Miguel O'hara One Shot - Tumblr Posts
No Mercy (Miguel OHara smut)
Warnings: 18+, mdi, around
"Mig- aaaaaaah! Too big! Too big! Please!" She is currently being fucked by her boyfriend, who is having no mercy on her, after she has been teasing him at work.
"This is what you wanted, isn´t it, bebita? You came here, so that I can pound your pretty little pussy, so take it now" Miguel whispers into her ear, while his hands are hooked under her knees and keeping her pressed against the desk with his weight.
Y/n turns her head away to escape his heavy gaze on her, while trying to keep quiet. "Come on, don´t be shy now, let everybody hear how needy and desperate you are for my cock, hermosa"
Miguel puts her legs on his shoulder so he can free his hands and takes her chin to squish her cheeks to force Y/n to look at him. Denying himself to cum before she does, he slides his other hand to her clit and starts gently playing with it, while relentlessly pounding on her.
Even though she begs and cries for him to go slower, she loves this side of Miguel, that gets all rough and dominant. That´s also why she came unannounced into his office to tease him because she knows that when he´s stressed it´s easier to get him all riled up.
Miguel´s eyes never leave hers as he feels her tightening around him and when he sees her rolling her eyes back, he knows that it won´t take long for her to cum on his dick.
"I´ll keep you all sore and exhausted from this, so you won´t come and disturb me again, bebita", hearing him growling like that makes her cum instantly and Miguel stills inside her, the tightening enough for him to spurt his warm cum inside her.
He simply leans his upper body on her, both trying to catch their breath and coming down.
After some time he lazily covers her face with his kisses "Next time I´ll fuck you in the lobby since you´re so eager to let everybody know who you belong to, bebita"
Poor Baby (Miguel fluff)
While you visit your husband at work, a co-worker of his burst in with his baby. Miguel introduced you to him and you found out that he is the famous Peter Parker who often annoys your husband at work.
"Peter? Could you maybe leave me and my husband alone? I actually need to discuss something very serious with him." You try to be as friendly as possible. But honestly you're also pissed at this man who calls himself a friend of miguel while being this insensitive.
And he immediately obliges and takes mayday back in his arms, leaving the office.
Right now he is shoving his baby in Miguel's arms while showing him all kinds of pictures of mayday, your husband is visibly annoyed so you decide to step in for him.
You urge your husband to sit down on his chair, asking "do you need to drink something?" Miguel is visibly confused at your concern so he doesn't answer right away.
But that doesnt matter, because you're already filling a glass with water for him, "here you go, baby" handing it to him, standing between his legs and start pulling his head against your chest.
He looks up at you with even more confused eyes "wha-", but you're quick to cut him off.
"it's alright if you're not ready to talk about it. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to be around kids and not think about gabriella. I just want you to know that you deserve to heal, baby" you say with such soft eyes and keep stroking his hair, massaging his scalp.
He can't help the tears in his eyes with how close your words hit to home. So he burries his face against your chest and you feel your shirt wetting, his hands slightly shaking.
How? How would you know this? He always makes sure to keep a stoic or at least an angry expression. He even assured you that he doesn´t suffer from any kind of ptsd or trauma, when he told you about Gabriella.
But it seems like his wife is very attentive when it comes to him.
You notice the way he tries not to look at the pictures of babys, the way he avoids the subject of babys or children in general, the way his hands start to shake and the way his jaw tightens.
"Poor Miguel, I wish I could help you... I really wish I could..." as if you feel the pain in his heart, your eyes start tearing up as well, little tears, that you don´t bother wiping away, roll down your cheeks, while you hug your husband tighter to your chest.
And as Miguel sees your reaction, he can´t help the waterfall of tears on his face. You lift his face and kiss his eyelids as careful as possible, tasting his salty tears on your lips.
"Poor poor baby, how long have you kept these in? It´s alright now, I´ve got you, my poor baby" you coo at him, feeling your own tears becoming thicker at the sight of your husband.
You both spend the next hours like this, in each others arms, letting the ugly and hurting emotions go and appreciating that non of you have to go through this alone.
"Mi vida... thank you for being this good to me, I don´t deserve you" Miguel whispers against your lips before kissing them tenderly.
Chuckling he pulls you on his lap and presses you tightly against himself, inhaling your sweet scent while his head rests on your shoulder.
