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graves4girls · 8 months

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☆ 18+ me & u | miguel o'hara

✮ wc. 4.4k ⚠︎ warning(s): 18+, unprotected, pre/noncanon, teensy tiny bit of possessive reader, fem!reader i got carried away with this so it's hella long but idgaf cuz i had sm fun writing it so if it gets rambly sorry :(( also if u can't tell by this i'm excited for halloween ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

You smear the black gloss across your lips, one arm stabilizing yourself as you stand bent over the vanity, fixing the small imperfections of your makeup. You cap the lipgloss and drop it into your makeup bag, straightening to eye your outfit in the mirror, fixing the ears secured to the top of your head. A knock at your bedroom door pulls you from admiring yourself any further, moving to pull the door open, smiling at the tower of a man behind it.

"You ready?"

"For what?"

Your eyebrows knit together, crossing your arms over your chest. "The costume party! You said you were going."

His eyes run over your frame, eyebrows raising at the provocative costume. "I decided I don't want to. All it's gonna be is drunk people dry humping and vomiting everywhere."

You frown.

"We were supposed to go together. You can't just back out. You promised."

"I'm breaking it, then. I'm sure you'll have fun without me."

You drop your arms to your sides, sighing. "You're driving me then. And I need to make a pit stop at the party store. I need one more thing for my costume."

He grumbles quietly but nods nonetheless, letting you slip past him and down the hall.

You push the car door open as he shuts the engine off, but you don't get out, looking back at him.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Why would I go in? You're the one who wanted to come here."

"What if I need help getting something off a high shelf?"

He rolls his eyes at the lame excuse, biting back a grin. "That's what the workers are for."

"Just, come in with me. It'll be quick."

He reluctantly steps out of the car, following close behind you.

You skim through the aisles, eyes locking on the bright red and blue of one particular costume hanging on the wall, and you reach to pull it down, scanning the size. He notices you eyeing the package, stepping closer.

"What do you need that for?"

You hum, giving him a grin. "I don't. But you do. You'd look so cute in this."

He gapes at you for a moment, waving a hand in the air as he shakes his head furiously.

"You're fucking crazy if you think I'd ever wear that. I'm not ten years old. And I told you I'm not going to the stupid party."

"Come on! I'll pay for it–just come with me. I really want you to go."

He stares at you for a few moments in silence, small scowl etched into his features and his big arms folded over his chest. The way you look up at him with those big, pretty eyes, and the way you're practically begging him to go makes him weak, and you smile when he drops his head with a sigh.

"I can't believe you're actually making me go to a costume party dressed as goddamn Spiderman. Was this the only reason you made me drive you here?"

"No, I still need a cat tail."

You pull him along by his hand through the crowds of people and drag him up the stairs, in search of an empty room.

"What are you guys supposed to be?"

You turn to the voice, smiling at them.

"I'm a black cat. He didn't have time to change yet, but he's gonna be Spiderman." You can tell he's already regretting giving in to your batting eyelashes and pouty lip, not acknowledging the person whatsoever. "Is there anywhere he can change? Bathroom or something?"

"There's one down the hall, to the right. Hopefully nobody's hogging it yet."

You nod and yank him towards the room, knocking before pushing it open when you get no response. You shove the costume against his chest, toothy grin stuck to your face.

"You're way too happy about this. You owe me."

"Whatever, just hurry up. They're gonna have a contest later for best costumes and I'm gonna nominate you."

"¡Oye, no empujes tu suerte-!"

You push him back and slam the door shut, giggling at the way he groans.

"Almost done?"

You can hear shuffling behind the door.

"Uh–yeah. It's just a little…tight. This was the biggest size they had?"

The door creaks open, and he peeks his head around to look at you.

"Yeah. It can't be that bad. Show me." He pulls the door open, and you hide your laugh behind your hand at the sight of him. "See, I told you! You look cute."

"You're laughing. I look ridiculous."

"I'm serious! Give me a spin."

Another incredulous look, but he obliges when he realizes you mean it, popping your hip out as you shift your weight. He turns slowly, and you can't keep your eyes from drifting lower, taking in the way the thin material hugs his ass perfectly, along with the rest of him, really. You whistle at him as he turns back to face you, mischievous and teasing.

