face because he was returning your mask, which you had left earlier at his lab while organizing it.

Miguel stayed with you that evening, gave you company. That was the first year you didn’t celebrate on your own after three years, and after your initial embarrassment from Miguel finding you in such a vulnerable state, you were thankful for the company and his reassurance that you weren’t, still are not, crazy by celebrating Peter’s birthday despite his death.

He spent last year with you, too, and so, it felt right to invite him to come with you.

It felt right to invite one of the most important people in your life to meet another equally important person, who was and continues to be, so special to you.

The best part? Miguel kindly accepted the invitation, so you both traveled to your universe. He arrived with his own offering of flowers and offered to help you clean his grave from any overgrown weeds. You smile a little as you remember your fingers brushing when you both went for the same spot of weeds. You looked at him at the same time he looked at you and found a small smile on his face already, amused with the little accidental brushing of fingers. You both placed your flowers side by side once the area was cleared and then, you wished Peter a happy birthday before Miguel introduced himself and wished him a happy birthday as well.

You talked more about Peter with Miguel that day; told him about the early days when you first met him, what it was like when you were both in college, and so on before Miguel offered to step back for a few minutes to let you speak with Peter in privacy. You appreciated the gesture and took the time to do just that before your mind took you to those thoughts about once being loved in a romantic sense. You have no idea how it led to that, but you know that Miguel seems to have sensed a shift in your mood because he came back and knelt by your side.

He shifted your attention from what you were thinking about to a blue bird that sat on a nearby gravestone. It chirped, as if it knew that it had an audience, for what felt like half a minute before it turned towards the two of you. It almost felt like it studied you both while you smiled at the sight, at the beautiful and cheerful sounds, before it spread its wings and flew off into the sky.

You remember chuckling through your nose and thanking Miguel for pointing the bird out. “Let’s go home,” you said afterwards. After pressing a kiss with your fingerprints to Peter’s gravestone, Miguel and you began your way to the cemetery’s exit, failing to notice two butterflies flying over Peter’s gravestone.

You bring a hand to your mouth, gently rubbing the back of your thumb over your bottom lip now. So… It’s now half a decade since Peter’s death, but you’re in a better place. Better than you were two years ago when you first joined the Spider Society, that’s for sure.

You return your gaze to Nueva York’s buildings, the other thought on your mind coming to the surface.

It’s been a few months since your apartment building caught on fire and ever since then, you’ve been living with Miguel at his penthouse. Following your own universe, Miguel’s dimension is the second Earth you spend the most time at, and ever since temporarily moving in with him, that has only become even more true.

You’ve become so familiar with Miguel’s dimension, it has truly become a second home. You’ve witnessed sunrises and sunsets, have admired the stars and moon. You’ve spent rainy evenings in the penthouse’s living room with Miguel, drinking café de olla [pot coffee]. You’ve even become familiar with the way the transportation system works, streets’ names, and stores among other things as if this dimension is your own.

Yet, the one thing you’ve become the most familiar with is Miguel’s close company and presence. At first, you believed it would take you some time to get used to sharing a home space with someone again, but the truth is that you fell into a routine with Miguel almost instantly.

You’ve enjoyed living with Miguel, there’s no denying that and if you tried to, you’d be lying.

A deep sigh, one that comes from somewhere deeply within you, escapes from your lips when you’re reminded of the fact that you should be okay to move back to your own apartment next week. You’ve kept up with the progress as the months have gone by, of course. The apartment still means so much to you because of the history it has, that is, your and Peter’s history; your time and memories with him.

Despite the fact that you should be good to move in next week, neither Miguel nor you have talked about it beyond the small conversation, if you can even call it that, from a few days ago when Miguel asked how the construction was going. You told him the truth, that the building is nearly ready for tenants to return. He nodded at your response and replied with, “I’m glad it’s going smoothly.”

You haven’t even decided on which day to move out and Miguel hasn’t asked either. It almost feels like neither of you care to discuss that very important detail.

Crossing your arms over your chest now, you groan to yourself at the though of moving out. You tell yourself it’s because of what moving back to your apartment entails. There’s the highly needed deep clean of every single area and room. Then, there’s the packing and unpacking of your things.

You’re not looking forward to either task, or any tasks having to do with moving out, really.

And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re also not looking forward to moving back to your universe.

“Why the long face?”

You jump at the sudden noise, startled from your thoughts. With a hand pressed over your racing heart, you turn, only to find Peter B. grinning from ear to ear because of your reaction.

“No reason. Just thinking,” you reply, feeling your heart begin to return to a normal heart rate. “What’s up?” you ask, hoping to change the subject.

Peter hums, observing you. He decides to follow along with your change of conversation instead of prying.

“I was just on my way to meet with Jess and some of the other members to discuss our…” Peter trails off to build suspense, smiling. “Beach trip!

“Beach trip?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. You haven’t heard anything about this.

Nodding, Peter continues. “Beach trip! In another dimension. Jess, a few other members, and I have been planning it for a few weeks, trying to get everything together. Everything is settled now, except for a few last minute details. It’s this weekend.”

“I hadn’t heard about this,” you reply honestly.

“I guess Jess and I forgot to mention it,” Peter responds with a frown. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, running around doing this and that, but the good thing is you now know,” he continues with a grin as he throws an arm around you. He starts walking, tugging you along. “You’re coming, right?”

“I - uh,” you blink a few times, walking along with him. You literally just found out about it. “I know nothing about the actual plans. Where are people staying at?”

“There’s bungalows,” Peter explains. “We got a head count of who’s all coming and got what we needed.”

“I just found out. Like, two minutes ago, so that means I’m not in that headcount.”

“We counted you in, Jess and I. We were going to tell Miguel and you about it, but it was the day Miguel was having a rough day, so we knew better than to bother him, and then, you disappeared, too. We later found out you both headed out and went home, so Jess and I decided to go ahead and mark a bungalow for the two of you.”

“Oh - really?”

“Though, of course, I doubt Miguel will go,” Peter says tilting his head. “In the past, he hasn’t participated in things like these. He funds them to boost morale among the spider members, but never attends. So, I’m not even going to get my hopes up. You’ll probably have the bungalow by yourself.”

Still walking, you frown at Peter’s words regarding Miguel not attending and having a bungalow by yourself. Peter’s tone indicates that he’s certain about this. It seems in his mind there’s no way Miguel will attend, no matter what.

“That’s just Miguel,” Peter continues gently, patting your shoulder in a reassuring way. “So - you in?”

“Let me think about it,” you reply. “This is a little abrupt. I’ll let you know by the end of the day, if that’s okay?”

Peter nods, removing his arm from you. “Of course. I hope you come along. It’ll be a fun and nice getaway. We can all use a weekend away from our superhero duties, or as much as we can before duty calls again,” Peter states.

You chuckle and nod. “True words,” you say, noticing just now that Mayday isn’t with him. “Where’s Mayday?”

“Mayday?” Peter scratches his neck and chuckles. “She stayed with Mary Jane today. She’s been… What’s the word? More attached to her mom lately, so,” Peter shrugs. “I gotta respect that even though I miss her.”

“I’m so used to seeing her every day,” you state as you both begin to walk again. “It’s going to be sad not seeing her here as often once she starts school.”

“Don’t get me started on that,” Peter says with a huff. “My baby has grown up so much, too fast. They really do grow up too quickly. Agh, I rather not think about that day. Not yet,” he says with sadness.

Now you’re the one that pats Peter’s arm reassuringly. “She’s still little and she’ll always be your baby, even when she’s all grown up. Enjoy every moment,” you reply softly, briefly thinking about your own Peter and how he wished to be a father — a dream that was never reached. Never will.

You shake the thought away, turning to look at one of your gizmos since you’re still testing out the one Miguel is trying to launch soon.

“I’ll see you in a bit. I have some work to do,” you state, looking at him again.

“I must head out, too. I’m mentoring some new recruits, so,” Peter sighs heavily, making you grin.

“At least you have Miles’s help though.”

“That’s true. My mentee is now helping me mentor. I’m growing old. Older,” Peter says, correcting himself with a grin.

“We all are,” you reply, grinning back. “The law of life.”

“The law of life,” Peter repeats. “Alright, let me know about the beach trip! I’ll see you around!”

You say goodbye before Peter swings off for training, leaving you alone again. Humming to yourself, you continue walking, thinking about the beach trip and Peter’s words regarding Miguel.

As the day goes on, you discover that most of your friends already know about the beach trip, but with so much going on at HQ recently and in their personal lives, they forgot to mention it to you. That doesn’t bother you at all, but you do feel a growing frustration when most of them assume Miguel won’t go. Gwen, Margo, and Penny ask if you wish to join them in their bungalow so you don’t have to be in the other bungalow alone. Miles tells you that his ‘tío’ [uncle] is still stubborn to this day. And, Spider-Ham jokingly offers to come up with a plan to kidnap Miguel and deliver him to the beach destination. He said it was a joke, but you’re not so sure about it.

By the time you reach Miguel’s lab, you’re a bit fed up with everyone’s assumptions that Miguel won’t go. It’s frustrating how they feel so confident about it. As far as you know, Miguel doesn’t even know about the finalized plans considering Gabby’s birthday was only a few days ago and he spent the days prior to it thinking about it.

So, when you enter his lab, after letting Miguel know through Lyla that you’re outside, you walk in with that on your mind. Of course, coffee from the cafeteria couldn’t be forgotten, so you carry two cups. Your eyes soon spot Miguel on his platform as always. His back is to you while his hands move in different directions to shift screens around. Walking closer, your eyes take in his broad shoulders and back before they move upwards to his hair, specifically to the curls near his ears. You recall the times you helped him wash his hair and how soft it is, and even though you’re a few miles away from the penthouse, you can perfectly remember the scent of his shampoo as if you have the bottle in your hand right now.

Realizing where your thoughts have taken you, which you think is rather strange, you shake your head and focus on the beach trip again. At the same time, Miguel turns to face you with a grin.

“You know you don’t have to notify me when you arrive. I’ve told you many, many times that you can simply walk in,” Miguel says, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head playfully. “Will you always do that?”

Now it’s your turn to grin at him. You reach his platform, which is slightly elevated from the floor, and glance up at him. “I probably will,” you state. “If life treats us well, I’ll be sixty and still let you know through Lyla that I’m here.”

Miguel laughs, his chest vibrating because of it. Once again, you can’t stop yourself from finding his laugh beautiful nor from thinking that Miguel looks lovely laughing and being happy. You chuckle to yourself at the sight and sound, your chest fluttering with happiness because of Miguel’s laughter.

“And of course,” you continue with a smile. “I’ll always come with coffee from the cafeteria.”

Miguel grins once more and accepts the coffee cup when you offer it to him. “Gracias, gracias [thank you, thank you].” He brings the cup to his mouth and takes a small drink before glancing at you again. “You’ll be sixty and I’ll be almost seventy by then, huh?”

You nod. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” Miguel repeats, offering a hand for you to get on the platform. You accept his hand covered by his suit with your own clad one and step on the platform. With you on the platform now, Miguel can’t help but still think about what you’ve said. That you’ll be sixty and still come see him to his lab when he’s almost seventy. He prays to God that you both live beyond that age; that you can be part of each other’s lives for many, many, many more years to make up for the twenty plus years you weren’t in each other’s lives.

Unaware of Miguel’s thoughts, you turn to look at one of the screens, which has gained your attention because of movement. Miguel watches as you bring the coffee cup to your lips, your eyes scanning the information. He wonders, if you both reach that age, and again, he prays to God that he grants that to you both, where will the two of you be in life. You both have a while before reaching those ages and anything could happen.

In so much time, you could both experience major life changes. Changes like you potentially finding a partner and having children, a thought that comes to Miguel now and grows.

Would you still come see him, even if you have a husband at home and grown children by then? Miguel realizes he’s thinking of himself still being here and for a second, he looks around his lab. Will he still be here in forty years? Or, will he have already retired fully and left the Spider Society, if it’s still running by then, to someone else? He thinks of Peter B. and Jess, of their kids one day walking through this building as official members, if that’s what they wish to do, and leaving all of this to them and the members of Miles’s age group.

Where will he be then? He wonders if he’ll still be living at the penthouse, or if the place will feel even bigger at that point, so much he’ll end up moving to a smaller place. Will he still travel through the multiverse and witness with his crimson eyes, which will remain the same even with age, dimensions so beautiful it leaves him in awe, or will that be a thing of the past and something he can only think fondly of?

Where will he be?

“Will you come with me?” you ask suddenly, looking at Miguel again. Your voice gently pulls him away from his thoughts.

“Yes,” Miguel replies instantly, not even knowing where you want to go, but his heart and body willing to go anywhere with you.

He sees the surprise on your face at his quick response followed by happiness.

“Really?” you ask, smiling at him with a twinkle in your eyes. “You actually want to go and spend the weekend at the beach?”

It finally clicks in Miguel’s mind. The beach weekend getaway Jess and Peter B. have been planning. He forgot all about it after approving it and letting both members plan as they pleased. Knowing what you’re referring to doesn’t deter Miguel, however.

“Yes,” Miguel says again, slowly smiling at you. “It sounds fun. If you - if you’re going to be there.”

“I wanted to ask you first,” you admit, still smiling. “Apparently, we’ll have a bungalow for ourselves.”

“Oh?” Miguel answers, smiling. “I remember Jess saying they’re quite spacious with big kitchens.”

“Ooh! I can buy some groceries, so we can cook. And bake,” you respond excitedly.

Miguel chuckles quietly, your excitement rubbing on him. “What do you want to cook while we’re there? We can go grocery shopping the day before to pick everything fresh,” Miguel suggests, remembering that mostly everyone will be traveling to the destination on Friday.

“What if for one morning we make your favorite…” you start while Miguel retrieves a piece of paper to create a grocery list, his thoughts about the future slipping away thanks to you.

♡

“Do we have everything?” you ask, looking over the bags. “Remember, we must treat it as if we can’t travel in seconds to retrieve things.”

“Yeah, Peter told me,” Miguel replies, rolling his eyes a bit, remembering Peter B.’s words that this needed to be treated like a ‘real vacation,’ which would mean no one will be able to return to their respective universes to get anything they forgot. Of course, if an emergency pops up, which Lyla will notify everyone about, that changes things. “I’ve checked and we have everything. Is your bag ready?”