🕸🕷
Even though I think that he has a big breeding kink, I honestly believe that this man is severely traumatized but is too proud to get help or at least talk about it 🥺 he really is just a poor baby
P.s. no hate against Peter but he really is so insensitive like-💀
"No... I don´t want you to always portray yourself as the bad guy Miguel... you deserve everything good and more because you´re my poor baby" you answer him after pinching his cheeks, as a way to punish his way of thinking.
Currently thinking about the way miguel would hold your hands to admire your freshly made nails. His expression would be so soft with tender and gentle eyes while listening about your rambling about how the whole appointment went.
Like this one person got angry about the colour even though they've sat through the whole procedure and didn't say one word of objection.
The other spelt such good tea about their ex while phoning and you just couldn't help but try to hear everything.
Miguel would patiently listen and stroke your hands with his thumb. Loving how tiny they look in his hands, even though your hands aren't that small but because his are just so huge.
Miguel would slowly bring them closer to his face, scaning every detail and then kiss each knuckle, telling you how well made they look and how well you've styled your outfit to fit them.
After that he'd ask how much they've cost, only to put the money back in your purse, without you noticing because he knows you don't want him to spend much money on you. But he can't help it, you just deserve to be spoiled in his eyes.
🕸🕷
002
Pairing : Miguel O' Hara X Reader
Genre : fluff, tiniest twinge of angst
Summary : Miguel's not very happy when he finds out you've walked home by yourself last night(morning)?
Wordcount: 1.3k
[ A/N: Here's pt.2 : D. I've decided I'm making this a little connected one shots book.]
Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
" You didn't text me when you got home last night." Miguel suddenly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that was between the two of you.
Yesterday, you had been taking care of him as he was sick, pampering him a little extra because he deserves it. The two of you had eventually fallen asleep, with you waking up around 3 in the morning and heading back home.
You look up from where you're seated on his desk chair, having been busy playing Good Pizza, Great Pizza on your phone. His back is turned to you, eyes focused on the different screens showcasing the Spiderverse and whatever else.
" Oh, uh, yeah. I must've forgotten. I was so tired, my head went straight for my pillow once I got home." You shrug.
He hums in understanding, although he's a little curious. Who dropped you off last night? He's made it very clear before that he doesn't want you to walk home by yourself at the ungodly hours, no matter how short the walk to your house is. You're the last person he has in his universe (and outside of it, for that matter.) The only person who knows him better than anyone. He'd be damned if something were to happen to you. The thought of it already sets him on edge.
" Who brought you home?"
" Oh, uh, I did-"
" What?" Now he turns to look at you, a displeased look in his eyes.
" What? Everyone was asleep." You shrug.
You turn to look at your phone again, wanting to avoid the look in his eyes. He whisks the device from your grip as you do so, setting it aside on his desk. It's still whitin your reach. When you look up at him again, he's got his arms crossed, a strict look his face.
" I hope you know that I would've thrown whatever's in my reach if you were any of the other spiders. " He points out.
You roll your eyes.
" What, you give them bedtimes too? I can take care of myself. You've taught me enough self defense by now. I know how to handle myself." You huff.
He's aware how you dislike with how careful he's often being.
" I know you can, but you also know why I'm so careful with you. Just wake me up next time you're leaving early in the morning."
" While you're sick? No. Besides, you're barely resting as it is, I'm not waking you the rare times you're asleep." You point out.
You get up from his desk chair, stepping closer to him as you unfold his arms, taking one of his hands in yours.
" Stop worrying about me so much. I'm fine. Take a little more care of yourself maybe though. For me?" You ask him.
He sighs, eyes showcasing emotions he usually hides.
" Just stay over if you don't want to wake me up. We fall asleep together anyway, We can wake up together too."
He's not looking you in the eyes as he speaks, eyes on your joined hands, admiring the size difference. You're not looking at his face either, understanding how he feels. He's glad you're not looking at him, his cheeks having gotten the faintest of pink. It scares him how much he likes the idea of waking up with you.
" I guess we can do that. If it makes you feel better." You hum.
A flash of surprise passes through his eyes, but it's not caught by you. It's not everyday your crush says yes.
However, your sweet moment is broken up when the sound of the door is heard, and so Miguel steps away from you. You give him a small smile before picking up your phone again.
