Sub Miguel O'hara - Tumblr Posts
Astv Spoiler Ahead!!!
If you search it up, the Miguel your talking about (the main leader of the Spider Society) isn’t actually her father,
her biological parents are from another universe their not even the same Miguel he just adopted her from another universe so he could still be a virgin there’s a large possibility 😭
Plus, this man clearly has no social life, I doubt he’s been with anyone in bed let alone dating with how private and lone wolf core he is 😩
HI SENT THE "he had a kid and is still a virgin" COMMENT AND I WAS AGREEING THAT HES A LOOSER
LIKE HE HAD A WHOLE KID AND A WIFE BUT SHE PULLED HIM!!! MIGUEL GOT ZERO RIZZ
OH my bad sorry i dunked on u like that 😭😭 i need tone tags real bad is what i’m learning from this 😞
i personally subscribe to the head canon tht hes transgender & got pregnant via a donor cause he wanted a kid 🫶 i also see him as a gay man so the whole wife thing isn’t even on my radar. he’s hoeless but he’s ready for fatherhood
Nah because your literally spitting facts 😭
The fact that he hurt TWO fifteen year olds in the movie was fucked up this man needs to be put in his place
I literally wanna wreck him and make him feel bad cause wtf?!
Two choices, break up with him on the spot or quite literally break him in bed
as much as i wanna fuck miguel i also wanna diss the fuck out if him cause it would be funny cause if i do it in frknt of everyone he cant loose his shit and if he does i will spread rumors about how he cant take a joke (he cant) and he jumped me behind the vending machine (he didnt i made the story a lot worse)
sometimes i just wanna ruin his life because how dare he hurt miles yk
i dont give a fuck abt the canon miguel how dare u hurt miles
like damn there was no reason to choke slam the boy into a train
i might as well choke slam you into my bed while degrading you
nah you'd like that too much maybe throw in some praise tell you how pretty you look when youre all slutted out
i need to go to bed
Lol, that works too, as much as I have been so down bad for this man, it is not ok that he quite literally hurts kids I immediately lose attraction every time I think about it
as much as i wanna fuck miguel i also wanna diss the fuck out if him cause it would be funny cause if i do it in frknt of everyone he cant loose his shit and if he does i will spread rumors about how he cant take a joke (he cant) and he jumped me behind the vending machine (he didnt i made the story a lot worse)
sometimes i just wanna ruin his life because how dare he hurt miles yk
i dont give a fuck abt the canon miguel how dare u hurt miles
like damn there was no reason to choke slam the boy into a train
i might as well choke slam you into my bed while degrading you
nah you'd like that too much maybe throw in some praise tell you how pretty you look when youre all slutted out
i need to go to bed
Ahhh I love submissive men 😋🤤
NSFW IMAGINE…
nerd!miguel using a fleshlight thinking of you
sub!miguel?? - reader is only mentioned - very short - (M)masturbation - use of flesh light - MDNI.
It wasn’t like he hasn’t jacked off before, he did but not that much. BUT after meeting you and him becoming your little helper, oh he did it so more often.
Thinking how tight you feel on his dick, or how your pretty lips would wrap around his dick. Thrusting up in his fist fantasizing about you.
He saw something online, and it caught his attention. It was a flesh light, he dosent even know how it feels but he wants to find out. He feels some shame ordering it, he just has to make sure his roommate or anyone else sees it.
After a couple of days, it delivered and he sees the box outside the door. Thankfully his roommate isn’t there, out partying.
he grabs the box and walks inside, he unpacks the package and gulps at the sight of it. He grows flustered as he feels the texture of it, he’s already feeling hot and bothered so perfect timing.
He grabs it, stands up and walks to his room. He close’s the door and locks it. He puts the pocket pussy on his bed for now as he leans on the wall next to his bed, he pulls up his shirt revealing his abdomen. He holds the shirt from falling down with his teeth as his free hands pull down his pants and reveal his aching dick.
He looks at his night stand and open the last drawer, he pulls up a bottle of lube. He pours it on his hand and whimpered when he feels the cold liquid on his dick.
He grabs the pocket pussy back up and position it, he close’s his eyes and imagine it’s you. You on your knees, your hands on his thighs as you begin to put his dick in your mouth.
He moans when he feeling something entirely different from his hand, he starts moving up slowly still thinking it’s you.
His pace quickens as moans get louder, his hips moving too. Thinking it’s him fucking your mouth and not the toy. His thrusts become frantic as his whines and moans fill his quiet room. He moans when he reaches his climax, coming inside of it and some of it spills on the floor.
He’ll clean it later when shame and guilt gets to him but for now?
It wasn’t enough, so he got on his bed. Fully naked, he began moving the toy again moaning out of overstimulation but he doesn’t care. His eyes closed shut as he thinks your riding him, your breasts bouncing up and down each move you make.
He lets pathetic desperate moans as he fucks the toy, he sounds like he was in a porn video. His glasses almost falling off his face as tears form in his eyes.
“Ah!—ugh!” Miguel moans to himself, his legs started spasm as his hips thrusted up.
“Oh my god! Fuckfuckfuck—! Coming!” Miguel moans loudly as he thrusted his hips up one last time and he came so much. His eyes shot open as he leaned his head back against the pillows, mouth agape, Arching his back as he let out a loud choked up Moan. His legs were shaking as he regain his breathing.
He definitely needs to take a shower and clean up before his roommate comes back.
A/N - IM ALIVEEEE !! I actually forgot how to write, school work and personal stuff was piling up so that’s why I was dead for a while! Sorry y’all!
ps: I was going to make him moan out the readers name but…for me I don’t like writing ‘y/n’ I wanna make a nickname but I don’t know what😭
TAGS - @safixiovi , @syler-griffin , @jadeloverxd , @miguels-aranita , @hyjionie , @migueloharasoulmate hope y’all like this <3
REBLOGS - COMMENTS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU FOR READING!
master-list _ guidelines/rules _ abt me !
Wardrobe malfunction, Princesa
Pairing: Male!Reader x Miguel O'hara
Sometimes the suit gets tucked a little too comfortably up the wrong places. And you can’t help but notice when this happens to Miguel, you just need to help out a fellow bro right?
Contains: Slight mention of feminisation,(ie. usage of princesa becoz he's babygirl)
M/r = male reader
WC: 802
“New assignment Pavitr, pair up with Gwen, there are 3 main annoyances present in Earth-7839,” Miguel looks up from the multiple orange monitors to glance at the two mentioned, “That Spiderman would require assistance.” He further states.
Meanwhile Miguel was busy instructing fellow Spider-people, you sat on that same platform just behind Miguel, chilling on a seat you brought up there yourself for your own comfort. Miguel didn’t mind (because it was you) and in fact liked it when you would stay with him keeping him company. Despite the phone in your hand, your eyes weren’t focused on the screen, in fact it was on Miguel. Specifically his ass. Not that you don’t do that already, but this time around you notice the suit looked a little too tight against his behind. Of course the view as greatly appreciated but it looked like Miguel didn’t like it too much from how he stood, so being the amazing partner you are, whilst Miguel was talking, you nonchalantly reach for the area stuck uncomfortably between his ass and pulled the fabric with a punctuated ‘tug’. This halts Miguel’s sentence mid. A flustered blush slightly dusts his cheeks (the face ones) as he swivels his head and with an embarrassed glare, he firmly grabs your and shoves it aside, thinking you were trying to cop an inappropriate feel at an inappropriate time. “You horny bastard not in front of them!” He mutters so only you could hear before turning back to Gwen and Pavitr who couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh at what just happened.