You check your bag quickly before nodding. “Seems so. In any case, I’d still be able to come back.”

“True,” Miguel replies, grabbing all the bags, including yours, and holding them. “So…” he looks around the dining room, his crimson eyes making sure everything is in order before heading out. Satisfied, he continues. “Seems like everything’s in check. Should we head out now?”

“I’ve done my own rounds to make sure everything is okay, so I guess we’re good. The door is locked, we checked the fridge, the stove is off… I think we’re ready. Whenever you are,” you respond with a smile.

Miguel nods, holding all the bags. “I’m ready, if you are.”

With that, you both travel through a multidimensional portal you open and step out onto sand. Both Miguel and you immediately feel the change in temperature. It’s warmer, being outside, but there’s a breeze that hits nicely.

While the portal slowly closes behind you, Miguel and you glance around. You’re met with gawking eyes and some people straight up stop mid-sentence when they look your way. You smile subtly when you spot your friends, all standing up with looks of surprise. You can’t help but think that if Peter B. was in one of those cartoons from your childhood, his jaw would be hitting the ground right now. It seems everyone is shocked to see Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel, of course, notices the looks, too, but he decides to ignore them. For now. “Come on,” he says softly to you, motioning with his head for the two of you to walk.

As you walk, you look around again, ignoring the looks and instead focusing on how different everyone looks out of their suits and instead clad in relaxing attire, far more suitable for the beach.

“Ah - hey guys!” Peter B. greets you, finally finding it in himself to walk over and greet you. He looks between you and Miguel for a second, still finding it hard to believe that Miguel is here. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the man rubs his eyes to make sure he’s seeing right with the look on his face right now.

You flash him a grin. “Peter.”

“Peter,” Miguel says without a smile, still holding the bags without a concern on his face.

“I’m so glad you guys arrived! Wow…” Peter starts. He clears his throat. “Everyone’s here already, from our group, at least,” Peter clarifies, and then seeing the bags in Miguel’s hands, he remembers. “Your bungalow is ready. Let me show you which one is yours so you can settle in.”

You both thank him as Peter begins to lead the way, the two of you in tow. As you walk and get closer to a bungalow, you truly realize that you’ll be sharing the space with Miguel alone. You silently wonder what the other spider members will think of that. As far as either of you know, very few people know that you’ve been staying at Miguel’s penthouse. Some people did found out what happened to your apartment, but they have no idea where you’ve been living, just that you’ve been staying elsewhere and that you’re safe.

“So, basically, there’s bungalows of different sizes. It was worked out who was going to be at what bungalow the day you both left HQ early,” Peter says looking behind his shoulder.

Miguel and you share a glance, remembering this took place on Gabby’s birthday, so you both missed the entire bungalow arrangement.

“There’s bungalows for two people, so Jess and I decided to assign you to that one. I figured Miguel would prefer not being around others,” Peter jokes, earning himself a scoff from Miguel, even though he’s right.

Miguel glances at the bungalow, silently relieved about the arrangement. He was worried that you and him would have to share a space with some of the members who are not as organized as you both are. He was also worried about the peace and quiet. The two of you easily communicate with each other when one needs space or time alone, but with other people in the space, the peace and quiet would be minimal, if not nonexistent.

Among other reasons, there’s also the very real possibility that he might have a nightmare over the weekend. He hopes that’s not the case, but he can’t control them. With his luck, Miguel can see himself having one while sharing a space with other spider members and the last thing he needs is for people to speculate about that, and of course, there’s also his sleeping arrangement. Someone might’ve discovered that every night, he sleeps with your sweatshirt close to him and that a sound recording of you sleeping plays through his gizmo because he finds comfort in both things and they help him sleep.

“And, of course, we also thought it made sense since you guys… you know?” Peter says, looking at both Miguel and you, noticing the silence. Then again, other members are staring at the two of you like you’re celebrities. “Live together - due to the current arrangement,” Peter clarifies very quietly, reminding both Miguel and you that you’ll be returning to your apartment soon, that you’ll no longer be living at the penthouse.

Miguel sighs quietly at the reminder, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right,” you reply, smiling softly. “We appreciate it, thank you, Peter.”

“Yes, we appreciate it,” Miguel adds, turning to look at some of the members staring at you both. He narrows his eyes even more, a silent way to get them to stop. Thankfully, those staring understand and look away instantly. Miguel huffs, hoping that they’ll stop because he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their gawking, especially when he knows you’re not used to that. Miguel, on the other hand, has grown used to the stares and talk behind his back regarding his behavior and distance. He can’t bear you having to deal with the same thing, so he’ll do whatever he must to prevent it.

His thoughts are interrupted when Peter suddenly informs you both that there will be a bonfire tonight, food provided. He continues to bring it up, even while he gives you both a quick tour of the place, stating multiple times that he hopes you both show up.

After telling you once again about attending the bonfire, Peter heads out, letting Miguel and you get started on unpacking. You quickly focus on the groceries first so nothing goes bad before you decide which rooms you’ll each take for the stay. Once that’s settled, you both head to your rooms to unpack your duffel bags.

Finishing unpacking first, Miguel walks to your room while you continue setting up. He leans against the door frame, watching you unpack shampoo and the sort.

“It’s nice,” Miguel comments, looking around the bedroom, which is identical to his. “It’s very spacious and open, good for the trip. Jess and Peter made a great selection.”

“They did. I like the kitchen area, too. Sometimes that’s a little iffy, but it’s great,” you reply with a smile. “And the living room with the fireplace is lovely. I can already see myself sitting there at some point with a book.”

At that, Miguel grins because earlier when Peter was walking you both through the space, he had the same thought about you. He imagined you perfectly curled up on one of the couches, your favorite blanket, which you also brought along, spread out over you to keep your legs warm. He saw the fireplace roaring, a book in your hands, and a warm drink on the side table.

“Maybe tonight?” he suggests.

“I think so. I did bring this book I’ve been meaning to read,” you reply, smiling sheepishly now as you raise the book to show it to him. “It’s been sitting on my bookcase for too long, I’m afraid.”

Miguel chuckles. “Well, maybe it’ll finally be read. Based on the title, it seems like a great book to read while on a beach trip.”

“I think I might do that after we come back from the bonfire. Peter seemed really insistent on us going.”

“He did, didn’t he? He kept talking about it, over and over again,” Miguel says, raising an eyebrow in wonder. With Peter, that usually means there’s more to what he’s talking about. Miguel tries to figure out what that more is, but he can’t think of anything. He shrugs. “When he acts like that -”

“It means there’s more to it,” you finish, making Miguel grin.

“We know him too well,” he replies. “I can’t think of what it could be, though.”

“Me neither. We’ll have to wait until the evening to see what’s up with that. For now… I think I’m going on a walk. Do you want to come?”

“If you’ll have me,” Miguel says with a soft smile.

“Let me just change real quick,” you reply, picking up a top.

“I need to change, too, so take your time.” With that, Miguel steps into his own room to change.

In minutes, you leave your shared bungalow and begin to walk.

As you move past other spider people, you notice they’re still staring, but only for a few seconds before quickly averting their gazes. You glance at Miguel after noticing a Peter’s eyes widening while staring in your direction before rapidly looking away. Yet, when your eyes find Miguel’s face, he’s looking straight ahead with a neutral expression before he turns to look at you. He raises an eyebrow.

“What is it?” he asks, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hmm, nothing,” you reply, staring at him while trying to figure out why that Peter reacted that way. You hum to yourself and decide to forget it, focusing on the fact that you’re at the beach.

Meanwhile, Miguel smirks to himself, glad one look alone deters the others from looking at you both like specimens in a lab.

You both continue to walk in peace, your feet bare in the sand. At points, you stop to pick up sea shells, admiring and showing them to Miguel before placing them back. Miguel happily observes you, waiting for you when you stop to pick up one that looks interesting.

It’s not until your walk back to the main area that Miguel stops when a wave washes over the shore, leaving behind a few new seashells. He picks one up, wiping it clean from the sand before showing it to you.

“I’ve never seen one like that,” you say excitedly, noticing the checkered pattern over the seashell.

“It looks cool,” Miguel says before he hands it to you.

You raise an eyebrow as you accept it.

“For you,” Miguel says. “People always take little special souvenirs from their trips. I doubt we can find something like this in one of the shops.”

Smiling, you nod. “Yeah, that’s true. Thank you!”

“Always,” Miguel replies with a little grin as you both continue to walk back towards the group of people and the bungalows.

You look at the seashell, holding it carefully, one more time before gazing at Miguel, noticing his outfit. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with an open beige short-sleeve button up over it and black swimming trunks, even though he said he has no plans of swimming, but he looks comfortable. You notice his wrists then. One, as always, has his gizmo and it’s the one that’s been in use for years at HQ, not the one he’s hoping to launch soon.

On his other wrist, you spot two things. One is the bracelet you gifted him for Father’s Day with Gabriella’s name on it, a gift he’s been wearing ever since that day, and the other item is your hair tie. Miguel has also been wearing the hair time almost every day, though on some days he leaves it at the penthouse. You can only guess it’s so it doesn’t wear out because you’ve noticed him taking it off, along with the the gold bracelet, before washing dishes or his hands. He’s always so careful with both things, as if they’re priceless objects.

Seeing him wearing both items now and knowing how much he takes care of them brings you so much happiness. It makes you believe that they really mean that much to him.

Upon reaching the lot, you head back to your bungalow to wash your hands before going to the bonfire. By the point Miguel and you pull up, the sun has lowered significantly. You both quickly realize that when Peter talked about the bonfire, he meant multiple ones because when you arrive, there’s several bonfires set up across the beach by different groups.

Regardless of that, everyone seems to be in a great mood. Music from someone’s sound system is being played and it’s upbeat enough that it has some people dancing in place. The smell of food reaches your noses, stirring a hunger neither of you had sensed before.

Once you reach the food area, you grab two plates, one for Miguel and one for you before getting in line to fix yourselves a plate. While you wait, you look around, simply observing. It’s strange to see everyone dressed in relaxing attire instead of their usual superhero suits. Everyone seems so relaxed for once and the conversations taking place are lighthearted because you spot many smiles and hear laughter. You smile at the sight, glad that Miguel and you came, too, before turning back to look at him. Always the gentleman, he told you to go in front of him, so he’s behind you now.

You find him looking around the beach, taking notice of the lighthearted environment, too. He’s still dressed the same, except he took off his button-up and threw on a grey sweatshirt before you both left the bungalow just minutes ago.

With plates in hand, you eventually find yourselves sitting on a wood log around the bonfire with the spider gang. You all eat and talk, and as you look around at your little group of friends, you’re filled with gratitude. For three years, you were completely on your own, but not anymore. You smile a little, thinking about that, before a cool breeze hits you, making you shiver.

Noticing your reaction, Miguel wordlessly places his plate next to him and slips off the sweatshirt. Next thing you know, he’s offering it to you.

You shake your head. “I’m alright, thank you. You should put it back on,” you politely decline, not even making an attempt to accept it.

“I just saw you shiver,” Miguel insists. “Please, accept and put it on. I’m not even cold, I put it on just in case.”

“But-”

“No buts. You’re cold. Please,” Miguel continues, still holding the piece of clothing out to you.

You smile and nod gently before taking the sweatshirt. You easily slip it on, instantly feeling relief because it has Miguel’s warmth clinging to it. You sigh softly, basking in Miguel’s warmth. “Thank you. I should’ve brought one, but I forgot to.”

Miguel smiles, looking at you now wearing his sweatshirt. “Always. And no worries, I’m glad I brought mine. Now you won’t be so cold.”

You smile at each other before you look at his plate.

“Are you done eating? I think I’m going to get a snack.”

“I think I’m going to go for another burger,” Miguel replies. “I’m still kind of hungry.”

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

“No, no, that’s okay. Thank you, but don’t worry about it. I’ll get it myself,” Miguel says gently, thankful for your offer either way. “I’ll go with you if you’re going now, though.”

“We can go now,” you reply, nodding.

You both excuse yourselves before returning to the food area once more. Miguel heads for the burgers and you head to the snacks, confirming with each other to meet at the drinks. You both do your things, too preoccupied with the food to notice stares and the quiet chatter from members close by regarding two things.

One, Miguel O’Hara is wearing a woman’s hair tie around his wrist, and there’s no doubt it’s yours.

Two, you’re wearing his sweatshirt.

Neither of you notice it, though, and soon after, you meet up at the drinks section before returning to your group to finish eating. It’s an hour later of chatting and eating when Mary Jane and Peter, carrying Mayday, stand up to get the group’s attention.

Miguel and you share a look, remembering how you both guessed there was more to the bonfire than Peter was letting on when he kept talking about it earlier.

“So…” Peter starts with a grin. “I’m glad everyone seems to be enjoying the beach trip so far, which is all thanks to our boss, Miguel.”

At that, everyone turns their attention to Miguel.

“I hope you enjoy it, Miguel,” Peter says. “It’s really nice to see you attend one of these things at last. Whatever - or whoever - persuaded you, I’m glad it did,” he says, glancing at you for a second when he said ‘whoever.’

Next to you, Miguel nods. “It’s nice to be here. I hope everyone enjoys their time this weekend,” he says softly, receiving smiles, applause, and ‘thank you’s’.

“W boss,” Hobie adds from across you, sitting on a wood log as well. He gives you a wink when you turn to look at him, earning himself a grin from you.

“I hope so, too,” Peter says. “It’s a weekend to relax a bit! Mary Jane and I also wanted to take the opportunity to share something with you, our friends - our second family.” Peter turns to MJ, taking her hand in his while he holds Mayday in his other arm. “For a few months now, we’ve been keeping a little secret, but we were waiting due to precaution.”

“It’s been very hard keeping Peter from spilling the beans, but it’s finally okay, so we wanted to share with you that…” MJ trails off.

“We’re expecting!” Both Peter and MJ announce happily.

“Wow, another one?” Miles exclaims, surprised and yet happy.

Miguel and you turn to look at each other, equally surprised, before you join the rest of the group to congratulate the couple, waiting for your turns.

When it’s finally your turn, you hug Peter and Mayday by default since she’s being held by her dad before hugging MJ.