" Oh, Hey Y/N. Since when are you here?" Jessica asks as she steps in the room.
" Uhh, a while? No idea. Speaking of time, I gotta go. My shift starts soon." You say, suddenly realizing the time.
Miguel wordlessly lets the platform go down, but you don't have the patience to deal with that.
" Don't jum-" He sighs as you do so anyway, landing with a loud slam on your knees.
This isn't the first time you've done this, and most probably not the last.
" I don't have the patience for that wacky thing. Anyway, see you around. Maybe I'll be back later, maybe not. Bye!" You tell him with a smile, turning to the exit.
You greet Jessica on your way out, giving her a quick hug before finally leaving.
Jessica looks after your form as you leave, before turning to Miguel with a knowing smile. Miguel ignores the look in her face, instead getting straight down to business.
" How'd it go?" He asks her.
" Well, the anomaly is caught. He's stuck with the other anomalies downstairs. " She tells him.
He nods, turning around to face the screen again.
" Good."
She knows it's his way if dismissing her.
" Soo, you and Y/N?" She asks suddenly.
Miguel doesn't even glance at her as he responds.
" What about it?"
" Your feelings for her are pretty obvious. You should ask her out." She suggests.
He glances at her with a sigh.
" Not obvious enough for her to notice." He murmurs in response.
She still heard it either way.
" That's only because she's in love with you too. You should ask her out. She's a lovely woman."
" No. I can't treat her the way she deserves. She deserves better than me."
" Maybe. But I doubt she wants anyone else. Just think about it a little more. Y/N is sweet, if you don't make up your mind soon, there's a good chance someone else will ask her eventually. " She points out.
" Yeah, well, we'll see about that."
He's aware he's close with you. Too close. No one would appreciate having a girlfriend who's got a best friend who's constantly at her heel.
The sound of the door opening suddenly sounds again, and you suddenly come running back in.
" Hey, sorry, forgot my jacket." You puff out.
Miguel turns to you right away. He glances at his desk chair, where your jacket is indeed still hanging on it's back. He picks it up wordlessly to throw it at you.
You catch it.
" Thanks!" You call again, before leaving.
A teeny tiny smile graces his lips at your behavior. God, he's smitten for you.
" How do the youngsters refer to you again? I think it was whipped. You are 'whipped' Miguel." Jessica smiles.
Miguel barely huffs at her, instead turning around and pushing a button for the platform to go up again.
" Sure. Do you have something better to do or should I see if there's something to do for you here in the building?" He suggests as he goes up.
" No, I'm good. Say hi to Y/N when she comes back in a few hours." She laughs as she heads out.
Miguel shakes his head, putting it in his hands for a moment before finishing back on the task at hand.
' My feelings aren't obvious.'
003
Taglist;
@adamsloverboy
004
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader
Genre : Angst turned fluff
Summary : Miguel has been creating distance between the two of you, something he regrets when robbers come to wreck your house. He hopes he's on time to save you.
Warnings: kinda ooc Miguel, reader is injured
Wordcount: 1.2k
Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
Miguel has been creating space between the two of you. And he's well aware of it. He hates it as well. He believes he's doing it to keep you safe. You've always been a distraction to him, in a way. He would usually put you above everything, always. He's not ignoring you though, he can't lose you.
Currently, he's in another dimension, looking trying to wrap up a mission with an anomaly. One of Doc Ock's variants. So far, it hasn't really been going well, the man is strong, the universe he belongs to almost as modern as Miguel's own universe. It makes the job all the more tougher. Currently, he's working with Jessica, and the spiderman of this universe.
" Miguel, he's too strong. You gotta bite him." Jessica calls out through his ear piece.
He cringes under his mask. This Doc Ock was not something he would like putting his fangs in. The man looked disgusting.
" You sure there's absolutely no other way?" He checks.
He can almost hear her scoff.
" You got something better?" She throws back.
He huffs.
" Fine, get him in a corner, and contain his damn tentacles!" He instructs her grumpily.
However, as he's readying to jump off, his watch goes off, vibrating against his wrist. Layla knows he's busy, so it must be important.
When he glances at the screen, he reads your name. He thinks about it for a good second. Back when he programmed Layla, he had instructed her that your name was always allowed to pop up. Especially so since he nearly always told you when he would be busy. He forgot to do so today though. Deciding it must not be important, he ignores the call. However, before he can jump off, his watch goes off again. It's also you, again.