"Watch it. I'll ditch your ass if you keep that shit up." He points a finger at you, but you wave him off, pushing his hand down.

"Where's the mask?"

"I'm not wearing it. This is bad enough."

"You're wearing the goddamn mask. You're not Spiderman without the mask. Put it on."

You can't place it, but every girl that ogles at him and feels him up tightens something in your chest. He's not even trying to be the center of attention, yet girls are flocking to get close to him. You're supposed to be dancing with your friends, but you're too busy glaring at the Barbie hanging off his arm to enjoy the music anymore.

"Hey, what's your problem?" One of your friends bumps against your shoulder, eyes following your gaze, and she sighs. "Ignore them. You're here to have fun."

You huff quietly, fixing your cat ears.

"I know, but he's supposed to be my Spiderman. He should be over here, with me."

"Holy shit, you are pathetic. C'mon, let's get some drinks."

You tear your eyes away from the sight, sulking into the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

"Just some juice or something. I'm not in the mood to get drunk anymore."

You take the solo cup from her hands, taking a sip and turning to eye the crowd from the threshold of the kitchen doorway, getting small glimpses of him through the silhouettes of people dancing. His mask is pulled back to show his pretty face, pieces of messy curls falling into his face as he laughs at something you're too far to hear. Honestly, you can't really blame them completely, he does look gorgeous, strong muscles straining against the cheap material of the costume, leaned cooly against the wall with his arms over his chest. You decide to cut his conversation with Harley Quinn short, curating a quick cocktail and leaving your friend to call after you, slipping past inflatable dinosaurs and far too many half-assed skeletons to snake between them.

"Hey! I brought you a drink."

His eyes flicker from the cup to you once, twice, before he squints.

"Why? What'd you do to it?"

You swat at his chest, holding it out further to him. "Nothing, you dick. I'm being nice. I did drag you here."

He takes the cup from you hesitantly, searching the concoction for any sign of foul play, before taking a sip, and you mentally note the absence of the pig-tailed girl that'd been heckling him.

"You've been getting a lot of attention tonight, huh?"

He glares at you, gently swirling his cup.

"I can't get two seconds alone. I don't know how you like these kinds of things."

"Well, try actually doing something rather than sitting in a corner acting all mysterious. And put the mask on."

You reach out to grab his free hand, gently pulling in an attempt to get him to follow you.

"And where exactly are you bringing me?"

"The dance floor. I know you've got a little something up your sleeve."

He holds a finger up as he takes another sip.

"Let me finish my drink, and I'll meet you out there."

"Promise? And don't break it this time."

"Promise. Ahora déjame en paz."

You drop his hand, smiling as you skip away to find your friends once more.

You jump a bit when you feel big hands catch your hips, and you're about to swing at the person that seems to think it's okay to grab random girls when his deep voice rumbles in your ear.

"Having fun?"

You look over your shoulder to find that big eyed mask staring down at you, nodding with a smile.

"Took you long enough. And you kept your promise."

You turn to face him, but he keeps his hands on your hips, and your face heats up a bit at the contact.

"I got a little held up. And you'll never guess who it was."

You scrunch your face, tilting your head a bit. "Who?"

"Another black cat. But like, Marvel's Black Cat. She had the whole get-up, claws and everything."

You heat up even more.

"Oh, really? That's funny."

"Yeah, she was trying to get my number and shit."

You suck your teeth. "And shit? What else was she trying to get?" You tease him, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Nothing like that, you weirdo. Are we gonna dance, or what?"

You give him a half-hearted smirk as he clears his throat, brushing his hands away to turn to your friend.

Your friend's hanging off of you, drunkenly babbling and giggling, and you decide to recuperate away from the crowd, patting a hand against Miguel's shoulder.

"Help me bring her somewhere quieter. She needs to sober up."

He picks her from your shoulder with ease, following you away from the loud music and up into an empty bedroom. You retrieve some cold water as he sets her on the bed, and she plops back with a laugh.

"Hey, drink this. You're fucking plastered."

She refuses it at first, but with minimal fighting, she eventually chugs the drink and falls against your shoulder.