“Congrats, guys! I’m so happy for you,” you say when you step back, meaning it.

“Congrats, you two,” Miguel says with a small smile, standing a few feet away. “I hope everything goes well with the pregnancy.”

You nod at Miguel’s words. “Me, too. If you guys need anything, please let me know. I’d be more than happy to help with anything, like looking after this one,” you add, gently taking Mayday’s hand.

“Thank you, guys,” Peter says, grinning. “We’re so happy to be expanding our family.” Still grinning, Peter turns to you. ”We hope we don’t have to, but we appreciate your offer to babysit Mayday.”

“Truly, and I’m pretty sure this one would be more than happy about that, considering she loves you,” MJ adds with a smile.

“If you guys - Need someone to look after Mayday, I can also look after her,” Miguel suddenly says, catching everyone’s attention.

“You…?” Peter says slowly, shocked.

“Yeah,” Miguel simply replies.

“I… I think I’m going to cry,” Peter answers with a bit of a pout.

“Sorry, he’s been more emotional than usual,” MJ says.

“I’m not,” Peter says. “I’m just - Miguel - He - I can’t.”

“I know,” Miguel says with a nod, knowing why it’s somewhat of a big deal. He knows Peter and everyone else, judging by their expressions, is shocked because of his offer. They know that in the past, it’s been hard for him to be around children after losing his Gabby. Seeing Peter and Jess especially reminded him of the wonderful and beautiful experiences he didn’t have the opportunity to share with Gabby as a baby or toddler, nor the future experiences they’ll have with their kids growing older.

It was simply too much.

Now, though? Miguel feels somewhat better being around the little ones. It’s less difficult and painful than it was in the past and hearing your offer, for some reason, also encouraged him.

“I know,” Miguel repeats again. “But I mean it.”

“Thank you, Miguel,” MJ says smiling. “We appreciate the kind offer.”

“I could hug you right now,” Peter says suddenly.

“Please don’t,” Miguel replies.

“I won’t, but if I could, I would,” Peter responds. “Thank you for the offer. It means a lot, especially knowing… You know,” Peter says gently, not going into detail. “So, thank you.”

“Of course, glad to help,” Miguel says. “Again, congrats. I’m happy for you two, and Mayday,” Miguel adds, turning to look at her. He gives her a gentle smile. “I have a feeling she’s going to love having a sibling around.”

With those news, your group of friends continue to hang out. You talk with Peter and MJ about the pregnancy and learn that they’ve been debating expanding their family for a year and finally decided to go for it a few months ago.

A little while later, however, both Miguel and you decide to retire for the night, seeking tranquility and privacy. The two of you change into other clothes, noticing the former ones smelled like outside, before settling in the living room. Despite being in an entire different universe, you still stick to the usual night routine you’ve both had at Miguel’s penthouse.

And, the best part is Miguel’s vision from earlier becomes true when you settle on the couch after handing him a mug with a warm drink. You place yours on the side table, pull your favorite blanket over your legs, and pick up the book you’ve been meaning to read for a while.

Like every night, you eventually wish each other a good night before going to bed, but sleep doesn’t come right away for either of you. The sound of the ocean’s waves surges through the bungalow’s windows, filling your ears. From somewhere, you still hear music being played and laughter across the beach.

You toss and turn, kicking the covers off before pulling them back up again. As the minutes tick by, your thoughts inevitably turn to MJ’s pregnancy, to how they’ll have a second child now. It reminds you yet again of your Peter and his own hopes about having children. And of course, of your own, too. You sigh and turn again, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep until you eventually succeed.

In his own bedroom, Miguel does the same, switching from laying on his back to rolling on his side. He changes position again after several minutes, laying on his stomach. He pulls your sweatshirt closer to him, so he can still smell your calming and comforting scent, before pushing his arm under the pillow and staring at the wall. He can hear the ocean and the sound of music, but he doesn’t mind it. The noises serve as distractions.

His gaze shifts to the gizmo on the nightstand, still not playing the recording of your breathing. Not yet, but soon will.

Miguel sighs and closes his eyes, thinking about the news Peter and MJ revealed only two hours ago. He suspected that Peter had more than one reason for wanting you and him to attend the bonfire, but he’s going to be honest. It never crossed Miguel’s mind that the reason was a pregnancy reveal.

And now, Miguel can’t deny that he’s feeling — something. He’s genuinely happy for Peter and MJ, truly. In a multiverse of Peters and MJs who don’t always have a happy ending, Miguel is happy that Peter B. and MJ are an exemption. And there’s little Mayday, too.

Miguel smiles at the thought of the child. He can already imagine Mayday and this unborn child creating chaos at HQ with Peter running after them.

He’s happy for them, so happy.

Yet, there’s a feeling in his chest.

Acceptance.

Miguel realizes he’s accepted that he might not have the opportunity to form a family again; to have a wife and children. He might never experience true love in a romantic sense nor hear a child call him ‘daddy’ while running to his open arms again.

Miguel sighs, bringing your sweatshirt closer to his face to seek comfort from it in this moment of acceptance.

At last, he grabs his gizmo and begins the recording before getting comfortable again, your sweatshirt pressed to his chest.

He closes his eyes again, hoping for sleep now. As he finally begins to drift off, the last thought on his mind is that he has something equally special.

He has the spider gang.

And most importantly, he has you, his best friend.

♡

The next day, Miguel wakes up to the sound of you in the kitchen. He picks up his gizmo to check the time in this dimension, realizing it's 8:33 am. He quickly makes the bed and grabs his things before heading to the bathroom. In less than twenty minutes, Miguel showers, shaves his face, dresses, and brushes his teeth to start the day.

He puts away his belongings, making sure everything is organized as always before he meets you in the kitchen. Miguel finds you leaning against one of the kitchen counters, already dressed for the day, pouring coffee into some mugs.

Hearing his footsteps, you turn with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Miguel replies with a small smile of his own. He inhales gently, the lovely scent of coffee reaching him at last.

“Coffee?” you offer.

“Yes, please.” Miguel happily accepts the coffee mug, your fingers brushing in the process. He thanks you for it before he carefully takes a sip because it's hot, relishing the taste. “It's great to start the morning.”

“Right? I think I want to sit outside… To enjoy the coffee and the view of the ocean,” you share softly with a thoughtful expression.

“That sounds… nice, actually,” Miguel says after a few seconds of thinking. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You smile. “Your company is always welcomed.”

So you do exactly that. You carry your mugs and take post outside of your bungalow on the front steps. You enjoy your coffee in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sight. It's a calm morning with few people out despite the hour. Your guess is that most of the spider people stayed up too late and now, they're sleeping in.

You're glad for the temporary peace, however, because you know that in a short bit, the beach will be occupied like last night. So, for now, you enjoy the sound of the waves and flying seagulls; the short privilege of having the beach to yourselves; and best of all, the company of Miguel while you drink your coffees.

Inevitably, both Miguel and you recall the news from last night. The wood logs arranged in a circle with the remnants of the bonfire bring the memory, of MJ and Peter sharing with the spider gang that they’re expecting.

Miguel lowers his mug, holding it with both hands while he stares in the general direction of where you all were at last night. He remembers his thoughts from last night, too. His acceptance.

He clears his throat and lowers his face to look at the coffee, part of his reflection greeting him.

“You okay?” you ask softly next to him.

Miguel gazes up at you before nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking this coffee is great. Thank you for making and sharing it,” he lies, instead of saying the truth because he’s not quite ready to speak about it right now.

“Always,” you reply, staring at Miguel intently. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” You slowly look away from him, knowing whatever is on Miguel’s mind is deeper than a great coffee. As always, however, you’ll respect his boundaries and wait for him to share what’s on his mind.

“How about a walk?” Miguel suddenly asks, pushing his thoughts aside and trying to focus on the now, with you.

“That sounds great.”

♡

After another peaceful walk, Miguel and you returned to your bungalow for breakfast. With the groceries you bought, paid by Miguel because he insisted, you both cooked Miguel’s favorite homemade breakfast: red chilaquiles [Mexican dish; I’ve explained what is it before (:].

You both spotted a stereo last night in the living room, so you had music as background noise while Miguel and you talked and cooked, splitting up tasks to work as a team. With just the two of you, the bungalow was filled with comforting scents, sounds, and conversation. It was a blissful and peaceful moment with the sun’s rays sneaking through the windows and the constant sound of the gentle popping of hot oil that Miguel used to fry the triangular tortilla chips. Unknowingly, your cooking left your bungalow and the scent ended up attracting some of your friends, so they showed up, asking what those ‘wonderful scents’ were.

Neither Miguel nor you were expecting them, but you didn’t decline them either. So, the small dining area filled up with ten extra people, all eagerly talking and having a bite.

Now, it’s midday. Today is the first full day at the beach and it seems that everyone is trying to enjoy it as much as possible. Music, just like last night, is being played. There’s cheering and clapping from a volleyball game taking place since someone set up a volleyball net. Some people have decided to have an early lunch, so they’re cooking by using the public areas. Other people are playing Frisbee, out swimming, or walking along the shore. Then, there’s people like Miguel and you, sitting on a large beach towel with an umbrella over you, entertaining the little ones.

Even though you have plenty of space, Miguel and you have very few items with you. There’s a small cooler with refreshing and hydrating drinks. Your book, a bottle of sunscreen, and a pair of sunglasses rest on one of your sides while Miguel sits on the other.

He sits comfortably, leaning back on his arms. He’s wearing the same variation of clothing as yesterday: a t-shirt, a short-sleeve button-up, and swimming trunks.

Despite all the distractions on the beach right now, Miguel’s eyes are trained on Mayday, Gerald, and you. He watches as you play with them, how you make them giggle with your play pretend noises and by moving toys around with them. He smirks softly when he hears you make a helicopter noise, or at least, attempt to.

“Help is on the way,” you say urgently, moving the helicopter past Jess and Peter’s respective children. “There’s hope, we’ll defeat the bad guys.” You laugh softly when Gerald tries to grab the helicopter from your hand, intrigued by it. “Oh-oh, Gerald is trying to take over the cockpit. Mayday,” you say, turning to look at her. “Should we give Gerald permission?”

“Yeah!” Mayday exclaims happily.

“Alright, I think so, too. He’s a great pilot, after all,” you continue, making a whooshing noise and moving the toy close to Gerald, letting him take it. “We’re now in the hands of Gerry.” Miguel and you both watch as Gerry moves the helicopter toy through the air before he drops it on the beach towel. “Anddddd, now we’re….” you trail off.

Miguel snorts playfully next to you, catching your attention. You turn to him with a grin.

“Now you’re what?” he says.

“We’re… experiencing a few bruises,” you reply.

Miguel chuckles, moving closer to lift the helicopter toy up. The toy is already small to begin with, but in Miguel’s hand, it looks miniature. “It was just a rough landing, right, mijo [my son]?” he asks softly with a grin, handing the toy back to Gerry. “He’s a great pilot as you said, but sometimes the nerves get to us during missions. That’s all.” After handing the toy to Gerry, Miguel gently guides it, leading it to the ground until it touches base. “And, the crew is okay. Safe and sound.”

You can’t help but smile at the sight, finding it sweet how Miguel gently plays with Gerry for those short seconds before he withdraws his hand and leaves the helicopter to Gerry. He raises it and begins to play with it again while Mayday picks up her own action figures and joins him, lost in their own little world of innocence.

Miguel watches them with a soft gaze while you watch him with a similar one.

Slowly, you turn away from him to keep an extra eye on the kids. Earlier, you offered both sets of parents to babysit them for an hour or two because you enjoy doing so. However, you didn’t know you were going to see Miguel in his fatherly element, even if just for a few seconds.

You smile to yourself, thinking about how gentle he is with children and how soft spoken he talked to Gerry, even calling him ‘mijo.’

The moment stays in your mind from that moment on until you notice that the kids are growing sleepy, so Miguel and you move things around to make space for them between you. You help them fall asleep by gently talking to them and caressing their small backs.

Once they fall asleep, you place them down on the beach towel so they can properly rest and stretch.

Of course, Miguel watches and helps as much as he can to make sure the children are comfortable and safe. You both keep an eye on them while they sleep, talking to each other before you fall into a comfortable silence. Resting on your side with your head propped up with your arm, you decide to read your book for a bit and Miguel turns to look at the volleyball game, somewhat entertained by it.

He turns your way a few minutes later to tell you something about a particular move, but he finds you asleep. He spots the abandoned book on the beach towel before his gaze sweeps over you, still laying on your side, but now with your arm over both children’s tummies. He smiles softly at the sight of the three of you sleeping, finding it adorable.

His gaze moves over the children’s faces for a few seconds before returning to yours, noticing the gentle and relaxed look on your faces. He looks down at your arm over their little bodies. It seems that even in your sleep, you’re keeping them safe.

The sight makes him think about something once more. He’s wondered about it in the past before, several times to be honest, and now the sight of you with the children and how natural you’re with them, brings that thought back — you, as a mother.

He wonders if Peter and you ever talked about that. If starting a family was something that you both wished for, but didn’t get the chance to make a reality due to Peter’s passing. He’s never asked you out of respect, especially because it’s something so personal, and it felt too soon to ask before.

He hums to himself, thinking about that for a few minutes before he realizes he’s been staring at you for too long. Miguel looks away, still keeping guard over the three of you while everyone else does their thing. He spots the volleyball players still going strong, but at this point he’s not really interested in it as he was before, so he turns his attention to the ocean instead.

Gazing at the water, he tries to remember the last time he went on vacation. It was so, so many years ago with Gabriel when they went to Mexico and had the opportunity to spend a Día de los Muertos [Day of the Dead] there. It was a fun vacation and they had the opportunity to learn more about their culture as young adults. Miguel smiles to himself now, remembering one night specifically when it was near midnight. They were both hungry and ended up leaving the small, but beautiful place they had rented for their vacation to eat tacos from a taqueria [taco place] that was still open that late at night. They ended up staying up much later, just talking and talking about the places they had seen already. It was also a nice escape from Conchata since his relationship with his mother was still strained.

Miguel sighs softly at the thought, moving his gaze to the empty spot in front of the large beach towel you’re all on.

If Gabriel was alive, he’d be here along with Gabriella. He knows that for sure.