Defensively, you throw your hands up with a slight smirk, “I was just fixing a slight wardrobe malfunction.” you whisper back as Miguel clears his throat trying to ignore what the man behind him just did.
Miguel attempts to continue on as if that didn’t happen, but Hobie in the corner was snickering his ass off because everyone in this room knows that if anyone else tried that, they would be kissing Nueva New York’s pavement ground after being launched from the highest floor in this building.
“Couldn’t resist the urge could ‘ya?” Hobie chirps from a place he probably shouldn’t be sitting on whilst playing with something he shouldn’t have been playing with.
Deciding to just ride with it, you wink at him with some snappy finger guns and a playful grin, “You know it”, closely followed by some unceremonious tongue clicks. Miguel could feel himself cringe at what you just did. After dismissing everyone for their own respective duties, Miguel finally turns his attention to you with the intention of reprimanding your actions. “It was a wardrobe malfunction, Miguel,” you chuckle seeing Miguel quirk an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms whilst standing firmly between your legs as you manspreaded yourself on the chair, “I wasn’t trying to grope you in front of our fellow colleagues, don’t be mad, Princesa.” you joke your voice falling to a hushed tone.
Bringing your hands to his hips, you give them a firm squeeze caressing his slim sides and sloping hips up and down in a comforting fashion. The thin material of Miguel’s suit felt like nothing beneath your touch, you were able to feel every crevice, dip and raise of his well maintained muscles. Hands and fingers dip into the lower part of his back as they move forward to trace the outlines of his defined hips. Miguel couldn’t help but huff and jutt his lip out in a sigh, letting his partner feel up his lower body soothingly.
“I’m not mad, M/r,” He mumbles softly, letting one hand rest on your neck and the other on the underside of your jaw, “I was just surprised.”
Your neck cranes to look at his face as he holds you warmly in his palm, his normal aloof expression he’d show to others mellowed out when it was just you too. His eyes softened when looking at you, and that ever present scowl on his face seemed to brighten even if just by a little.
“Well that’s good.” You breathe out with a relaxed smile of your own, “Though…”
From gently caressing his sides, you guide your hands lower down his back, where they’re rubbing and feeling up the firm, warm mounds of flesh with a certain eagerness. It’s as if your fingers sink into the toned muscles as you squeeze firmly, fingering the underside of his ass where it meets his thighs happily. Topping it off with a nice and hard squeeze too, causing the flesh in your hands to feel as if they’re spilling from your grip due to the sheer size of it. Causing Miguel to quietly yelp in surprise from the suddenness.
“That was entirely on purpose.”
Miguel smacked you upside the head for that. But he never said he didn’t like it.
miguel o'hara being a brat and using his throat as a fleshlight / fucking his mouth. maybe pulling his hair a little when coming down his throat.
( can i be 🪻 anon btw? :D )
You grab a fistful of Miguel’s soft hair between your fingers and thrust your cock down his throat. It convulses around you as he gags, and he glares up at you with tears rolling down his cheeks, but his tongue laps at the underside of your cock when you pull away. You use your grip on his hair to fuck his mouth until his lips are bruised and puffy, a frothy mix of spit and precum dribbling down his cleavage. His eyes flutter when you drag him down, your balls clenching against his wet chin as you orgasm. His throat works almost frantically to swallow, and his hands come up to grip your thighs when you pretend to pull away. You chuckle, scratching at his scalp, and he glares up at you with teary eyes.
PRAISE THE LORDDDDDD
Whispering to ftm miguel that you're going to fill his womb with your kids
miguel in the mating press position!!
he’s crying with fat tears slipping down his cheeks, hair messy on top of his head and he’s moaning out and he just looks so utterly sinful.
he’s folded in half, thighs against his chest with his hands attempting to latch onto anything to keep himself grounded. it wasn’t helping at all, with the way your cock was filling every inch of him.
to say he was sopping wet was an understatement, and it hadn’t helped that he was on his third orgasm of the night. he was truly pliant in your hold; allowing you to do as you please.
“you feel that, love? feel how deep i am? at this rate i could get you pregnant..” you grunted, and he squeals as he gushes out another orgasm. “you like that don’t you, want me to fill you up with my cum until you’re fucking dripping,” you all-but-growl, punctuating your words with unforgiving and harsh thrusts.
miguel was blissed out of his fucking mind, he had no thought left in his head besides being focused on you, you, you.
i think miguel o'hara doesn't like voicing out his needs, instead he makes you "force him" to say them. he can be pushy, he can grab and pull, kiss and bite but his mouth will only spill out moans and some groans when he's halfway hard and you're not being fast on taking off your clothes or touching him.
he would grind and do everything in his power to get you to be just as horny as he feels. he'd curse out, both in english and spanish when you finally touch him back, when you're the one running your mouth to call out his whorish behavior.
he can bend wherever you guide him to, spreading his legs real nice for you, even arching his back. maybe you want him on top, ready to ride you, and he'll be happy to oblige. or maybe he'll let you push him around, seeing your face as you position yourself between his legs, watching his chest go up and down when he'll eventually sigh in relief, thinking he's about to get what he desperately wants.
his eyes would beg you to fill him up, but you'd wait enough to get him to a breaking point. teasing him, grabbing him, pinching his skin and leaving marks in his neck or back while he starts getting desperate because his cock has been already leaking from the beginning, and he really really needs you.
and by that point it'll only take a bit of dirty talking the big stud, telling him how hot and needy he looks, and he's done. his tone will be demanding, but soon enough he won't stop begging for your cock, screaming your name and asking nicely for more. miguel tells himself he didn't say all those things by choice, you push him to it, you made him be that stuttering mess, but he secretly loves how hard you fuck him each time he says please.
and so he'll say it again and again until you cum inside of him.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Miguel O'Hara x Top!M!Reader
It's your birthday and Miguel had something special in mind.
desc. college au, bottom Miguel, reader has a dick, it's reader's birthday, both you and Miguel share the house with two other people, risky sex (Almost getting caught), morning sex, multiple orgasm and creampie, implied Malay reader (Although it is implied, reader can be any race and ethnicity. It's up to you). No introduction as it skips to the actual sex. Lmk if I missed anything.
A/N. This is my first time writing so it's extremely short and it's self-indulgent. Excuse my English as it is not my first language. Please voice out your criticism as I'm trying to get better in writing!
You never thought you would end up in this predicament but you aren't exactly complaining about it. Here you are, locking your roommate Miguel in a position that made it possible to escape from your tight grip on him but why would he? The constant moaning and whimpering made it obvious he's enjoying it, it was his idea after all.
"Fuck! So good..so fucking good.." he moans out like a cheap whore "Mm..your cock's so fuckin' big!" he didn't even bother keeping quiet anymore. It's 6 in the morning and there's still a chance that both of your other roommates are still sleeping but you can never be too sure.
