#miguel o'hara oneshot

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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[feralgirlfeelings]

miguel o'hara breeding kink smut cause i'm ovulating rn

pairing: miguel o'hara x female reader

tags: established relationship, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, little bit of dumbification, little bit of orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex, female reader, afab anatomy, dom!miguel, oneshot

SO NSFW. minors dni!

spanish to english translations are at the bottom :)

word count: 992

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

he has you lying down with your ass up, pillow under your hips, and a firm grip on your hips. he whispers sweet nothings into your ear and about how much he wants to fuck you.

miguel slides his thick, hard cock in between your folds, soaking in your wetness, before lining himself up at your entrance. he slowly pushes into your tight cunt.

"fuuuck, i missed this," miguel groans, holding back the urge to plunge deep inside you. you bury your face into the sheets as you feel the mild ache of being stretched out. he continues to slide in until he reaches the hilt, his tip pushing against your cervix.

he pauses to give you a moment to adjust to his girth. you feel so full, you can barely breathe. "go slow miguel, you're too big," you whine.

he chuckles, "lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño." he starts to pump into you, straining to keep a slow pace. your heavy breaths and soft moans fill the room.

as he slowly thrusts his dick into your tight cunt, the previous sting of being stretched transforms into a throbbing pleasure.

you feel a coil start to form in your lower abdomen and your moans start to get louder, his gentle pace no longer being enough for you. "mm, fuck me harder, miguel," you plead.

"anything for you, my princesa." he tightens his grip on your hips as he drags his dick out until his tip is just slightly kissing your entrance. he then slams his hips against you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your stomach.

you weren't prepared for the sheer power that this man is fucking you with. he thrusts into you at a dizzying pace and you can barely choke out his name.

"te sientes tan bien." he slaps your ass, delivering a sharp sting that makes you inhale sharply, "fuck you're so tight." he grabs your asscheek, groaning at the site of himself sliding in and out of you.

you moan in response, barely comprehending what he was saying. you were so fucked out of your mind and could only focus on the orgasm that you were so close to having.

just as you feel yourself almost reach your peak, miguel pulls out, leaving you empty. your poor walls clench around nothing. "miguel!" you whine in protest, "put it back in!"

he grabs your hips and flips you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. "i want to see your pretty face when you cum." he separates your folds with his cock, rubbing against your sensitive clit. you wrap your arms and legs around him and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, before plugging you back up again.

all you can do is mumble his name over and over again as he continuously rams into you. every pump delivering mind-numbing pleasure. the orgasm you were robbed of had crept back, and once again you felt a tightness in your stomach.

"i'm gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you," he groaned in between the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your soft flesh.

his words drive you crazy. the thought of being stuffed full of miguel's hot, thick cum brought you closer to the edge. he knows you're close, so he pounds into you faster and harder, chasing your release.

pressure builds until you feel the tension wound in your stomach burst. you cry out his name as your walls contract and you cream around his cock. he groans at the feeling of the added slick and your pussy squeezing around his dick.

he doesn't stop after you come down from your high. "you did so good, mami," he whispers in your ear, "ahora es mi turno." he holds you in place by your hips and fucks his dick into you, driven by a primal desire to fill you with his seed.

you're overstimulated and fucked out, your body limp and your eyes rolled back. all you could think about was how badly you wanted to be bred by miguel. "m-miguel," you stutter, "breed me. p-please."

"te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada. you're gonna make such a pretty mommy. f-fuck—" his thrusts get more erratic as he inches closer to his peak. he groans out your name before slamming your hips down onto his dick. he shutters as he releases thick ropes of cum into your desperate cunt, flooding your velvety walls. all you manage to do is let out some strained moans. nothing mattered more in that moment than you taking his seed. he makes sure to stuff his cum deep inside you, his tip jamming the entrance to your fertile womb. he pauses for second to catch his breath, before slowly rolling his hips, just to make sure he gave you every last drop.

he stops thrusting and collapses on top of you, but keeps you plugged up with his dick. his excess seed starts to dribble out of you. you're both panting, sweaty, and exhausted. he moves the hair out of your face and meets your lips with his for a gentle kiss. "look what you do to me. me vuelves loco, cariño,"

you let out a weak giggle, "you want my babies?" you ask playfully. you tangle your fingers in his hair, lazily combing through his messy locks.

"yeah," he returns a chuckle, "you're too pretty to not breed." he starts peppering your face and neck with pecks. "eres mi bonita esposa."

"i think you'd make a great father," you smile warmly and interlock your fingers with his. "you know...usually it takes a few tries before it takes."

"oh?" he asks amusingly, "well, i guess i'll have to fill you up again."

you feel his dick start to harden again inside of you. you brace yourself for another round.

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

translations: ("lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño" -> "you're doing so good, sweetheart") ("te sientes tan bien" -> "you feel so good") ("ahora es mi turno" -> "it's my turn now") ("te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada" -> "i'm gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck you till you're pregnant") ("me vuelves loco, cariño" -> "you drive me crazy, sweetheart") ("eres mi bonita esposa" -> you're my pretty wife")

hope you enjoy!!! >:0 btw this is my first time writing a fic that included dialogue in spanish, so idk if things are all well-written or gramatically correct. i tried to take some tips from spanish-speaking miguel o'hara enjoyers, but if anyone wants to correct anything or give me tips, i'm super super open to it!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #spider man 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #female reader

[nezuscribe]

𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

summary: he’s just too pretty for somebody so stoic. thankfully he’s able to show off for you, knowing just how much you like it. he’s just so easy on the eyes

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, teasing from miguel, not proofread so sorry for any typos 

there’s just something irresistible about miguel o’hara. he knows it. it’s a fact so sure as day that a part of his own hidden cockiness comes from the fact that he feels the eyes travel across the large span of his body, taking in his sheer size as they dart away when he catches them staring. 

but despite the fact that his enormous ego (and his even bigger attitude) derive from some of this attention, there’s really only one person who he cares for to seal the deal. 

you were so nice to him, a large smile greeting him whenever he came into work. it was off putting at first; how somebody could be so cheerful in the morning when everybody seemed to move as though awoken from the dead. 

but slowly you warmed up to him, and he doesn’t know why, but he knows that he treats you differently than the rest of them. 

his words were softer when they were directed at you, a rare and honestly almost non-existent smile on his face whenever you told him about what you had planned for the rest of his week with such excitement that he almost forgot what his job was. 

and he’d be lying if he didn’t say that the way you looked up at him with so much admiration and care in your eyes didn’t do anything to him. he’d also be a blind man if the way you gnawed on your lip, cheeks puffing out in jealously when one of the assistants blatantly flirted with him didn’t send blood rushing straight to his dick.

so it was no surprise that “meetings” in his office became more and more frequent, his paperwork skewed to the side as he made room for you on his desk, your legs wrapping around his waist as you hungrily kissed him like you hadn’t seen him in weeks (it’s been days since you last saw him).

“missed you,” you murmured against his skin, tugging his suit down as he made quick work at throwing your blouse to the side, expertly opening up your bra clasp with one hand as he moved back up to press a sloppy and wet kiss to your lips, nodding feverishly in agreement.

it didn’t take long for him to tug your pants and underwear off, groaning at the slick that connected to your panties, the smell almost knocking him to his knees as you waited (somewhat impatiently given your stance) for him to do what he wanted with you.

“f-fuck,” you whimper into his skin, tears filling up your waterline as he slowly and in a calculated manner drags his arms down your torso, his claws drawing out goosebumps in their wake, “hurry up.” you groan, impatient at the obvious way he’s edging you. 

he flashes you his fangs in a faux debonair smile, a strand of his hair falling into his face as he looks up at you, his large hands holding your mound are you writhe in pure need. 

“needy much?” he muttered, pressing hot kisses just above your clit, where he knows it’s going to drive you crazy, “my pretty girl’s already too dumbed out to answer, hm? haven’t even done much yet sweetheart, y’know?” he mutters, his fingers making obscene sounds as they slowly enter in you with much ease, seeing how you were already dripping seeing him in that ridiculously tight suit. 

you watch him from under your lashes, your mouth watering at the sight in front of you. 

he cocked a brow, noticing just how much you were watching him, more than usual, and he smugly grinned as your nose scrunched up in annoyance and embarrassment, throwing an arm across your face to hide from his heated gaze. 

“can i help you hermosa?” he traveled upward with a small tap on your clit, moving his fingers to grasp your chin, tilting your head upwards to meet his eyes, blown out in sheer need and want for you as his nose bumps against yours. 

“pretty,” you murmured against his lips, feeling the plushness of them against your own as your hands moved up to feel the large expanse of muscle, your nails raking down his skin, leaving light marks in a sort of territorial manner, “so handsome miguel.” you say, and although others have said the same thing, it only mattered when it came from your mouth.

he chuckled, pecking your lips as he moved slightly downward, angling your jaw up with his nose as he found purchase on your neck, inhaling in your scent as he almost went delirious. 

“you butter me up too much sweetheart, ‘specially when you’re lookin’ like this in front of me.” he murmurs, a bit in awe and never getting tired of this as he pumps himself a little bit, too amped up to wait that much longer.

sweet, you always smelled so fucking sweet.

he made haste at biting and sucking, your whines only going straight to his hard cock, making it ache in leak in pre as he marked up your chest, tits, rolling your nipples between his shark teeth as you moaned out pathetically for him. 

he was gorgeous like this; his lips swollen and red, cheeks pink as eyes estranged as he marked you all for himself. he was always like this after a mission, no matter how well it went. all that pent up frustration and adrenaline would be directed to you, and you had absolutely no qualms with that. 

his fingers found your fluttering walls and found them even wetter than before, knowing you too needed him just as bad as he needed you, and he waisted not a second more as he lined his angry tip with your pretty pussy, moaning like he was in heat at the feeling, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last that long in you, especially after not seeing you for as many days as he was gone. 

“i’m ready m-miguel, just please fuck me, p-please.” you whisper, your hands finding his dick as you guided him in, the two of you moaning and throwing your heads back in pleasure as he begins to sink into your warmth. 

“my girl,” he says, his thumb finding your swollen clit as he rubs, picking up his pace after a few seconds of letting you adjust to his size, “my girl.” he says again, but his grip tightens on your hip at his possessive tone. he missed you just as much as you missed him, and he needed for you to know that even if he’s not the best with words. 

his dick rubs along your walls, dragging in and out at the most delicious pace, hitting that spot that makes your walls tighten around him and your legs to wrap around his waist to pull him in even more. 

there was no space in between you two, your heavy and hot breaths hitting each other as you feverishly kiss him again, needing to be connected with him in every way possible, moaning against his lips as he angles himself just right to hit your sweet spot in an even better way. 

“s’good, so good, mhh fuck!” you whine, nails digging into his shoulder, your lips catching between his sharp teeth, piercing the soft skin just enough to draw a little blood, and he grins at the sight. 

“you’re doin’ great babe, perfect for me, god,” his voice is rough, raspy as he feels his release coming at such speed, “you’re mine, need so much.” he mutters and you nod, throwing your head back in clear pleasure, letting him lick a strip up your neck, his pace quickening as the two of you reach your highs. 

he pulls out just in time, finishing in spurts across your chest, and you spasm, missing his dick as you clutch onto his biceps to steady yourself, back arching at the feeling that nobody else but him could give you. 

your chests move in synch, trying to catch your breaths as sweat dots your forehead, coming back from your high as you smile at him, feeling a swell of pride knowing that he only lets you see him in such a debauched way. 

“i’ll have lyla clear my schedule for the day,” he tells himself, glancing over at you as he pulls you closer to his chest as he runs his finger to your lips, grinning at how pliant you are, letting him drop a wad of spit onto your tongue, waiting for his next words as he moves his finger down, tapping your chin to close, “need to show you just how much i missed you.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x you smut #miguel o'hara smut #spider man: into the spider verse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot

[buckys-lover]

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

You’re coming back from a successful mission with Peter (Spiderman 9411). You were able to stop and capture an anomaly, a variation of Doc Ock, and send them back to their original universe. Upon your return, you make your way to HQ to brief Miguel on what happened. Everything was going fine. You and Peter were laughing and joking around together while giving report, just having a good time.

Meanwhile, Miguel was watching you both intently, narrowing in on the way that Peter casually touches you, the way he looks at you, the smile that reaches his eyes when he’s around you. Miguel was always suspicious that there was something going on between you two. A week ago, his suspicion was confirmed when Lyla mentioned that you two slept together (even though you made her promise not to tell anyone). And he couldn’t stand it.

He keeps his tone clipped and cold. Simply saying you did a good job before dismissing you. You and Peter turn to leave, but Miguel speaks up, telling you to stay behind. You don’t think much of it; after all, you were one of the few people Miguel was close to. Maybe he just wanted to discuss something unrelated. You tell Peter to head out and you’ll catch up with him later. The doors shut behind him, and you can hear them lock. The room is silent except for the occasional beeps and replays of other missions on the screens. Miguel doesn’t say a word as he steps off the platform and walks toward you. Tension lingers in the air as you face each other.

He's the first to break the silence, “What’s going on with you and Peter?”

You’re a bit taken aback, confused about where this was coming from, “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “No me mientas cariño; I’m not blind!”

“Miguel, no sé de que estás hablando.” But you do know. And it’s becoming evident that Lyla snitched on you.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice hardens, and he comes closer, “Answer me.”

You’re starting to get fed up with his attitude. What you and Peter do is none of his business, and you place a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but he’s firm in place.

He grabs your wrist and leans down, a harsh whisper in your ear, “Tell me, what does he have that I don’t?”

It hits you then, and you pull back, narrowing your eyes at him, “Estás celoso?” You scoff in disbelief when you finally take notice of his jealousy. You honestly want to laugh, but the look on Miguel’s face lets you know that’d be a bad idea.

“You didn’t answer me.” He huffs.

You decided then to stoke the flames, “Let’s find out.” Maybe he’d finally cut through the tension and get to what you know you’ve both been craving.

Your heart races as the tension between you reaches its peak. With a daring glance, you take a step closer to Miguel, bodies almost touching. Your eyes lock, and the air crackles with anticipation.

You take in the way his pupils dilate at your words as he leans in, your lips mere millimeters apart, teasingly close. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” He murmured, voice heavy with need.

His admission sends shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your chest. You've wanted this for a long time, and nothing's stopping you now. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the remaining distance between your lips. Mouths colliding in a passionate and urgent kiss, all your pent-up desires finally unleashed.

Your bodies mold together as your tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting each other with a fervor born of longing. Miguel's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you even closer while your fingers weave through his hair, tugging gently.

Breaking the kiss, your heavy breaths mingle in the air, eyes locked with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"Don't hold back, Miguel. Enseñame. Show me you're better." Your thighs clench when you hear his growl in response.

Your lips soon meet again in a hungry, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for far too long. As your bodies press against each other, your hands begin to explore, tracing the contours of each other's forms. Miguel's touch is possessive, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations on your skin.

You’re backed up against the console as Miguel's lips descend upon your neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He revels in the soft gasps that escape your lips.

He lifts you and lays you down; you can feel the coldness of the metal through your suit. His lips are still on your neck, and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your delicate skin. Without warning, he bit you, drawing blood. You gasped at the sensation, feeling his tongue soothe over the bite marks that were already beginning to heal.

“Your biting kink is showing.” You tease, still enjoying the residual sting of it.

“I don’t have a-- shut up.” He growled the words into your neck before biting you again. It was obvious that it was something he enjoyed. A way to mark you up and make it clear who you belong to now.

“Te ves tan hermosa así.” He whispers as he pulls away, eyes glued on your neck, giving a hum of satisfaction over the way you look after he’s staked his claim on you.

You watch him as he brings his hand to your collarbone, tracing the marks gently with his claws before he hooks it under the neck of your suit. You hear it first. The sound of the threads tearing before the feel of cool air.

He ripped your suit. He ripped your fucking spider suit. “Miguel!” The shock evident in your voice as he’s practically torn the suit off your body. He meets your gaze, showing no signs of remorse for what he just did. “No te preocupes preciosa. I’ll make you a new one, a better one.”

You huff at his words; you really liked that suit. But your protest quickly dies down the moment you feel his lips on your bare chest. He’s taking his time with you, marking you up as much as he possibly can. Lips latching onto your nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking while his hand gives attention to your other breast. Your back is arching, trying to get as close to his mouth as possible, reveling in the feeling of him sucking and nibbling your sensitive skin.

“Love these fucking tits.” He whispers against your skin as he holds them in his hand, loving the softness of them and how you react. You need him desperately as his kisses and bites travel further down your body. You’re squirming under his touch, and once his lips meet the apex of your thighs, you buck your hips up into him. Your fingers make their way into his hair, tugging him so he places that sinful mouth where you need him most.

“Por favor Miguel,” You can barely think straight with the way he’s looking at you. “Necesito…” Your words trail off. He looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Qué necesitas?”

You groan in frustration, tugging his hair again to show him what you mean. He just shakes his head at you, not willing to budge until he hears you beg for him. He’s waiting. Patiently. You know Miguel, and he’d wait forever just to prove a point.

You finally give in, “Miguel, please, need you so bad.” He tilts his head, still waiting expectantly; he needs to hear more. He needs to hear how desperate you are for him.

“Ay por Dios! Miguel, I can’t wait any longer. Please- need you…need your mouth. Anything!” You’re whining at this point, and can’t believe how pathetic you sound. But it was enough. That’s what he needed to hear before finally giving you what you craved.