They’d be here now, probably hanging out on the very spot his eyes are on. For a moment, Miguel imagines it. He sees Gabriel and Gabriella building a sand castle together, laughing when a tower falls apart. He can hear Gabriel call Gabby ‘mija’ [my daughter] and Gabby calling him ‘tío.’ You enter the picture and take a seat next to them, helping them continue to build the castle. Both Gabriel and Gabby are more than pleased that you’ve joined them, it seems. Gabby even pats your arm and excitedly shows you their progress so far.

You look up at him then, and smiling, beckon him to join.

Miguel blinks, the vision fading away. The spot on the beach in front of him remains the same, empty. He shakes his head. Maybe in another life. Or, another universe.

He only has a few seconds to bring himself back to the present when he senses something. He quickly looks around and spots the volleyball hurling your way and the kids’. In seconds, Miguel is at your other side with his arm out. He catches the ball effortlessly, eyes narrowing in displeasure and annoyance. Without looking at it, Miguel feels the ball deflate thanks to his talons instinctively protracting to protect the three of you.

He turns to the group of spider members playing, noticing their looks of disappointment when they notice that their ball is now ruined. However, their expressions changed when they take notice of Miguel’s own expression.

“Be more careful,” Miguel says before throwing the ruined ball back.

Someone catches it before the entire group moves further away with their net and now ruined ball thanks to the Spider Society’s leader making it clear he isn’t pleased with what almost happened.

Less worried now, Miguel settles down again and looks at all three of you to make sure you’re okay. Thankfully, you’re all still sleeping peacefully.

He huffs softly at the group, still feeling displeased just as Peter B. rushes over. He glances at the group, noticing that they’re trying to fix the ruined ball with someone’s webs now.

“I just saw that. Thankfully you noticed before the ball hit one of them,” Peter says, moving closer to look over the three of you.

“Me, too. Probably one of them trying to show off, or something,” Miguel grumbles. “But they’re okay. They’re sleeping peacefully.”

“I can see that. They seem to be having a great nap,” Peter says with a grin, still looking at the sleeping children and you. He looks around the beach before continuing. “MJ and I are about to head back to the bungalow, so I’ll go ahead and take Mayday.”

Miguel nods at that, understanding. “Go ahead. I’ll let Dulzura know.”

Peter nods, moving closer. He’s about to reach for your hand when you wake up suddenly, sleepily looking around and trying to gather your surroundings.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice sleepy.

“Hey,” Miguel replies gently, looking at your sleepy expression. “Enjoyed your nap?”

“Mhm, I did.” You withdraw your arm and look at the children, still sleeping. “You here for Mayday?” you ask Peter.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter apologizes.

“No worries,” you reply as Peter picks Mayday up. “She was, as always, a good kid.”

Peter grins at that. “Thank you. For that and looking after her. You didn’t have to.”

“It was my pleasure, really,” you respond, starting to gather Mayday’s toys with Miguel’s help.

With everything packed, Peter thanks you again before he says goodbye, leaving Miguel, little Gerald, and you.

You sigh softly and lay down on your side again, looking at Jess’s child with such tenderness before you gently cup his face, smiling.

“They’re so cute,” you murmur. “So sweet and innocent. So beautiful.”

Miguel nods, his thoughts from earlier coming back due to your tender behavior and words. And suddenly, he thinks about what a wonderful mother you’d make.

“They are, aren’t they?” he says softly before turning to look at Gerald, still peacefully asleep. He almost wants to reach over and gently caress the child himself, taking notice of the gentle rise and fall of his chest, but he holds back from doing so, especially when he hears Jess’s voice from behind.

She steps into his vision a second later with her husband behind. You greet each other before you ask how their walk was, knowing Jess and her husband are here for their child now.

“How was he?” Jess asks after telling you about their walk with a smile, gazing at her sleeping child.

“He was wonderful,” you say. “Right, Miguel?”

“Yeah, he was great. Not fussy at all. He seemed to enjoyed playing with Mayday, too,” Miguel shares. “Dulzura made him into a helicopter pilot. He did pretty well, didn’t he?” Miguel asks you.

You grin, nodding. “He had a rough landing at one point, but the crew made it. Safe and sound.”

Miguel grins softly back at you when you say that.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jess says, both her and her husband chuckling. She looks between the two of you, having a feeling that there’s some inside joke not meant for her and her husband.

“Here, let me help you pick up the toys,” Miguel offers to Jess’s husband, standing up.

Meanwhile, you gently pick up Gerald to avoid waking him up. You hold him for a few seconds before handing him over to Jess. Once she’s holding him, you stand up and stretch. You take notice of Miguel and Jess’s husband picking up the toys in a backpack, talking quietly, as you pop your back.

“How did you do it?” Jess quietly asks suddenly, cradling Gerald.

“Do what?” you ask, confused.

“How did you get him to come?” she clarifies, gesturing to Miguel.

“I just asked him.”

“You just asked him if he wanted to come to the beach?”

“I asked him, and I quote, ’will you come with me?,’ and he said yes.”

“To the beach. You asked if he would come with you to the beach?”

“Actually… I didn’t even specify where to, but he said yes,” you respond with a smile.

“He didn’t even know where he was going, but he said yes,” Jess says in disbelief just as Miguel reaches your side again.

“We’ve collected all of Gerry’s toys,” her husband says, reaching her side as well.

Jess nods, still wanting to talk with you about the fact that Miguel actually came to the beach, but there’s no time now. “We’re going to head back to our place. Thank you for looking after Gerry. We appreciate it so much,” Jess says looking at you and then at Miguel because she suspects that he helped.

“Happy to,” Miguel and you say at the same time.

Jess’s husband looks surprised while Jess grins. “Alright, you two enjoy your time.”

You say goodbye, watching the family walk away towards their bungalow.

After a few seconds, Miguel turns to you. “You hungry?” he asks.

“Actually,” you start, tilting your head. “I am.”

“We can head back to the bungalow then. I’ll cook,” Miguel says as he starts gathering your belongings.

You grin and begin to clean up as well, picking up the towel and folding it after shaking off as much sand as you could. On your way back to the bungalow, the two of you run into none other than Ben Reilly. The sight of him immediately reminds you of the day, Gabriella’s birthday to be exact, he wanted to speak with you. You told Ben you’d speak with him later that day because you were in a rush to see Miguel, but you forgot and went home with Miguel for the rest of the day.

“Ben,” Miguel simply greets him, standing next to you.

“Hi, Ben!” you say, offering him a small smile.

“Hey, guys,” Ben replies, looking between you and Miguel. His gaze lingers on you for a little longer.

“I just remembered that you wanted to talk to me the other day,” you start with an apologetic tone. “I forgot to meet you like I said. I’m so sorry.”

Miguel’s eyes shift to you for a second, curious about the situation.

“That’s - that’s okay,” Ben responds, standing shirtless with an incredible posture as always. He glances at Miguel and then back at you.

“So… What did you want to talk about?” you ask.

“It was nothing,” Ben quickly responds, scratching his neck. “Just… A question about a report, but I asked another colleague and I figured it out. Thank you, though.”

Smiling, you nod. You’re relieved that someone helped him. “That’s good. I’m glad you were able to figure it out. If you ever need help, let me know.”

“Thanks, I will,” he replies, a smile slowly forming on his lips. “You’re too - too kind.”

You hum. “I’m just trying to help a colleague out,” you reply cheerfully.

“Right,” Ben says chuckling lightly and looking away. “Just helping a colleague out.”

“Well, we’re going to get going. I hope you’re having fun and enjoying the trip,” you say, ready to head back to your bungalow.

Ben nods, turning to face Miguel and you again. “Thanks, you, too. See you guys around.”

Miguel, who has silently been listening and observing the exchange, hums in response. You, on the other hand, give Ben one last ‘goodbye’ before Miguel and you continue on your way.

Heading to the bungalow, Miguel glances over at you. “So, you got colleagues asking you for help with reports?” he asks.

You chuckle softly. “If I had known that’s all he needed that day, I might have given him a quick solution, but if I remember correctly, all he said was if we could talk about something,” you explain as you begin climb up the steps now.

“Oh,” Miguel simply says, following after you. “Maybe he was all caught up with the issue, he forgot to mention it was about a report.”

“That could be it,” you reply while you unlock the door.

Miguel hums, thinking about how Ben Reilly has been doing reports for years now. As he closes and locks the door, Miguel can’t help but think it’s strange that of all people, he’d be the one asking for help regarding that task. The thought ends there, however, when you call his name from the kitchen. And Miguel, all too eager to join you, lets the thought wash away.

♡

After having a meal, cooked by Miguel, the two of you find yourselves in the living room doing a puzzle together. It was decided that you both wanted a little break indoors after spending the morning and part of the afternoon outside.

So, with music playing from the stereo once more, you both sit on opposite sides of the coffee table with puzzle pieces spread out in front of you.

“I’m glad you spotted the puzzle,” you say softly with a grin. “I forgot how fun they can be.”

“Yeah?” Miguel asks. “Did you use to do them in the past?”

“Yes. Sometimes with my parents, other times alone. I liked the challenge,” you share.

Miguel chuckles. “I can see that,” he says because he’s noticed how focused you are. He looks up slowly, finding you test two pieces together but not fitting. As he turns to look back at his own progress, his mind is flooded with thoughts. He guesses now that you’re both alone and without so many distractions around, his mind is unable to not reflect on the last hours or so since you both arrived to the beach.

He thinks about MJ and Peter having another baby, about you with the children earlier, and whether you and your Peter ever talked about children.

He tries to push the thoughts away and focus on the puzzle like you, but half an hour later and with half of the puzzle completed, Miguel picks up a piece and decides to ask you, or at least try to.

“May I ask you a question?”

Attaching two pieces together, you look up at Miguel, curious about what he wants to ask. “Of course. What is it?”

“It’s…” Miguel trails off. “It’s personal. Please know that you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, okay? I’ll understand.”

You nod, lowering the puzzle pieces.

“Earlier - Well, I’ve noticed it before, too, but earlier with the children… I’ve noticed how gentle you are with them. So tender. You seem so natural with them,” Miguel starts. “With Peter and MJ’s pregnancy announcement and seeing you with the children, well, I couldn’t help but wonder about you and,” Miguel pauses to see your reaction. His eyes search your face, trying to see any negative emotion on it to know if he needs to stop all together. The last thing Miguel wants is to cause you any discomfort or distress by bringing this topic up.

“Peter,” you finish, figuring out what Miguel has on his mind. You smile a bit. “It’s okay. You can ask me anything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Miguel searches your face once more, trying to find even an ounce of discomfort to make sure. After finding none, he proceeds. “Let me know if I need to keep my mouth shut at any moment. Please.” You nod at him again, encouraging him to go on, so he does. “I was wondering if… Did Peter and you ever think about… About having children?” Miguel asks gently.

Picking up another piece to inspect, you nod. “Yes. We did. Peter wanted to be a father,” you share, looking up at Miguel. “I was scared, to be honest. Childbirth sounds a little scary to me and of course, having a child is such a big responsibility. You - You know,” you state gently, knowing that out of the two, Miguel likely understands that better than you. “So, I wanted to make sure we were suitable for it, too. I guess I had some fears, in a way. I didn’t want to end up pregnant and alone.” You shake your head at yourself. “I don’t know why I was even worried about that. Peter would’ve never left me. He wasn’t that kind of man.”

You pause and try two pieces, fitting correctly. “Sometimes we’d talk about how many. There was one night when we laid in bed, snuggling,” you say softly, reminiscing on that night like it was just yesterday, even though it was over five years ago. “We talked about moving out of the apartment to another one, a bigger one. There was, is because it’s still standing, a place that we both liked a lot. It was a little too expensive for us at that point, so that was, kind of our next goal, I guess.” You sigh. “I always told him one day I hoped to have a small home library, so that night, he talked about how that place would be great because they’re so much more spacious. Those apartments have three bedrooms, so, he said one for us and the other two for… two children.” You smile. “He hoped for two children, I think.”

You gaze down at the puzzle and shift around some pieces. “So… yes, we did. To be honest… I think… I like to think he was going to propose soon, that year he passed away. I don’t know why, but now that I think about it, I think he was. And I like to think we would’ve tried to enjoy a few years of our marriage before starting to try for kids. Maybe two years or so,” you continue, slowly looking up at Miguel. “But of course… that’s just a guess, and one I’ll never be able to confirm.”

“Dulzura,” Miguel whispers softly,

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, nodding. “It’s okay, really. I just - I just wish Peter would’ve been able to accomplish more of his dreams and goals, you know? I wish I could’ve seen him being a father to his own children. I know he would’ve been a wonderful father. He would’ve loved his children, no matter what.”

“From everything you’ve told me, Peter sounds like a wonderful man. So… I have no doubt he would’ve been a great husband and father,” Miguel says, holding your gaze.

“Thank you,” you reply gently, smiling. “That means a lot to me.”

“And… And I think you would’ve been a wonderful mother, dulzura,” Miguel adds softly and then because he realizes that his words sound like you can’t anymore, as if you no longer have that opportunity, he tries to correct himself. “Still could be if you - you know -” Miguel sighs and scratches his neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think you can’t anymore with my first sentence. You still can, of course, if you wish to. I just think - you would be a wonderful mom,” he states, hoping he hasn’t offended you.

Shaking your head gently, you smile. “Don't apologize, I know what you're saying, and… Thank you. That's very kind of you. It also means a lot to me.” You hum softly as you piece two small portions of the puzzle together, still thinking about the topic.

Miguel does the same, unable to stop himself from grieving for you and the life you once thought you'd have with Peter at your side. He silently wonders if it's something you're still open to, with someone else.

“You know,” you start, almost as if you can read his mind. “I think, if life gives me a second chance — at love, I mean — I would be open to it.” You pick up a piece and inspect it. “To having children, too. If he's open to it, of course.”

At that, Miguel looks at you, happy to hear that you're still open to it; to a second chance at love and potentially having children. He smiles at the thought of you becoming a mother and for some reason, at that moment, imagines you with children of your own. Three, or maybe even four.

“What about… you?” you ask softly, feeling comfortable to ask Miguel since he’s asked you. Still, your tone is gentle. “You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

Miguel hums, feeling it’s only normal for you to ask now that he’s opened the discussion. Plus, neither of you have ever talked about it, so he supposes that just like he’s been curious about you, so have you about him.

