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the-bittera-one · 3 months

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AUNGHHHH *dies*

A Night to Prove All

A Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader one-shot

[Thank you @oharaslove for being my beta reader for this~]

Word count: 6K

Content warning: 18+, Pwp, PinV, protected sex, cunnilingus (F receiving), use of alcohol (nothing too wild), Miguel is downbad~

Summary: Miguel has been watching you across the way. He's curious about you.

He wants to know more about you.

He wants to show that a certain act will lead to something more.

He couldn't help but take notice of you.

He couldn't help but notice the guys who sat next to you, testing the waters. Your waters. Was it scalding hot? Or was it arctic cold?

He played a little game in his head whenever a guy would remove himself from the bar stool next to you. Depending on their reaction, he could take a guess at the temperature they decided to dip their toe in.

That's a sneer. Hot.

He appears as if he's about to cry. Cold.

He's whispering something to you. Did he get through?

Nope, a pure look of disgust. The water was too cold, so he believed the immediate burning water would warm it up. Balance it out. But he didn't give it time to allow it to properly reach that poise, to let it fill up and mix in.

You radiated a mesmerizing energy. Perched up in the middle of the bar are your long-sleeved blouse, comfy dress pants, and heels. Two inches, to be exact.

You were stirring your second daiquiri of the night. The classic strawberry. You were very to yourself, minus the ones who would interfere and place themselves in your bubble without your clear, full-on permission. There was maybe one or two out of the possible five candidates who had the decency to pose the question “Is this seat taken?” before you gave a bowed head. And when you did nod, you looked hesitant but allowed it.

“What is it?” Miguel muttered to himself, swirling his whiskey. He was on his third one for the night, but with his powers, he could definitely handle twice as much. Taking a sip—that's when the right word dropped in his lap.

Class.

That's what you were exuding. When you denied the offers, you did it with grace and a sense of politeness. There was one where you did have to give a vexing eye. Miguel had the urge to make his way to get the dude off your back, but the bartender came to your rescue before he could really settle on his final answer.

This wasn't the original plan. He wanted a night out away from the other spiders, as today's mission was a pain and a half. Well, hell. It was full hell... and a half.

Three anomalies in one world. Nine different spiders in three sets of three went after each one; he needed to relax badly. It was successful, as they usually are, but even he had his limits.

This was out of his nature, but a few drinks were what he salvaged after. Even he knew when he needed time away from it all.

But spotting a beautiful person across the way wasn't on the agenda.

Would he dare try? Would he try and be potentially hot or cold, number six? He could handle rejection; he's a grown man. He was taught that ‘no means no,’ and there could be no explanation needed, no matter how curious he was. Simple and straightforward.

He's used to being by himself in his own space. In the rare moments he is out like this, a few will wonder up to him and take their shot. It was also a rare moment for him to indulge in a one-night stand. So the ones who would get shooed away by him made him curious if he'd understand what it's like to be on the other end.

Scooting out of the booth, he began to stroll in your direction. You weren't paying any attention to your surroundings; you were lost in your head, it seems. Earlier, he took note of your observing eyes, but you possibly needed a moment to recharge after the line of men wanting to pucker up to you.

Miguel stopped a foot from you. He didn't think this approach all the way through. Does he ask if this seat is taken like the others? You could've glanced at him, so there's a chance that you knew that he knew that this seat was indeed not taken. He didn't want to tap on your shoulder; that would definitely come off as rude.

Does he take the seat? Or does he go down one and work his way to that one?

He really should've had a plan from the start. This isn't like him.

“Yes?”

A voice snapped him out of his trance. He turned to the bar before peering down at you.

You are beautiful.

He already knew, but it's different when you're able to view a sparkling gem up close. His mouth was dry, and words and word structures seemed to fail him at the moment. He didn't want to open his mouth, or the next few sentences would be a very bad Porky Pig stuttering impression.