He has your thighs tight in his grip, spread apart in front of him. You meet his hungry stare as his lips latch onto your pussy, sucking at your clit. Your hips buck up, grinding onto his face as a needy moan escapes your lips. He groans, enjoying the pressure, tongue lapping up your juices.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet~ could eat you for days…and so wet; todo para mi, amor?” He’s on a high, whining the words into you. Craving you and the way you feel with his mouth on you, trying to keep you close as possible.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you try your best not to crush his face. He takes notice and shakes his head. His grip tightens and presses you closer to him as if he wanted to confine himself in the slice of heaven you carry between your legs. And, God, it feels good. He’s watching you, observing the way you toss your head back in pleasure, how your free hand tries grasping at anything to ground you, the way your body shivers at his touch; he’s learning your every movement, committing your body to memory.

"Need you, such a good fucking pussy- so good…eres mía, solo mía.” The sounds he makes are obscene and he’s rambling, showering you in praise while drunk on the taste of you.

You’re squirming against him, not much movement granted as large hands are holding you down, eating you like a man starved. As if he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Miguel~” Your voice strained, barely able to speak and tell him that you’re close, so embarrassingly close.

“C’mon, be a good girl ‘n cum for me.” He encourages, tongue flicking at your clit to bring you closer to the edge. You gasped as you felt Miguel running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you before working their way inside your weeping cunt, curling up and hitting that spot inside that has you seeing stars. Your grip is still tight in his hair, thighs quivering as your orgasm washed over you, the sensation rippling throughout your whole body.

You’re vaguely aware of Miguel pulling away as you’re coming down from your high, blissed out and hazy. It felt like you ascended to the heavens. In your daze, you look at him, noting the arrogant smirk on his face and his fingers glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning contently at the taste of you.

“I’m guessing Peter could never make you feel this way, huh?” He’s right, and he knows it. But you couldn’t help but want to push his buttons.

You hum in response, “Mm, he was pretty good with his tongue too.” Teasing, waiting for him to react. And you see it; the way his body language changes in an instant at your insinuation.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs and gripping your chin to look him in his eyes, glowing red with anger, “You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

“Or what? Qué vas a hacer Miguelito?”

Miguel narrows his eyes at the provocation, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Ten cuidado, preciosa,” He hisses through gritted teeth as he leans in. His grip tightens, keeping his gaze set on you. “Sigue hablando y verás.” And just like that, his attitude changes on a dime, the anger in his eyes replaced by a hungry glint, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leans closer to you. You barely take the time to notice that his suit is disappearing as if it were a hologram or nanotech, leaving him naked. You feel his length press up against you, and your eyes widen in shock. He’s big. Already hard and aching for you and you feel his precum drip against the inside of your thigh. You can’t help but wriggle your hips, desperate to feel him closer. “Look what you do to me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he grinds against you. Your eyes take their time looking down. Taking in everything that’s him. His broad shoulders, rippling muscles, chiseled abs; it’s insane how strong he is. You shiver at the thought of what he’s capable of. Your gaze dips further, following his happy trail down just as he’s started teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, “Been waiting for this,” He groans, eyes shining with excitement, “No tienes idea querida.” "Bet it won’t compare, huh?” He asks, still painstakingly teasing you, “Bet it’ll feel so much better than all the times I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you and this pretty little pussy.” You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing, waiting in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. He laughs at your desperation. “Sabías eso, amor? Fantasized about you all the time, about you being mine. Solo mía.” He punctuates that final proclamation by finally entering you. He was taking his time, the stretch of him inching in was a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It was too much; you could begin to see him bulge through your stomach, and you shake your head, not believing that he could possibly get in deeper. “Shh, just take it.” He sighed his words, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him. “No puedo Miguel-” You gasp as you finally feel him fully press up against you. You’re so full you can barely breathe. Instinctually you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him still while you adjust to his size. He pressed his hand against your navel, pushing down slightly, feeling himself. His eyes roll back at the sensation as a groan escapes his lips, wanting desperately to live in this moment forever. "Mírate." He urges, kissing your cheek. “Mira que bien nos vemos juntos, amor.” You listen to him, looking down at where you’re joined, and you squeeze at the sight of it. You rock your hips against him, letting him know it's okay to move, and he pulls out a little before pressing back in, making you moan while he sighs contently. “Look at how well you’re taking me, like you were made for me. Only for me."

The tenderness of his words was contrasted by the roughness of his movements as he began snapping his hips against yours. “So tight,” his words coming out through a strained growl while pounding into you.  “Dios! You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Feels so good, Miggy-” Tossing your head back as you moan out, pleasure engulfing you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper. His next thrust was a little more brutal, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs.

“Así mi vida, así.” He growled, baring his fangs in a pleasureful grin. "Look at me." You look up at him immediately, moaning his name loosely at the feeling of him so deep inside you. So deep and big and full.

You can barely hold his gaze, trying desperately to resist the urge to roll your eyes back every time you feel him thrust back into you. You reach forward, nails digging into his bicep, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“C’mon, you can take, can’t you?” He mocks you, his tone condescending, enjoying the way that he has you craving him. “Esto es lo que querías, verdad? But now look at you, can barely handle it-” His words cut off by a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.

He’s right, you don’t know how much more of this you can take as your legs begin to shake and you feel yourself quickly approaching orgasm again. Desperate hands gripping onto the flesh of your hip as he ruts into you. You let out a wanton moan as he slams home again, pulsating around him. “Cuéntale,” His grip on you tightens, sure to leave bruises by the time he’s done with you, “Cuéntale que soy mejor que él.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re nodding your head, babbling incoherently, not even aware of anything you’re really saying. He grins, knowing you’re close, and his ego soars at being able to get you there so soon. He groans as he feels you tighten around him; your eyes shut tight, and your body quivers from the intensity as your climax overwhelms you.

He slows down, trying to give you a moment to come down from your high in an effort to avoid overstimulating your senses. Soon, your body begins to relax as you’re grounded once again in reality. Your eyes are glossy with welled-up tears, and you offer Miguel a blissful smile.

“C’mon Miggy, thought you wanted to show me you’re better, I expected more from you-” You’re breathless as you speak, and it’s obvious to him that you’re just trying to egg him on, but he falls for it anyways. In an instant, he stopped his movements. His red eyes have never looked so menacing before and your breath caught in your throat. Without speaking, he pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact.

He ignores your objection, opting to manhandle you, forcing you to turn around. He presses you down against the console, ass exposed to him. You put up a struggle in vain as he grabs your arms and pulls them back. You soon feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them. He webbed you. Effectively keeping you bound with something you couldn’t possibly hope to escape from. You felt him yank back on the binding, your hands resting above the small of your back. You hissed at the aching pain, but it was soon replaced by a moan of desperation when you felt the plush tip of his cock line up with your entrance. You expected him to tease you again, to make you beg for it, but Miguel was feeling merciless now. He drove into you without warning, making you take it as deep as he could possibly go. And at this new angle, you swear he was hitting your cervix. Your mouth opened in quiet ecstasy as he had his way with you. He kept your wrists behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped firmly on your hip; you were sure that by the end of the day you’d have bruises on your hips in the shape of his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours, pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult to have a single coherent thought other than wanting more. Miguel’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster in this new position.

"That's better- fucking ruined and creaming on my cock. Who else can fuck you like this? No one, huh? Not Peter, not Ben, no one; only me.”

You’ve given in now, effectively broken, and all the brattiness you had left in you is gone, "Nadie! Nobody- just you, only you can fuck me like this." You choke out, legs trembling, pleasure coursing through you.

"That's right. You’re mine; mine to touch, to taste, to fuck- all mine." He harshly slaps your ass to emphasize his words. You squeal at the contact of his palm on the soft flesh, enjoying the sting it offers.

“Solo tuyo amor.” The words escape your lips in a breathless sigh, your mind hazy, dizzy with desire.  

He’s all you can think of; your senses overwhelmed by everything that’s him. The way he’s holding on to you, the way he feels aggressively pumping inside you, the grunts and groans he makes that are music to your ears. You’re delirious, unable to remember what your life was like before being here with him. Miguel reaches forward, lightly slapping your cheek. “Open up, sweetheart.” You oblige without a second thought, letting his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Who knew a single word could have you clenching so tight around him? A whimper leaves your lips as you obey his command, getting his fingers slick and wet with your spit. Too soon, he removes them from your mouth, and his fingers make their way down to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles to get you even closer to the edge.

“Uno más querida, solo uno más.” He urges as he speeds up his movements. You’re grinding onto his hand, eagerly chasing your release, having lost count of how many times he has had you come undone.

This one hits you like a freight train, full speed ahead. You swear you black out for a moment, your body buzzing and pulsing with a delightful and all-engulfing pleasure. You’re strung out, not offered a break as Miguel keeps pushing into you.

“Quiero verte Miguel, porfa~” You sob your words out from the overwhelming power of your orgasm, trying to turn your head to see the man who has wrecked you so thoroughly.

Slowing down, he listens to your plea and grants your wish, “Nunca te voy a negar.” Before you know it, he’s torn the webbing off your wrists with his claws and turns you around, having you once more on your back, legs spread open, welcoming him in again.

He slips back into your weeping cunt with ease, resuming his brutal pace as he tries to reach his climax. He grips onto the soft flesh of your thigh, claws slightly digging in as you wrap your legs around him, securing his spot inside you.

"Dime que soy tuyo." He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

"Eres mío, Miguel-" You gasp, raking your nails down his back to prove it, marking him as yours. "Mine, mine; solo mío amor"

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. "That's right. I’m all yours,” His eyes flickered down to the place where your bodies met. Watching your pussy take him in over and over again. “Let me give you all of me- wanna fill you up.”

You unashamedly whimpered at his words, “Please, please Miguel-” Your words are starting to slur as you begin to beg him.

"Please, what? You losin' your words, now? So drunk on my cock you can't think straight?" He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. Rubbing tight circles on your bundles of nerves that have been exploited for the sake of your pleasure. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.

You’re almost in disbelief that you got there so quick, but with Miguel, it was like he knew your body inside and out, understanding exactly what you needed and giving you so much more.

He’ll never get over it. The way you tighten and pulse around him, the way your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip, making it harder for him to hold off his own release. The way your eyes roll back and the heavenly sounds that leave your mouth. He wants to make you feel this good for the rest of your lives. "Ay Dios— You're so pretty when you cum all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings on fire.    "Fuck, gonna fill you up- that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum? Want me to breed you?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as his groans reverberate against your skin. You feel him twitch inside you as he pushes in deeper, emptying himself inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth, trying his best to not let a single drop go to waste.

He pulls back, arms braced on both sides of your head, caging you in. He meets your gaze, the red of his eyes barely visible anymore, hooded and glazed over from the feeling of you still squeezing him tight, keeping him locked in. When the haze subsides, his shoulders relax a bit, drawing closer to you. Miguel’s barely audible when he finally speaks again, but you hear his words anyways.

“Aunque tu vuelvas con él, dame otra noche.” There’s a hint of pain in his eyes, unsure of whether any of this actually meant anything to you.

Your heart aches at the allusion that you’d want anyone other than him, and you bring your hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek, “Miguel, t�� sabes que no voy a volver con él, soy tuya, recuerdas? Only yours.”

Relief washes over him as one of his rare smiles graces his face at your words, “Te quiero como a ninguna.” He murmurs as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls away, the start of another sentence on the tip of his tongue, but he’s soon interrupted.

With a flicker of yellow light, Lyla appears beside Miguel. “Took you two long enough! Was wondering when you’d finally admit your so very obvious feelings for each other.” She rolled her eyes behind her pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. “You’re welcome, by the way, this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t snitch about you smooshing booties with Peter.” She adds, beside you now, close to your ear as if trying to whisper. “Lyla!” You swat your hand at her, embarrassed by the thought that she was aware of everything that just happened and mentioning the reason why this all transpired in the first place.

“Alright, alright,” She throws her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but you owe me for this!” With those final words, she disappears.