“Last night, after MJ and Peter’s announcement… I felt something. ” Miguel pauses, trying to gather his thoughts as he searches for a piece. “Acceptance,” Miguel confesses. “I felt happiness — still do, and I mean it, but I also felt acceptance. I’m okay with not experiencing what you’re open to,” Miguel says, referring to love and starting a family of his own. “So…”

“But that’s not the same,” you reply gently, staring at him. “I’ve also accepted that perhaps I’ll never fall in love again and marry nor start a family, but I’m still open to the possibility.”

Miguel sighs, realizing you’re right. It’s not the same thing.

“Dulzura,” Miguel says with a gentle chuckle. “You’re making me think here.”

You grin at him and lean a little over the coffee table with a playful expression on your face. “I’m glad I’m making you think.”

Miguel smiles softly and while staring at you, he can’t help but be surprised at himself for how well he’s taking this conversation. He’s even chuckling! He silently wonders how the Miguel from two years ago would react to this conversation and suddenly, a rush of sadness washes over him when Miguel realizes he wouldn’t even be here now, let alone be having this conversation with you. His past self would be at the lab right now, aware that most of the society’s members are off in another dimension having a getaway beach trip. He’d spend the entire day there, despite it being the weekend, in the dark lab with his marigold-colored screens surrounding him. The only voice he’d be hearing the entire weekend would be Lyla’s, letting him know how everyone is having fun while he’s working.

Miguel’s smile falters at the thoughts, just for a few seconds, before he smiles at you again, more tenderly. “Gracias [thank you],” he says suddenly, quietly. “Thank you so much.”

Confused, you tilt your head to the side. “For what?”

Still smiling at you tenderly, Miguel continues. “For inviting me this weekend. And for everything else, too. I’d be here the entire night, thanking you for everything if I could, but I’d exhaust your ears and probably say ‘thank you’ so much, the words would start to feel unreal and incorrect from how much I’m saying them, but thank you, dulzura.” Miguel pauses, deciding to share his thoughts. “I just thought about how… I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

You stare intently at him, moving your head to deny it, but Miguel continues.

“It’s the truth.” Miguel states firmly, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks more about it. “I was thinking I’d be at the lab right now instead of being here, but I’m remembering there might have been a chance… That I wouldn’t even be there. I’d be gone,” Miguel continues. “I could’ve passed away that rainy night you found me bleeding and half gone on that rooftop. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve... And I’m thankful to be here. Alive and here with everyone. With you. So, thank you,” he adds softly. “Thank you for everything.”

You give him a warm and sweet smile, both touched by his words and relieved that Miguel is here with you, alive. “I’m thankful you’re here, both alive and on this trip,” you reply tenderly. “Safe and sound with us. With me.”

You smile at each other before Miguel grins. “And going back to what we were talking about… you’re right,” he admits. “It’s not the same thing and I suppose that I, well, I think… Never say never?” he says, sounding more like a question.

“Anything could happen,” you remind him.

“Right,” Miguel answers, still grinning. “I guess, it could happen.”

“So, you’re…?”

“I’m okay if it doesn’t happen. I’ve accepted it,” Miguel says, nodding more to himself before he gazes at the puzzle pieces in front of him. He silently wonders. What if? What if, somehow at some point in the future, something happens? He thinks back to yesterday when he was wondering where he’d be at seventy. He was feeling somewhat negative about it, imagining himself potentially still working at the lab, or retired and living in a smaller apartment because it’s just him. Miguel wondered if you’d still see him, even with the possibility of you finding a romantic partner and bearing children. Now, though, he wonders about a what if. What if his life wasn’t like that and instead, he had someone?

Someone to hold at night — to love. That alone would make Miguel feel happiness in a different way, he thinks, even if there were no children from that love. Simply being able to experience that kind of love would be a privilege to him.

Would he be open to that possibility if it came knocking at his door, then? Miguel questions himself before he slowly looks up at you, finding you already gazing at him. Staring back at you, the answer, for some reason, rolls off his mouth just as natural as it is to breathe. “I’m open to it,” Miguel finally says.

You smile at him, his answer bringing you happiness. “I’m happy to hear that,” you reply, your gaze soft. “You - you deserve to be happy, Miguel.”

Still smiling, Miguel tilts his head. “Who says I’m not happy already?”

Now you tilt your head, curious.

“I could be happy in a different way if I experience those things, but even if I don’t… I’m already happy. Happier than I was in the past,” Miguel confesses, thinking back to the days he was so lonely before Gabriella was in his life, after Gabriel and his mother had passed away. He was a lonely man, moving through life like a lost soul. “Despite my family being gone, I’m happy. I wish Gabriel and Gabby were here, so much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel happiness. I do and it’s - well, it’s because of,” Miguel pauses and scratches his neck, suddenly feeling a little shy. “You.”

Once more, Miguel’s words bring a smile to your sweet face, one he takes notice of. “I’m touched, Migs,” you say gently, smiling. “And I’m glad that you’re happy. I just want you to - to be happy and -” you turn away, feeling a little emotional. “Sorry, I think - I think my period is close, maybe that’s why I’m growing emotional.” You gulp the little knot in your throat forming, feeling your eyes tear up. “I just want you to be happy because - I care about you. A lot.”

And God, seeing your pretty eyes tear up pulls at Miguel’s heartstrings. He reaches with his hand across the coffee table, forgetting the puzzle in the moment. “No llores [don’t cry],” Miguel whispers, delicately. “I know you do. I’ve known it all this time because I feel it,” Miguel continues, brushing his index finger over yours. “And I… I care about you, too, you know?” He’s tempted to say that at this point, he cares more about you than he does about himself, but maybe that’s too much to reveal, even now. Besides, he has a feeling that those words would only encourage those eyes gazing at him right now to tear up more, and Miguel, well, Miguel cannot stand the sight of your tears, even if they’re ‘happy’ ones as you once told him several months ago on New Year’s Eve.

You smile and dry your eyes with the back of your free hand, still feeling emotional. “I know you do. I can feel it, too,” you reply with a nod, feeling Miguel’s finger rest on top of yours. It’s simple and small, but it’s meaningful nonetheless. Another small step for Miguel. You sniffle before chuckling, noticing Miguel’s gentle smile. “Alright, let’s finish this puzzle because I refuse to leave without finishing it.”

At that, Miguel grins in amusement. He taps your finger gently before withdrawing. “I have this part completed, but I can’t find this little piece right here,” he says, grabbing the box to show you which part of the image he’s missing.

“I have it,” you reply before you move the part you’ve been working on closer to the middle.

Miguel observes the pieces, immediately spotting it, so he moves his part closer, too. You both glide the parts until the adjacent parts are lined up before attaching them, fitting perfectly.

“Well, that part is done at least,” you say. “Only about two hundred more pieces to go now.”

“Thankfully, we have the rest of the afternoon and tomorrow to finish it,” Miguel replies as he looks at the joined pieces now. The image is slowly coming together and to be honest, he’s looking forward to the satisfaction of seeing it completed, even if it’ll have to be undone at the end for the next guests. Either way, Miguel is excited to see the completed image of two butterflies in a meadow as shown on the puzzle’s box.

“Mmm, I think it will be done this evening,” you playfully say.

“This evening, then,” Miguel replies, smiling. Then, remembering something, he continues. “I forgot to tell you, but I ordered something for the trip. Hammocks. If you’re interested in using one, I can hang them up near the bungalow.”

“Ooh, you got hammocks? That’s nice! Maybe, if we’re done soon, we can watch the sunset from them. And rest our backs after being hunched over this puzzle,” you say, chuckling.

“Sounds like a plan,” Miguel responds. “As soon as we’re done, I’ll set them up.”

Some hours later with bathroom and snack breaks and then dinner, Miguel and you finish the puzzle. You place the last piece, completing it and earning yourself a cheer from Miguel.

“It’s been completed, at last. Picture for evidence,” Miguel says with a grin before pulling out his cell phone, a far more advanced one than you’re used to.

You laugh softly, watching Miguel navigate his phone before lifting his phone to take the picture. A second later, you hear the camera sound go off.

“There,” Miguel says, still grinning. He looks at the captured photo, not only including the puzzle, but you as well. In fact, you’re the focus of the photo and it’s now saved to his gallery.

You lean back, stretching and humming. “That took us a moment.”

“It did,” Miguel replies, placing his phone down. He leans backwards to rest his back. “Hammocks?”

You nod with a smile. “Hammocks. While you set up, I’m going to make something for us.”

“Coffee…?”

“Am I that predictable?” you ask, laughing.

“I know you,” Miguel responds, his tone playful. “So it is coffee?”

“Yes.”

Miguel chuckles and stands up, popping his back. He offers a hand to help you up and without thinking, you take it and stand up, too.

“Let me get started on it.”

“I’ll set up the hammocks,” Miguel replies, heading for his bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the hammocks are set up. You have a thermos with freshly made coffee at your side while Miguel and you watch the sunset at the beach. Fellow colleagues join to watch from their own spots with their own groups of friends or on their own to appreciate the beautiful sight in solitude.

Even when the sun sets and more people have stepped out of their bungalows for small gatherings with bonfires, Miguel and you stay on your hammocks.

With your hammock above Miguel’s and on your stomach, you now stare at the moon and ocean, noticing the moon’s pretty color reflected on the water. You find yourself thinking that it looks like a river straight to the moon — a moon river.

You glance down at Miguel, finding him also staring at the moon on his back. His face is relaxed and he seems at peace. Your eyes reach his, noticing the way his crimson eyes stand out thanks to the moonlight, like two rubies in the night. You smile softly and lean down, returning your gaze to the night’s protagonist.

After a few minutes of enjoyable silence, you hum when you think about the conversation you both had regarding children. You think about the children you could’ve had by now if Peter was alive, knowing they’ll never exist now.

“Do you think there’s a place where the children we were meant to have, but didn’t, reside in?” you whisper, gaining Miguel’s attention.

He bites the inside of his cheek, pondering your question. Your gentle whisper tugs at his heartstrings not only due to the nature of your question, but also because of the way you’ve asked it in a whisper. It’s as if you don’t wish to share this with anyone but him, not even with the beautiful moon.

Miguel clears his throat softly. “I like to think so,” he whispers back, wanting to comfort you with his answer. He knows there’s still a possibility that you might have kids in the near future. One never knows. Yet, he knows you’re not referring to the scenario of someone who has given up on the idea of having kids. No, you’re referring to the kids you once thought about having with your Peter, the ones that no matter how much you wish for, will never exist. At least, not in your universe.

Maybe in undiscovered universes they exist already. And perhaps, with time, a version of you and your Peter will pop up in the universes already in the system, even if it’s decades from now. Maybe those versions will meet and have children, but Miguel knows it’s not the same. No matter if other versions exist out there in the multiverse now or in the future, you and your Peter will never be able to experience parenthood together, just versions of you.

“Perhaps there’s a place,” Miguel continues. “A beautiful and happy place from where they live and watch over us.” He pauses, remembering something. “There’s a song… One of the lyrics is, ‘en Saturno, viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos.’ In Saturn, live the children we never had.”

You glance down at Miguel again, meeting his gaze. You give him a smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

“In Saturn, live the children we never had…” you whisper, thinking about the giant gas planet with its unique ring and moon systems. “That’s pretty.”

Miguel nods, smiling back at you while feeling glad that he’s given you some comfort. His smile widens when you offer him the thermos with coffee. He takes a drink from it before returning it to you, watching you take a drink yourself.

You both turn to the moon again before Miguel breaks the silence once more. “You know… In all the time you’ve been staying at Nueva York, I haven’t taken you to see the moon in my dimension. Would you like to see it?” he asks in a whisper.

You chuckle as you turn to look at him and nod. “Are you kidding me? I’ll be on the moon! Of course, I’d love to see it,” you reply, smiling.

“I’ll take you to see it,” Miguel responds with a smile of his own. “However many times you want to.”

“Deal,” you whisper before laying down with your head sticking out from the hammock to look at Miguel. You sigh softly, feeling at peace in a way you haven’t in a while. Maybe it’s that same feeling that leads to your hanging arm over the hammock. You play it off as simply letting it down, but in reality, you long for physical contact from your best friend.

Your best friend smiles, somehow knowing.

So, Miguel lifts his arm and gently curls his pinky finger around yours — so gently — his touch betrays how dear you are to his heart.

Miguel’s pinky finger squeezes yours reassuringly, his warmth combining with yours. He watches you tenderly, you, the most precious and priceless soul to exist, at least to him, in the entire multiverse.

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: hi, hi, hi!!! I'm so happy to be updating NC at last 😭 It's really been over 2 months since chapter 17 lol. I'm sorry for how long it took me. In case you didn't see my life update back at the end of August, I got behind with writing due to a family death and then sickness, all at once. My entire immediate family got sick (3 covid, 1 strep throat) and I did, too out of stress from looking after everyone. It was a lot and I had little motivation to write + I didn't feel well because of everything, but all is well now!! :)) Even tho that was out of my control, I still feel a little guilty going this long without an update, so I just want to say thank you for being patient with me and for still reading this chapter/fic. It means a lot to me 🥺❤️ I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that it was worth the long wait for you!! I hope you're all doing well and staying safe!! Alondra❤️ p.s. do we like the green theme or should I do another color? I was thinking about what color NC gives, you know, like what color vibe? I was torn between pink and green, but idk!

taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

credit for green divider to @/vysleix

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #nonviolent communication #soft!Miguel O'Hara

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum.

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape.

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder….

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this.

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide.

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you .

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little.

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air.

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe.

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions.

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen.

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge."

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious.

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks.

"M'not-"

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act.

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head.

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying.

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view.

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute.

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile.

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV.

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours.

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process.

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again.

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead.

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves.

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns.

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ,"

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–"

"Begging seems a little strong–"

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity.

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago.

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more.

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game.

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience.

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong?

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment.

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully.

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving.

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor.

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply.

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying.

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump.

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island.

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers.

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap.

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys.

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth.

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble.

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide.

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance.

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.”

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time.

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough.

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times.

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance.

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared.

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?"

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code.

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –"

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement.