His eyes roll back to his head as he came for the nth times after just a few minutes from his last orgasm. As you continue your relentless thrusting and spewing curses in Malay, you hear faint footsteps from the hallway and you immediately stop moving but Miguel didn't get the sign and whines as a form of complaining.
He looks at you in confusion as to why you stopped but his eyes went wide when he hears the footsteps stop in front of the door to your bedroom. Why aren't they saying anything? The thought of your roommate finding out your affair with another roommate made your head spin. Of course, you keep yourself from making any movements, except for Miguel.
He continues moving his hips into your pelvis and your breath hitches from the sudden movements. He's already letting out a few sinful noises that might be loud enough for the other person at the other end of the door to hear if they really put their ear against the door. The other roommate mutters something you can't quite catch but at least they're walking away now.
You start to move again but this time you're practically destroying his inside and not letting him catch his breath. It's a surprise you still aren't satisfied even after a few rounds of hard fucking and painting his insides white. Miguel holds onto your back and leaves a few scratch marks that burn your skin but you're so lost in the pleasure that you paid no mind to them.
One sharp thrust that made your pelvis meet his ass, you came inside him for the last time as you curses out in Malay. He lets out a high-pitched girlish moan as his cock spurts out cum that is currently pooling on his stomach.
"Happy birthdayyy.." he managed to slur out those two words before trying to catch his breath and gather back his thoughts
A/N. My birthday is in August but I still feel the need to want to fuck Miguel's ass early. Still not confident about this though :(
Miguel O’Hara x Spider-Man!Male Reader
You were a member of the spider society, rising quickly to be part of the small circle of Miguel’s most valued members due to your agility and strength even with your strong, tall stature. You and Miguel had a complicated relationship. At least on his end. The man was curious about your quiet nature and selfless behavior. You were a man of few words, being both a Spider-Man as well as hosting a symbiote from your world. You had a dedication to the cause that could compare with Miguel, even placing it over your physical health. Today, Miguel’s carelessness as well as your lack of self care would hit you like a truck.
Part One | Part Two
cw: masturbation (male), hand obsession, size diff (mentioned), sexual tension (?), sexual implications
Please give criticism 🙏 this is my first time writing as a whole so I’m so sorry if the format is weird and/or if the summary is ass. ALSO THIS IS REALLY LONG (imo) SO I APOLOGIZE. 😭 And pls tell me if i should make a part two. (edit: okay, i calculated and its 5.2K words lmao... my bad)
You don’t remember the last time you visited HQ or even your own dimension. You’d been traveling to various earths and hunting down located anomalies per Miguel’s order.
Your physical conditions were never a worry to you while on your expeditions, simply stitching up whatever injuries you endured before carrying on. Miguel would protest to this behavior of yours, requesting that you return back to HQ for proper medical attention, but you’d quickly dismiss his precautions, having Venom keep your injuries wrapped under it’s tar-like material to avoid bursting any stitches when you were busy tackling your objectives.
You rarely fully involved Venom in your missions. It never objected to your request to remain tucked away while you worked, understanding that you preferred to rely on your own strength to take down opponents.
Miguel sent you on a new array of missions about two weeks ago. They were rather easy for someone of your skill, though it did get annoying when one enemy turned into two, then three, and so on in just one mission. These hiccups never stunted your performance, but they didn’t fail to stress Miguel out. You didn’t fully understand why the man was so anxious whenever you’d go on your missions. He never showed the same worry for the other members of the Spider Society, so what was so different about you?
Miguel had been spending most of his days in his office since you left, his earpiece being filled with the sounds of battle as you took down anomalies on the other end. You preferred not to speak, but with Miguel’s insistence, you were forced to make some noise for him every so often to ease his nerves, whether it be a grunt or a hum. Depending on your mood, some days you’d find it to be overbearing and on better ones, you’d find it to be almost comforting.
‘What is wrong with me.’ Miguel thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d been sitting in his office chair, clicking around on his keyboard as he watched your marker on the map traveling miles in minutes as you moved around a random Earth, searching for a rumored anomaly. Everything had been going well until he’d heard you breathing heavily on the other end as you stopped to rest for a moment, you raspy pants tickling his ear. He’d immediately dismissed Lyla as he felt his pants tighten at the noises you made, resting his hand over the forming tent in his suit. Fuck, he had to hear your voice. He needed to.
“Y/n? You alright?” Miguel spoke through the earpiece, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. Y/n didn’t reply with words, opting to hum in acknowledgement. No, that wasn’t enough for Miguel. “Y/n?” Y/n groaned in annoyance at his insistence, but the noise was like heaven in Miguel’s ear. Much more than what he was requesting. “I’m fine.” Y/n replied curtly before continuing his search, his stationary marker starting to move on the map again.
Miguel’s mind was already wandering when he heard y/n groan, but hearing your voice after radio silence for days? He already had a fantasy forming in his head now. There were too many days where you’d hover over him as he briefed you on an upcoming mission, his mind muddled with ideas of you bending him over the table, ripping his suit open and just fucking him over the surface. “Y/n.” Miguel unintentionally groaned out as he pulled his pants down just enough to release his cock from its confines.
“Hm?” Y/n responded in an undertone, oblivious to the intentions behind Miguel’s voice. Miguel pressed a hand over his mouth. He didn’t mean to call your name aloud. “Y-You’re approaching the signal.” Miguel spoke quickly, his heart fluttering at his slip up. You hummed in acknowledgment, a bit confused on why he had to announce it since he equipped your wristwatch with a mini map, but you dismissed it. Miguel quickly muted his mic on the earpiece to avoid making the same mistake. He looked down at his semi, the cool air making it all the more sensitive.
He dipped one of his hands down, sliding his thumb over the slit of his cock as the other turned the volume up on his earpiece, listening to your heavy breathing as you swung through an abandoned city. “Fuck, please.” Miguel murmured under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he slid his hand down his length, imagining your larger, calloused hands in its place.
He had to lower the volume of his earpiece to near silence, the sound of the wind hitting your side of the mic disrupting his thoughts. Miguel lightly gripped his cock, sliding his hand back up to the tip, a bead of pre forming at the motion. Gods, he needed to just tell you, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. You were nearly ten years younger than him, being only 23 years old compared to his 30 years of age. You wouldn’t want someone as old as him, much less a man. You probably had women clinging to your arms in your world, and the thought evoked a flare of jealousy in his chest.
Fuck, what would you think of him if you saw him like this? Thrusting into his hand at just the sound of your voice and faraway fantasies.
You’d been making rounds around this damned city. The place was desolate but somehow a fellow spider managed to spot an anomaly when they accidentally entered in the wrong number in an attempt to portal to their own world. Your wristwatch was picking up on a thermal presence, yet you just couldn’t find it. ‘I swear, if it’s underground, I’m dragging Miguel here to take care of this, multiverse be damned.’ You thought to yourself as you swung between rusting skyscrapers.
Your thoughts were cut off by your watch beeping, detecting a thermal signal in close range. That’s weird. You’d already scoured this area. It must’ve moved in the time that you were on the other side of the city. Your eyes were focused on the watch too closely to notice another presence approaching your side. Another anomaly. Wonderful.