Your gaze meets Miguel’s, who just shakes his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the fact that Lyla chose such a tender moment to intrude on. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, giggling at the absurdity of it, and soon enough, he joins in on the joy you found in the moment.

~~~

Tagging some of my lovely mutuals and ppl who asked to be on my taglist/might be interested <3

@cozykali // @joaquinwhorres // @sunflowersteves // @fanboygarcia // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @openforjean // @bobfloyds // @buckyytorres // @bvckysmoon // @inklore // @rhettabbotts // @wint3r-h3art // @zstrn // @golden-barnes // @ofstarsandvibranium // @sunmoonandeddie // @bubblebuckys // @ladyelissarose // @thinktankgoldfish // @harmonia-dread // @living-in-a-daydream97 // @eddiesslutwhore // @dilfsfordinner // @tarjapearce // @manyourlookingood​ // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ // @mraisedto3​ //

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #marvel #marvel smut #fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #dile (cuentale) #sara:writes

[aniharas]

𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward. 

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul. 

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?”  You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert.  As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times. 

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body. 

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead. 

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you? 

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours. 

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return. 

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head. 

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #spiderman 2099 #oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #spiderman oneshot

[nev3rfound]

out of sight : m.h

everyone at HQ is looking for you, and all signs lead to Miguel, yet for some reason, he won't explain where it is you're hiding. 913 words.

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

(requests are open, slowly working through them:))

Keeping his gaze fixated on the monitors in front of him, Miguel sighs at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.

"Hey bossman," Hobie yells, waving his arm in the air whilst Miguel's back remains turned. "charmin' as always, any way you seen Y/n about?" He continues despite the silence that ensues from the platform. "She said she'd be 'ere today, but not seen her."

"She's not here." Miguel simply answers, Lyla appears in front of him lowering her heart-shaped glasses, only to roll her eyes. Feeling Hobie's presence still lingering below, Miguel forces himself to look over his shoulder. "Something else you need?" He coldly questions, only to see Hobie shake his head and salute before exiting the room, the door slamming once more causing Miguel to shudder.

Lyla tuts to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know, words going to get around, Miguel." Lyla sings, glancing upward before returning to see Miguel's expression remaining stoic. "Hobie isn't going to be the only visitor you know."

"It's none of their business." Miguel states. "It's best they don't know."

Humming in response, Lyla's smile only grows at the hint of concern crossing Miguel's face. "Sure." She shrugs, disappearing from his view whilst he returns to work.

Oblivious to the goings on, Peter strolls into Miguel's office with Mayday in his arms who continues to babble in his embrace. "I know, but I'm sure the big guy knows, Mayday." Peter explains quietly, hoping to see you perched on the platform with Miguel. Yet, you're nowhere to be seen in the room.

"Looks like you've got another visitor." Lyla chimes in.

Miguel groans internally, turning around as the platform slower lowers to reveal the sight of Peter B Parker and Mayday, who is hanging upside down in Peter's arms.

"What do you want?" Miguel doesn't bother to disguise his annoyance, even as Mayday reaches out for him.

Pulling her back, Peter averts his focus from Miguel's scowl. "Oh you know, Mayday was hoping to see Y/n. Overdue a game of hide and seek." Peter chuckles, only to be met with silence in response. "You seen her around?"

"She's not here, Peter." Miguel states, walking back to his platform and returning his attention to work.

Not quite convinced, Peter lifts his head up past the platform, noticing a stream of light to the left of the platform. "Well, worth a try." He calls out, tuning his ears to try and hear something, anything. And then he hears it. "I'll see you around, Miguel!"

Walking out of the office, Peter smiles to himself, only to be interrupted by Hobie and Gwen. "Well, where is she?" Gwen asks with a huff.

Hobie shakes his head with a half smile. "He ain't sayin." Hobie remarks, throwing his arm over Gwen's shoulders. "Come on, Gwen, best we leave 'em to it, yeah."

Back inside Miguel's office, he remains in front of the screens of amber, watching the various worlds until he hears the sound of movement to his left.

Checking the surrounding areas of the room, and the cameras around HQ, Miguel steps away from the screens to the small door on his left. "Hola, mi amor." Miguel whispers, cracking the door ajar to reveal you curled up in a twin bed, an eye mask covering your eyes and mouth ajar, snoring lightly. "Y/n?" He gently rubs your exposed shin, only to be met with a kick and a groan of you waking up.

"Miggy?" You mumble, lifting the eyemask up only to squint immediately at the angelic glow forming around Miguel. "'M still dreaming, aren't I?" Yawning through your question, Miguel shuffles into the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How's your head?" Miguel keeps his voice low, helping you sit upright before passing you some more water.

Taking a long sip, you sigh as the glass leaves your lips. "Never had any complaints." You joke, resulting in Miguel rolling his eyes whilst you chuckle to yourself. "It's a bit better, think the worst of the migraine is over."

"Tu quieres quedar, la monada?" Quick to slump against Miguel's lap, you hum in response, muttering something under your breath. "Que?"

"Heard you talking to the others." The mumble is more coherent this time, and Miguel nods. "Thank you, I'll make it up to Mayday tomorrow."

"Only when you're ready." Miguel strokes your hair from your face, removing the face mask hanging from your forehead. "Go back to sleep, okay? I'll check on you in a bit." He leans down, kissing your temple before helping you back to lying down.

As Miguel rises to leave, your hand shoots out to grab his. "Can you stay for a bit? Just 'til I nod off again?" Your pout was almost irresistible, something you knew and often used to get your way when it came to the big boss, much to his own dismay.

"I'll keep my eye out, boss." Lyla comments, appearing beside you, and smirking at you with a knowing nod.

"Fine." Miguel admits defeat, lifting his arms up for you to bury your face into his chest. "Ten minutes, Lyla, si?"

Checking her watch, Lyla nods before disappearing once more, and Miguel can't help but allow his eyes to close, just for a minute.

"Ugh, they're so cute." Lyla takes a photo, knowing somewhere in Miguel's heart, he'll love having this moment immortalized for all to see (well, maybe just you.)

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#hope you enjoyed #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara imagines #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel oneshot

[t-lostinworlds]

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

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#tg&td #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara reader insert #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #atsv #my writing

[uselesssomebody]

Oooooo wondering if I request a miguel o'hara x platonic(maybe) shy reader who’s a popular superhero spider person who bonded with venom and has an infant son who’s a mommy boy with her boyfriend Miguel of her dimension. Miguel sees the reader reminded of his dead wife reader of his dimension. Pretty cute her infant son and Mayday Parker having play dates, she’s the godmother of Mayday and Peter is the godfather 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

'𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕜𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜' 𝕕𝕒𝕪 - dad!miguel o'hara x mom!reader

(or astv's spider society x platonic!reader)

complete masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader and peter b. have a 'bring your kid to work' day at the spider society

a/n || i have been frothing at the mouth to write dad!miguel so here

➵ anon i'm actually kneeling at your feet for this request; it's so *chef's kiss* unfortunately, i know 0 things about venom, and i forgot about the 'shy' aspect of reader, but otherwise, i tried to nail this request. if you want a shy reader x miguel specifically, just send me another req, and i will have it done.

➵ lemme talk about the spanish real quick: a lot of it in this one thanks to the lovely @spookyanamurdock. quite a bit of spanglish as well, translations are next to the spanish bits

➵ also miguel (both of him) is the only one to speak any spanish. reader is not coded as being able to speak spanish or necessarily being from a spanish-speaking country, but she can understand what miguel is saying.

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff

it'd been nine months since she'd had a full night's rest.

guess how old her infant was.

she was jolted awake to the sound of wails and cries and she quickly rubs her hands over her face as she sits up. she looks behind her to see her husband roll in his sleep at the sound, and she smiles, getting up more quickly so that she can handle their child before he wakes up.

she steps into the next room, where their son is rocking in his cradle, evidently upset. she pouts a little at the sight of his chubby cheeks pinched into a scowl, and his gummy mouth open and ignorant to how loud he was being.

"what's woken you up, baby?" she mumbles, quiet and rhetoric, as she immediately takes him in her arms, rocking him softly on one side while using her free arm to gently pat for where he was feeling discomfort. noticing none, and recognizing his cry wasn't that of hunger, she lifts him up gently, looking in his adorable, curious eyes.

she notices his cries have simmered, a more satisfied and sleepy expression on his features, and she smiles, "did you just want mama to hold you for a bit?" she muses, as she lovingly tucks his head back into her shoulder, quietly pacing the room with him. in another couple moments, he's out like a light once more, and she chuckles to herself as she lays him back down in his cradle, momentarily forgetting her annoyance at losing sleep as she traces a soft finger over his features, beaming at his adorableness, "goodnight, gabe." she murmurs softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, before she slips back out of the room, and into her bedroom. the clock by her bed reads 3:07, and she sighs, her exhaustion overtaking her once more. she smiles at the sight of her husband, still knocked out in the same position. she lays back down next to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, as she revels in his large stature and radiating heat, falling asleep next to him almost immediately.

she was a little shocked when she'd gotten a call in for work the next morning. well 'work' is a better way of putting it, as you can't exactly put 'multiverse-hopping for the spider society' on a resume.

she'd worked with the gajillion other spiders in nueva york for a little over 3 years before she'd had to take maternity leave for the little baby she was currently heating up a bottle of milk for. on the other side of the kitchen, her husband was allowing gabe to sit on his shoulders and play with his hair as he tried to clean dishes, and she suppresses a laugh at the sight, plucking gabe off his shoulders. "enough of that, baby." she muses, "you'll mess up daddy's hair," she sets him into his high chair, gently sticking the bottle in his mouth, as her husband comes and sits next to her. she gently runs her hand through his hair, straightening it out where gabe messed it up.

"miguel?" she starts, and he nods, his eyes looking up at hers, "i've gotta go in today." he furrows his brow a little, before realizing what she was talking about.

"¿cuándo regresarías?” (when’ll you be back?) he mumbles, still a little sleepy from the hectic morning. she shakes her head.

"no clue yet. think we can get a sitter for him?" she cocks her head to gabe, who was happily enjoying his bottle himself. miguel sighs, rubbing his eyes a little.

"no creo, cariño" (i don't think so, sweetheart.) he looked stressed, and she looked at him sympathetically, so she shakes her head.

"that's okay, hun." she rubs his knuckles a little, "i'll just take him with me." miguel's eyes widen in worry, and she chuckles.

"it's just a consultation, don't worry." she smiles, "we'll not move an inch from the headquarters." his shoulders relax a little, and a smile finally falls over his tired face.

"uhm, claro. si, suena bien, sure." (right. yeah, that sounds good, sure.) he pauses for a moment, "uh, will the big guy be okay with it?" she looks at him confused, before she bursts out in laughter, making gabe jump a little, dropping his bottle. she winces a little, picking it up for him and mumbling a quick 'sorry' 

"are you talking about other-miguel?" she teases, and he groans with a smile.

other-miguel was her boss, the person in charge of the spider society. it'd been an... experience when she'd first met him.

originally, her recruitment was overseen by spiderwoman - jessica, her lovely friend who she was now coaching through her own pregnancy. because jessica brought her in, she'd not actually met other-miguel until nearly 2 months in.

the first time she'd seen him had been when jessica was at home - or her home universe - and she'd instead had to discuss her next mission with him. she'd gone up to his office, ready with a quip about how he had the same name as her long-term boyfriend - but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her boyfriend's back in front of her. her eyes widen, and her greeting catches in her throat. other-miguel looks back at her, and he's got a similarly surprised look in his eyes.

"¿cariño?" (sweetheart?) he asks in his familiar, gruff voice. it was tinged in slightly more exhaustion.

"hon - honey?" she stutters out, finally able to clear her throat enough to talk, "what are you doing here?" he blinks in shock, before he sighs deeply, realizing what had happened.

"no - no, no soy…" (i'm not) he inhales, "you're seeing a miguel o'hara?" she blinks.

"honey, what are you-"

"no-" he cuts her off, "i'm not your miguel." her eyes narrow, before it dawns on her.

in the entirety of the spider society, there were countless versions of 'peter parker', a handful of 'miles morales's, and more than a few 'gwen stacy's and plenty of 'm.j.'s. it would be, in fact, more shocking that there wasn't more than one miguel o'hara in the multiverse.

"oh." she mumbles, "oh." a beat passes, "do you - you know someone like me too?"

his face is downcast. it's a touchy subject.

"si. así es." (yeah. that’s right.) there's a silence that passes over them, before his face becomes stern again, and he begins explaining the mission.

it took 3 more missions for other-miguel to open up about the woman she reminded him off, and she, in turn, would point out the differences between him and her boyfriend. they had a strange bond, something that was difficult to properly explain to anyone else, but they felt no obligation to.

she knows miguel found it hard to be around her at first. every time he'd look at her, his face would flash in a pain that she only came to know about later, and one she hoped to never understand. similarly, it made her feel weird to be seeing and hearing her boyfriend, yet having to adamantly remember that it wasn't him. it became better after a while, as it was easier to notice the differences between her miguel and other-miguel.

now, she was good friends with him - at least, as friendly as anyone could be with him.

"yeah, he won't mind," she continues, talking to her boyfriend, "besides, peter brings his little one in constantly. it'll be fine." she smiles, and her husband seems to calm a little.

"perfecto." he rises slowly, pressing a kiss to gabe's forehead, and then her lips, "¿te vere ésta noche?" (i'll see you tonight?) she nods with a small smile.

"yeah, honey." she waves him off as he heads to work, before she picks up gabe, "you ready for some misadventure, baby?" she teases, pressing a kiss to his nose. he coos in response, and she takes it as a yes, pulling out her watch.

after a couple minutes, a multicolored portal opens in her kitchen, and jessica walks in, waddling a little with the large weight in her stomach. she grins wide at the sight of the mother and son, cooing at the adorable child.

"i haven't seen you in ages!" jessica drawls, taking her into a hug, before plucking gabe up, and playing with his little baby hands, "have you grown, gabe? you're so big now!" he giggles in response, as though he's taken the compliment, and jessica laughs, handing him back to his mother.

"how've you been, jess? how's the tummy?" she asks, rocking gabe slowly. jess rubs her stomach, pouting a little.

"they're kickin' and screamin' to get out." they both laugh at the comment, before jessica pulls out a small, baby-sized watch, a visitor pass for baby gabe, "here." she slips it over his small wrist, "don't want you glitching out, do we?" jessica steps back, before looking back at her, "ready?"

she nods, clutching gabe a bit tighter.

"baby's first." jessica jokes, leading her forward. she adjusts gabe on her hip and the watch on my wrist, stepping in. gabe coos in interest at the colors of the portal, and he has to blink a few times when he realizes that the actual h.q. is significantly *less* interesting. he fidgets a little, brows furrowing in confusion, which causes her to soothe him with a hand running along his back.

"it's okay, baby." she whispers in his ear, glancing around at the familiar building and familiar spider-people milling about. a couple of them nod or wave in recognition, and she greets a few, before jessica pulls her along.

"c'mon, miguel and peter b. need us." she nods at jess's statement, tucking gabe's head in her shoulder and following the woman up to miguel's office.

as soon as they walk in, she see miguel and peter, stood on his suspended platform, look back at them, and 4 youngins on the floor look back too. they're a diverse group, teenagers and just older, and of course, she knew hobie and pav. immediately, the two of them come up to greet her, excited to see her after so long.

"you're back?" pav says excitably, and she laughs.

"no - no, not yet, sorry, guys." she clarifies, and gabe's head pops up at the noise. pav and hobie's eyes widen.

"you've go' a kid now?" hobie's accent, strong as ever, shines through. she rolls her eyes playfully.

"why'd you think i left? for fun?" peter's come down to join them at this point, and he engulfs her in a side hug, before taking gabe off her.

"and how is my little godson doing?" he coos, playing with the baby. she smiles at the interaction, before looking around him.

"where's my goddaughter, pete?" she asks curiously, wondering where may's head of vibrant red is. peter cocks his head in miguel's direction, making her look back up to see the infant crawling around on his giant, familiar shoulders. she laughs, and miguel finally comes down to join them. she sees the other two teenagers' faces scrunch in confusion, and it's suddenly evident to her that they're newbies, and they don't yet know that miguel's slow descent is nothing but a fear tactic and, more often than not, he'd use the faster setting to get to the floor in seconds. he comes up to her, a gruff expression on his face, and the teenagers' seem concerned. until, he dons the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. he nods his head in greeting, and she salutes him, and small grin on her face, as may practically slides down from his arm and into her chest, making her catch the baby with an exaggerated stumble and 'oomph!', "aw, you've grown, haven't you, may-be?" she smiles, having given her goddaughter an adjacent nickname to her own child, "what trouble have you been getting into?"

meanwhile, pav and hobie - uncharacteristically - were cooing over gabe in pete's arms. i turn to the teenagers, and jessica introduces me.

"gwen, and miles - visitor." jess clarifies, pointing at both respectively.

"nice to meet you guys." she nods back, looking between them and may, trying to crawl on her shoulders.

after a couple more moments of catch-up, miguel and pete pulled her up to the panel, along with may and gabe, and jessica pulls the other 4 out. miguel begins explaining the reasoning for the call-in.

"so, these 4 are being assigned to an anomaly. the girl's only been here a month - this is her first real mission - and the guy's here to prove himself." she quirks a brow.

"so he's been here less than a month and he's already on a mission?" it's not common - even she'd had to dredge through a month and a half of training sessions and simulations before going on her first mission - and even that was with jessica. miguel shrugs in response to her question, and peter interrupts.

"i vouch for him. he's a - he's a good kid. mentored him myself. we stopped a multiversal collapse together before." he says casually, so casually that she can't help but giggle. it'd been a year since she'd heard about things like 'multiversal collapses', and she still wasn't used to it.

"okay, where do i come in?" she asks, pulling gabe off of a monitor he wanted to play with.

"you can sit right here and just guide them. peter también va a estar aquí, solo, guialos ¿está bien?" (peter's gonna be here too. just... coach them, you know?) miguel explains, and she nods.

"right... sure. yeah, that works." peter smiles, and miguel points to a monitor.

"your station, m'lady." peter jokes, making her laugh. she sits down, gabe on her lap, slipping an earpiece in her ear and beginning to read the data file on the anomaly the 4 were looking to contain. after a couple minutes, she hears the crackle of a girl's voice - gwen - through the ear piece.

"hey! we've just arrived in the universe." she nods at the confirmation.

"perfect. you guys ready?"