You raised a brow, waiting for a response. The guy in front was very handsome and muscular that it seemed comical. You did see him in the corner when you walked in, very much to himself. You can’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued, yet you didn’t have the ambition to go up to him, so you found yourself once more on your own.

Bars are your rare amenities. A place where many frequent for a good (or bad, depending on the party) night, whether it be an outing with friends, a casual hook-up, or getting away from it all. And that’s what you’re for. You desperately had to get away from work life and the tedious night classes because, Lord knows, waking up super early to learn was no longer in your schedule. You refused to go back to those days of being up before the crack of dawn to a bunch of teens and teachers who didn’t want to be there just as much as the next.

A drink or two, chill music, then straight back home—that’s the usual run with these excursions. No one night stands, no making friends was off the table as you found it difficult to think of conversations and will freeze up; it was merely you, your thoughts, and the bartender when he came to check up on you.

It was a plan, but it was a shame that others didn’t pick up on that memo.

You found yourself attractive—nothing too crazy like a runway model, but also not ‘bad looking,’ even though looks are preferences. Average. That was your humble word whenever someone asked how you would describe yourself appearance-wise. But tonight wasn’t the case. Tonight you were a ten out of ten and then some with the many approaches of gentlemen either wanting to get in your pants or maybe more, but the universe decided to be weird and play some type of cruel joke and went for the first one.

The joke got old very fast.

Now you were onto a new one. Yes, he has a pretty face, intimidatingly handsome, one might say, but his desires could fall under the same categories as the ones from earlier. Though he is more jittery than the rest, even if his neutral facade is trying to cover it.

“Are… Are you okay?”

Coming back to reality, Miguel sputtered out an apology and directed his focus to the many drinks sitting on the shelves. He never considered himself to be a great conversationalist, but he believes he can hold a decent chat when need be, yet suddenly, it's refusing to make its way out of him.

“I know this seat has been taken and then empty a few times before, but may I sit here?”

Biting your inner cheek, a sidelong glance reached him. You eyed the many alcoholic choices and scrolled through your options. This was going to be your last drink of the night anyway, and you paid in advance, so you could get up and leave if he started to hassle you.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Miguel wasn't relieved by the answer, but it was a step on a path. Taking the stool, you were fixed on his size. He was so humongous that you wanted to ask a question about whether he always takes up this much space but refrained from it.

It was quiet for a few minutes. You were both gaping ahead at everything and everyone, but not at each other. Miguel held this etched demure attitude, terrified to even speak a single word, not wanting to mess up this opportunity. You took a sip from your cup and cleared your throat. This was straining for you both, and it didn't help that your mind was racing with a million inquiries on why he wasn't talking to you. Is he putting on a facade of being nervous, or is this how he is?

“Do you usually come to this bar?” He winced at that very generic question.

You were ready to fling your body out of this building. “No, not really. Rare occasions. What about you?”

“Every once in a blue moon. I don't really care about frequenting bars. They're nice, but to a certain extent.” Miguel got the bartender's attention and ordered another whiskey.

“I agree with that; bars can be pretty good, but you have moments where you run into different sorts of people.” The bartender asked if you wanted something else, but you turned it down, thanking him.

“Yeah, I dealt with some very interesting people in my time. Ojalá me hubieran dejado solo.”

“Care to share any?” Interest peaked, but there was still stiffness.

“Miguel, by the way.”

You were leery, but you dropped your name.

You didn't know how much time exactly, but you were on your third drink and he was on another. You were fascinated by his alcohol tolerance because he was holding up like nothing. The discussions and rabbit holes you fell into were natural—way too natural. Your defenses still kept their guard up, but it was pleasant.

Miguel's clunky motions presented themselves; he didn't want to spook you away. He was sucked into this pulling beam, and he saw no reason to fight it.

“So your co-worker has a habit of bringing his baby to work?” You chuckled while sipping on the daiquiri.