"I know exactly what you can wear!"

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin.

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror.

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror.

"It's not too much…?"

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?"

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different.

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod.

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours.

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list.

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning.

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come.

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code.

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady.

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out.

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much.

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else.

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe.

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile.

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug.

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms. "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?"

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?"

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day."

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away.

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots.

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?"

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– "

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink.

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said.

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –"

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that.

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head.

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man."

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words.

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over.

"Happy birthday."

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through.

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?"

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them."

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–"

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–"

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running.

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers.

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–"

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words.

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones."

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig.

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?"

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside.

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back.

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length.

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door, trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music.

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure…

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun.

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy.

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds.

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling.

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically.

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?"

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused.

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours.

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning.

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now.

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day.

This time, he doesn't meet your eye.

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim.

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control.

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?"

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick.

" Dare ." He grits his teeth.

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history."

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–"

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone.

"When was the last time you fucked someone?"

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say.

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter.

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim.

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure.

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla.

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted.

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-"

"Truth or dare?" Someone says.

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction.

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation.

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–"

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up.

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee.

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?"

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling.

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it.

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you.

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see.

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood.

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something.

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side.

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile.

"Good at what?" You say, confused.

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him.

"....you want to try again?"

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid.

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care.

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place.

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs.

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning.

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle.

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows.

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago.

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then…

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops.

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath.

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #rigor mortis 😼#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader

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simpcityy · 1 year ago

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I'm Not Her Pt.2 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel… Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked. Odd? Who is cooking if no one is home. Sitting up from your bed, you glanced at the time seeing it was 10am. Walking out of the room the smell of bacon got stronger. In front of you was your father Miguel cooking breakfast. You quickly rubbed your eyes wanting to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Buenos días, cariño*” Miguel glances back at you hearing the creek of the floorboards. You only stood there in shock. He’s home for once and calling you with love and affection. “I…Um…good morning?” You finally replied back sitting down on the chair slowly. He placed a plate in front of you and took a seat across from you. “(Y.N) …Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre*.” He began. “I know I left you all on your own, but I have to man up and fix my mistakes.” He looks at you before slowly holding your hand “and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll try my best.” He smiles before slowly releasing your hand. You only stood there stunned thinking about it. Did Lyla talk to him? Did Peter? So many thoughts were running around your head before letting out a sigh. “I …what made you have a change of heart…you know that yesterday was my- “he cuts you off, “I know it was your birthday and I’m sorry” he pulls out a box from under the table. You were so shocked about this new side of your dad that you didn’t even see the box when you sat down. “Happy Late Birthday “he smiles, sliding the box towards you. You slowly open it inside before gasping seeing the latest technology you’ve always wanted. You dug your hand till it hit the bottom and saw a ticket to your favorite concert. “How did you know I wanted this? I always begged you to let me see this singer, but you wouldn’t hear me out…I…” you are feeling so many emotions. “I told you I was going to try my best to fix this” he smiles before letting out a grunt as you tackle him into a hug “thank you! Thank you!” You chanted. Miguel only lets out a small smile rubbing your back affectionately. You let him go and walked to the top cabinet grabbing a glass to fill. “let’s have breakfast before you head to work “you smile enjoying this small moment with him. Maybe your wish did come true, to stop feeling alone.

You walked down the halls of your high school. It was going to be your last year and you promised your friends you were going to make it a blast. Humming out a song you unlocked your locker. “Hey boo you’re in a much better mood.” Lyla appeared inside your locker snapping a selfie with you. “Glad you’re here, did you talk to my dad?” You asked her while collecting the items you’ll need on this day. “ wha? No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” She looks at the selfie editing it. “He came home and made breakfast. He also got me tickets for the concert.” You smile enthusiastically looking at the AI. Lyla watches you “he did?” She was concerned, if she remembered correctly…Miguel was at the base this morning working but then again, he did slip out for a moment so maybe that’s where he went. Lyla only smiles “I’m so glad boo! Maybe Peter talked with him?” You nodded “I was thinking the same. Alright, I got to go Lyla.” You closed the locker going on to continue your education. Lyla stood in the pitch dark of the locker in deep thought “I’ll have to talk to Miguel” she mutters before disappearing.

School for once was a day you enjoyed, maybe it has to do with the fact you're slowly getting your father back. You’ll have to thank Peter once you get the chance to visit the Society HQ. You start to wonder what made him realize he has a daughter here. All this thinking made you hungry, spotting your favorite empanada stand. You walked over and got in line. ‘Maybe I’ll order extra to bring home’ you thought before smiling, giving your order to the kind old lady. Once you reached home, you closed the door behind you. “Are you home?” You call out placing the bag on the table. “Ya has vuelto de la escuela*?” Miguel emerges from the kitchen door. He glances at the bag. “Y eso?” He walked over looking into the box. “ I got you some empanadas” You smile before letting it falter seeing him sniff the bag. His face of disgust was present, “I’m not hungry, you eat it.” He quickly replaces the face of disgust into a smile. Something wasn’t right here, he loved empanadas. He would never reject it. “But it’s your favorite?” You sat down and grabbed a couple for yourself. Miguel grabs a glass of water, his back turned to you. He panicked for a bit before adding on, “Yes but I think I ate too many last time that it just makes me dislike it” He walks over rubbing your head, “It will go away and I’ll go back to liking them okay?” He pressed his lips to the side of your head before sitting down next to you. “Cómo fue tu día en la escuela*?” He asked. You only nodded taking his excuse before smiling, feeling his lip on the side of your head. “ It went well!” You ate the empanada while telling him how your day went.

Lyla stood behind Miguel watching him work away. “Hey Miguel” She appears in front of him. “Quick question” Miguel looks up at her and only grunts telling her to go on. “That was nice of you to get (Y/N) tickets to the concert” She sits on his shoulder waiting for his response. His answer only made her glitch and worried for you.

“What tickets?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Authors Note: Thank you so much! Your comments and likes made me see how this NEEDED to be a series. I'm still working on the other two projects hopefully next week I'll be able to complete the series for Location Status. So, I can focus on my other projects. Sorry for any grammar on the first part, I was using a tablet and it was all new to me. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 66💕) Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Please reblog so others can be aware of my works! ILY 💕

Spanish Translation: (Remember some have double meaning or similar meaning) 1. “Buenos días, cariño: Good Morning Sweetie 2. Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre: Listen, I know I'm not the best father (Dad) 3. Ya has vuelto de la escuela: Are you back from school? 4. Y eso: And that or whats that? 5. Cómo fue tu día en la escuela: How was your day at school?

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fic #across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #father figure miguel ohara #miguel ohara x platonic reader #miguel ohara x daughter reader

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cxlamarisalxmi · 2 years ago

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Being Miguel’s legitimate daughter that he left behind and hosting Venom [FEM]

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: cringe writing, angst

—

[Unedited]

“How dare he?”

You ignored the symbiote raging in your head as you watched your father Miguel finish the battle with the Green Goblin variant. Binding him with glowing red organic webs and aligning him up and over his shoulder.

“How dare he return here?!”

“Venom,” you trailed exasperated. Obviously you weren’t happy at all to Miguel either but he hadn’t even seen you yet so what does it matter? Originally you and Venom had fully intended to take down Goblin and inform Peter B. Parker there was a variant in your dimension. (Don’t ask how you know him).

But then Miguel showed up instead, and honestly you should’ve expected that he would because he was the one who led the spider society. And he was among the first to know of any anomalies or unusual readings in any dimension.

And only Jessica and Lyla were a witness to the internal conflict inside him at the prospect of going to his daughter’s dimension. The daughter he abandoned in favor of a different one, a different daughter, a different universe… a different life.

He was absolutely certain that you hated him and you did, you held such bitterly angry and maliciously hateful feelings for him for such a long time. When you were young all you felt was confusion for his disappearance, but as you grew older and as time passed those feelings turned from rage at his betrayal… to utter heartbreak and despair at his departure.

For the longest time you’d believed that you’d done something wrong, because what had tog done that was so bad? What had you done that was so wrong? You didn’t mean to.. whatever it was you didn’t mean to.

Eventually you had come to learn that this was not a fault of yours, but of Miguel’s. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and you didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

So you grew in the suffocatingly isolating darkness that was hate and grief. And as time passed you built walls thick and tall surrounding yourself, barbed defenses to protect your broken and vulnerable pieces. Behind those steeled doors you also tucked away the last part of your inner child, to keep her safe and protected.. from ever feeling this abandonment again.

When you were fourteen you’d found Venom, and at the time you had been living on the streets for close to two years. At fourteen is when you had very nearly quit on life, being alive was pain.. constant hurt that was very close to swallowing you whole.

Venom had stopped you, not because they had talked you out of it but more so because you were intrigued by the way they had glided across the ground. Even more so interested by the way the deep onyx goop slid up your hand before sinking into your body.

And you’ve been together ever since, the constant babble of the alien grated your nerves slightly but other than that you’d grown to love having them attached to you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything—

“[Y/Name]?”

You froze, previously having turned away from the scene of Miguel opening a glowing golden portal on the street below your perch to make a swift exit. But his voice had stopped you, and you’re not sure why you had even bothered to halt in your tracks.

“Wonderful,” you spat with toxin, “you remember my name.”

Miguel shouldn’t have been taken aback by your response, and he shouldn’t have been thrown off by your bite. He didn’t deserve to feel confused as to why you had responded to him so aggressively— because he knew why you had.

“Of course I do, I gave it to you.”

“Right,” you replied boredly before you were moving forward intent to leave the conversation there.

“[Y/Name]!” He called, and again you shouldn’t have given him even a second of your time but your broken and guarded heart longing for answers seemed to work your feet for you.

“[Y/Name], keep moving. Or I will. He does not deserve your time. He does not deserve you.”

“Did you ever wonder if I had even survived after you left? Did it ever cross your mind even once if I was still alive?”

“I checked on you regularly.”

“I see, the technology to travel through the multiverse also grants you the ability to peer into the lives of people you have ruined.”

You still hadn’t turned around, refusing to give him any sort of indication that you had actually cared about whatever it was he had to say.

“Look, I-I know that I’ve screwed up. I know that I hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” You chuckled humorlessly, a hitch of pain in your throat and fire on your tongue. “Hurt. Me? You may have before.. but you’ll never hurt me again.”

Venom had come through on the last word, enunciating the end of the sentence with a snarl. Ferocious and purely built from the pure emotional pain they could feel coming from their host.

Miguel subtly flinched at the deep growl in your tone, not enough for you to see but enough of a twitch that your heightened senses had picked up on it.

And you chose that moment to make your escape, stepping forward and utilizing Venom to vanish within the pitch black abyss of the shadows. The added darkness provided by the night sky and waning pale moonlight casting deeper shadows aiding Venom in helping you disappear entirely.

“[Y/Name] wait!—” Miguel reached out expecting to touch flesh but was met with nothing.

He stepped back, looked left then right then both directions once more before he exhaled tiredly and leapt back down to the road below. He lifted the Goblin and threw him in before jumping in himself, the portal closing behind him leaving the desolate street in utter darkness once again.

You had watched, this time from the gargoyle statue attached to the side of the roof’s lip on the building above. Venom formed off your shoulder, their head with white eyes and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth complimented well by the black ink of their exterior. And their head stretched off your shoulder by several tendons and tendrils still attached to your body.

You met his blank, milky white stare as he spoke.

“He will return. Whether he wishes to talk or— something more.. what will you do?”

“I made my feelings clear, if he returns. If I see him in my universe again. We. Kill. him.”

You watched as Venom’s grin grew exponentially at your sinister promise. The ominous threat on Miguel’s life exciting him after all the years of trauma and pain he had inflicted upon their host Venom wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and never let go.

And if granted the opportunity he would seize it with little to zero hesitation.

Every Spider-Man needs a nemesis, no emotionally richer story than having that nemesis be your own daughter.

“You are sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve grown cold. Sinister.”

“I am what he made me.”

—

a/n: I’m a little stoned and had this abrupt idea— 🫢 this is weak and maybe a lil’ cringe.. I know that, I’ll make it legit when I’m not baked 😐👍🏽

#across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #angst #venom x platonic!reader #venom x teen!reader #venom #x teen!reader #x platonic!reader #miguel o’hara x teen!reader

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titanic-angel · 2 years ago

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мιgυel o'нara х F!reader

◥︎ 『 coғғee ︎pт.1 』︎ ◣

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

ѕυммary ➞︎ yoυ вrιng мιgυel coғғee тo нelp нιм тнroυgн a long worĸ nιgнт

warnιngѕ ➞︎ none

noтeѕ ➞︎ part 2 is up ❤︎

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

The evening air was so dry in the summer, and the silence that invited itself into the coffee room buried deep in your skin. The tiles felt cold under your slippers, the setting sun stealing the heat and light from every inch of the room.

You let out a harsh breath, pouring the deep brown liquid into the two cups, staining the white glass with caffeine and steam.

You, Jess, and Peter B had made an agreement since your involvement in the Spider Society had started.

Miguel’s workaholism caused long periods of time, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t even leave his lair, chest deep in his own mind and perfectionism. You all initially believed that his inhumane attributes gave him the stamina to last weeks without rest, but after catching him in deep sleep on his own computer, you realized the goliath wasn’t, in fact, invincible.

So, like any good friends (although Miguel never really used those terms), you took shifts bringing him coffee. With the mugs, Peter and Mayday brought him laughter (all of which was their own, but there wasn’t an indication he didn’t appreciate it), Jess brought him a tough love and a listening ear that fueled his work and you…

Well you weren’t sure what you offered.

You never left without a conversation- and maybe a little coffee yourself. Sometimes he would explain whatever anomaly had taken his attention for the hour, or he would stay silent, listening to you talk about your own day, slightly less exhausting but much more exciting.

Most times, however, you’d give him his coffee, and without saying much, he would look at you.

You are convinced more and more each time that, years ago, his eyes were more brown than they were red. Deep bronze like the color of the coffee in his cup. Younger than they are now. Maybe it was his exhaustion seeping through his irises, but something in the way he looked at you…it felt softer.

Kinder.

You shook off the image as your slippers padded against the hallway marble, the once lively hub now hushed to an empty whisper.