the mission was relatively quick to finish, and she had celebrated with peter once hobie's voice had crackled through, saying the anomaly was captured. he stayed behind to monitor it while the three teens headed back, and she sighed in relief, finally picking gabe up from his place crawling on the floor with may.

while her and peter were tensely trying to ensure the kids were safe and everything went to plan, the two infants had been having the time of their life playing with each other. gabe would find it tremendously entertaining whenever may would begin climbing on walls, and he had tried a few times too, only getting as far as a meter up before his mother pulled him off out of her worry. nonetheless, he absolutely was determined to climb onto a monitor, which resulted in a slight hassle when peter lost audio for a moment.

by the time the mission was over and gabe was back in his mother's arms, he was out like a light, exhausted by his long day in the spider society.

after miles, pav and gwen had made it back, peter was sure celebrations would be in order, something that miguel seemed to be staunchly against, and something she had to reluctantly decline.

"sorry, guys, i should get back home. the little guy's already sleepy, and miguel should be back home by now." the sentence confused gwen and miles, as they looked between her and the intimidating boss of the spider society. she smiles at their confusion, but opts to let jessica explain, as she says her goodbyes and heads out. may, distraught at the thought of not being able to play with gabe anymore, makes a daring attempt to escape with him and his mom, only foiled at the last moment because of an attentive miguel. she smiles at the sight, petting her hair and letting may wave one final time at gabe's sleeping form - moving his hand to mimic a wave back - before heading to the portals.

when she tries to hand back gabe's visitor's pass to jessica, it's fruitless, as the other woman insists she keeps it, a certain knowing look in her eyes. she tries to ignore it, smiling in thanks, as the two head back.

correct to her belief, miguel - her miguel - was changing out of his work attire when they arrived and, upon hearing his greeting to her, gabe's eyes shoot open, excited at the thought of seeing his dad after the long day apart. it makes her laugh, and she sets the infant down on the couch to take off his wristband.

"¿qué tal todo?" (how was it?) comes miguel's - maybe perpetually - sleepy voice from behind her as she fiddles with the closing mechanism of the band.

"good. gabe tried climbing on a few walls, met his godsister - if that's a thing - met other-miguel and his godfather. got to meet the kids too." she lists off quickly, taking off the band and placing it to the side, not realizing that miguel is right behind her now.

he wraps his large arms around her, warmth encircling her body as she squeak in slight shock, making gabe laugh.

"and how was it for you, mi amor?" (my love) he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek, making her smile.

"well, we saved the day. so it was very good." miguel nods, not letting her go.

"muy bien, muy bien," (good, good.) he whispers, seemingly now less interested in the answer to his question and more interested in the fact that he could hold her after his grueling day.

as soon as the hug lasts a little too long, though, they hear an indignant whine of disapproval, making them both laugh after a moment of shock. miguel detaches from her, and she reaches down to sit with gabe, before pulling him into her lap. his face immediately breaks into a smile, and miguel settles next to them.

"¿qué pasa, bebé? (what is this, baby?) you won't let me hug your mom anymore?" he says in playful upset. gabe frowns at his words, settling farther in his mom's arms.

"i think he's a little jealous." she teases, running her hands through gabe's thin head of hair.

"¡increible! (unbelievable!) i knew her first, amigo." the joking annoyance makes her laugh, as she places a big kiss to gabe's cheek and then to miguel.

"boys, boys. there's enough love for me to share." as if hearing her, gabe whines in annoyance again, making her and miguel look at each other with wide eyes.

"o - okay, it's all for you, gabe." she reassures, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. she looks up at miguel. "please don't start whining, now." she teases. he laughs quietly.

"no te prometo nada." (no promises.)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #dad!miguel o'hara #mom!reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #'bring your kid to work' day #oscar isaac

[curlyfries967-blog]

Vamos A Bailar

Word Count 10.0+

WARNING NSFW THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY SMUT.

FemaleReader, BreedingKink, BDSM, Shibari, RopePlay, Blindfolds, Edging, Facefucking, Primal Play, PraiseKink, Toys. If it's not your cup of tea then please find something else to read.

Plot: you haven't seen Miguel in a month and a half because he's been busy with work. But tonight is your date night together at a Salsa Social and he's going to make it up to you.

Light chatter and upbeat passionate music fills the air as you enter the large dance hall room. Your new heels gently click on the marble floor as you navigate about. Your black dress flowed with ease as it danced around your thighs just above your knees. Your kind gentle eyes search the crowded hall for your missing partner. The one who swore to you that he would be here on time tonight. You have not seen him in almost an entire month. Maybe you wouldn't see him tonight. A disappointed click escapes from your mouth and tongue, realizing that he wasn't here at all. Your shoulders slump disheartened looking down at your watch. Miguel was late to your date night. He gave his word that he would be there for you. 

The man was always late to everything. He never meant to be a disappointment, but he’s so focused on his work that sometimes he doesn’t even realize what time it is. 

He does always make it, though. He’s reliable that way. 

You see a familiar tall, muscular man with dark brown eyes and curly dark hair. His large figure made him stand out from the crowd around the two of you. He's wearing a black button up along with charcoal gray ripped jeans. When he spots you he smiles and walks up to you. His biceps bulge effortlessly as they hold up two glasses of wine in his possession. 

"I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized quickly, leaning in, placing a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a glass of wine. Making up for his lateness with some sweetness. 

"What happened to being on time?" You asked, feeling crossed with him. 

"Hobie happened," he groans in disdain, rubbing the bridge of his nose,  before taking a sip from his glass. 

"Oh?" You laughed while drinking from your glass. You knew the teenager enjoys giving Miguel a run for his money. But as long as you knew Hobie, he was always respectful and kind towards you. But whenever Miguel had his moments of ranting or venting about him. You could have sworn he was describing another person or talking about somebody else completely different from the Hobie you knew. 

"What did he do this time?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, placing a hand on your hip and turning towards him. 

"He messed up the inventory again," he replied, shaking his head and letting out a big sigh. "I swear that boy lacks basic skills." 

You couldn't help but laugh at his rant, knowing how much Hobie's actions bothered him. But despite his complaints, there was a warmth to his attitude towards his younger coworker, and you knew that the two of them had a special connection despite their differences.

"Work is like a daycare. It's like trying to manage a bunch of kids and it's damn near impossible." He's beginning to get worked up and catches himself before it ruins his evening.

He changes the topic not wanting to talk about the frustrating teenager nor his job, "You look absolutely stunning, Cariña," he successfully distracts you with a compliment and his rare mesmerizing smile. His dark brown eyes soak up your beauty. Your hair was in a braided bun, lips were ruby and enticing to look at. His eyes lingered longer looking at your welcoming full lips. 

Flustered by his kind words, you can't help but smile back. You had always been conscious of your looks but his attention made your confidence skyrocket like never before. You can't help but look around, seeing if anyone was watching, though a part of you didn't care. There was something in his eyes, in the way he was staring at your lips. Feeling your heartbeat accelerating, you took a drink of your wine, hoping to ease your nerves. As you swallow, you felt a pair of strong hands slide along your sides, causing butterflies in your tummy.

"You're not so bad yourself," you gestured to his clothes with your free hand. 

"I really didn't think ripped jeans would look good on me," he confessed, giving you a slow threesixty of his outfit that you had laid out for him on the bed, "You have good taste." Absolutely, the clothes you picked highlighted his assets. If you left it up to him; he would have dressed as comfortably as possible in sweats and a hoodie. Not that you had an issue with his outfit choices, but tonight was Salsa night and he promised you a romantic evening together. 

"You'd look good in anything," you said coyly. You had picked out a pair of clothes for him, and you were right: they did compliment his physique. His arms bulged as he waved around his glass of wine, causing him to flex his biceps. He even looked handsome in ripped jeans. What can't this man get away with? He was charming, kind, and incredibly sexy. How did you get so lucky?

"Why thank you, gorgeous," he responded, turning to you with a grin, his eyes twinkling from your compliment. His confident smirk was enough to make you want to bite that cocky bottom lip, but you didn't let yourself go out of control. As your gaze traveled down his body, you saw how those ripped jeans accentuated his muscular frame, making your heart sink a little. How was he so ripped and so attractive at the same time? He was the ultimate tease and you just couldn't get enough. 

Letting out a long breath, you took a sip from your wine, feeling your thoughts wander. This night was promising to be a good one and you were looking forward to a bit more than salsa.

A guitarist on stage played with passion, his fingers moving deftly over the strings as the singer's voice soared above the music. Emotion of the music washes over both your bodies. The couples that were there on the dance floor, spun and moved around each other. The sounds of trumpets filled the room, along with a cowbell, other chorus of instruments that the Banda played. He listens to the beautiful music as he then wraps his arm around your waist as he starts to move to the beat of the music.

You lean against him as he guides both of you towards the dance floor. As the music takes over you, feeling his body rhythmically rocking against yours, you feel yourself giving in to the passion of it all. Dancing like nobody's watching, you let yourself enjoy the moment, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist and your smile stretched across your face. You were in your element and you didn't care if people were staring. This was your night and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest.

You love it when Miguel dances with you. Not that he's a professional at it, but there's something about holding him close that makes you weak in the knees. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Tonight is perfect, and you feel a little better about Miguel being late. You're lucky to have a boyfriend like him.

"I love the music here," He says as he then pulls you closer to his side while still moving to the beat of the music.

"I do too," you replied, turning slightly towards him and placing a kiss on his chiseled cheek. "It just screams romance, doesn't it?" You raised your glass in a toast, and he clinked his own against it, his fingers lingering in yours. "To a perfect night," you said, before taking another sip. 

Feeling his warm breath on your cheek, you couldn't help but smile. This was the kind of evening that made you feel alive inside. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company, it almost felt out of this world…

"Let's dance," he takes you out to further into the dance floor. 

"You lead, love," you say, allowing him to take charge. Miguel is much more of an extrovert than you are, and he loves being the center of attention. You have no problem letting him take the lead, and he happily obliges. He takes you out on to the dance floor, and soon you're swept up in his arms. You dance together for hours, losing track of time and the rest of the world. Your mind is only occupied by Miguel and the way he makes you feel.

You're his yang to his yin when you two danced together. He steps towards and you mirrored him opposite. And vice versa as you step towards him, smiling up at him. He held your right arm up with your left hand and gently made you twirl on the floor. He loves to show you off in front of jealous eyes. He tugs you towards his body. His large hand resting on the small of your bare back, his touch sent goosebumps running down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, giving you such a devilish sultry smile. A nervous giggle escapes your lips, "Miguel!"

"Tu querias a bailar." He snickers, drawing you closer. You were so close to him now that it was impossible not to blush at each touch. You were still a little nervous around Miguel; but he made you feel safe, and that's what mattered. You felt yourself relaxing in his care, and your smile grew. 

"I love you, Miguel," you said, looking into his eyes. You meant it, every word. You had never loved someone as much as you loved Miguel.

"I love you, too," he replied, pulling you in for a kiss. 

His large body towers over you and he ever so slowly kisses you. Your head felt fuzzy, you weren't sure if it's the wine or  if it was the effect he had on you. The kiss made you stumble in your sparkly high heels, causing you to accidentally roll awkwardly on your ankle and step on his toe. Mortified, you gasp. You were so embarrassed that you wanted to curl up and die. 

"Are you okay, Amor?' Miguel asked, he caught your arm just in time preventing you from falling. He kissed you on the forehead, and you could feel your cheeks glowing red from his affection. He made you feel comforted, even when you felt like a total fool.

"I'm sorry, Love" you mumbled looking down at your heels while the music came to a steady halt, "Did you still want to dance?" The back of your heel stung a bite but you ignored it, you're only focused on the man before you. 

"Always. Let's keep dancing," he replied, taking your hand into his and leading you back onto the dance floor. You were still embarrassed, but you knew that Miguel had already forgiven you and forgotten your clumsiness.

The music was at a lively tempo and the crowd on the dancefloor moved faster. Leads turned and twisted their followers to the rhythm of the beat. Miguel was experienced, he held both your small hands in both of his large ones. He guided you and spun you around. Loving the way you dance  and move about your body. There was nothing else like dancing with Miguel. It didn't matter what moves you did or how you did them; as long as you had his large hands as your guide, you knew you'd be okay. You trusted him above anyone else and knew he'd take care of you. He always did.You turned and twisted and twirled, following his lead. He was like a magnet, making you feel at home in his arms. This was where you belonged, and you were never going to let him go.

A tap on the shoulder from a gentleman on the floor catches Miguel off guard.

"Can I dance with her, next?" He inquired peering at you.

You weren't thrilled by this other guy tapping Miguel on the shoulder and asking to dance with you. Your boyfriend seemed a little taken aback by the man's question, too. In your opinion, Miguel was the only one allowed to touch you, let alone dance with you.

He shoots the man a look of annoyance, even though it wasn't the man's fault at all, but the simple fact that he has to share this woman with *someone* is enough to cause him some degree of annoyance, however brief it may be. 

"Sorry, she's taken," he says simply, almost sounding a little possessive. 

"Thanks anyway," he adds quickly as if to soften the blow, just so he doesn't give the poor man the wrong idea about them.

The man gives in and Miguel whisks you away to the sound of music. "My sweet," you said, "My feet are a little sore. Can I sit down for a bit?" You bat your long lashes at him. Truth be told, your new high heels are killing you. And to break them in on the dancefloor was a completely dumb choice on your part. 

"Of course, love," Miguel said, nodding. "Let's sit down and get some ice water or something." He led you off the dance floor and into the seating area, where he ordered drinks for the two of you. He sat you down in a chair, making sure you were comfortable, and then sat down next to you. He put his arm around your shoulders protectively, and you were safe in his embrace. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, worried. His brows furrowed scanning your face. You seemed in pain, and he was anxious to help you.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, "Yes, Love" A waiter dropped off your drinks at the table for the two of you. Miguel drinks a dark amber liquid from a short and stout glass. You had another tall glass of wine. You moved your feet to get a better look at your sore heel. You noticed a red, burning, sore forming right at the back of where your heel strap was touching. You figured it was from the constant friction of the strap digging into your skin. 

"Do you want me to take a look at your feet?" Miguel asked, putting down his glass. He looked concerned as he looked at your heel strap, his brow furrowing deeper. He seemed worried about you, and as always, you could feel his kindness radiating through you. Even if he acted indifferent around the others; he would always let his guard down around you. 

"No,no, " you waved it off trying to downplay the discomfort, "I'm going to take a small break from dancing." You didn't want him to worry about you.  You didn't want to ruin salsa night. However, your feet were killing you and aching terribly. 

"Are you sure?" Miguel asked, looking at you sympathetically with soft chocolate eyes. He didn't want you walking around with pain in your feet. If going home earlier meant you didn't have to deal with that, then it was worth it. He put down his glass of whiskey, and his hand was still on your shoulder. 

"I'll drive us home," he stated firmly, not wanting to hear you protest. There was no point in arguing with him once he's concerned about your well-being. 

You stand wobbling unsteadily on your feet. You were unsure if it was the wine or exhaustion overcoming you. "Miguel, would you please be a dear-" you wince from placing too much weight on one of your feet. "Ouch!" You cried softly. 

"Let me get you out of those shoes," Miguel said quickly, kneeling down and unstrapping your heels. As he took off your shoes, he carefully inspected the redness forming on your heels. "Dios mio," he sighed grimly. "You can hardly walk. Let me help you." 

He picked you up in his arms effortlessly and carried you out of the club.

Your face burns a bright beet red as onlookers watch him carry you out. "This is embarrassing," you mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck, refusing to look at any more people. His cologne was pleasant and soothing. You inhaled slowly through your nose and exhaled out, not aware that your breath brushed just under his earlobe. 

Miguel chuckled softly, but he didn't disagree with you. Your lover just kept walking. He didn't care if other people were watching him. All that mattered right now was that he made sure his girlfriend (you) were safe and comfortable. He brought you to his car and opened the door for you, helping you get inside before walking around the front. After climbing in himself, he started the car and carefully backed out of his parking space.

He looked into your eyes as he drove, smiling warmly. "Almost home, love," he comforted you.

You loved to watch him drive. His corded muscles showing off as he navigates the steering wheel. His brown eyes focused on the road.  His right hand rested on your thigh giving you reassuring strokes with his thumb. You squirm rubbing your thighs together. Goodness, you couldn't collect yourself to save your life. You felt a familiar ache form. A sense of neediness.

"M-Miggles-" you mumbled softly, "How much longer till we get home?"

You gripped both of your hands on top of his hand which rested on your thigh, squeezing in hopes that he would get the message. Your stomach slowly filled with butterflies as you imagined what else he could be doing with his hand. 

Miguel quickly glanced at you then returned his gaze on the road, and he could read your thoughts just by the look on your face. He knew exactly what you wanted him to do, so he gave you even more than what you were expecting. He squeezed your thigh in the way he knew you liked it, and his fingers brushed against your skin. You could feel a tingle running through you, and you grew hotter with every passing second. 

"Home's just five minutes down the road, Hermosa," he chuckled. He smelled your excitement. And knew you were getting hot and bothered. He shifted in his seat a little bit to relieve his forming hard-on. 

"Five minutes?" You grumbled pouting, "I don't think I can wait that long." You traced your fingers tantalizingly up and down his forearm. He was built. Absolutely strong. You admired his muscles.  Your fingers moving up and down and further up to his biceps. 

"I can make it two minutes, if you prefer," Miguel said playfully. You were teasing him by tracing your fingers over his arm, and he loved it. He felt his heart beating faster the more your fingers grazed over his muscles. He drove a little faster than usual, and it wasn't long before you got closer and closer to his house. 

When he pulled into the driveway, he turned to you. "We're here," he said.

Eagerly you wrapped your arms around his right arm and pulled him towards you. Your lips finally meet. It was hot, sincere, and needy. 

He pulled you close, loving how eagerly you kissed him. You were both in need of this, and it felt so good to finally be in each other's arms again after not being around each other a whole month.

"I love you so much, Cariña," he whispered into your ear. "I never want to go anywhere without you." There was a lot of truth in his words. You were his world, and he never wanted to be apart from you. He hated being away from you. 