Her boyfriend collects her soon enough, conveniently leaving you and Spiderman to linger in the quiet room.

"You seem to be having a good time. Aren't you happy I made you come?"

He plops onto the bed with a huff, pushing the mask up and raising his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't say happy, but I'm not not happy. I mean, I like seeing you have fun."

You step closer to the mirror hanging on the door, prodding at your makeup.

"Yeah? You looked pretty thrilled out there."

He watches you from his spot, leaning back on one of his palms. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing my makeup. She smudged it when she was grabbing at me."

"You look fine."

You give him a look from the side of your eye, pulling out a small lip gloss from your bra cup and twisting it open. "That's not the compliment you think it is."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I meant. You look pretty. You can't even tell it's messed up."

You close the small tube and set it down on the wardrobe, running your hands down your sides to feel the shiny faux leather fabric of the bodysuit. You can feel his eyes on you, running all over your body, and suddenly there's a tight coil in your stomach.

"Did you ever give that girl your number?"

His eyes snap to your face when you turn to look down at him, brows knit together.

"Who, Black Cat? No, no, she's not my type. And I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend. I've seen her around campus a few times with the same guy."

You hum quietly.

"What about Harley Quinn? She's cute."

He shrugs. "She's just in my genetics class. She was just asking about an assignment. Nothing nefarious." He sits up, a small smirk working its way onto his lips. "Why are you grilling me all of a sudden? Are you trying to hook me up with someone?"

You shake your head with a grin, cheeks heating up. "No! I'm just wondering. I mean, girls have been hanging off of you all night. Surely you gave one of them your number, or something?"

He chuckles quietly, toying with the fabric on his leg. "No, I don't go handing out my number to random girls."

"Sure."

"What about you? Don't you have guys all over you?"

You scoff, moving to sit next to him.

"Hardly. I'll be lucky if I get one guy asking for my number before I leave. And the clock is ticking. It's already almost midnight."

He's looking at you, staring, and you don't want to look back.

"I think they're just intimidated. They think you'll reject them." His voice is quieter, softer, but it still rumbles deep in his chest.

"Shut up."

He leans closer.

"I'm serious." His hand comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, lingering before it drops back to his side. "You look stunning. I mean, you're always gorgeous, but you look especially good in black leather."

Your whole body feels like a furnace, scorching with the sudden tension in the air, and you stare down at your lap.

"Thanks."

"Oye. Mírame." His hand comes up once more to grab your chin, turning your head to face him. "I mean it."

Your eyes fall to his lips for a moment, nodding softly.

"I know." Your own voice betrays you, nearly a whisper as you find his gaze.

He's kissing you before you can say anything else, big hand cupping the side of your face as his nose bumps against yours, and your hands are quick to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. He leans into you, nearly knocking you over if it weren't for his hold on you, desperate to get more of you. He's hoisting you into his lap, hands grabbing at your hips as your tongue slips into his mouth, and he's letting a low groan fall from his lips. He can't pull you close enough, strong arms constricting around your waist as your hands frame his face, only pulling back when your lungs nearly burn.

"You should've done that a long time ago."

He chuckles against your lips, brown eyes boring into your own, pupils blown wide. "I was waiting for the right time."

You drop another heated kiss to his flushed lips, humming into his mouth when he rolls your hips down into his own.

"You really wanna do this here?"

"I don't think I can hold out any longer. I need you, now."

You rock down against him with another kiss.

"Whatever you say, Spiderman."

Your hands are moving to tug off his costume, leaving him in tight briefs that leave little to the imagination. He shifts your position to pin you below him, stuffing his face into your neck to let his lips find your throat, and your hands are tangling in his messy hair, black nails massaging his scalp. His fingers crawl down your side to grab one of your thighs, hooking your leg over his hip as he drops his head lower to litter your collarbones with kisses, nipping gently at the exposed skin.

Your hands fall from his hair to feel along the muscle of his chest, down his abs until they bump into the elastic band of his briefs, stilling against the fabric. His hips roll into your light touch, begging for something to rub against, and your hand drops lower to brush your fingers against him through the thin cotton, earning a quiet groan that melts into your skin. He draws back to take you in for a moment, kissing you, eager and hot, and a big hand snakes between you to delicately pull the zipper of your bodysuit down, shoving open the piece to let the warm air hit your bare chest.