He picks up while jumping off the building, going back into the fight.
" N/N, what is it? Am kinda bu-"
" Miguel!" You whisper shout his name.
It catches his attention. You rarely keep your voice down. You're usually pretty loud.
" Are you ok-"
" P-Please. H-help. I don't- I don't- Shit." The line hangs from your side suddenly.
Miguel feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the sound of your exasperated voice. You're definitely in danger.
All at once, he looses a little bit of control. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to you, but he also couldn't leave his teammates hanging. Thankfully, they were already in position, restraining Doc Ock successfully.
It doesn't take him long to bite the disgusting man.
After all, his lady needs him.
-
Miguel's breath is uneven, panic filling his chest as he swings towards your building. When he reaches there, his heart shatters. The windows to your specific apartment is broken, glass shattered all over the floor. When he steps in, there's an even bigger mess. Glass everywhere, furniture broken and blood. There's blotches of blood in random places. Yet you're nowhere to be seen. He hopes it's not yours.
" Layla, scan the place for Y/N." Miguel tells the AI softly.
" On it." She tells him, uncharismatically easy.
" I can't find Y/N's signature, but there's a few small heat signatures in her bedroom."
Although full of questions, he goes to check out your bedroom. However, once he's stepped in, he realized it's the small fish tank on your desk. A bunch of fish swimming around like usual.
Before he can panic even more, his watch goes off yet again. He doesn't check to see who it is to pick up.
" Boss?"
It's Margo. Surprising him.
" Margo I'm bus-"
" Y/N is here boss. She's in the med bay."
He hangs up as he swings back to HQ. Thankfully, it doesn't take him long to reach medbay, spotting Margo soon enough.
" Boss!" She calls him.
His mask disappears as he approaches her. His usual scowl replaced by an uncharistic vulnerable look. Margo has never seen him scared before, but than again, you are the last person he has.
" Y/N? Where's she? Is she okay?" He questions her quickly, eyes scanning the place.
she nods, trying to keep him calm.
" Yeah. Don't worry, she's further in the back resting up. She's okay- but she's in bad shape. Come." She informs him, before bringing him to where you're resting up on one of the beds.
Margo calls your name, bringing you out of the headspace your headphones had put you in. She nods to Miguel before leaving the two of you be.
You're indeed in bad shape. You're wearing your own clothes, so he can't see much, but your face is bruised up. A particular nasty one lies under your left eye, and there's another nasty one on your right cheek. Your lip is also split.
The two of you resume your awkward staring fir a moment, as you so often do.
When you open your arms, he easily caves, falling right into your embrace as silent sobs wreck through his body.
" Don't worry, I'm okay." You tell him gently, your voice a whisper.
He knows it's a lie when you flinch as he squeezes you the slightest bit, something you usually really enjoy.
" No you're not. I'm so sorry Perla, I should've been there-"
" This wasn't your fault, Iguel'. " You remind him gently, running a hand over his face as the two of you break apart.
His hand takes hold of your free hand, the weight a gentle reminder that you haven't left him.
" No. I'm supposed to pro-"
" Don't blame yourself like that, please. Your self defense classes really came to good use. And Margo arrived in time. It worked out." You smile at him.
Although he doesn't completely agree, he nods. Your hand falls to your side, folding over your intertwined hands. His free hand moves to gently wipe some stray hairs to the side of your face. You smile at him.
" Your apartment though, it's completely wrecked." He tells you.
You make a pout.
" Did you go to check?" You ask him.
He nods.
" Are Bubbles alive?" You ask him.
He can't help but grin at your words. All your fish are names Bubbles, because you can't tell them apart.
He hums.
" Yeah, they were swimming the same circles as they always are."
" Thank god. I'd be sad if they died. They're cute."
" You know, you can stay with me for now? I don't mind." He suggests, going back to topic.
You look at him blankly for a second.
" Are you sure? I could-"
" I don't mind. " He tells you honestly, ears a little pink.
You nod.
" Depends, can Bubbles come?"
005
000 - Taglist
@adamsloverboy
@ihateuguys
@alchemist421
@julesclues
@bxrbiewrites
LITERALLY LOVE THIS SM, MY CHEEKS HURT FROM SMILING😭❤❤
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 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♛ *.
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