When you broke apart, he rested his lips on your cheek. It was a soft kiss, filled with love and affection.

"I love you, more." You giggled as he pulled you closer. Your elbow accidently hit the volume button unmuting the radio. Loud music blared throughout the vehicle startling you both. A fit of laughter escapes from Miguel as he quickly turns off the radio. 

Miguel laughed with you, and soon the pair of you couldn't stop giggling. It was the little things that made you laugh with each other, and you both loved that. 

"Shall we go in?" The handsome man asks after a few more minutes of laughter. He looks at you, giving you a playful wink. Even through all the laughter, he still looks dashing, you thought to yourself. How was he so good-looking?

"Only if you take me to bed," you quipped playfully. You couldn't take your eyes off him only because everything felt like a dream. You didn't want to take your eyes off him. If you blinked you were scared he would disappear. 

"I'll take you in bed while I'm at it," Miguel teased, his eyebrows raising suggestively. Your eyes were already glued to him, and his question only amplified your attraction to him. He laughed at your reaction to his words, and you could hear a little excitement in his voice. He knew that those words would get a reaction from you, and he wanted you to say yes.

"Absolutely, my sweet," you chimed. He gets out of the car and makes his way over to your side of the door. The tall Hispanic mixed man opens it, taking your hand and pulling you up to him. In a blink of an eye he throws you over his shoulder. You squeal, laughing dangling over him. His hands securely warped behind your thighs; careful to make sure you don't slip from his grip. It's some miracle he's not out of breath. He made you feel weightless. It was a strange feeling, but it was also exhilarating. And with his hands wrapped around your thighs, you knew you were safe in his arms.

"Miguel, you're so strong," you said with admiration thinking about how easily he could spin you around on the dancefloor or carry you anywhere he wanted. Impulsively you smack his bottom as you face his back upside down. It's only fair if he could carry you like that. You had the privilege to smack his toned glutes. So firm. You burst into another fit of laughter as you felt the blood flow to your head. 

"Did you just smack my ass?" He was perplexed and annoyed by your sudden impulsivity. The muscular guy was still able to walk and navigate the walkway to his driveway, but he was laughing so hard at your reaction that his face was a bright red. The keys jingle in his hand as he unlocks the door. 

"It was right in my face," you lilt. "Again those gray jeans do you so much Justice." He shrugs his broad shoulders and nods agreeing with you. He guided you to the bedroom. 

You're a little dizzy as he led you to the master bedroom where it was far more intimate. He gently closed the door behind the two of you. You could feel that he wanted you, and you wanted him just as badly.

"Ready for tonight?" He throws you over on the mattress. 

"Oof-" you plop on the Bedding and he manages to dishevel your hair from throwing you there. 

Smiling and teasing you move away from him by crawling off the bed, "What's gonna happen tonight?" You played dumb.

You waltz to the other side of the bedroom, away from your loving partner, undressing yourself without a care in the world. Your dress dropped pooling around your feet. Your hands reach up into your hair and unleash the braided bun it was in. You were bare. You felt his eyes follow your every move.

He swallows thickly "Oh, you already know..." He grinned at your teasing tone of voice, finding himself becoming more and more excited as you undressed in front of him. He could clearly see how much effort you had put into your hair, and he loved it. 

"Are you trying to get a raise out of me?" Miguel said softly, a lilt in his voice. "Because it's working."

His eyes were locked onto you, and he hadn't looked away since you began to take off your dress.

"Is it working?" you quizzically pondered, You exposed yourself to him, just for a moment in panties and all. Making sure your back was arched just right.

"Oh, definitely." Miguel's voice was husky and low. "It's definitely working. I don't think I've ever seen you look so beautiful," he continued. 

And you looked absolutely stunning. Everything about you was perfect, and this was the first time in a while Miguel had seen you like this. He was always cooped up at work, working with the other spider people.  He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, and his hands were shaking with anticipation. He had never felt so excited before.

"Hmm…" you drawled amused, "I wonder if I should just go to sleep, already? It is past our bedtime."

"In your underwear?" Miguel replied with a smirk. "I think you know that's a bad idea." He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway, grinning cheekily at you.

"What do you suggest I should do, sir?"

He loved the way you addressed him. He felt something tingle inside of him. He slowly licked his bottom lip, his tan fingers raked through his dark curly hair. His brown ravenous eyes carefully regarding you. He knows the woman before him is pushing for a chase; a little game of cat and mouse. He might give in just a little bit.

"I suggest you undress all the way and come back," Miguel said with a satisfied grin. "Or I could just come over there and make you do what I want."

He was teasing again, but it wasn't without a little bit of truth to it. Miguel was more than happy to make you do what he wanted; he just wanted to know whether or not your intentions were to play hard to get, or if you really were going to get changed before sleeping. 

That's Exactly what you wanted to hear, "Make me then,"  you  challenged him. Miguel was only too happy to oblige. Before you could even blink, he had caught you in a firm grasp. One of his hands was wrapped around your waist, while his other hand gently caressed your neck. His forehead gently touched yours as he looked into your eyes; they were like the sun, warm and radiant.

"You really wanna play hard to get?" Miguel said, a smirk spread across his lips. His voice was low and raspy, and you could see that he couldn't wait to play along with you.

"Absolutely..." You said squirming away from his laxed grip. You managed to escape from his hold, and dart across the bedroom attempting to get away from the superhuman you have as a boyfriend.

"Are you really doing this?" Miguel said annoyed as he caught up to you.

This time, he pinned you against the wall as he leaned into you. "You have nowhere to go," he whispered into your ear. His tone was suggestive but not too revealing, and his hand still caressed your neck as he leaned in to you.

"I guess not, huh?" Your eyes flutter relishing in the fact that you felt his full weight pressed against you. His chest pressed up against your bare soft mounds. You reached out and cupped his jawline ever so tenderly admiring him. You loved to touch his stubbles. His full lips were just centimeters away from yours. You felt his hot breath brush over your cheeks, nose, and lips. Miguel didn't let you speak. When you reached up to his face, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, and it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was deep and soft, yet there was a spark behind it that let you know how eager Miguel was.

Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist, and he pulled you in even closer to him. One of his hands went to the small of your back, and you felt a tingle run down your spine. His kiss became firmer as the moment went on, and he became more and more eager.He leans down, pressing his warm lips against yours again. His tongue slips past your teeth, exploring the wetness of your mouth. He tastes your sweet nectar, savouring the flavor. He moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to your hips as they grind together. You push your hands into his hair, holding him close as you press your bodies together. You could feel your nipples hardening, and you could practically taste the need between both of you. Your dainty arms snake around his big shoulders and neck.

"I want you," you  breathlessly murmured against his now bruised lips, "Please, please, please…"

"What do you want me to do, Cariña?" Miguel asked as he broke away from you for a moment and stared into your eyes.

His eyes were full of love, longing, desire, and passion as he stared into you. When he kissed you again, there was so much longing that it was overwhelming. You had never been kissed with this kind of love, and it felt incredible. 

Miguel was experienced in rigging up ties. It came along with his superhero responsibilities since he developed spinnerets in his arms. He sat back a little bit rubbing his fingers along his stubbles lost in thought. And wondered what kind of ties would suit the woman before him. Knowing you well now he knows you loved to be chased and tied down. You loved surrendering yourself to him. Granting him permission to anything to your body, as long as you were safe and comfortable with it.

"What are you waiting fo-" you blurt out loud pulling Miguel out from his train of thoughts. He stuck his fingers in your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. Dark brown eyes were looking down at you, "How are you so pretty and impatient?" His gaze darkens admiring how well you suck his fingers down.  He chuckled at the way you looked at him in disbelief when your sentences were interrupted.

"I'm just thinking," Miguel said with a smug smirk and paused for a moment before adding, "I have an idea for us now."

Your boyfriend is right. You were a gorgeous woman, but sometimes you could get a little impatient. You couldn't help it though it's because you missed him terribly. You couldn't help but blush as he complimented you about your beauty and your impatience. It felt as though you were always impatient when it came to him; he simply ignited a primal drive in you that you could never ignore.

He withdraws his fingers reluctantly from your mouth. "Oh, yeah?" you said with a grin. "What exactly were you thinking about? You definitely have me curious." You had an inkling of suspicion you knew what he had in mind; you could see it in his eyes.

"Stay." He orders you.

And you happily obliged laying back in bed stretching out your body as he shifted his weight off of you. He stalks towards the toy box that was at the foot of the bed. And retrieves some special toys in his possession. You stayed where you were, looking up at him as he retrieved the toys. You were curious as to what he was planning, but you couldn't help but keep your eyes on him as he walked to the toy box. His strong body was on full display, and no matter how many times you saw him, there was always something about his body that you couldn't help but stare at.

"Should I be scared?" You teased with a grin.

Miguel couldn't help but start chuckling as he looked at you. He looked down at you, amused by your comment. "Only a little," he chuckled, looking down at you with a grin. "Or maybe a lot." He gave you a kiss on the forehead, and he looked down at you as he gently grabbed your shoulders.

"I'm only kidding," he said with a smirk. "I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to." He was always trying to take care of you, and he always wanted you to feel safe and protected.

You couldn't help but laugh at this. "Am I allowed to move now? Or do I have to be a good girl and stay put?" You teased, your eyebrows raising. You could see something in his eyes, and he definitely had something planned for you. You hadn't had this much fun in a while, and you couldn't wait to see what he had planned.

"Ven aquí," he motioned you to move to the edge of the bed with a finger curling in his direction. You bite your bottom lip sitting up immediately and scoot to him. Your bare legs dangling off the bed as you stay up looking up at his big clothed body with Doe eyes. "Good Girl," he praised. In his possession he had a black silk blind fold. Your heart pounding loudly against your ribcage, as you watched him lazily roll up his sleeves. You watched a sin unfold before you. He could hear it. The anticipation and discomfort he was causing poor little you. With his super hearing he smirked at the increased heart rate he caused you. He reached over your shoulders, his breath deliciously near your ear you squirmed, rubbing your legs together. He inhaled slowly through his nose, your scent tainting his senses. The man standing before has you absolutely riled up.

"We're going with the Traffic Light system," he promoted you, "Green means?" 

"Good," You chimed in a little too quickly, "Yellow means easy. And Red is Stop." You blurted out the rest ready to get to the best part- him fucking you.

His chest rumbles as he chuckles, "Good Girl." He ties the fabric over your eyes, taking away your vision. You had to rely and solely depend on him. 

He pointed his spinnerets at you and craftily tied you up in his crimson red web. You felt constricted and secured. The red web wrapped around your shoulders and bare chest, forming a star. And along and between your thighs he weaved and wrapped the silk web several times, where it stopped up just above your belly button and wrapped around the small of your back. You felt the web gently tug into your skin as you wiggled. "The more you move the tighter it gets" he reminds you, "Behave yourself." The rope also becomes loose if he tugs and twists it a certain way. 

He tied you up so effortlessly, just like Spider-Man would do with his foes. You sat there, all tied up, your blindfold on, unable to see what he was doing. It was a rather unique experience; all you could do was sit there and let him do whatever he had planned for you.

"I'll be a good girl," you said as he finished tying you up. You were happy to play along with this little game, and you couldn't wait to see what he would do to you next.

"Excelente," he mused regarding his masterpiece with half hooded lust filled eyes. You felt him shove you back by the shoulders, and you flop back, your hair cascading around you on the linens. A nervous giggle escapes from your lips. 

Miguel was so good at this. He used his powers to tie you up, and now you were completely vulnerable. You were still so attracted to him, even after all the times he had wrapped you up like this.

"You enjoy tying me up don't you?" You couldn't help but chuckle. You loved it when he dominated you in many different ways,  and you wanted him to keep going. You looked forward to whatever he had planned next, and you would happily let him have the reigns.

"You look beautiful," you heard him say.

Your boyfriend had a way with his words. "Oh, thank you..." you said softly as you heard him give you that compliment. It always meant a lot coming from him, and you could tell he meant it when he said it. You both knew how much he meant it when he complimented you, and you loved him for being so genuine about it.

You could already feel those lustful feelings boiling over, and you knew he had something special in mind.

He reached over and grabbed a large white Wand. He kept it out of sight from you purposely when he received the blindfold. You hear an audible click followed by a buzz coming to life. 

You could feel goosebumps slowly rise up on your skin as you heard the click and the buzz, and you weren't quite sure what exactly was going on. You couldn't help but notice a little bit of fear mingling within your excitement. What was he going to do to you? You couldn't wait to find out; you were eager to see what he had planned.

He tactfully places the vibrating wand on the outside of your thigh. You jerked from the sensation. "Gah!" You gasp wiggling away feeling the web grow snugger on your skin. You were quick to stop the movement, stilling yourself. 

Miguel laughed at your quick reaction as you were distracted by the wand. He was surprised by how quickly you caught on to what he was doing, and he was impressed at your ability to follow his direction. You were definitely doing well so far.

"I'm very impressed," he said, smirking a little bit as he saw how well you were able to do as he directed. "You seem to be handling everything very well."

Lazily he glides the wand up and over your perky mounds. The web tied around your torso made them look more pronounced. You breath hitches and a small delicious whimper escapes your lips. 

"Oh?" Miguel was surprised by the sound you made as he dragged the wand all over your body. He continued to drag it around, making the webbing tight every time he did. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable, and you could feel every inch of your skin feeling it.

"How are you doing?" he asked, smirking at the sound you made. It wasn't a good sign, but he enjoyed your reaction as he tormented you.

"I'm great," you huffed trying to resist the urge to pull your bud away from his torturous touch. 

"Oh," he said playfully. "I doubt that you mean it." He knew you were enjoying his torment, of course, and he was happy to be able to have this much power over you. He couldn't help but smile with a chuckle as he continued his little torture session, loving every second of it.

It accidentally drifted over your core. Miguel watched amused.

Miguel laughed. "Where did it move off to?" He was trying to tease you. He had been teasing you all along, but this was the first time he had teased you in a way that could be interpreted as a threat. He was glad that he had found this new way to torment you, and he was looking forward to watching your reaction.

Miguel was trying to make you break, but would you finally have the strength to do it? Or would you give into the pleasure?He managed to elicit several pretty noises from your mouth. The wand rested near your slit. "Miguel-" you plead desperately, withering away. Your face contorted in pleasure 

Miguel leaned into you. He couldn't help but chuckle at you as he looked at you as you pleaded with him. He leaned in even closer and whispered into your ear, "What is it, Amor? Is something wrong?" He looked at your quivering body.

"I'm going to cum" you cried out to him, "Can't do this." 

Miguel's eyes lit up, and he felt an air of excitement building within him. "Oh, are you sure?" he whispered. "It looks like you were having so much fun..." He smirked, giving you one last taunt. He was so close to finally getting a reaction from you.

You heard a loud click just between your legs. And all hell broke loose. The buzz grew louder and was stronger. Much stronger. Your back arched up feeling the web press tighter into your skin. 

Miguel smirked as he watched your reaction. "Having fun, yet?" He watched you fight through the pain and the pleasure, and he loved seeing you react this way. He couldn't help but laugh as the tension between you two built and built. 

"I think you should just give in," he said softly.

"But you're going to punish me," you wailed, breathing harder with every moment that passed. You don't have to see him to know he had a condescending shit eating grin on his face. You could hear it in his voice as he coaxed you to give in. It was a trap and you knew better. Your body kept tensing up, you carefully try to move your body in a way that didn't trigger the webs to constrict you. Miguel noticed and pressed just a little bit harder on to your core.

Miguel couldn't help but smirk; he was loving the way you were reacting to his little punishment. He enjoyed tormenting you, and he could tell that you were getting a kick out of it. Even if it hurt a little, you were clearly having fun.

"Oh?" he said, taunting you. "Are you scared now?" he laughed. "I can be much worse if I wanted to. Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes, please" 

Miguel smirked. "Oh, is that so?" he asked. He continued to drag the wand all over, enjoying the reaction he was getting from you. Every time you squirmed, he knew he had found something that worked. He would give you a little more of it, enjoying your reaction as the web tightened around you and the wand continued to tease you.

"Is this better?" he asked. "Or should I give you a little more?"

Your tears pricked the corner of your eyes darkening your blindfold. You felt a small lump form in the back of your throat feeling it get tight. Maybe you shouldn't have begged for more. The handsome devil who taunts you watched in amusement. Miguel knew if you didn't want this you would have said a color by now. He leaned over your tied up beautiful body. His dark chocolate eyes devour the carnal sight. The web tightens in just the right spots. You didn't hear it but you definitely felt it. The wand abruptly stops its little sadistic ministrations gone.  His calloused rough palms caresses your quivering body, his fingers tracing along the web. He made sure it didn't cut off your blood circulation. You jumped at his sudden tender touch. 

"Better?" he asked. "How are you feeling?" Miguel was getting some sort of pleasure out of watching your reaction, and he couldn't help but smile at you once he stopped. He continued to run his hands over you, his fingers moving softly along the web. He leaned in, as his lips brushed against your ear and he whispered into it, "I love watching you struggle."

Miguel was happy that he had managed to push you this far; you were so easy to torment. He loved having this much power over you, and he loved using it to test every limit you had. He knew that he had pushed you to your limit, and he was curious to see whether or not you would reach it.

Your body trembled slightly as he touched you, and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a few moans. You weren't quite sure why you were reacting this way, but you knew that you were enjoying it. You were happy to play whatever games Miguel wanted you to, and you could already feel yourself getting wetter.

"I want to make you feel good," you confessed, feeling guilty that he was tending to your desires. You hadn't done anything to show him your love and appreciation. You strained your ears to hear him, the echoes of the wand still lingered in your eardrums. "Hermosa," His rough fingers curled around your chin holding you in place. Even though your vision was robbed from you; you certainly felt his gaze on you. And you were right Miguel's breath brushed over your lips his eyes fixated on 

"I love it when you call me that," you admitted, your voice breaking a little bit. He could tell you were trying to stay strong, but he could also tell that you were close to breaking. Was that his goal this whole time? To push you just close enough to break you? You would definitely learn a lot about yourself if your boyfriend managed to get you to scream for mercy again.