You slip your hand beneath his briefs to wrap your fingers around him, heavy in your hold, lazily running your fingers up the underside of his shaft. He's tugging at the sleeves of the bodysuit to push it down your arms, trailing kisses down your sternum as he does so, only pulling away to discard the garment beside you on the bed, immediately latching back onto you while one of his hands slowly inches lower to ghost over your cunt. He nudges aside the lacy black panties that just barely conceal you, his thick fingers exploring you, rolling over your clit a few times before they're soaking in your juices, pulling a quiet keen from your plump lips. He muffles your soft noises against his lips, his other hand sliding up your neck to cup the side of your face, and the way he's moving against you so languidly feels far more intimate than just any other fuck. He's being careful with you, taking in every mewl and whine you make, fingers working you perfectly, as if he already knows every part of you and how to touch you just right.

"You doing okay?" He bumps the tip of his nose to yours, warm breath fanning across your lips.

You nod, letting a hand come up to nestle in his hair. "I'm doing more than okay. Feels really good."

His thumb rubs circles into your clit, palm pushing against you when your hips begin to lift from the mattress, keeping you in place below him.

You need something else. It's not enough.

"Mmph–Miguel…" You manage to whimper out his name, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. "I…" Your words melt into another moan, eyelids fighting to stay open.

"Hmm? What is it, gorgeous? Tell me." He caresses the side of your face, calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I want you…I want you to fuck me. Please." Your cheeks burn, no doubt scalding to the touch as you stare up at him through your long lashes, gnawing at your bottom lip.

He seems to short-circuit at your plea for a moment or two before he gives an avid nod, smooshing another kiss to your lips. "I'll give you anything you want if you keep asking like that. God, you are fuckin' perfect."

His hand slips from between your thighs to grab at your panties, and the sound of the lace tearing apart pulls you out of your mind for a second.

"Miguel! Are you that impatient? Those were my favorite pair!" You can't hide the little giggle that carries your words, hands wrapping around his forearms.

"I'll buy you a new pair." He dismisses your comment with a kiss to your jaw, throwing the pathetic string of lace aside.

He drags the tip of his cock along your slick folds a couple times before he's stretching you open, big hands catching the back of your knees to push your legs back towards your head, groaning low in his throat at the way your warm walls hug him tight. Your own hands grab at his strong arms, clinging to his wrists as he slowly rolls his hips into your own, and you bite back a moan when he bottoms out, stilling against you. He's big, but the stretch feels so good. Filling you to the hilt, overtaking all your senses as he cages you beneath him, nothing else on your mind but him.

"This alright?" He leans down to press little kisses to your cheek, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing shapes into the back of your knees.

"Mhm." You can't find the strength to conjure up anything intelligible, mind foggy with the little grunts he makes that make you want to squirm.

His deep moans and hums tickle your skin, nose pressed into your neck as he rocks into you. His hands drop to the mattress, letting your legs hook over his big shoulders instead, and your nails dig into his biceps, clawing at him. His slow thrusts grow more eager, rocking you against the sheets as he lifts his head to look at you, watching your expression pinch and contort whenever he brushes that sweet spot.

Your eyes water when his hips snap against you, faster and more brutal with every roll of his hips, teeth nearly drawing blood as they sink into your plump bottom lip, swollen from his constant need to be kissing you. One of his hands has snuck between your legs once more to pay special attention to your clit, making you a whimpering, mumbling mess below him. His other hand finds its way up to hold your chin, his thumb slipping between your lips to settle on your warm tongue, and you gently suck on the digit as your eyes find his.

"Fuck…I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep looking at me like that."

Your eyebrows knit together when he hits that sweet spot inside you, a pathetically loud moan ripping through your vocal chords as your hips jerk. The bedframe screams with every rough slam of his hips, and he revels in every whine and hiccup that leaves your pretty lips, smearing his spit-slick thumb across your jawbone. His hips grow more erratic with every moment that passes, carelessly drilling into you in a desperate attempt to chase that high. His praises have devolved into gravelly mumbles, nose bridge pressed against your jaw as his warm breath hits your sticky skin, and one of your hands fumbles to wrap around his neck, keeping him close to you. His fingers work your clit tirelessly, a silent plea for you to finish, cock bullying your tight walls.