Your senses kicked off but it wasn’t as quick as this creature. You were already airborne before you were launched through the window of a skyscraper you were passing, a rib cracking under the pressure your left side endured. ‘Light work.’ You thought to yourself as you kicked up off the floor of the office level you landed in, planting your feet down before launching out the side you were thrown into. You swung your way up to the roof of the high rise, your eyes scanning the surrounding area for the anomaly.
A figure darted across the street below, prompting you to jump off. You never voiced it, but you always loved the adrenaline rush that came with hunting down anomalies. You were a bit surprised at the lack of noise on Miguel’s side of the earpiece, but the thought was quickly brushed aside as you broke your fall with your webs before running into the building the figure was seen entering, your watch leading the way. You ran down multiple sets of stairs, the rapping of the creatures claws along the tiled floor guiding you along.
You shot a web at the side of the creature from the top of the stairway before it could round a corner. You yanked it towards you, disregarding the fact that your feet lost contact with the floor as the two of you met in the middle, tumbling down the stairwell with your bulky arms wrapped around the damned thing. You were able to land a few punches against the hybrid’s feathered body before you were forced to focus on its talons sinking into the muscles of your thigh. You hissed in pain, forming claws on your own hands with Venom’s help before gripping its ankle with one hand and stabbing your claws into the scaled skin above it.
The fucking thing screeched and gods was it loud, nearly forcing Venom to recede back into you before it used its other clawed foot to hit your chest, slamming your back into the stairwell. You gritted your teeth in pain, a drip of blood dripping down your mask from the cut on your brow due to the previous fall. The creature rounded the corner immediately, disappearing from your sight. ‘Of course it’s smart.’ You thought to yourself begrudgingly, your muscles a bit tense from the mission you just pursued prior to entering this world. “Miguel.” You spoke into your mic. No response. No time to wait.
You quickly got to your feet before darting around the corner, suddenly realizing the setting. Of course it lured you to a fucking subway. You were quick on your feet, jumping down to the railway platform before darting down the tunnel, your sharp ears picking up on the sound of the creature’s claws scratching against the metal of the railing as it ran from you. You’d ran so far that you made it to another underground subway stop, spotting a new creature lingering in the area.
‘Here’s the second fucker.’ You thought to yourself as Venom reformed claws around your fingers. You jumped from the railway up to the tiled floor of the platform. The creature spotted you, quickly leaping at you as you returned the gesture. You noted the difference in strength in this one compared to the first anomaly you came across, easily overpowering this one. Just when you were about to sink your claws into its neck, you were launched off to the side, slamming into a solid wall behind you. Another rib cracked at the impact. Wonderful.
The first bastard was back. The two creatures stood side by side as you used the wall as support to rise to your feet. The two freaks of nature stalked around you before launching forward.
“Venom.” You growled out. It didn’t hesitate, enveloping your body in its black tar-like body. You immediately threw the stronger one back, sending it over the platform and onto the railway as you focused your attention on the weaker anomaly.
You were able to land a multitude of hits on this one, weakening it. Just when you were about to stab your claws into its chest, the stronger one recuperated, releasing a deafening scream that incapacitated you, forcing Venom to recede back inside you. The ground shook from the scream, the beams at the subway shaking as dust fell from the ceiling.
‘Fuck, I need to focus on that one or this rusty building is going down on all three of us.’
You were alone now, the scream forcing Venom to retreat. You made circles with the creature, the weaker of the two still recovering on the floor. You made the first move, webbing the feet of the anomaly to the floor before landing a kick straight in its chest.
The creature slammed against another beam. Fuck. Bad move. The ceiling shook again, an unsettling sound of creaking above them. The building was going to collapse at this rate. You needed to keep these two down here while getting back to ground level so you wouldn’t get stuck or worse, killed under the rubble.
“Miguel.” Silence. What the fuck was he doing right now? Just when you were about to approach the now weakened anomaly, you felt the muscle in your thigh tense. You dropped one knee, accidentally slamming it against the tiled floor. You gritted your teeth, the muscle cramping from overworking yourself. Miguel had warned you, and now you were experiencing the outcome. In the midst of Venom attempting to reform around you, you were tackled from behind. The second one was back up.
You swung your now clawed fingers back, moving to plunge your hand into the chest of this anomaly. You were cut short as the other let out another ear-piercing screech, forcing Venom to retreat yet again. The entire bottom level shook now. ‘This building’s going down.’ You thought to yourself. “Miguel,” you shouted into the earpiece, “I need backup, I’m under the apartment buildi—,” your words were cut short as the infrastructure gave out, sending you into darkness.
Miguel was in the midst of cleaning himself up when he heard the low sound of a rumble on the other side of his earpiece. He immediately raised the volume on his earpiece. ‘Shit, shit shit,’ he though to himself, ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’ “Y/n, what’s your status?” Miguel quickly spoke into the mic, turning Lyla back on. Lyla’s hologram reappeared, about to crack a joke before noticing Miguel’s panicked expression as he looked at his monitors, rapidly typing on the keyboard. “Shit—Lyla, call Jess and Hobie to HQ now,” he said quickly before shouting into the earpiece, “Y/n, give me a status update!” Silence. A deadly silence that was interrupted a few minutes later by the sound of a weak wheeze. Y/n.
“Fuck, y/n, what’s your status?” Miguel spoke quickly into his earpiece as he connected the audio to a walkie-talkie. Jessica entered Miguel’s office, Hobie following a few feet behind her. You couldn’t get a word out, a piece of rubble pressing against your torso, cutting your breaths short. Another weak wheeze, this time coming from the walkie. Jessica froze at the noise before quickly swinging up to Miguel’s platform. “Who is that? Is that—Don’t tell me that’s y/n.” She said quickly. Hobie was already analyzing the holographic map on Miguel’s desk, typing the coordinates for your marker into his wristwatch before creating a portal. “Let’s go.”
You let out another weak wheeze, groaning in pain when the rubble shifted. Your right ankle was stinging, likely sprained, and your knee cap fractured from it hitting the tiled floor prior to the collapse. Your side felt wet and the rebar poking out of a chunk of concrete next to you easily explained why. The screech from the anomaly must’ve ruptured an eardrum, since you could feel the ticklish trickle of blood leaking out of your ear. Your earpiece was knocked out, hidden somewhere in the rubble that pinned you down as you heard the distant sound of Miguel’s panicked voice coming from it. ‘Wonderful timing, boss.’ You thought to yourself as you let out a pained coughed, your throat coated in dust. Your vision started to fade in the midst of you trying to count how many fractures your ribs incurred.
The trio wasn't enough to get you out of the rubble, having to call over a dozen other spider people to aid in the search for you. The only thing keeping Miguel’s hopes up was the presence of a pulse that your wristwatch was picking up, Lyla closely monitoring it for any changes as per Miguel’s orders. He could feel his heart cracking at the edges at the sight of a few spider people gently pulling your unconscious body from under the rubble. They immediately applied pressure to your side due to a large gash from a piece of rebar as Miguel quickly opened a portal back to HQ, rushing you to the medical wing of the building.