As Miguel held onto your chin, you could hear his voice come close to your ears. "What do you think you deserve, my love?" he whispered.

"I deserve you." You whisper back so quietly you were unsure if he heard you. Your body shook in waves sending small tremors to your hands and feet. 

"Oh, do you now?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement as he held your chin. "Do you think you truly deserve me?" Miguel was going to make you earn his affection, and he was looking forward to the challenge. He was certain that you wouldn't be able to keep yourself together much longer.

He couldn't help but smile as he spoke, knowing exactly what it meant to you. He enjoyed knowing how much power he had over you. "How would you prove it?" he whispered.

"I want you in my mouth," you sobbed tears begin to stain the blindfold, "I want you to feel good too, Miguel."  

Miguel smirked. It was clear that you were close to breaking, and he couldn't help but continue to push you further. He was enjoying himself, and he couldn't help it. It was almost as if he couldn't help himself from tormenting you in this way. Miguel was loving every second of this.

You begged for him, and he laughed in excitement. He looked forward to punishing you in more ways to get you to beg for him. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, his smugness obvious.

"I guess it can't be helped," he sighed. You felt the bed shift and he was no longer near you. The sound of jingling metal could be heard. The bronze being slowly removed his belt and along with his jeans. His package stood up loud and proud, clearly triggered by your pleas. He then rid himself of the black button up by tossing it away. He stalked back to you a little disappointed you couldn't admire his body but that was fine. He tossed his brown locks back with his fingers and crawled back to you. His tawny lips trailed from your toe to your heels. Apologetically kissing the sore that formed from dancing earlier tonight. He worked his way up to your ankle and shin reaching your knee. He nipped at your plump thighs, careful not to puncture you with his fangs. You felt blissful. 

As Miguel leaned in, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure. His touch was so delicate, and he seemed so concerned with you. You could feel every part of yourself begin to relax, and you could feel every inch of yourself come alive with pleasure. It was a stark contrast to the pain you had felt just a moment ago. You were so happy that he was touching you.

Miguel was surprised that you were already falling for him again, but he didn't hold it against you. He continued to move up your body, taking his time and being as careful as possible. 

Ever so slowly he worked his way up to your breasts. Admiring how you melted under him. He kissed your puffy sensitive mounds. His full lips tantalizingly traced up from your collarbone to the crease of your neck. He fingers tweak at your peaks earning more pretty noises from you.

"Hermosa, a donde mi quieres?" He huskily groaned in your ear.

"M-my mouth," you meekly answer.

Pleased and satisfied with your answer, he crawled up your body, both knees rested on both sides of your head caging you in. He placed your arms above your head and shifted enough to pin them down with his knees. He grabbed his gifted package with its crimson, angry, big tip. He traced it around your lips. Precum coating your mouth like lipgloss.

"Are you going to suck me off like a good cumslut?" He coos cruelly to you. 

"Yes, Sir," you part your lips, your tongue out desperately waiting for him to stuff your mouth full.

A low groan escapes from him. "Open your fucking throat," he hissed. He forced his heavy cock all the way to the back of your hot warm mouth. "Mierda, is this what you wanted?" he was going to remold your throat to his size once again. He hated having to do this to you, but he did work a lot and now he was going to make up for the loss of time. His hips rock steadily, finding a rhythm suitable for both of you. 

You happily obliged, gagging down and slurping him up. Miguel chuckled. Was this really it? It was what you wanted, but he was expecting you to keep going. He was expecting it to get louder. He was expecting to be able to hear you scream just a little more, but he could tell that you were already broken. Miguel growled deep in his throat as you opened your mouth wider, allowing him to slide deeper. You loved the feeling of having him fill your entire mouth, and you did your best to swallow every inch of him. You felt his girth stretching your cheeks, and you loved the sensation. It made you feel powerful and sexy, and you didn't mind one bit.

"Maybe we should move on to something else," he said.

Desperately you lapped at his thick cock, you had already memorized where his veins were warped decoratively. In hopes that he would keep cock there for you to enjoy just a little bit longer. Drool and precum ran down your chin. 

Miguel chuckled. He stopped thrusting into your mouth. You were so eager to please him. He couldn't help but be amused by you as you continued work on his cock, enjoying the pleasure. He enjoyed seeing you beg for him, and he was happy to have power over you.

He wanted to push you beyond your limits, and he was going to do it. "Do you really want my cock in here?" he asked. "Or do you want something more?"Your mouth was stuffed full with him. 

At this point you didn't even care anymore. He had your arms pinned above your head. Your head is trapped between his muscular thighs. You just wanted him and whatever he gave you you would gladly accept it.

"Answer me." He withdraws his cock.

But you moved your head up stubbornly trying to take him back into your mouth. Oh no, he wasn't having that. He wrapped his entire hand around your pretty neck and forced you down, choking you. 

"Ahora," he growled. 

Miguel couldn't help but laugh. Your response was expected, but he had been hoping for an answer that would lead him down a different route. He couldn't get over how easily you were willing to bow down to him. It was like he was the king, and you had to bow down to him. He enjoyed feeling that way, and he was certainly going to utilize it more.

Miguel leaned in close to your ear, and he whispered to you, "I want to make you feel good. How can I do that?" he asked softly a stark contrast of how he handled you. 

"Do whatever you want, Love, please" you cried "I just want you." And with that a sinister light bulb went off in his head. He retrieved the white wand while turning slightly and placing it on your puffy clit. He aimed a spinneret at your thigh causing the wand to stick there. Miguel couldn't help but smirk. You were an easy woman to please. He continued to enjoy pushing you, and he liked testing your patience. He got an air of smugness about him, and he couldn't wait for the next step.

The man leaned back slightly. He got an excited look in his eye as he realized what the wand would allow him to do. He couldn't help but smirk, looking forward to seeing your reaction. Miguel loved watching your reaction as he turned on the wand, but he did feel a little guilty. He didn't like to see you in pain, but he loved seeing you struggle. The wand was just the right mixture of the two, and he had gotten you right where he wanted you. You were trapped, unable to escape, but you could still feel all the pleasure the wand was giving you. 

Miguel watched you continue to squirm and moan, and he smiled. He loved that he was able to do that to you. It only made him want to torture and pleasure you more. 

You felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. " I'm gonna cum." You sobbed, "'nna cum. Just fuck me."

"Oh, are you?" he asked softly, looking down at you in amusement. He had been hoping for a reaction, but he didn't expect this. He smiled at how easily you had taken to his plan. Miguel loved that he could turn you on so much. His smirk grew, but he didn't say anything back, just kept on looking down at you. 

He knew exactly what you meant, and he had the power to give it to you. He loved the way he would keep you on your toes; it made him feel powerful and in control. 

You squeezed your eyes closed. The vibrator was the end of you. Your body slowly arched up on its own even with him pinning you down with his weight. Miguel quickly caught on and slipped his large swollen cock his back into your mouth. He thrusted it down your throat along with your air. And the coil in your belly finally snapped. A heady,  broken moan wraps around his dick struggling to move past your stuffed mouth. Your eyes rolling back as you trashed from the fierce orgasm ripping through you. 

"Take it, take it," he growled, pounding balls deep against your chin.

The way your throat tightened around him sent them over the edge. He dumped his cum all in the back of your poor throat. That's all you could do just take his length as you convulsed in pure pleasure. His cock was halfway out and his hand moved around it to pump more out.

"Keep that mouth open and Don't fucking swallow it." He spat warning you fangs on full display. The shiver that went down your spine from the way he barked his order was surreal.

Your mouth was filled with his white creamy relief. And you weren't allowed to consume a single drop. He was mesmerized admiring his handy work.

"Swallow it, Hermosa."

You did.

"Don't waste it or I'll fuck it back into your throat." Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, feeling his cock rest against your wet cheek.

"Show me." He ordered. Your mouth parts wide open showing him what a good girl you are for him. You swallow every last drop he gave you. Miguel smirked to himself, very content . You were such a good girl for him, and he couldn't find anyone else that would suit him like you did. You were the perfect girl for him, and he would treat you the way you deserved. He turned off the wand strapped to your thigh and pressed up against your pussy. 

"You're such a good girl, my little Hermosa," Miguel purrs, pleased with you. "I'm so proud of you." 

"You are?" 

"Of course I am," he smiled. "There isn't anyone else I'd want but you." Miguel's smirk grew. You were amazing, and he could barely hold back his grin. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

Miguel loved you so much. He would do anything you ever asked. But now wasn't the time to talk about his love for you, as he was going to keep pushing you. He was still hard and ready to go.

Miguel rolled you over on all fours, putting you in a vulnerable position. You couldn't escape now, no matter how hard you tried. He had the power, strength, and he was going to use it. This was a different kind of pleasure, and he was going to enjoy it. Miguel looked forward to seeing just how far he could push you.

"I haven't even fucked all your holes yet," he snickers. Miguel grabbed hold of you by the red web and pulled you towards him. Your bottom up in the air, and your arms holding you up. He flipped on the wand that was still attached to your leg. "Ah-" your arms gave out. Your breasts fall to the bed making a deep arch for him. 

"I can't take it," you wailed from the overstimulation on your poor swollen clit. You huffed anxiously unsure if you were ready to do this. Maybe you're in over your head. You should have just changed into your pajamas and gone to bed.

He coos tenderly, "Shh..." He pulled you out from your unfocused and chaotic cluster of thoughts with his deep voice. You feel his rough calloused palms caress your rear in soothing circles.

"Cálmate, you're doing so well for me." He pressed a kiss on your plump ass cheek. As soon as you settled down some more he gave you another reassuring kiss on your cheek. He lined up his large hefty package with your drooling entrance. "Take a deep breath for me," he coached. He plunges into your vibrating slit. "You feel so fucking good, Hermosa." Miguel groans. 

He felt his self control slowly drift away. You winced at the sting in your lower belly hurting as he sheathed himself all the way inside. The tip of his enormous length kissing your cervix greedily. He peppered kisses on your shoulder blade to distract you from the pain. Your folds clenched him tightly, sucking him in deeper.

"Fuck Miguel-"

"I know, I know. You can handle it. This is why I don't like being away from you," he says, "Cause now I have to stretch you out all over again " He told lies.

He loved the way you felt. His favorite part was retraining your body to take him again. He pulled out gritting his teeth as your walls desperately clung to him.

"You're sucking me back in," he hissed, withdrawing his dick.

He thrusts back harder into you starting a rough pace for you to take. He repeatedly pulled your ass by the red web back to meet his hips. Your blind fold loosens  from his fervent movement and friction from your cheek rubbing the bed under you, finally slipping off your eyes. Tears fall out the corner of your eyes landing on the sheets. Your vision was absolutely blurry; you could see nothing but stars flooding your space. Your fists gripped the cover for dear life while your lover indulged himself. 

He made you cum for the Umpteeth time. "Que Rica estas," he growled pounding away at your vibrating pussy.  Skin on skin echoes throughout the bedroom. The large white wand is still buzzing away at your poor throbbing cunt.   You lie there a moaning mess with broken sobs. Drool pools out your mouth soaking the sheet. Miguel's crimson red eyes lock fixated on where you two were connected. He was mesmerized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. He loves the white frothing ring you created on his slick covered cock. He adored your fucked out expression as his heavy balls pat aggressivly against your pussy's lips.

"Dame una mas," he grunts, snaking an arm around your waist to get between your legs, feeling for your clit. He starts spelling his name on your clit, as if to remind your body who it belongs to. Him. Your lower belly feels full, a knot forming as Miguel summons another oragasm with his cock and fingers. He grabs a fist full of your hair forcing you to look at him. "Look at me," 

You looked at the feral sex god who fucked you from behind. His hair was a mess. Strands of his dark curls were sticking to his forehead. His sun kissed body glistening in sticky sweat. His fangs were visible and holy hell his eyes were red. This is the other version of him that you also loved and cherished dearly as well. His primal and animalistic side that he tried so hard to hide around you. When he was caught in the heat of the moment this version of him would come out. Miguel felt an overwhelming sense of pride. He had you right where he wanted you - a shivering mess on the bed, broken yet wanting more. He couldn't stop leering as he watched your tear stained face twist in pleasure, and he laughed. This was his element, and he was going to enjoy it as much as he could.

Miguel looked down at you in amusement, his smile growing even larger, he rubbed against your vibrating clit. He felt your walls around him squeeze tighter and tighter with every thrust. "Look at me when you fucking cum." He sent you over the edge once again, muscles spasming uncontrollably around his length. Your eyes rolled back, as more tears ran down your face. He loved your cock drunk face. It was that expression alone that sent him over the edge with you. He slams his pelvis into your ass with a wet audible smack. His chest sinks into your back pressing you further into the mattress. His low groan fills your ears with filthy Spanish profanities. He painted your cunt white and filled it up more. You felt a steady stream of liquid squirt out from you and run down your thigh. Every orgasm you have will be associated with him. The man knew how to condition your cunt. He sloppily kissed your tears as you cried out squirming under him.

"No more. I can't take it anymore." You wailed to him. 

Miguel kissed your tears away as you squirmed. He couldn't stop himself now; he had to push further. He wouldn't stop until you broke, and this was just another step he was going to take. He would put you back together again after you broke as he has done many times before.  He smiled down at you as you cried, taking satisfaction in his work. Miguel sighed slightly. He wasn't ready for you to give up yet. He wanted to push you, and you just gave in so easily. Miguel wanted more. He wanted to make you beg for him, and now you were just giving up. Miguel sighed again and shook his head as he flipped onto your back.

Miguel sat up. "Are you sure?" he asked. A smile grew on his face. "Are you sure you're done with this?" His voice was soft and sweet, but his eyes had that intense fire behind them, ready to push you further. He huffed and shook his head down at you as he laid you on your back under him.

"If you want me to stop then use your safe words." He challenged you. He knew you. If you really wanted him to stop you would have already called out a color. Miguel called you out on your bullshit. He leans down burying his face in the crook of your neck gently sucking at your sensitive skin.

"Say a color." He coaxed into your neck.  You bit your bottom lip. Miguel's voice was so close to your skin. He couldn't help but smirk as he leaned into you more, his teeth just barely touching the soft skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, and it felt so good. Miguel enjoyed himself as he took in the aroma of your body. His eyes closed, and he loved what he had done to you. 

Miguel pulled away, and smiled at you. "You still want me to stop?" he repeats. "Use your safe word if you really want me to."

You felt your face heat up once again. "Green." You moaned as he returned to nip on your breasts now.

"That's what I thought." He  replied smuggly. 

Miguel continued to look up at you with a mocking smile, knowing what you wanted him to do.

"So what do you want me to do?" he asked innocently.

Miguel knew what you wanted, but he wanted you to be specific. You had said the word, but he wanted to hear you ask him. Miguel loved making you beg.

"Keep going," you snapped at him, obviously annoyed with Miguel, your patience now gone, feeling too worked up.

"Hey, are you giving me attitude?" His brows furrowed and eyes narrowed down on you.

Your heart skipped a beat in fear of dealing with more intense treatment from your lover.

"Please, please, please," you punctuated with kisses on his lips desperately trying to convey your wishes to him, "Keep going, please. I need you." Your dignity and pride was nowhere in sight.

"That's my Good Girl," Miguel praised you. Miguel watched you, and he felt a wave of satisfaction run through him. You looked so cute right now. Your hair is a mess, your lips bruised , and your neck pink and purple with hickies. He enjoyed seeing you beg for his attention. Miguel had you exactly where he wanted you, and he would never let you go. Once you begged him, there was no taking it back. He felt powerful, and he enjoyed every second of it. He ripped off the wand from your thigh and flipped it off. 

Miguel's smile only grew as he watched you try to appease him. You really wanted him to keep going, and he was going to give it to you. He kisses each of your knees as he places them over his broad shoulders. Miguel's heart was racing. He enjoyed this so much. He wasn't going to be satisfied until he had you completely ruined and it would happen eventually. But for now? He would enjoy this moment. Miguel couldn't stop smiling down at you as he continued to press kisses into your knee. You looked so beautiful under him. Your legs parted nice and wide for his eyes only. Your juices mixed with his slowly pour out your sore cunt. "So wasteful" he mutters, stuffing the liquid back inside with his thumb. Miguel kept grinning while watching you writhe and squirm. There was no stopping him now. He had control over you, and he wasn't about to let go. He plunges back into your warm depths. Reaching deeper than before. A heavenly sigh parts from his lips, his half-hooded eyes lock on to yours.

You whimpered pathetically under him, "You're going to be the death of me..."

And soon he begins to move as one with you. Miguel's smile grew broader. He was in control, and he enjoyed every second of it. You would always be his. He didn't want anything besides that. He didn't want to let you go, and he didn't deserve to let you go. Miguel just kept pounding away.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

He kisses you as hard just he fucks. Both of your teeth messily clack against each other. 

Miguel felt alive as he kissed you again. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have someone like you. No one else could compare. Miguel's eyes closed, and he kissed you with everything he had. He wanted to feel as close to you as he could; he was finally in the heaven that he deserved. Miguel knew this was what he wanted, and he would never let it go. Your pussy was soaking wet accepting everything he gave you with ease.  He had you almost folded in half knees touching your breasts. You're a sight for him to cherish and ruin.

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up," He growls at a quickening pace. He heavy balls scrunch up with each harsh rut.

"Tómalo, tómalo, toma todo lo que te doy." He's slurring up his words in a heated frenzy state.

His cock burst filling you up even more. He curls in forcing his sperm further up your cervix. Miguel swallows your cries messily with his hungry mouth. Your legs trembling over his shoulders, your eyes glassy with new tears. He gently removed your legs from up his shoulder down to his waist.

He refused to remove his cock from your full pussy.

"I want you to be mine," he urged, "All mine. I'm gonna knock you up," He leaned down and kissed your forehead. Images of you with a large swollen belly flash through his head. He could have you waddling around his workplace letting everyone know you were off limits. Breasts spilling out as you breast fed his baby.The one you both created together. But the idea of one child isn't enough for him, maybe two or four little ones running around the house. He could have his own kids and rub it in Peter B Parker's face. 

You could tell that Miguel had been thinking about what your future together might look like, and you were happy to hear that he wanted you to be a part of it.