Jess had gone to her universe, undoubtedly resting her weary body, and Peter B eagerly ran home to his beloved red-heads. Homes filled, endlessly, with reunions, warm meals and kisses doused in exhaustion and a love unique to them.

You were happy for them, but you would be lying if you told yourself that you weren’t envious.

Quietly, secretly, you much preferred the hub over your own home, it’s thrum of life filling the emptiness of your crammed apartment. It was depressing to go home to silence after a day of action, which meant many nights you slept in your office, feigning the stress of work and battles to avoid questions from your peers.

You stepped over stray wires and scraps of metal, amongst other abandoned equipment you were sure meant something, once. The dark room was illuminated in neon, flashing lights pulsing across the floor and ceiling.

His gigantic platform came into view, hovering over the pitch floor. The familiar sight of him, surrounded by yellow holograms, greeted your eyes with a brightness that made you squint, vision adjusting to the light.

You caught the butt-end of a conversation, Lyla glitching around his head with attitude. You kept your mouth shut, a little curious to hear their idle chat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Miguel said, flatly.

“Don’t play stupid, I’m an incredibly intelligent A.I. I know fondness when I see it.”

“She brings me coffee- that’s all.”

You paused, muscles tense and the suggestion that they were talking about you.

“I don’t know Miguel~. Peter B and Jess do the same and you aren’t as soft with them.”

“I am not soft!”

“Sure, sure.”

Lyla’s hologram stuttered, and she suddenly focused you. Even from far below, you recognized her mischievous grin.

“Well, I’m feeling awfully tiered. It’s very late y’know! I’ll just let you do your thing!”

“But you don’t-“ Miguel followed her line of sight. He looked down at you with surprise, and you sent him an awkward wave through the cup handle.

“Bye!” Lyla’s drawn out y’s echoed even as she disappeared, Miguel’s hand swiping at the air before she vanished.

He let out a harsh sigh, and you slung up to his platform, handing him a cup. He looked at you again, that faint brown sparkling clearer tonight.

Strange.

“Thank you.”

You nodded, leaning against his table.

“Long night again?” You asked, thumb tracing the smooth glass of the handle.

Miguel nodded, letting another exhausted sigh escape his chest. “Yes.”

You waited for more, but it never came, Miguel shifting near awkwardly as he clicked on the screens with his free hand.

You nodded slowly, taking a sip of your cup. You shuddered, unfamiliar with the pure caffeine. You looked down at your cup, dark brown looking back.

Oh shit.

You watched in short-lived anticipation as he took a sip of your cup. He’s face scrunched in surprise, as if the sweetness of sugar and cream was completely foreign to him.

He looked at you, the red in his eyes more prominent now. Your cheeks strained, but soon the ballon of laughter burst from your chest.

It bounced off the dark walls, echoing around the both of you. You closed your eyes, squeezing out tears as you gripped his desk, laughter shaking your core.

When you regained yourself, you slowly sat up, wiping your wet cheeks and grinning ear to ear. You sighed, small laughs residing with your quickened breath.

“Oh, Miguel you should’ve see your-“

You stopped.

Miguel was smiling.

Well, in the generous sense of the word. Although it wasn’t bright like Peter B’s or gentle like Jess, it was genuine. His eyes crinkled, his lips drawn into a gentle upturn, highlighting his dimples.

Your shocked face must have startled it, because it quickly disappeared, now taught in a hardened, neutral line.

You smiled at him empathetically, slightly guilty you had embarrassed him. You reached out your hand, beckoning your drink.

“Here…let’s switch.”

You fingers brushed at the exchange, and you blushed, the warmth of his skin penetrating your own. If he noticed, he didn’t let it show, taking a quiet sip of his flavorless, bitter coffee.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you, agonizingly different from the laughter just seconds before.

You were beginning to think that he really only was fond of you because you brought him coffee. Sure, you had polite conversation but it never really passed surface level. Not to mention you always initiated it. Maybe Miguel was just playing along, desperately waiting for you to leave him to his work and study.

You sighed, your tone possibly letting on to more than you would’ve liked. You stood, flexing your legs and taking a sip from your cooling coffee, ready to breathe air that wasn’t so endlessly stiff.

“Why- why do you drink coffee with so much sweetness in it?”

You paused, looking at Miguel with surprise. He’d never asked you a question like that. A question about you.

“I uh- well,” you laughed a little bit, still a little startled at the sudden interjection, “black coffee is too bitter for me. The sugar and cream lets me enjoy it.”

“But coffee is meant to energize you, you aren’t supposed to enjoy it.”

You lifted a skeptical brow. “That’s a pretty serious take, don’t you think?”

Miguel paused, lips pressed together in thought before he replied, “I’m a serious guy.”

You laughed, a little quieter now, leaning back onto the table. But this time, closer to him. If you were paying attention, the way his eyes looked at your new position might of told you he noticed.

“I gathered.”

Silence fell over the two of you like a weighted blanket. But now, you had hope that he might want this conversation to continue. That he liked it- you.

“How about this Mr. Serious,” you leaned in, “I’ll give your black coffee another shot if you do the same for my sugar and cream.”

He scoffed, but when the corners of his mouth quirked up you knew the proposition interested him- if only a little bit.

“Absolutely not. I already did try it.”

“First impressions aren’t always accurate, y’know.” You shook your mug, the light brown liquid creating a small whirlpool.

“Try it? For me?”

He glanced at you, and although you thought yourself educated on his eyes and their looks, you were stumped by this one. It was entirely alien to you- there was something in it that you couldn’t place.

You liked it.

He let out a sigh, and held his hand out. You grinned, taking his mug and swapping it for your own.

You both took a sip, and you forced yourself not to wrinkle your nose.

His coffee was extremely bitter- as close as coffee could get to the bean. If his scowl and general demeanor was grown and grind into a beverage, his drink of choice is what it would taste like.

However, it was extremely warm. Somehow it hadn’t cooled off in the fifteen minutes since you had poured it. It’s bitter bliss seeped down your throat and made home in your chest. It was almost calming.

You opened your eyes, surprised to be as content as you were with the drink.

You glanced at Miguel, whose lips were pulled into a tight line. His brows were drawn in thought, eyes glimmering in the hologram light.

“Well?” You asked, rocking on your heels.

“You first.”

You paused, running your tongue over you teeth to remember. “It was a bit gross. But honestly? No bad.”

He nodded, and sighed. “Yours wasn’t….bad either.”

You gasped, a wide smile spreading across your face in stunned victory. “So you liked it.”

“I never said that.” He said, narrowing his brows.

You raised yours. “Didn’t have too.”

He shook his head, handing you the coffee mug. You looked at him as if to ask are you sure? To which he rolled his eyes and pushed it closer to your chest.

You sighed, taking his cup and swapping mugs for the last time. When you looked up at him, sending him a gentle smile, you noticed a thin line of cream that lined his dark lips. You stifled your laughter, stepping forward to a clueless and confused Miguel.

“What are you-“

“Stay put, you have a little-“

You brought your hand up to his face, cradling is course skin under your palm. Your movement stuttered, just for a moment, savoring the feeling of his rough jaw.

You lifted a gentle thumb, your touch but a whisper on his skin as wiped the sweetness from his upper lip. Contrary to his jaw, his lips were soft under your print, molding to your movement with ease.

You imagine they’d taste like coffee.

You paused, your eyes drifting from his lips to his eyes. When they met yours, they were the softest brown you’d ever remember seeing them. It could be how close you were, feeling his slow breath on your nose. It could be how small, short the moment was, catching his facade in a moment of weakness.

But you think, hopefully, foolishly, that it might be how good it felt- to be this close.

You drew your hand away, still staring at the warmth. You settled yourself on the floor, holding your cup with both hands, the once steaming glass now a cold comparison to his face.

“You…you had some cream left on your face.” You laughed weakly, your gaze looking to the side. “I didn’t want Lyla to make fun of you.”

You paused, uncomfortable with the silence your created.

“Sorry.”

Miguel stared at you for a moment, with that same glimmer you couldn’t quite place. He cleared is throat, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips.

“It’s- okay…I-“ He paused, eyes finding your again, “thank you.”

He had whispered, speaking as though if he has said it any louder he would’ve scared you away. It was so- gentle compared to the gruffness of his voice. Warm.

The silence that followed was completely novel from the past dips in conversation. It was full of tension, thick and suffocating. It felt as if you had swallowed cement, every breath trapped in your collarbone and buried in your throat.

You stepped back, your vision so deep in his own- their intensity making it feel as though there wasn’t anything else to look at. Even in their softer colors, they were so deeply overwhelming it felt like they had woken something visceral in you. It wasn’t fear, or terror-

It was fondness.

“Well- I think I need to get my own rest,” you tore your gaze from his, setting your coffee down on the table next to him, “I won’t be needing this- I don’t want caffeine dreams. You’re welcome to finish it- now that you like it. A little.”

You smiled up at him, the thrum of your heart and the heat of your breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, Miguel.”

His chest rumbled, preparing to speak, before he sighed quietly and quickly, another genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Goodnight.”

You took one last look at the brown- intimate and tailored to yours. One look at the coffee cups, different in every sense but comforting none the less.

One look at the man who may have just given you the home you’d been envious of.

As you slung off into the the void, you smiled at it all, welcoming the shudders of warmth that pooled in your stomach at the revelation.

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The next morning, you woke up in your office yet again, the early morning chill crawling up your spine and beckoning you to wake.

The first thing your eyes were met with was your mug, matte in the morning light.

It was empty, a yellow note rested under it.

I didn’t want it to go to waste.

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Part 2

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Part of your world

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Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word count: 4500

Warnings: none

Content: soulmates, longing, loneliness

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“Why hasn’t she shown up for her assignment yet?”, Miguel questioned his AI assistant, tapping his fingers away as he scheduled another spiderman to take up your work.

“Didn’t you hear?”, LYLA asked him.

“Hear about what?”, he turned to her feeling confused.

“She quit.”, LYLA spoke to him as she filed her nails.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”, he grew tense.

“Wait, it’s your job to tell me these things.”, he was annoyed, sure, you skipped out on your task but not having you around him somehow felt more worse.

“I did.”, LYLA yawned feeling unenthused by this conversation.

“You didn’t seem to fret about it too much?”, she continued hopping around him studying expression.

He slumped back into his chair, how had it slipped his mind?

“I sanction the resignations, why wasn’t it passed by me?”, he questioned further. Was there a flaw in the system he didn't know about?

“Because she had a valid reason.”, LYLA searched through her storage to bring up your video.

“I’ve found him, at last. Now I want to embrace a quieter life with him, one that is without all this madness.”, he watched you speak, gesturing to his monitors behind you. His sleep ridden eyes latched onto your face in the recording as though the very sight of you was the remedy for his aching heart.

He could feel his claws take shape, he wanted to go berserk, to trash everything that was in front of him. But seeing the way you sighed, like you had enough, his heart only softened more.

“Tell Miguel I’m sorry.”, was the last he heard your voice before his screen flashed to black. Leaving him to sit in the silence, with the inevitable truth that you had left. You didn’t choose spider society. You didn’t choose him. He hung his head, after years, after being the very reason he set out to enter the multiverse, he didn’t get the only desire he longed for.

He reached for his vial and took a shot, his shoulder stinging with pain, he had to rest or much rather forget. He got up and left, with less vigour than when he arrived, than when he thought he had a chance. Now it was all lost, again, over and over, why couldn’t he have one good lasting moment before it got ripped away from him.

Entering his apartment, he embraced the darkness as he trudged into his room. His suit deactivating to expose his skin to the cold, he didn’t want the warmth, it reminded him of you. But ever since he had seen you, his dreams were replaced with nightmares. Every time he slept, he would wake up in a realm where you were next to him. His dreams of Gabriella and his time as a father was now replaced with his longing for love.

You wouldn’t let him sleep, every move you made he would feel it as though it was real, as though this was his life with your fingers on his cheeks, your body looping in and out of his bed sheets. Your hair spread out on his chest, his heart always skipping a beat when you lifted your head to see him. But he could never hold you close or stop you from leaving.

Nightmares. Like now, your siren like voice telling him to find you, your lips saying sweet nothings as you kissed his forehead and the ease he felt as you ran your fingers through his hair. He was going to go mad at this rate and no amount of his green vials could save him.

He woke up gasping for air as cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He took a few seconds to calm down as he sat in the dark room, alone, pulled away from your touch, the only light coming through the window from the city that never slept, just like him, kept alive by your neon lights. He hid his face in his hands. Desperate, he couldn’t settle or digest the fact that he was going to be lonely, forever.

That is, only if he could find you again. He stopped himself. The fear gripped him. He had already done it before, jumping universes in search of a better life and it ended with him losing his daughter. If he were to try again and as a result lose you completely. His eyes widened, he didn’t know how he would continue to exist.

Atleast now, he looked out at the view, you were happy in someone else’s arms. So he settled into his pillows again, you were better off without having to be with him. But one gnawing question chewed on his self control. Who was this mystery man? This ordinary fool who was lucky to have you?

He retracted and detracted his claws as he couldn’t seem to find an answer instead a solution arose in his mind. He could never live in peace if this question was left unanswered. So knowing the pain that he would carry coming to know that he couldn’t be the one, he needed closure. He got up, activating his suit in the dead of night to grab his gadget and head to where you were.

Your city was quaint, it was unlike Nueva York. He could begin to understand the appeal, as he quietly swung over the roof line, it had a suburbian aspect to it,most of the lights were out, the neighborhood was sleeping and as he got closer to your house, he breathed a sigh of relief. The lights in your living room were turned on. But as he approached the slope of your roof, he spotted another parked car outside your house. It was a utility vehicle with soil bags and horse food in it’s truck. So you fell in love with a farmer. That was the complete opposite of who he was.

Taking in a deep breath, he prepared himself as he got closer to an open window, and there you were. In the warm glow of your lamp, seated on your comfy couch, speaking to this man.

Could Nueva York ever offer you a semblance of the beauty you had here?

The more he watched your mannerisms, it was clear you were having an argument of some kind.

“I gave up the mantle.”, he could hear the agony in your voice.

“Isn’t that enough?”, you held onto the edge of this man’s sleeve.