Your eyes were hazy when you opened them, taking a few moments to adjust to the bright hospital lights, though the dizziness stayed. You reached a hand up to the nasal cannula, taking note of the tug from the IV in your arm. An IV. A cannula. Bright lights. You hated hospitals with a passion. You shot up in the bed, your body wracked with pain from both a terrible concussion as well as the broken ribs. Strong hands firmly gripped your shoulders, gently guiding you to lay back down on the bed as a soothing voice murmured to you, though you couldn't make out the words. You complied, reluctantly, though majorly because you didn't have the strength to protest.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on a breathing technique to try and ease some of the pain from your array of broken and fractured ribs, though the pain was still agonizing even when you inhaled. Thank god for your pain tolerance, or this could be a lot more unbearable than it already is. You could faintly hear Miguel's unintelligible voice, but he kept a low tone to accomodate your ruptured eardrum. You felt soft fingers stroking the top of your left hand. Jess. She was on your left, Miguel on your right. You could feel a weight on your left leg. Pavitr. Gods, the boy looked up to you like you were an older brother to him. You couldn't imagine how stressed he must be to see you in this state.
You opened your eyes again after about ten minutes, slowly blinking as you let your eyes adjust to the harsh lighting above you. After you finally gained a good enough level of clarity, your sharp eyes began darting around the room, grabbing every little detail you could pick up without tilting your concussed head. You made eye contact with Jessica, who was tracing soft patterns into your forearm as she looked at you, a soft look in her eyes. She was like an older sister to you in a way, and even though you never acknowledged this, she knew.
Your eyes shifted over to Pavitr, who was sat in a chair closer to the end of the bed, practically hugging the lower half of your left leg. You had a brace around your right ankle and could feel the tight gauze wrapped around your thigh, hidden under the blankets. Your abdomen felt very snug, being tightly wrapped in gauze as well due to what you assumed was that wet feeling on your side from when you were under the rubble. The cut on your brow had a stitch and your lip was busted.
You could feel the tickle of Miguels breath against your upper arm, but you never looked over at him. His left hand was gripping your thick tricep like a lifeline while his right remained intertwined with yours. You refused to look at the man, and rightfully so. Had he been paying attention instead of getting distracted by god knows what, you wouldn't be in this uncomfortable situation. "Summary?" You asked Jessica in a raspy voice, your eyes were half-lidded as they focused on Pavitr's sleeping figure.
Miguel answered for Jessica. It ticked you off. You didn't want to hear his voice right now. "Sprained ankle, laceration in your right side, two fractured ribs, three broken, grade three concussion, gash in your right thigh, fractured knee cap, and a few cuts and bruises," Miguel replied quickly, "your lung collapsed, so you had a chest tube in but it was removed yesterday morning." You had a question on the tip of your tongue, but you knew Miguel would answer it before Jess could. "You've been out for six days." Miguel murmured, unknowingly answering said question. "We were worried sick." Bullshit. You had to resist the urge to say it aloud. This wouldn't have happened had he been paying attention and heard at least one of your three call outs.
Jess could see the anger flickering in your narrowed eyes as you focused on Pavitr again in an attempt to calm your nerves. She could feel your fingers twitching against her hand as you took quiet breaths. She was sure Miguel could feel the motions in your fingers too, since the man had his hand tightly threaded with yours. You didn’t have energy to be angry right now. You could feel a wave of exhaustion coming over you, making your eyelids heavier than they already were. You succumbed to the feeling, your eyes slowly shutting.
‘He didn’t even look at me.’ Was a repetitive thought in Miguel’s head over the next few weeks. He took notice in that behavior. How could he not? He didn’t blame you, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a flicker of jealousy when he saw you and your goddamn face on the cameras and how you looked at all the spider people who visited you with kindness. You even gave little smiles to a few with that pretty face of yours—Fuck, he needed to talk about that.
Miguel didn’t get too many chances to visit you throughout the weeks and when he did manage to, you were already asleep by the time he got there. He’d pull a chair next to your bed, staring at you in ways he didn’t could only dream of compared to when you were awake. He'd spend a few hours every other night just… analyzing you. Counting every vein that traveled up your forearm, staring at the thick lashes on your lower waterline, the broad chest that peeked out of your hospital shirt—Gods, how could you be equal parts pretty and handsome?
Tonight was the same routine, Miguel had snuck into the medical wing way past visiting hours, slinking into your hospital room. He stood in the doorway, listening to the quiet whistling sound your nose made when you inhaled as confirmation that you were asleep. He stepped in, sliding the door shut behind him before grabbing a chair at the entry, picking it up and gently setting it on the floor at your bedside.
He took a seat before pulling a small metal object from his pocket. A nail clipper. Miguel had noticed that your nails had gained a bit of length, not much, but enough for him to notice. Definitely not because he wanted a reason to touch your hands. He carefully sat himself on the edge of your hospital bed before gently lifting your hand that still had an IV in it.
The horny bastard nearly moaned at how heavy your hand felt in his. How were you so strong? You barely had free time to work out with how often you were hunting anomalies and there was no way chasing those guys alone would be enough, right? He carefully set your hand on his thigh, the warmth emitting from you causing a smile to spread across his face. Gods, this felt wrong.
The room was silent besides the occasional clicking noise of the nail clipper as he worked through your first hand, making sure to carefully round the edges of your nails. Your hands were so nice, saliva pooling in Miguel’s mouth that he had to swallow down as he ran the pads of his fingers over every vein that traveled up the top of your hand. His mind was wandering and god your fingers were thick. The thoughts came before he could stop them, imagining you sliding your heavy digits into his mouth, coating them in his saliva before sliding them inside him one by one—
Miguel leaned over you, gently lifting your untreated hand to rest in his before he began repeating the same ministrations he gave to the first. The closer proximity made the scent of you in his nose even stronger. Your musk was a bit of everything: comforting, arousing, warm, familiar. If he could have it as a cologne, he would. ‘Fuck, is something wrong with me?’ Miguel thought to himself as he leaned towards you, his nose inching closer to the pulse in your neck.
He couldn’t help himself, gently laying your hand back in its original position before dipping down, pressing his nose against the delicate skin of your neck. ‘Something’s wrong with me.’ He inhaled deeply, having to suppress a moan in his throat at the smell of you. He planted his hands next to your hips. Oh my god, speaking of which, your hips just seemed to move so fluidly with you when you walked. It wasn’t like you were just blatantly swaying them, but Miguel noticed the way they seemed to rise and lower in sync with your bulky thighs as you moved around his office.
‘You’re tempting me on purpose, you have to be.’ Miguel thought to himself as he indulged further, letting the tip of his cold nose press against the side of your throat as he breathed you in. ‘I’ve never acted like this about anyone in my life before. Why’re you so easy to obsess over?’ Miguel found himself watching the medical wing’s security cameras in his time, watching as you walked in the hall with Jess, using the wall as a slight support. You looked like a leviathan in the hallway, your tall, broad stature taking up a large portion of the hall and dwarfing Jessica. You had no idea how arousing just the sight of you was.
Miguel’s thoughts were cut off by the feeling of your firm, calloused hands wrapping around his waist, spreading your warmth to those areas. Miguel nearly choked on his breath, absolutely refusing to meet your gaze right now. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. God no. You just caught him in the fucking act.
Miguel kept his head tucked under your chin, a warm feeling coiling in his gut at the realization that your hands wrapped nearly entirely around his waist. How the hell was that even possible? The man was 6’9 yet you managed to make him feel small. How were you even possible? Oh my god, he couldn’t even imagine the view you’d get if you were to wrap those hands around his waist, keeping him in place as you pounded into hi—
“Miguel.”