His hips stutter as he comes, giving one more deep slam of his hips before filling you completely, panting heavy and uneven as he continues to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He slowly tilts his head to stick lazy, hot kisses to the underside of your jaw, urging you on as your legs begin to tremble. He grins against your skin when your thighs shake, coating his fingers in your juices as your orgasm hits you, comforting you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth as you come down. He lets your legs fall to frame his hips as he pulls out of you, bringing his hand up to run along your stomach, over your chest and curling behind your neck, thumbing over your jawline as your eyes tentatively find his.

"There you are, pretty girl. How're we feeling?" He looks almost lovestruck, his expression so tooth-rottingly sweet it makes your stomach do flips.

You hum quietly, leaning into his hold. "Perfect. A little tired, though."

He smiles at you, dropping a kiss to the tip of your nose that has you smiling right back at him.

He pulls himself away from you leisurely, running a hand down your side before getting up from the mattress, eyeing the mess of clothes scattered across the room. You sit up, leaning back on the heels of your palms as he moves to pick up his briefs. You both jump at the sudden knock on the door, and you panic when the doorknob twists.

"Hey, Miguel! You in here? You-!"

His reflexes are quick enough to slam the door shut before whoever it was barging in could catch a glimpse of the filthy scene, eyes wide and head snapping towards you to find your own expression just as alarmed.

"What the fuck, man?! Knock first!"

"I did, dude!"

He growls quietly. "Well, wait for me to respond! You don't go around swinging doors open! I'll be down in a bit! Christ…" He twists the lock on the doorknob, running a hand down his face.

You're already pulling your clothes back on by the time he turns around, pulling the zipper up as he slips on his briefs.

"Sorry. I should've made sure it was locked earlier."

You shake your head, waving him off and pushing him away from the door to look in the mirror, eyes widening at your reflection.

"Holy shit. My makeup is fucked." There's black streaks of dried tears staining your hot cheeks, lip gloss smeared and cat ears askew.

He stands behind you, and you want to disappear. This is what was under him that whole time? Utterly mortifying.

"Here, let me help. Look at me."

You shamefully spin around, avoiding his eyes as his hands come up to hold your face. His thumbs run over the black marks on your face, gently wiping at them as you sigh.

"What are you sighing about?"

He continues to swipe at the messy makeup, rubbing his finger under your lips to pick up the excess gloss.

"Why didn't you tell me I looked like shit?"

He hums softly, holding you still. "Cause you don't. You look pretty. Some messy makeup isn't gonna change that." He leans closer to your ear, his breath tickling your skin. "And in all honesty, it was really hot."

You push him away with an amused giggle. "Whatever. Let me at least put some more lip gloss on." You grab the tube from the wardrobe, but he picks it from your hand before you can turn back to the mirror. "What the hell-?"

"Shh. Just let me do it." You roll your eyes but let him tilt your head back, smearing the shiny gloss across your lips. "Can I give you one more kiss before we go out there?"

He dips his head to stick one last long kiss to your soft lips when you begrudgingly nod, flattening your hair and fixing your ears when he draws back. You turn back to the mirror, pleasantly surprised at his handiwork.

"Oh my god, the contest! Hurry up and get dressed! I totally forgot about it."

He groans as you stuff your lip gloss back into the cup of your bodysuit, pulling on the tight spandex costume and following you out of the quiet room. The subtle looks you get as you pull him down the stairs makes you both giddy and horrified, keeping your head down as you shove past people. You can hear someone on the stereo system saying something about the runner up winner, and you deflate a bit.

"Dammit! We missed it."

He nuzzles his face into your neck as he comes up behind you, sighing. "Well, since it's too late for the contest, why don't we get out of here? I think we both could use some sleep"

You hum in a quiet agreement, letting him pull you out the rowdy house and into the cool night air.

"And don't think you don't still owe me for putting me in this stupid costume."

#m.ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #across the spider verse

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