“I don’t want you to stop being you just so you can be with me, amor.”, he heard the man speak and his heart stopped.

He leaned in and there he was, a version of him, the one who lived in this universe. An ordinary version of himself. You had fallen in love with him, just in another world, he touched the glass as though it was a barrier.

“But you know it’s more than that.”, his version spoke as he pulled away your hands from him to hold it together.

“I just don’t feel the same.”, he placed them on your lap as he took his car keys.

“No, just give it time.”, you got up along with him.

“Just give us time.”, you pleaded but it was falling on deaf ears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Watching him leave and take with him the future you desired.

He hugged you and you were the only one who was an emotional mess. He kissed your forehead and whispered goodbye, leaving you to stand in the middle of your living room like a ghost as the door closed softly while you kept thinking this wasn’t how it was to be. But as the clock struck twelve, you let the sorrow take you as you fell to the ground, weeping.

He wanted to run to you, to hold you and tell you that he did love you, that he would give you all the time in the world. But this was how it was, like the glass layer separating him from you, he will always be outside looking in and never by your side. He heard the vehicle drive away and all he could think was that the version of him who was here had to be the stupidest.

Maybe he could convince his version to come back.

But with the silent night stretching on and your quiet sobs breaking his heart, he wanted to intervene, even when his mind was telling no. He wouldn’t alter your story by involving himself in it. He stilled when an idea came to him.

If he pretended to be this other version … no

He couldn’t pretend anymore, that was what got him into this mess.

But maybe just long enough to ease you. Maybe. Definitely. He swung away in search of a change of clothes, which he found outside someone’s house that was kept out to be taken. He then purchased a roll of bandage from the pharmacy, to put the hand his gadget was on in a cast to disguise it.

He stood outside your door, suddenly nervous to knock, he paused to muse his hair, trying his best to look like the man you had fallen in love with because he knew he was nothing like him.

He knocked and heard you run to the door. It opened to the sound of your voice calling his name and he forgot why he was here. As he crossed the threshold, he could tell this was what his dreams were about, that he too unknowingly had longed for an ordinary life with you. His distant eyes were brought back when he felt you wrap him in a hug. He relaxed into your hold.

“You came back?”, he heard you ask and the breath in his lungs vanished as the warmth of your body seeped through him. This was real.

“I was an idiot.”, he replied.

An idiot to have not told you sooner about your significance in his life.

“I realized the moment you weren’t in my life, oscureció cada rincón de mi universo.”, he let his hand hold you close. All this was his own truth.

“A few seconds away and you’ve turned into a poet.”, you sniffed pushing away from him to see his face again. He was never this eloquent before.

But you brushed it aside, intertwining your fingers with his as you led him to the couch to only then see the cast. “Were you in an accident?”, you asked worriedly.

“No.”, he looked like he was new to your place, observant of your surroundings, of you.

“Just pulled a muscle as I slammed the car door.”, he explained but you could sense that something wasn’t right. The timing of when he left, he would have been half way across the city by now and it would be impossible for him to make a return trip so soon. You leaned towards your blinds and peeked outside, the road was empty. He had walked to your house.

“So you’ve changed your mind?”, you asked him. His eyes now on you as if they were alive with adoration.

“I’ve loved you since the beginning, what is there to change?”, he said lost in the proximity and the color of your eyes. You were caught in a moment and almost felt your soul stir before his eyes widened as though he remembered something and leaned away.

“I mean, what I said before I left doesn’t hold true anymore.”, he clarified himself as he cleared his throat.

You hummed, placing your hand on his cheek to trace your thumb over his top lip, he froze under your touch.

“Where’s your scar gone?”, you asked, now sure about who this was.

“What scar?”, he furrowed his brows and it only confirmed your suspicions.

You reached forward and ripped the bandage to see the multiverse portal gadget on his hand, leaving you both in a state of shock.

“Do you think this is funny?”, you grew tense, but your frustration had found it's breaking point.

“No let me explain – you cut him off.

"For a second I almost believed you.", you pushed away from him as he tried to reach for you, your eyes turning cold and distant.

"Hold on that was the truth – he began to argue but you had no interest to listen to him. This would end in a disaster if he kept popping up into your life.

"I want you to leave,", you walk back to him.

"Go back to Nueva York.", you said as you reached for his gadget to set the coordinates but he pulled away his hand.

"What?", he asked looking baffled.

"Leave. I don’t want you here.", you seethed but you were fighting back tears.

"After what I witnessed? That you were in love with a version of me?", he reached for your hand again, his eyes searching yours.

"No.", he said resolutely.

"Why won’t you just leave me alone?", you pulled away from his touch afraid that it might set of a world ending event.

"Because without you in my life, it withers away.", he said in an outburst which caused you to freeze. Your eyes widened as clutched the side of his head in pain.

"I feel like I’ve told you this before.", he winced and you but you lip.

"You did.", you said softly.

"But I made you forget, in the hopes my departure would not break you.", you found his eyes and you had to look away because they shimmered with the hurt of having been betrayed.

"You did what?", he gasped as he asked.

"Miguel, you are all about the canon. We, are not canon.", you wrapped your arms around you.

He got up and slowly approached you.

"But we are.", he said softly, like that was the reason for everything in his life.

"We are, when we fall in love within our respective universes.", you sniffed, trying to push away the utter hopeless you felt,

"You knew?", he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice, to which you nodded.

"So find my version in your universe and let go of me.", you looked up at him and watched him crumble.

"I can’t.", he said, the edges of his eyes glistening.

"You don’t exist in my universe, the first time that has happened.", he looked away as he explained.

"How do you know?", you asked.

"Cause you were the reason I made this.", he pointed to the gadget in his wrist, your eyes widening at his words.

"To come find you, but when I couldn’t, I settled for a life in another universe that I thought would soothe me, instead I lost it too.", A small tear drop ran down his cheek, breaking to utter bits.

"My logic was right, but his heart wasn’t it in. It’s the first time this has happened too, you rejecting me.", you reached up to wipe his tear, when

"Give me a chance.", he whispered.

You couldn't help but scoff because you knew the life he had to offer.

"You can’t give me something you don’t have?", you told him maintaining eye contact.

"And what is that?", he furrowed his brows.

"A chance to enjoy the mundane.", you replied, now impatient to put this conversation to an end. It had caused enough hurt for the both of you. But he didn't stop.

"Come back with me and I’ll show you", he held out his hand for you, as though it was only your to take.

"Miguel", you tried to protest but he was adamant.

"Just one day.", he pleaded.

"And by the end of it, tell me you felt nothing and I’ll bring you back.", he was being honest.

You looked at his out stretched hand, the hope in his eyes and the years of longing with which he said,

"Just, please.", he took a step closer to you.

You knew how he truly felt about you, because he appeared one night outside your balcony as you were watching the night sky to tell all of it. To tell you that you made his nights torturous with your presence invading his mind. You felt it too, that connection, the tug on your heart everytime he entered the room almost as if there was a thread that pulled you to him.

He was lonely, so were you. Tired of trying to find the other in your own worlds when in the sleepy state you were in, you let yourself lean into his touch. So he pulled you in, his warm body keeping away the chillness of the night. You knew this was going to be a mistake, the stake of the universe hanging over your head. The monitor on your desk had come back with no results, in your search for his version in your universe.

So maybe being here in his arms was the closest you could get. And after endless days craving for him to arrive in your life, maybe you could just enjoy this second. So you pulled him close and kissed him.

Desperate hearts finding solace in the warmth of the other.

But after that, one thing led to another, he carried you as he undid your buttons, you kissed him not wanting to be anywhere else. You had spent the night together and that was the first time you had seen him sleep so peacefully, his hand resting on your back as you rested your head on his chest.

Nothing had happened, the universe didn’t collapse but maybe it was because you hadn’t told him that you loved him. But as you were contemplating on trying it out, you monitor beeped. It's search result coming back with one positive result. And it was brutal the pain you felt, as though it was separating two souls that were one, to leave him behind, to pull away from his arms. But it had to be, your story was never meant to intersect with his.

So you did the most heart breaking thing you had ever done. He had to forget this, forget you, so you placed your finger on his forehead as he stirred awake. His eyes lighting up the moment they spotted you, his mouth opening to tell you that he loved you but you couldn’t let it happen. Not now after you knew this was going to break the canon storyline. You activated your telepathic powers and watched as his words turned into a whisper as he was put into another sleep. When he woke up again, he would have no recollection of all this.

But now as he stood before you, with the same agonizing expression, you couldn’t find the strength to tell him no. Not when after everything, you were both alone again.

“Fine. One day.”, you said subduing your fears as to what the outcome might be.

All you craved now was to just be by his side and as you took his hand, there it was, that resurgence within you, that spark, one you did not feel with his version in your world.

The moment you got back, he was pulled away for work and so were you. But he didn’t let go of you, he had you next to him as he slotted the assignments while you both enjoyed a late brunch to take out noodles. He was laughing, making jokes, and the very essence of his joy lightened you up as well. Swiftly using his chopsticks, he held out a piece of honey chicken up to you, as if this was how it had always been. You and him sitting in his office whiling away time. You leaned in to take a bite, you were sure he never shared his meals with anyone else before.

Overseeing spider society’s progress demanded he got out of his office and so he took you with him. Although you were both indulged in doing your jobs, it felt fun doing it together. He instructed the new recruits while you pointed them towards their allotted sections. As he spoke to them, he would sneak glances at you, reminding himself of your presence and that was enough to get him going.

The latter part of the day was spent catching criminals here in Nueva York and a couple anomalies from a few other universes. But it was different than what you had thought it would have been, a life with him. It was well balanced. Sweet in the slow moments, thrilling in the adventurous journeys and mostly, less lonely. That in his soft touches and murmurs, you could feel your heart had found a home in his.

The day was coming to an end. He didn’t need to remind himself of it, because you hadn’t told him of your decision yet. So he got you some ice cream before he took you to the highest point in Nueva York, so that your final moment could just be with him.

It was surprising, he knew everything about you, what you liked, what you disliked and unlike the menacing image he had instilled in everyone’s mind, he showed you his truest nature. One that was gentle, kind and nurturing. All your favourite qualities. The city looked tiny below you as he found his spot next to you. The sky a painting of orange and pink as you thought of what you were going to do.

“Why did you make me forget?”, he turned to you.

You popped the end of your waffle cone into your mouth as you told him, “I kissed you and I didn't want to hurt you.”

He gave you a nod, his eyes looking away at the distant view before finding yours again.

“Right and I,”, he paused, his gaze well aware of what had happened between you two. You nodded in response, dusting your hands.

“It's all coming back to me now.”, he said softly and it reopened the hurt you felt.

“I didn’t mean to erase our time together, Miguel.”, you inched closer to him.

“I was sure it was you, but then that was when I had found him and I was scared,”, you couldn’t face him, you couldn't finish the sentence.

“You were scared you would destabilize the universe.”, he held his hands together.

“I've been there.”, he sighed.

“How cruel,”, you laughed pushing away his wind swept hair.

“Fated but just but of reach.”, you said to which e huffed a laugh too as his expression sobered when his eyes found yours.

The sun was now a red ball of fire descending into the horizon as his hand inched closer his pinky finger touching yours.

“So what’s it going to be?”, he asked turning to you, asking you how you felt about this day, if was enough to give you a taste of everything he had to offer.

“I… I liked today.”, you said sheepishly but there was line you couldn't cross.

“Maybe we could be friends?”, you suggested, to which he vehemently declined.

“That won’t do.”, he smiled.

“I want you constantly. In my arms, in my head, in my bed, everywhere.”, he gestured with his hands, as though being high in the sky deemed him confident enough to spill his secrets.

“Ah then I’m afraid the canon universe is going to crumble.”, you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“I’m afraid so.”, he said with a sad smile.

As the stars began to descent into the twilight sky, he just couldn’t seem to let you go. If that kid got away with breaking canon events and did his own thing.

What’s to say he couldn’t?

He looked at you, he wasn’t doing anything too drastic. A sense of resolve settled over him. He took your hand in his. This felt good and solid and true. So maybe, it was just his own thinking that was stopping him.

“But what if we did?”, he asked.

You didn’t want to leave, this was the life you were trying to mimic, back in your universe but you couldn’t happened because it needed him, the man who held your hand as his eyes mirrored the sky.

“What?”, you asked not quite following his train of thought.

“See where this goes?”, he answered to which you laughed.

“Miguel o’hara wants to break the canon, LYLA would have a fit of she could hear this.”, you continued.

“I’m being serious.”, he got you to look at him as you stilled.

Maybe you had gotten it wrong. You had kissed him and nothing had happened. He said he loved you and the world didn’t end. So maybe, you were searching for the wrong man. Maybe he had been right in front of you this whole time.

“And what is your reason to wreck the universe this time?”, you smiled as you caressed his cheek. His eyes softening as he felt your touch.

“I just really want to kiss you.”, he whispered and with the he guided your chin towards him to place his lips on yours.

Your heart was in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid that if you opened them you might see him vanish. He held your hand tight, as though you were the only one that could offer him solace in his fears. A few seconds passed and he pulled away to see you, to check if everything was lost. But it hadn't, everything remained the same. The soft wind rustling your hair, the gentle moonlight illuminating his face as the night sky provided you with the cover to truly enjoy the meaning of this revelation.

That you were meant for each other.

“The world is still intact?”, he asked holding onto the side of your face.

“I believe so.”, you mumbled, now only wanting to crawl up into his arms.

He hummed as he picked you up in joy. To then seat you on his lap to face him, this was how it had been that night, irresistibly drawn to each other because your hearts were tied together. Now there was no need to run.

“No sabes lo feliz que me hace oírte decir eso.”, his hand found the back of you neck while you leaned closer to seal any gap between you and him. Your hands sprawled across his chest as he pulled you in.

“I might had an idea.”, you smiled and that small gesture was enough for him to find your lips again in a passionate kiss, because he wasn’t going to be alone anymore, all his sacrifices had led him to you.

“I’ve always longed to be a part of your world.”, he spoke in between his kisses, as he continued till he sat back breathless.

You looked down at his flushed cheeks as he gasped for air but didn't want to let go as though he didn’t want to waste another second of this new found life.

You didn’t want to either, so you pulled him by the collar of his suit and kissed him again beneath the starlit sky.

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