You felt your hand twitch at the feeling of something cold brushing against your neck. A nurse? Or maybe just a nip of the cold breeze that carried throughout the wing? Nope. ‘Y/n.’ You weren’t thinking that. Why would you repeat your own name? Oh right, you aren’t alone in your body. ‘Venom?’ There was a moment of silence in your conscious. ‘That… man is here again. The human. The weird one.’ ‘Miguel?’ A beat of silence yet again. Venom didn’t like saying the man’s name, preferring to lightheartedly insult him when describing him. You’d always brushed off Venom’s insistence that Miguel had a thing for you. ‘He’s touching you. Again.’ It’s voice was a hiss. ‘What?’
You woke up before you could get a response, your eyes quickly adjusting to the dark room, Miguel’s sturdy figure illuminated by the moonlight peeking into the room. You could feel him twitch and his breath catch when you wrapped your hands around his noticeably narrow waist. Why you chose his waist, you didn’t know, the motion being almost instinctual. You could tell he didn’t want to look at you. How could he, when you just caught him practically burying his face into your neck? You had to break the silence, as much as you hated speaking.
“Miguel.”
Silence in response to your husky voice. You slid your hands up his waist, gripping the sides of his chest before pulling him away, taking note of how your thumbs pressed into the plump edges of his pecs. Miguel’s eyes were trained on your neck as his hands rested against the large muscle of your shoulders. His face was red. So red. This wasn’t Miguel. This didn’t look like the man who so easily scolded others and had a resting bitch face for hours on end. Or at least it didn’t look like it.
“Miguel.”
Your voice was a lot firmer this time, catching Miguel’s full attention as he slowly looked up at you, an innocent look in his eyes. Who was this? Surely this wasn’t the leader of the Spider Society in your hospital room. Who was this little minx that slinked into your room while you were unconscious? “Explain yourself.” You wanted to say more, but the soreness of your throat said otherwise. “I-I was cutting your nails.” Miguel’s voice was shaky. You never heard the man like this before. “And?” You asked inquisitively. He was silent, his eyes darting between each of your sharper ones. “And I was… checking your pulse…?” Miguel’s voice was nearly silent now, an obvious hesitation in his voice.
“You’re a wonderful liar, boss.” You stared him down, your piercing gaze practically demanding an answer. “I was smelling you.” He whispered it so quietly, you almost didn’t pick it up with your still recovering eardrum. “Why?” “Because… because I missed you.” Miguel’s voice was a murmur. Missed you? Why the hell did he miss you? “You wouldn’t miss me if you had been paying attention.” You had to address the elephant in the room.
“Y/n—” “No. Explain to me. Because I called out to you thrice and I got zero response.” Not now, not yet. Miguel wanted this conversation to wait till you were fully recovered. His eyes darted to the door he came in through, but you quickly caught on, sliding your hands down to his waist again and tightening your grip. Oh fuck, Miguel had to suppress a whimper at the feeling. “I-I was busy with Lyla and—” “It’s an earpiece. You would’ve heard me. Meaning you either removed it or muted it. Explain why.” “Y/n, please, you should really just—” “What were you doing that was so important?”
Miguel’s mind was reeling. A part of him wanted to run from this conversation but the other was loving the sound of your voice and the feel of your firm grip on his waist. “Y-You should just go back to be—” “Shut up.” Gods, you had an authority in your voice that silenced him immediately. The feeling of your firm finger wrapped around his waist had him tensing his arms, pleading with his body to send the rushing heat elsewhere.
“Miguel. I will tell Lyla to pull up the cameras in your office myself. Or I’ll send Venom to.”
There was no running from this. No way in hell. “I-I was touching myself.” There. It was out now. He said it. Were you happy? Who knows, cause Miguel screwed his eyes shut the moment he said it. “Touching yourself…” Your voice was lower, and had a hint of anger and confusion in it. “Yes.” Miguel practically gasped out the word, his face flaming in his embarrassment. He’d rather just tell the man then have him watch it himself on the cameras. “You expect me to believe that? That you were touching yourself? We were talking and then suddenly you went radio si—…Miguel.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. You connected the dots. Miguel wanted to crawl into a hole.
“Explain it. Now.” Miguel was quick in his response. “Y-You were breathing, and every fucking piece of audio was picked up, and-and I felt this heat in me. And then you groaned and I just—I just…” Your grip tightened around his waist again and Miguel couldn’t help it, letting out a soft whimper at your touch. “You couldn’t help yourself.” You murmured. Miguel nodded his head in shame, opening his eyes again, though they remain focused on your neck again.
“Miguel.” His eyes snapped up to yours, an unmistakable heat in your husky voice. “Go lock the door.”
Miguel stood so quickly that the chair next to your bed nearly got knocked over.
So… are we feeling a part two? 😏 or was this ass? Cause I’ll stop rn. Lmao.
I want to fck pregnant Miguel so bad, maybe a short aftermath of the last fic would be fine
3 Months
bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc reader
AFAB Language Used | [Part One]
i don't normally write characters that are already pregnant nor do i take requests when they're closed but god i had to write this 😭 i was planning on adding it to the original fic but i forgot....💀 anyways, enjoy!
CW: Past Non-Con, Pregnant Miguel, Table Sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Lactation, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Creampie
You hug Miguel from behind as he’s grabbing a plate from the table, rubbing your boner against his ass to let him know your intentions. “Dinner was great, honey, but I think I want dessert too.” You pull his panties down and sink down to your knees. You bury your face in his cunt, indulging in your sweet and wet dessert. Miguel lets out a slutty moan and grips the edges of the table. He moans your name, voice coming out as breathy and desperate. “Fuck..” He lowers his head as your tongue enters his hole and your finger circles his clit. His whines are music to your ears and encouragement to keep going.
You don't stop until his squirts, giving you a delicious refreshment.
You sit Miguel on the table, planning to clean it up afterwards, and sink your cock into his pussy. He can't describe how good it feels when you enter him, it's almost euphoric. Almost as good as when you come inside him. He loves you so much now. He’s started to lactate and he often feels sore, it's your job to take care of that. You bring your mouth to his nipple, gently sucking on it while your hand massages his other breast. You slowly push in and out of him as you do so. Miguel leans his head back, letting out soft and sexy moans.
He whimpers your name, about to come even faster than normal. His nipples are so much more sensitive than before. You pull away and lick his nipple, getting the excess milk before moving to his other breast. Miguel’s breathing becomes labored as he gets close to an orgasm, letting out a loud whine as he comes.
Miguel moves back onto the table as per your instructions. You grab his legs and raise them in the air, using them to thrust into him. He grins, moaning even louder than before. The table shakes violently as you fuck him. Your aggressiveness is already making him lose his mind. He can't focus on anything except the pleasure he feels. He’s practically mindless. Ever since your first time together, it’s been getting progressively easier to make him get into this state. Make him come a few times and he’s gone. It made it easy to manipulate him. You lean over and kiss him. Thanks to muscle memory, he kisses you back. He feels as if a wave of electricity just ran through his body, from his chest and down to his cunt, causing him to orgasm again. Like always, you don't stop. The both of you love overstimulating him. He likes how fuzzy his brain gets and how he completely loses control, how you always have to help him after sex because he can't do anything on his own. He likes giving up his body to you.