" I'm yours," you answered softly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness and adoration. You wanted your life to be tied to his in every way. You wanted nothing more than to be the woman who gave him children and made him happy. The thought of having his babies filled you with joy, and you wanted to do anything and everything to make that happen.You had never felt this way about anyone before. You couldn't imagine a life without him, and the thought of starting a family together was intoxicating. You wanted to give yourself to him entirely, and you were ready to surrender to the passion and emotion that you shared. You wanted to be his perfect partner and the thought of having his child was an incredible concept. You were willing to do anything for him, and you wanted him to know that.He finally softened and removed his cock from you. He ripped the red web off from your body effortlessly like tissue paper. 

You had been through a lot with Miguel, and now it was time for some after care. After all, you had both pushed yourselves to the limit and it was important to take some time to relax and enjoy the pleasure you had just shared. He cradled you in his arms, gently kissing your head and face. He stroked your hair and held you close, wanting to provide comfort and reassurance. You could feel his heart beating, and you felt safe and secure in his embrace. You knew that he would take care of you and protect you, and that made you feel even more loved.

"Amor don't fall asleep," he murmured into your locks. "I'll get the bath started." He gets out of bed and stalks to the bath. The water roars to life filling up the tub. Steam could be seen escaping from under the door frame. He came back into the bedroom and lifted you up in his arms. He carried you to the bathroom and placed you in the bathtub. He held you close, supporting you in the steamy, warm water. You were still feeling the effects of everything that had just happened, and you were glad to be held and taken care of. You felt safe and secure, and you appreciated the love that Miguel was showing you. You felt like you would never want to leave that bath tub, and you hoped to always be kept in a bubble of safety and comfort.

"Hermosa, how do you feel?" He asked carefully massaging soothing circles into your shoulders. His fingers work their way along your body. You felt the tension start to leave you as Miguel's hands began to rub your shoulders, working away the stress and muscle soreness. The hot bath had helped ease your sore muscles, and you finally began to feel calm after everything that had happened. Miguel was there for you, holding you close and comforting you, and you were grateful for his presence.

"I'm fine," you choked back fighting tears. 

"No,no, sweetie give me more," he pauses as he wraps up you with his arms pulling you back into his chest. "What's on your mind?" He sensed something was troubling you, but he wasn't sure if it was the sub drop from the intense session you two had together. 

"You want to have kids with me?" You quietly questioned him. 

Your question made Miguel startle, but he didn't hesitate to give you an honest answer. "Of course," he said. "I love you and I want to be with you forever. I want us to start a family together, and I want us to build a life together. I want us to have everything that we could ever dream of." His words brought a smile to your face, and you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders. You felt hopeful and optimistic, and you were glad to have such a loving and supportive partner by your side.

Part two is out!

#miguel ohara #miguel x reader #migueloharasmut #ATSVsmut #spiderman 2099 #Dom! MiguelOhara #Top!MiguelOhara #MiguelOharaxReadersmut #Miguel O'hara Smut #Miguel O'hara x reader #Dom!Miguel O'hara #miguel O'hara oneshot

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

#miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel/reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

[feralgirlfeelings]

wine drunk sex with miguel (//▽//)

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

tags: oneshot, smut, afab anatomy, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, clit stimulation, drunk sex, established relationship, riding, deep sex, little bit of breeding

word count: 1592

minors DNI!

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

you swirl around what was left in your wine glass, before sipping down the last of it. at this point, it doesn't even taste good. it's room temperature and stings as it makes its way down your throat.

you and your husband, miguel, decided to have some wine with dinner. which turned into just drinking wine and chatting on the couch. in the span of a few hours, the two of you had managed to finish two bottles of wine. despite the fact that he drank the majority of it, you felt a warm haziness. you were definitely tipsy. maybe a little drunk.

there's something about being wine drunk in particular that comes with a deep lust that was impossible to ignore. your attention begins to drift away from the conversation, and suddenly you find yourself looking your husband up and down through lidded eyes. fuck, he looks good.

he catches your glance, "what are you thinking about?" he asks amusingly. miguel always tried to hide it when he got tipsy, but you could tell from the slight rosy tint against his tan skin that he was feeling it too.

"hmm, nothing," you smile coyly. "just about how hot you look right now."

he raises his eyebrows before letting out a chuckle. it’s cute when you get bold. he leans over, his tall figure overwhelming yours. one hand makes its way to your waist, while the other to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

you clumsily reciprocate. his lips feel full, soft, and familiar. he slides his tongue into your mouth and you try to keep up, messily swirling your tongue around his. you let the kiss engulf you into an intoxicating bliss.

you pull away, just to catch your breath. he takes the opportunity to shift his hands downward from your waist. his grip tightens at your hips as he lifts you off of the couch and into his lap. you're now straddling him, immediately feeling his hard bulge that was now pressing into you.

he brings you back into the kiss, grinding his clothed dick into you. he brushes against your clit, making your head pound and your cunt throb. you roll your hips, matching his rhythm. your pussy starts to weep from the stimulation.

his sharp fangs grazes against your bottom lip before gently biting down, careful not to break skin. “you drive me fucking crazy, mi vida,” he slurs. you still smell the alcohol in his breath. he buries his head into your neck, breathing you in. his hands roam around your body, determined to explore every nook and cranny. "i can't help myself around you."

“i want you inside of me,” you purr into his ear, "let me ride you." he shutters at your words.

"right here?" he asks, glancing at the couch. you nod in response. he chuckles, "mi chica sucia."

he immediately takes off his shirt. you take a second to admire his warm, tan skin, his big, burly arms, and his happy trail that lead to the base of his cock underneath his pants. "don't gawk too much," he teases. your face flushes in response and you reach to unbutton his pants.

he lifts you off of him just for a second to slide his pants and boxers down, before undressing you. his hands move in a frenzy, desperate for access to your bare skin.

with you now naked on top of him, his hands makes its way to your bare ass, he squeezes hard and kneads the soft flesh in his hands. he reaches further downwards towards your cunt, his fingers spreading your folds and soaking in your slick. "fuck, you're so wet for me."

he teases you, fingers circling around your clit, knowing just how desperate you were for him. you give him a look that begged him to give you what you needed. he gives in, rubbing that sensitive sweet spot. you let out a whimper as you feel a jolt of pleasure.

you furrow your brows in concentration, focusing on the pleasure that was throbbing in your lower stomach. "m-miguel," you moan.

he takes a second to admire the view, you wrapped around him and moaning his name. your strained face was absolutely adorable, and knowing that he was making you feel that good just turned him on even more.

he chased your release, moving at a faster pace. the stimulation overwhelms you, sending you off the edge and the tension in your stomach bursts. you're hit with wave after wave of pleasure. it's so overwhelming your silent for a second, before letting out of a loud groan. he continues moving his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm.

he lets you catch your breath after your high dies down. noticing that his fingers are covered in your slick, he brings his hand to his face and sucks your wetness off of his fingers. he kisses you afterwards, "you taste so good, mi vida."

despite your orgasm, you're desperate for more. you give his cock a few strokes before running the tip up and down your cunt, separating the folds. "don't tease me," he groans.

you line him up to your hole before slowly sinking down onto him. you struggle to take in all his girth, his thick cock stretching you out. you get half of his length inside of you, pausing to get used to the feeling of being stuffed.

after the dull ache of being stretched subsides, you continue to sit further down onto his dick until you're sat fully in his lap. both of you shutter as his dick reaches the hilt. you feel your walls clench tightly around him.

you start to move up and down slowly, his dick pumping in and out of you. you quietly moan his name as you feel a fluttering in your lower stomach.

"fuuuck, you so tight," he drags out. his eyes are closed and he furrows his brows in concentration, as you bounce on his dick. you see one side of his fangs as he bites his bottom lip.

your eyes roll back at the mind-numbing feeling of his cock bullying it’s way into your pussy, hitting your cervix over and over again. you start to feel another orgasm start to build in your lower stomach.

miguel pulls you into a messy kiss as you continue to ride him, tongues colliding and swirling inside of each other’s mouths in an attempt to take in as much of the other as possible. he then firmly grips onto your hips and slams your hips down, while thrusting his hips up into you. you're so pathetically overwhelmed by the feeling of his dick being shoved into the deepest parts inside of you that you can't even choke out a moan.

he continues to fuck you stupid from underneath and you're happy to let him do all the work. his cock easily slides in and out of you, his entire shaft coated in your cream.

his head was still cloudy from the wine and from how fucking good you felt, all he could think about was how much he wanted to stuff you full of his cum. he pounds into you mercilessly and the couch creaks with every thrust from the sheer force of his movements.

"i'm so close, mig," you whine. he’s driven by an uncontrollable desire to get you off, to feel your cunt squeeze around his dick. "you gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl?" he teases, before picking up the pace and digging his fangs into your neck.

you cry out, voice breaking as you reach your peak. waves of intense, throbbing pleasure crash into you. he keeps fucking you, cussing as your walls clench around him, becoming impossibly tight. it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

you come down from your high, but he doesn't let up. you shutter on his cock from the sensitivity. "i'm gonna fill you up," he pants, "you want that, pretty girl?" you can barely comprehend what he's saying in your fucked out state, but you manage to let out a moan while nodding your head. he wraps his thick arms around you, as he ruts into you like a fuck doll.

his rhythm gets sloppy as he approaches his orgasm, before letting out a load groan and slamming his hips against your ass with unbelievable force. he holds you in place as he spills his hot, thick load into you, filling you to the brim. your pussy starts leaking his creamy seed from the sheer volume inside of you. "fucking take it," he sighs, slowly thrusting and digging his cock even further, determined to fuck all his cum into you.

he stops after his high comes down, but keeps you plugged up with his cock. you’re both panting and exhausted. your body goes limp and you collapse against his chest, your head still pounding from adrenaline.

he lifts your hips up off of him and his seed flows out of you. he gently lays you onto the couch and the second he lays your head down, your eyelids start to feel heavy. he quickly grabs some tissues to clean both of you up.

after cleaning up, he grabs some blankets and joins you on the couch. he kisses you on your forehead and tells you how good you were, holding you close.

as you drift asleep, you think to yourself, “fuck i’m gonna have the worst headache.”

this is the tweet that inspired this LMAO

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel smut

[oharababe]

ONESHOT + SERIES MASTERLIST

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

STRESS RELIEVER (NSFW)

ACROSS FOR COMFORT

MEETING MIGUEL'S VARIANT FROM EARTH-2401

PROFESSOR RIVALRY WITH MIGUEL

SEVEN DAYS A WEEK MASTERLIST ✿ explicit nsfw. situationship miguel inspired by the song seven (jungkook).

GIRL DAD MASTERLIST ✿ mature. single dad miguel and teacher reader.

KNOWING ME, KNOWING YOU MASTERLIST ✿ mature. spider-man 2099 miguel and civilian reader.

RICH BABY DADDY MASTERLIST ✿ explicit nsfw. dad's best friend miguel.

ETERNAL SUNSHINE MASTERLIST ✿ mature. post-breakup with miguel.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #the miguel effect #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara oneshot

[madschiavelique]

Been vomiting my intestines out all week, can't even get up due to high fever

I need big, strong, Irish-Mexican man to take care of me. Pretty please

okay i am SO sorry i took so long but going back to school happened and i got way too much work per weeks to do

but i have a little holiday week ! so i thought catching up on my old requests might be good hehe

(i didn't include vomit in there bc it's smth that triggers me as stated in my request rules but still made reader pretty sick - i am sick myself atm so YEA enjoy)

summary : miguel takes care of you when you're sick content warnings : none, pure fluff and comfort, no use of Y/N (didn't proofread but i think i kept it a gender neutral reader way ? do correct me if i'm wrong please) word count : 1,1k

You knew when you woke up that morning that work would be utterly impossible. Every joint felt like it was made of lead, your head felt like it was filled with cotton wool and your stomach was screaming at you that something was definitely wrong.

You straightened up, immediately regretting your choice as you almost fell backwards. Your head hurt like hell, your whole body felt cold and you were shaking like jelly.

Last night you'd simply fallen asleep with a little headache and a scratchy throat, but that was nothing like the pain you were feeling now.

"Miguel?" you called, your lips heavy.

You'd been tired the day before, but not that tired. You looked at the clock on your bedside table; it was early enough for Miguel to still be in the flat, unless he was out for a morning jog.

You hesitated to call him again, considering how you seemed to be having trouble swallowing your own saliva. You swallowed, wincing as you felt as if your throat had been riddled with blows from the inside.

You made a second attempt to sit up, less abruptly this time. You were thinking, wondering what you could have done in the last few days to get yourself into something so violent.

You needed a painkiller, and you needed it fast if you wanted to keep your wits about you for the rest of the day. You turned slowly, placing your feet on the ground. You felt completely frozen.

You pushed on your legs, feeling for the moment as strong as a slightly overstretched elastic band. Once you were completely up on your feet, Miguel entered the room.

As you'd expected, he'd just come back from his morning jog.

"Good morning, nena," he smiled as he opened one of his wardrobe doors, not wanting to let you near him while he was still sweating.

You were almost jealous of his energy at the moment, how was it that you were feeling so unpleasantly uncomfortable and he was frolicking around like a lionless antelope?

"Mornin'," you croaked, swallowing and wrinkling your nose at the sensation as this simple gesture made you cough a couple of times.

Your cough was slightly heavy, which obviously surprised you as much as it did Miguel. He was putting on a new pullover, his head sticking out over the collar, revealing his furrowed brow.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, taking a few steps towards you.

"I don't know..." you tried to speak words, but it was as if you'd bitten them into pieces before spitting them out lazily.

Not at all satisfied with your answer, Miguel placed a hand on your cheek, his frown deepening as he placed his lips against your forehead.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours, easing the chill that clung to your skin.

"Cariño," he murmured, stepping back and looking into your glassy eyes, "you have a fever."

"It's all right," you mumbled as his hand, warm as tenderness, caressed your cheek with its thumb, letting your head sink into his palm as if onto a pillow.

The 'everything's fine' was more automatic than true. You knew how Miguel, despite his sometimes disinterested demeanour towards others, could become worried about you with frightening alacrity.

"When was the last time you had a day off?" he'd ask, sighing with an exasperation that sounded like 'you weren't careful were you'.

The effort of thinking about it gave you an expression as painful as if you were banging your head against a wall. So that's why you were so sick.

It's true that, come to think of it, you hadn't managed to get even a single second's respite for several weeks. You were filing paper after paper, spending the time you had when you got home wrapping up files, and the pace had given you the impression that you were gradually turning into a robot.

"Two weeks?" you suggested.

"Nena, you've been like this for over a month now," corrected Miguel.

"Fooling is my favourite thing to do," you purred, still pressing your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

"You shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard, it's not good for you," his tone was gentle, his eyebrows previously furrowed in frustration now knotted in worry.

"You're one to talk," you laughed softly, your eyes reopening to meet his gaze.

"I - yes, well," he admitted, biting the inside of his cheek. "Let's get you back into bed."

You weren't going to fight what you wanted most in the world right now, so Miguel gently helped you to lie down. It pained him to see you in such a state. No matter how many threats he fought, he couldn't stop you getting sick.

He piled the cushions behind your back to keep you comfortable, tucked you in carefully, and sat down beside you, one of his hands resting on your thigh covered by the blanket.

He stroked it with his thumb through the fabric, letting out a sigh followed by a thin smile that made him relax his shoulders.

"Tell me what you want for today, anything. Your favourite food, watch your favourite film, have me bring you anything. I'll stay with you today."

That Miguel would do you the honour of staying with you today, putting his work aside, almost made you want to cry. Whether it was joy or surprise, or both combined, you had no idea, but what was certain was that the sensations your body was sending you, which were quite pleasant, would undoubtedly be better in his presence.

"Let's start with a painkiller," Miguel suggested as he stood up and headed for your medicine cabinet, "and something to counter the fever."

"I was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life," you laughed to yourself as you waited for him to return.

The rest of the day was in stark contrast to everything you'd had to endure in the last month or so of relentless work. Miguel brought you food in bed, asked how your symptoms were progressing by the hour, and you watched a number of films that you enjoyed together.

He kept hugging you, softly caressing your skin, making sure you’d always finish your glass of water and wouldn’t stop for a second to be by your side.

He’d kiss your forehead, your cheeks and wouldn’t listen to you before kissing your lips. You kept telling him you didn’t want him to be this close to you for the sole reason that you didn’t want him to get sick as well. But he didn’t care, he didn’t care if he got sick, because the one who was ill as of now was you and you needed all the comfort you could get.

You couldn't have wished for a better miracle cure than Miguel's presence.

#mads' requests ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x masc!reader #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel ohara imagine #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #atsv x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099

[buckys-lover]

Again

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.7k

summary: miguel finds out you can squirt, and he wants to make you do it again

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being kinda needy, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), a bit of praise and degrading :), creampie (bc i have a breeding kink), a lot of italics bc how else would y’all know what I mean?, also Spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: this thought would not leave my head, so this happened. also, I know there’s a lot of debate ab squirting and how it happens/what it is…I don’t have time to get into all that, just enjoy the short little fic // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Thinking about how Miguel would react the first time he makes you squirt

You two have been going at it for a while now, and he’s made you come twice already

He switches up positions, and you swear you can feel him deeper this time, hitting a spot inside you that no one ever has before

And, by God, you’re seeing stars. You can’t think straight, not when he’s pounding into you with an intensity that makes your soul leave your body; it’s a completely otherworldly experience

He just keeps going, keeps hitting that spot, and oh no, again, a-fucking-gain.

You didn’t think you could reach your orgasm so fast, but he feels so good, and you just can’t hold on any longer

You gasp, gripping onto him tightly, “Miguel, please, I’m…ay dios, I’m gonna-”

You squirt.

Miguel stops completely, staring down at where your bodies meet. Eyes wide, taking in what just happened before looking back at you to meet your shocked gaze.

You swear your breath catches in your throat. That look he gives, one of pure hunger and lust, feral even.