Your thrusts eventually come to a stop as you finally fill Miguel up with your cum. “‘M gonna have twins..” He giggles. You smile at how dumb he is now. He’s so different from the Miguel you kidnapped. He’s better.
reader asking forcing. loser!miguel to tell her his desired fantasy and since she’s feeling a bit nice that day she decides she’ll indulge it for him <3 (i feel like he’d so be into roleplay hehe ><)
nonnie ur brain.. hold on.
cw: fem/dom reader, sub!miguel <3, slight mentions of shoe play, talks of punishment and like SLIGHT exhibitionism, miguel being a simp bit what’s new, a kiss 🤭, on da sweeter side, and as per usual: definitely not proof read lol enjoy 💋
a/n: i went tame for this but suggest what role play ideas u have bc miguel is DEFINITELY into that. like imagine him acting as readers maid.. in the maid outfit.. omfg.
“miguel?”
“ah! y-yes?” he answers between a moan. you’re currently sitting on your bed, miguel sitting upright facing you on your floor as you trail your heeled foot up his crotch.
“tell me something,” you start, cocking your head sideways and leaning forward to look at him a little closer. as you lean forwards your breasts spill over the the corset top you have on. you begin to use more friction with your foot, and his moans become more feverish. “what’s your fantasy? entertain me, i’m in a good mood tonight.”
and a good mood it was, you stumbled into your dorm at around 2 in the morning, miguel waiting patiently for you outside your door, kneeling in the empty hall just like you asked, when you texted him rather drunkenly from the club that you wanted to play with him.
miguel’s face flushes, his chocolate brown eyes hiding behind his glasses. “i- ah.. f-fuck. i don’t know..” he trails off, bucking lightly into your red bottom.
“you have one more time to lie to me before this turns into a ball busting session, dweeb,” you spit, halting your teasing and looking at him intensely. you can visually see him fold under your stare. “w-well..”
“go on,” you encourage, slowly starting your teasing with your heel back up.
“i’ve always wanted to- ah! to take someone on a dinner, all fancy. a-and in the middle of the restaurant, she starts to..” he halts, his lips tightening and his face going red.
“i said go on, miguel,” you say nonchalantly, but your heel applying pressure to miguel’s crotch. he lets out a sharp shudder and a string of curses under his breath, and then resumes.
“what we’re doing now.. tease me all dinner, and th-then punish me in the restroom for getting excited..” he sighs out, the pain and shame sending waves of pleasure to his pulsating clothed cock.
“yeah? punish you how? tell your mistress what you want,” he looks at you and moans, your foot increasing its speed and pressure.
“you- you’d make me beg to cum. i- i’d beg you to- fuck. to let me touch you. let me ache to please you, to serve you mistress,” he spill out from his lips, his eyes heavy and breathing shallow from your pleasuring.
“you really are pathetic miguel,” you laugh out. you stop teasing him and stand up, watching him look up at you from his place on the floor. you slowly saunter over to him and step each foot on either side of his legs, lowering yourself down until you’re sat on his lap, directly over his erection. you grab his hair and pull his head back, hovering your lips over his own. “but you know what?” you whisper, looking at his red face and tousled hair. “i like it.”
you go in for a kiss, your lipstick transferring to miguel’s perfectly shaped lips as you kiss him sensually. you pull apart from the kiss and look at him once more, him sitting there utterly dazed and confused, this being your first kiss. you get up and walk to sit back on your bed, looking straight at him, a small wet patch staining his pants. “get out of my room.”
he doesn’t hear from you until the following evening, a text message from you reading:
philemon at 8pm sharp. take a fucking shower and wear something other than hand me downs tonight.
ok but can we get some nerd!Miguel fluff? Like reader being nice to him after throwing him around like a ragdoll and making him pleasure her one very way possible :(((
Cuddling and kissing him, leaving your lipstick prints all over his face as he stares at you like a little kid in a LEGO isle? :33
okay but taking miguel shopping bc he’s just been so good and he’s been working so hard at school for u and he doesn’t even want to get anything for himself at first :(((
and u have to tell him he deserves it with a reassuring kiss on the cheek!! and when u try to wipe the stain your lipstick left on his cheek away he tells u to leave it, walking around the mall with a bright red kiss mark on his face he’s so adorbz
the only thing he gets is a lego star wars set, and he just wants the two of you to build together the mini model of the millennium falcon while the tells u all the star wars lore, while showing you his merchandise collection and puttin on the movie for the two of u to watch while u build the ship 😔
dni i need a miguel in my life
amaretto
Miguel/Reader | Explicit | Chapter 1/?
a/n: I brought this blog back from the dead to post this so I hope y’all enjoy. Gonna be a few chapters but not sure how many yet. Femdom reader, Bartender Miguel basically. Horny and angsty modern NYC AU, no powers. Bit of a slow burn (ish). Enjoy lol
***
The Basilica is, for all intents and purposes, a mediocre bar.
There’s a pothole steps away from the bar’s entrance that customers have to maneuver past in kitten heels and designer sneakers, and the embossed metal sign at the front of the door is almost completely covered in rust. It’s clearly an establishment that’s too pretentious to be a dive bar, but not exactly up to code enough to be an upscale cocktail bar either.
Recent attempts to rebrand the place as a hole-in-the-wall speakeasy have been successful, meaning that it’s now the common haunt for every art history graduate student, Bauhaus enthusiast, and unattainably gorgeous bisexual poet in lower Manhattan who’s willing to spend 17 dollars on a drink.
You stumble across the small chipped navy blue door after a brutal day at work. The patrons at the luxury handbag store you have the distinct displeasure of interacting with were particularly snippy today, and your pair of not-yet-broken-in oxfords feel more like a prison than a fashion statement at the moment. You need a drink to help forget the past ten hours ever happened just so you can do it all over again tomorrow. You’ve never heard of this place, but you don’t feel like getting on the subway just yet and looking for a bar that’s closer to home. This vaguely sketchy place will have to do.
The cozy interior of The Basicilia smells of cigar smoke and melting wax. Lit partially by candlelight, the brick walls and small antique cherrywood tables feel distant, yet homey. There are large gothic-style lanterns hanging from the low ceiling, and servers expertly move through the crowd carrying stainless steel trays full of thick-cut fries and bowls of green olives.
Despite the bar being relatively full, only one other person is sitting at the actual bar when you approach it—everyone else appears to be relegated to the various tables and benches strewn about the space, or hugging the walls holding glasses of craft beer.
With all of the fuss that sitting down on a stool, pulling off your winter coat, and hanging your things on a hook underneath the bar causes, it takes you a moment for you to see him.
But you do.
There’s a blur of movement in the corner of your vision as a tall man in a black button-down with rolled-up sleeves vaults over the bar wall and stalks over to the other end of the restaurant before knocking on a solid black door with the sole of his boot.
“Hey! You awake in there? They need help running food!” The man shouts, not waiting for a response before rushing back across the room and climbing back into the bar.
The sound draws a few eyes, but no one appears to be shocked—it seems to be a common occurrence here, judging by the way the person who appears to be the manager steps out of the previously kicked door looking bleary-eyed and sheepish, a pair of noise-canceling headphones around his neck and a set of keys jangling at his belt.
But your attention has been drawn elsewhere.
The man is tall enough to reach for a bottle of Belvedere vodka on the top shelf to hand to a nearby barback without straining. You notice his hands first—broad, veiny, with nails cut down to the bone. There’s a bandage wrapped around the middle finger on his left hand. A smattering of hair on his triceps, which are all muscle and sinew. And two tattoos—-a fang on his right bicep, and a bundle of marigolds on his left forearm. He leans onto the bar table to address you, his button-down snug around his chest.
Jesus fucking christ. If you had a drink you would certainly spill it.
“What are you getting,” he says—his voice raw from shouting, you assume—and his voice trends downward at the end of the sentence, as if he doesn’t want to ask you, as if it isn’t a question. You can’t even pretend to be offended—working in the service industry is a thankless task, and you know that well enough. But even you can admit that the level of tension in his jaw and the shuttered look in his eyes is disconcerting in a way that has to do with more than the fact that he presumably hates his job.
“A mojito, please,” you say, with less confidence than you’d normally have. You’re used to sitting at bars alone and making conversation with the bartenders, but tonight doesn’t seem to be going in that direction.
“A mojito?” The man repeats, and you know it’s the wrong choice somehow. Other than an almost imperceptible eye roll, he nods, turning his back to you to grab the right ingredients.
Still. It makes you curious.
“What’s wrong with a mojito?” you ask, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. It’s like his entire being is on constant guard, waiting for the other shoe to drop–you can see it in the way he turns back to look at you, his jaw set as he sets down a collins glass and starts picking damp mint sprigs out of a chilled metal container.
“First time here?” he says, and again, it isn’t a question. He places the mint leaves on a paper towel to dry before rubbing them on the rim of the collins glass and putting them in a separate pint glass.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with a mojito?” Normally you’d take your cue from the bartender and quit trying to make conversation, but something about him makes you want to poke and meddle, like touching a live wire with the tip of your finger.
“Nothing.”
“I won’t get offended. Is this one of those ‘what your drink of choice says about you’ things?” you probe, leaning onto the bar top. The other conversations seem to fade to a lull in the background of your mind, your sights set on tormented brown eyes and tense, broad shoulders.
“No.”
“Because that kind of seems like what this is—”
“No.”
“Then what is it? If you don’t mind me asking. I hope I’m not committing a major bar crime, or something.” He clearly minds, and the sigh he lets out is nothing short of torturous sounding, but he seems to indulge you anyway. You briefly register his hands reaching for various cups and bottles at an even tempo, his movements intentional as he makes your cocktail. He crushes mint and lime and sugar together with a blunt tool before opening a carafe of ice. A shiver runs through you, completely against your will, as you watch him work. You’ve always had a soft spot for competence.
“It’s more of a practical thing,” he explains, and you settle onto your stool, sensing a tangent incoming. “Mojitos aren’t complicated to make, but they take time. They have a lot of moving parts. And then once one person orders it, I get ten more people who saw me making it asking for it too, and I have to start the process over again. And then more people order it, and next thing you know I’m making mojitos for the rest of the night.”
“So when I ask for mojitos at other bars and they say they’re out of mint, are they lying?” you tease. He places your drink in front of you then, topping it off with a mint spring and a lime wedge at the rim of the glass.
“...Every bartender hates you,” he says in response, leaning in, and you give him a soft smile, sipping from the glass. It’s one of the best drinks you’ve ever had.
There isn’t an ounce of enjoyment to be seen in his eyes, or in the shadows of his face. But you swear you see a flicker of something there, like something that has long since lain dormant coming back to life—if only for a second–before it dissipates.
“What’s your name?” you ask, pushing your luck. Any spark that had once been lit is extinguished. He backs away, the lanterns from overhead casting shadows across his features that make him look like a stranger again. You silently curse yourself.
“I don’t do that,” he shakes his head, before venturing to the other end of the bar to help a seemingly new bartender whip up a martini. You wait patiently, watching the way his mouth moves and his hands gesture as he corrects the bartender on their…technique, or something. You have no idea. From afar, he looks equally as intimidating, if not more so. The lines of his body don’t indicate any kind of softness, and his shoulders are slightly hunched as if he’s ashamed of himself. You wonder if he does bicep curls in a concrete room for hours until he sweats out all of the vulnerability. Or maybe he runs from it, in the early morning, breath labored and lungs aching until his sneakers are worn out.
“You don’t do names?” you ask him as soon as he returns, and his time he doesn’t even pretend to hide his exasperation, rolling his eyes again before resting his elbows on the bar so that his face is inches away from yours. Your heart lurches. A quick glance around rewards you with a few of the patrons regarding you with a vague amount of interest—and concern.
“Listen. I’m not a therapy session bartender,” he says with enough disdain to cause your eyebrows to raise in surprise. “I like the theory of it. The drink making. That’s it. Talk to that guy,” he continues, gesturing to a fellow bartender with a man bun and gauges who’s currently chatting up the only other person sitting on the other end of the bar. “He’s chatty.”
This close-up, you can see the dark circles around his eyes, his slightly chapped lips. You get a brief urge to trace the wrinkles across his forehead with the pads of your fingertips, but you hold off, of course. The man seems like he’s too old for anyone. He’s lived a million lifetimes.
“I don’t want to talk to that guy,” you say, feeling emboldened. I want to talk to you. “No offense.”
Something in his expression flickers back to life once more, like a butterfly trying to fly without one of its wings.
“Miguel,” he says after a while, sounding pained. You tell him your name, and he gives no indication that he’s registered it.
“Do you wanna open a tab, or close it?” Miguel asks then, and his voice sounds weightier.
“...Keep it open.”
***
The bar is sweltering, but the cold, sour tang of the mojito keeps you cool as you watch Miguel make his way across the bar to help mix drinks for other patrons. You feel pinned to your stool somehow, like a bug under a microscope, even though Miguel doesn’t spare another glance in your direction. The music in here is alright, but not noteworthy. You wish you had someone to dance with.
The bartender with the man bun makes you another mojito before you can say otherwise, but it tastes different somehow. Too much mint maybe. Not enough bitterness. Miguel’s theory seems to be wrong; you scan the bar for other tall glasses with sprigs of bright green mint and find none. After brief consideration, you decide not to bother him any further by informing him of this fact.
The bar gets increasingly more crowded as the night goes on, and it becomes abundantly clear that Miguel isn’t going to check on you again. You want to believe it’s because he’s too busy, but you wonder if you made the wrong impression somehow. You wonder why you care. You hate that you do.
You settle your tab and gather your things before buttoning your coat and setting off into the night. Your two drinks have muddled your senses just so, but not enough to be completely disorienting. On the precipice of happy, maybe.
As you zip your coat up to your chin and walk down the sidewalk, you think about going home to your studio apartment and cuddling with your cat Cinnamon. You think about hopefully getting a few hours of sleep before the workday comes back around in the morning to swallow you whole once again. You think about the harsh line of Miguel’s jaw, about the fact that he’ll likely forget about you come morning.
“Every bartender hates me,” you repeat to yourself—a truly harrowing fact—before shaking your head and walking down the steps into the subway.
a/n: lmk if you enjoyed/if you wanna see more—mwah x