“Do that again.” His voice comes out as a growl, a command. Fuck, he needs you to do that again. The way you squeezed tighter around him, the way you sounded when you squirted, the dazed look you had…he needs it again.

He starts up again, trying desperately to mimic what he had been doing earlier to ensure that you would squirt at least one more time.

“Por favor querida, hágalo otra vez” You’ve never seen him so needy, and you can’t help but whine at his words.

He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, trying to bring you closer to the edge. “C’mon baby, please, I know you have it in you, just one more time, that’s all I’m asking. Solo una vez más.”

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe it’s his intensity, how badly he wants it, the way that he’s begging you, the way his cock hits that spot inside you just right.

You’re squirting…again.

And the moan Miguel lets out? Absolutely heavenly, you assume that’s what the angels must sound like when you reach the pearly gates. Although, they could never truly sound as good as he does.

And he’s thanking you, praising you, telling you, “Así cariño- such a good girl, squirting all over my cock like a fucking whore.”

You can’t take it anymore, you’re so overwhelmed, so strung out, so overstimulated - but you need more. Need Miguel to give you exactly what you want, and you know he’s close.

“Por favor amor, sé que quieres-” You whimper, barely able to get the words out. Your mind is foggy, unable to string together a coherent thought other than the desire to be wrecked and filled by the man before you.

“Mm, you want me to cum? Want me to fill up your pretty little pussy? Want me to breed you?”

You don’t have to say anything, the way you tighten around him and dig your nails deeper into his skin is enough of an answer.

And he can’t hold out any longer, not that he wants to anyways. 

With a deep groan, he’s cumming inside. Twitching and rutting against you, keeping himself buried to the hilt, making sure that not a single drop escapes.

He leans down, still staying inside your soaked and pulsing heat, placing gentle kisses and bites on your tits and neck.

He’s muttering praises into your skin, telling you how good you were for him.

“Siempre eres tan buena para mí.” He whispers beside your ear before turning to kiss you, passion and desire and appreciation all mixing together in an intoxicating kiss.

Anyways

I think it would become a regular occurrence for Miguel to try and make you squirt at least once every time you have sex from that day forward.

—

Translation:

ay dios - oh god

Por favor querida, hágalo otra vez - please darling, do it again

Solo una vez más - just one more time

Así cariño - like that sweetheart

Por favor amor, sé que quieres - please, love, I know you want to

Siempre eres tan buena para mí - you’re always so good for me

—

tagging some mutuals and ppl who might enjoy this <3

@zstrn // @joaquinwhorres // @dilfsfordinner // @chshiresins // @1800-fight-me // @thelmis // @harlekin6 // @banana-cheese-cake // @freeshavocadoooo // @fandoms-writings // @slocalari // @tarjapearce // @solesurvivorjen // @cozykali // @sunflowersteves // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @inklore // @golden-barnes​ // @yourmommaissofine​ // @miggyyyohara // @hargroveandco​ //

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanon #miguel o'hara hc #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfic #marvel #marvel smut #x reader #again #sara:writes

[arachnoia]

mode ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x afab! reader

in which one of new york’s most famous models runs into an old acquaintance during a modeling gig.

had a lil drabble in mind so i wrote it!! thank you guys so so much for liking my last posts it means a lot!! tbh idk what this was but I was j writing. i’m open to write other characters but need ideas so pls drop some in my requests! formula 1 is also going to be continued v v soon!

thank you! 😪🙏🏼

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You’ve always had aspirations of becoming a model, being on a billboard along with many celebrities you admired.

The posing, the glamour, the attention.

It was a dream you’ve always had, having an insatiable hunger for it.

You drank your chai in peace as you were just finished your Pilates class. You had a photoshoot later on to model some new brand that hit social media and exploded in popularity. It could help both your public images.

“Good morning, N/n!” Jess said, giving you a hug from behind.

Jess is your roommate and has been your best friend since your freshman year in high school. The both of you bonded over American pop culture, fashion, and the immense difficulty of your freshman physics class.

She had your back when you forgot the formula for net force and when you were having emotional turmoil over your crush on Miguel O’Hara.

Everyone knew about your crush on him because who would have a crush on the physics math geek?

You.

He was scrawny, quiet, a nerd, and no one knew who he was. Until people found out you liked him, which was obvious because you would get caught staring at him from across the lunchroom multiple times.

The two of you were polar opposites socially.

You weren’t popular, to say the least, but it’s not like people didn’t know who you are. There were a decent amount of people who liked you in high school, but you only had your eye on him.

Like Jess, he was also in your physics class freshman year and caught your eye.

He’s the reason why you wanted to do modeling.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was junior year in your AP Lang class and you two were doing peer reviews for an essay.

You two were in a library near your high school. It was quiet until he just blurted out: “You should consider modeling, Y/n.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden compliment, “What?”

He just shrugged and pushed up his square glasses. “I’m just saying that you’d look nice on a cover of a magazine. You look the type.”

“O-Oh…Thanks?”

You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so awkward.

His face stayed as nonchalant as always, “Mhm.”

It was safe to say that there wasn’t a single word spoken after that.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jess tied up her hair and stretched. “Do you need a ride? Isn’t the studio in Manhattan?”

You shook your head and sipped your chai, “Nope, it’s in Brooklyn. And it’s okay! I have some errands to run after the shoot if it won’t take long.”

“Alright, girl. What’s the guy’s name again? The guy that owns the brand.”

“I think his name's Gabriel?” You shrugged and took a bite out of your açaí bowl. Jess took a spoon and ate some too.

“Wow! You just take my breakfast huh?”

Jess giggled and ran back to her room, “Good luckkkk!”

You scoffed and smiled, “You bitch!”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You took the train to get to the studio and walked there.

It was a little apartment building that had some graffiti on the side of the wall. You liked how nice the graffiti was.

You went inside and knocked on the door for apartment 206.

You heard some clutter and a voice all of a sudden, “-Coming!”

The door opened to a young man, maybe in his 20s? Early 30s?

“Hi, my name is Gabriel! You’re Y/n Y/l/n? I’ve heard so much about you! You’re an amazing model. Your magazine shoot with Vogue was so nice!” he gushed.

His voice sounded really familiar but wasn’t at the same time.

“Oh thank you so much! Your brand is actually really nice! Thank you for reaching out! Can I come in?”

He rushed in and stood to the side of the door, “Of course! Come right in!”

The apartment was really nice and was a decent size. Not too big and small.

Some assistants were running around getting some clothes ready and preparing the violet backdrop with a silver desk that looked like something out of Star Wars.

You got into many different outfits which were really modern and motorsport-ish.

It reminded you of that futuristic streetwear style that’s growing these days, which was really fresh to see.

Gabriel popped in from the lounge area where you were already dressed to go home, “You did really good! Again thank you so much for coming! It’s going to do the brand so so well!”

You smiled and nodded, “Of course! It was nice meeting-“

You heard the door open and was interrupted by another voice, “Hey Gabri, you left your electronic watch at my place.”

Gabriel smiled and went over to claim his watch, punching the man in the arm, “Thanks Miggy!”

Your face twisted from a smile to a shocked expression.

“Oh! Y/n, meet my older brother, Miguel!” Gabriel said, pointing at his brother.

“Miggy, meet Y/n Y/l/n! She’s an awesome model who’s helping me promote my brand!”

He looked over to you and stared, “I’ve heard of who she is.”

You couldn’t help but have your jaw drop. Your eyes couldn’t believe it.

That scrawny, shy kid from high school was no more. He got replaced by a man with a body identical to a greek god’s, beautiful, luscious locks of chestnut hair, and gorgeous arms.

He still had his old square glasses which added charm to the rest of his outfit; a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants.

He made you feel like you were back in high school, crushing on him while he explained formulas to you.

“I said ‘hi’, Ms. Y/l/n,” he smiled, looking you up and down. You didn’t know if he was being judgmental or just observing.

“O-Oh! Hi!” You held at your hand to Miguel, who looked a slight bit amused and shook it.

“My brother here is a chemical engineer at this place, Alche-what?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and laughed, “Alchemax. And it’s nice to meet you, miss.”

Gabriel smiled and checked his phone due to it ringing loudly, “Shoot! I have to pick up some fabric I ordered. It’s the last one they have! Migs, please lock up! Good bye, Ms. Y/l/n!”

Gabriel ran out the studio and threw the keys at Miguel, who caught them quickly.

Miguel looked back at you and smiled sarcastically, “Y’know, it would’ve been nice if you weren’t eye fucking me in front of my own brother, Ms. Y/l/n.”

You felt shivers down your spine.

The way your last name rolled off his tongue was so sexy, especially with that slight accent he’s always had.

You tried to say something so you wouldn’t look like a complete idiot in front of your high school crush, “E-Excuse me…?“

“You heard me, Y/n.”

Oh fuck.

“I b-believe you’re mistaken. I would never do that in a professional setting with someone I work with.”

You mentally cheered yourself on. You weren’t sounding like an idiot anymore.

You don’t think.

He hummed and shrugged, “I didn’t think I would see you working with my brother, yet here we are. How’s life been?”

What the fuck?

How could he be so calm and asking ‘how’s life?’ after accusing you for eyefucking him.

He wasn’t wrong but it’s embarrassing.

“It’s fine. So you work at Alchemax?”

“Yeah. We’re working on something right now, but I can’t tell you.” He started chuckling and folded his arms

God, how much you loved that in high school.

Even then, he would make every single little thing so sexy.

In high school, he looked like he had never experienced a touch of a woman.

But now…

“Why not?”

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, “It’s top secret, nena.”

You looked at him from the side of your eye and he locked eyes with you.

You couldn’t deny the rough tension in the room.

His eyes were a beautiful shade of ruby red, accentuated thanks to the blinding glare of the studio lights still being on.

Then you locked your eyes to his lips. They were so full and beautiful and you wanted to kiss them.

He smiled at you and was going to pull back from his leaning position before you wrapped your arms around his neck and connected your lips to his.

You’ve been waiting since freshman year to kiss him. Who could blame you?

What you didn’t expect is for him to kiss you back, more rough and passionate.

You felt him smile a bit, making you kiss him even more.

It didn’t take long for you and Miguel to walk towards the desk, where he broke from the kiss and pushed you against the desk, ass facing him.

You were still in disbelief that you were making out with your high school crush so suddenly, making your heart pound.

You were wearing one of your favorite outfits; a black corset top and a white lace skirt you stole from Jess.

You felt him rub your ass before he spanked it under your skirt, hearing him growl a bit. “Fuck…”

He leaned towards to kiss your cheek, feeling his hard bulge from his sweatpants. “Let me make you feel good, cariño.”

Did you mention you loved it when he spoke in Spanish? You loved it when he spoke in general.

You turned around and sat on the desk as you took off your top and slid down your skirt, leaving you in your panties.

He looked at you up and down again, now with underlying lust and darkness in his eyes, “I’ve been waiting to do this since high school.”

He roughly took his shirt off and also slid down his pants, leaving you to gawk at his stunningly toned body.

“Like what you see? Careful, mi bélla, you have something aquí,” he smirked as he caressed your face.

He placed his hand on your hip and played with the string of your underwear before ripping it apart with his (abnormally?) long nails.

“That’s better,” he said as he pulled the piece of clothing off of you. He took off his boxers and as soon as he did that, you kneeled down and started rubbing on his length.

“Let me make you feel good first.” You started grazing your lips on it and kissed his swollen tip, already oozing with precum.

You put him inside your mouth and he started to gently thrust as you started to suck.

“Yeah baby, you feel so fucking good-"

You felt like gagging, taking him all, thick, long, and veiny.

It didn’t take long for him to ejaculate in your mouth, having you swallow and some of his cum spilling on the sides of your mouth.

“God, you look so sexy like this,” he whispered, brushing some of your hair away from your face. You smiled up at him as he bit his lip.

He sat you on top of the desk, legs wide open.

He started to play with your clit and inserted two fingers almost immediatly to your already wet core.

"M-Miguel...fuck."

You whimpered quietly as he started to fingerfuck you fastly.

He chuckled darkly, "If you can't handle my fingers, then I'd like to see you handle my cock."

You laughed dryly and cried out as he went even faster.

Right as you were going to come, he stopped.

"Why did you do that," you slurred, feeling high on the sexual tension.

"Don't worry, just wait."

He whispered as he kept teasing your poor clit and started to pump his dick.

"Shhhhh" he muttered as he started to insert himself inch by inch, “Estas haciendo bien, mi linda. AY DIOS-"

Your eyes widened at how much he stretched you out, and it was barely the tip. "Oh fuck, Miguel-"

"D-Don't worry, baby. You're doing good..."

You scratched at his back as you bounced again and again. "O-Oh my fucking god..."

You felt like you were in a porn movie with how loud your moans and how bright the studio lights were, accentuating every crease and muscle on Miguel’s hot body.

You couldn’t help but stare as he mindlessly rearranges your organs fucking you.

You started to hold on to his arms as he went at a violent pace.

“A-Alchemax must stress the living shit out of you, h-huh? F-FUCK!”

He smiled a bit as he went a little faster, “You can’t...imagine. Estos pinche- PUTA MADRÉ-"

You felt him twitch inside of you and release, filling you up to the brim as you released your high as well.

"Oh s-shit..."

You mumbled before covering your face, turning over to hide your face and just bent over.

He kissed your exhausted body on the desk, all sweaty and hot from your tiring activities from earlier.

As he dressed up again, he couldn’t help but stare at his masterpiece; having Y/n Y/l/n, one of New York’s most respected models, in such a slutted out position.

Bent over and trembling, filled up to the rim with his cum.

Although he was a chemical engineer at such a highly respected place such as Alchemax, he couldn't help but feel proud that he had you like this.

Just for him.

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[witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff]

ᏝᎧᏉᏋ'Ꮥ ᏰᏝᎥᏕᏕ

ᎷᏗᏕᏖᏋᏒᏝᎥᏕᏖ #2

It was a beautiful morning in Nueva York. The sun was shining, birds were chirping and the city was alive with its usual hustle and bustle. Miguel and his wife, Y/N, were sitting on their balcony enjoying their morning coffee.

Y/N was content with the peaceful moment, sipping her coffee and leaning her head on her husband's shoulder. Miguel's arm was wrapped around her waist, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her hip. They had been happily married for five years now and were expecting their second child.

Miguel was overjoyed at the idea of expanding their family. After losing their first child, Gabriella, in a tragic accident, they never thought they would be blessed with another. But here they were, happier than ever and eagerly waiting to meet their little bundle of joy.

'I still can't believe we're having another baby,' Y/N said with a smile, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Miguel turned to her, a loving smile on his face. 'I know, it's a dream come true Cariño. I can't wait to hold our little one in my arms.'

Y/N's heart swelled with love for her husband. He had been her rock through everything, especially after Gabriella's death. She couldn't have asked for a better partner in life.

As they sat there, enjoying each other's company, Miguel's holographic assistant, Lyla, interrupted their peaceful moment.

'Sorry to interrupt, but you have a meeting in half an hour, Miguel,' Lyla informed him.

Miguel let out a sigh, not wanting to leave the comfort of his balcony. He was the CEO of Alchemax and had to deal with all the responsibilities that came with it.

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I'll go get ready for my doctor's appointment.' she said before giving him a quick kiss and heading inside.

Miguel watched her go, feeling grateful for the life they had built together. He quickly finished his coffee and got ready for his meeting.

The day went by in a blur of meetings and paperwork. Miguel couldn't wait to get back home and spend more time with Y/N. As the clock struck 5, he rushed out of the office to head home.

Upon arriving, he was greeted by the delicious smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen. Y/N loved to cook and he couldn't wait to taste whatever she had prepared for them tonight.

He walked into the kitchen to find Y/N humming as she stirred a pot on the stove. She turned to him with a smile when she heard him enter.

'Hey, how was your day?' she asked, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

'It was good, but I missed you cariño,' Miguel replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N chuckled. 'I missed you too. How about we eat dinner first and then spend the rest of the evening together?'

Miguel nodded, not wanting to waste any more time. They sat down at the dinner table and enjoyed their meal, talking about their day and making plans for the weekend.

After dinner, they settled on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. Miguel gently rubbed Y/N's growing belly, feeling the movements of their unborn child.

'I can't wait to meet our little Empanada,' Miguel said with a smile, leaning down to place a kiss on Y/N's belly.

Y/N chuckles and smiles down at him, running her fingers through his hair lovingly. 'Me too. I know Gabriella would have been the best big sister.'

Miguel felt a pang of sadness at the mention of their first child. He still missed her every day, but he had learned to focus on the present and be grateful for the blessings in his life.

They spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch, talking and laughing. Miguel couldn't imagine his life without Y/N by his side.

As the night went on, Y/N yawned and said, 'I think it's time for us to go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.'

Miguel nodded, knowing Y/N was right. He kissed her forehead before they made their way to their bedroom.

Laying in bed, Miguel pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arms around her protectively. 'I love you, mi amor,' he whispered, placing a kiss on her neck.

Y/N smiled, feeling content and loved. 'I love you too, Miguel.'

As they drifted off to sleep, Miguel couldn't help but feel grateful for the life they had built together. Their love had overcome all the challenges and made them stronger.

The next day, they went to the doctor for a routine check-up. Miguel was excited to hear their baby's heartbeat, while Y/N was a little anxious. After the loss of their first child, she couldn't help but worry about everything that could go wrong.

But as soon as they heard the strong and steady beat of their baby's heart, all their worries vanished. They were both filled with joy and excitement for the future.

Nine months flew by, and before they knew it, it was time for Y/N to give birth. Miguel was a bundle of nerves as he sat in the waiting room, waiting for any news from the doctors.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally came out with a smile on her face. 'Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara. You have a healthy baby girl,' she said, handing the newborn to Miguel.

Miguel's eyes welled up with tears as he held his daughter in his arms. She was perfect, with a head full of black hair and her mother's beautiful features.

Y/N was wheeled out of the delivery room, looking exhausted but elated. Miguel couldn't wait for her to meet their little miracle.

They named their daughter Isabella, after Y/N's grandmother. She was a blessing, and they cherished every moment spent with her.

As the years went by, their family grew and their love only got stronger. They faced challenges and struggles, but they always stood by each other's side.

Miguel and Y/N were grateful for the life they had together in their comfortable apartment in Nueva York. They had everything they ever wanted, and most importantly, they had each other.

On a special evening, as they sat on their balcony, watching the sunset, Miguel whispered, 'I never knew love until I met you, Y/N. Thank you for being my wife and the mother of our beautiful children.'

Y/N smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. 'And I never thought I could find true happiness until I met you, Miguel. I love you more than words can express.'

As they shared a loving kiss, surrounded by the sounds of a bustling city, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together as a family. And that was all that mattered.

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