Miguel sighed. “Yes. No matter how many times I tell him not to, he does whatever he feels like. But she is adorable, and I do enjoy her presence.”

“But you'll never admit it?” A boastful assumption, but you got him to laugh.

“You know me too well, it seems.” He eyed his drink. “I would like to get to know you better.”

“What was that?” You hoped he wasn't thinking of a certain activity to impose.

“Nothing.” He scrunched his eyebrows and shook his head. Miguel wondered if he was seriously about to go through with this ridiculous request, but with the way the interaction and banter were going, he didn't want it to end. Not now, maybe even never, and he's usually more guarded with these things, but it'll be worth the shot.

“No. I'm not doing that; I might as well go for it. You are a very attractive woman, and riveting as well. I would like to do something tonight–”

You had to interrupt. “I'm sorry, Miguel. I should've said this from the start, but I wasn't thinking at the time. One-night stands are not my forte. I prefer to see how things will move along and how they'll develop. Bloom into something. I'm sorry again if that is what you were expecting from this.” You should've known this was too good to be true.

Miguel nodded his head. “I understand completely. And I will not push you into that line. You caught my eye earlier; one can say I was enthralled. I wanted to know what you were like. Merely intrigued.”

You blinked a few times. “So you don't want to have sex?”

“I won't lie and say I don't have that in mind, but I wouldn't mind sitting here until closing to continue on with our conversation and leaving with your number if you choose to give it to me.” He reached for his wallet. “I'll find value in that if it means I get to proceed knowing more about you. May I pay for your drink?”

“I can pay for mine; thank you, though.” His words caught you for a loop. He respected your choice and paid for his, not making a fuss. Your brain was battering at the cage that this was a ploy, but something stirring deep inside was whispering that he meant his words.

You caught on to his hook.

May I make an offer?” Miguel asked.

Your eyebrow slowly rises, caution taking hold of every cell, atom, and molecule of you. “I'm listening.”

He also wanted to know how your body felt against his.

“Tonight, I want you to give me the opportunity to prove that I am meaning all the words I'm saying.”

“You want your actions to speak louder?” You reclined to the back of the bar stool, twisting in it slightly.

“That's what I'm lying down for." It is all up to you, of course. I am willing to simply have a chat with a beautiful woman and then go on about my life.” The whiskey was finished when he settled the glass on the overly dampened napkin. “To leave with a simple number. Or, up to you, we can try something tonight, and I will still want to be there.”

The reflection of yourself in his sunglasses forced you to look at how you were thinking in this moment. You saw the want, the unsure part, and the worry, and Miguel knew it too. He was ready to back away, then you opened your mouth.

“You're clean?”

“Yes, and if you'd like, I can show proof to you.”

You nodded, paid for your drink, and slid off the stool. Miguel followed suit, freaking out himself, but he pushed down any signs of it.

You were going to step into this domain. So much was sprinting inside your brain. You were hesitant. Very hesitant. You did walk to the bar, so he couldn't have access to your license plate, which was a good thing. You think.

Making your way out of the bar, you twisted your head left and right when Miguel stood still, rubbing the back of his head.

“Did you also walk?” You crossed your arms, stepping over to the side to not block the entrance.

“Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would go this way.”

The air was stagnant. The surrusus of winds is breezing around you two, gleaning at the buildings and streets filled with citygoers bustling along with their lives. You weren't going to take him back to your place. Certainly not.

And do you dare go back to his? How far away is his place? Was it close by? It had to be if he also walked. Or maybe he got a cab service and then ventured his way over to this area? You scuttled more away from him by an inch or two. You wanted to be discreet, but he took notice.

“We don't have to do this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

You went to open your mouth to argue about his offer, but he beat you to it.

“And even if I put the proposition out, I'm sure we both know that it isn't some contract or thing you have to or need to go through.”

You hinged your mouth right back up and peered ahead. Your gut was screaming to let Miguel take you; there is truth behind his words. Yet the logical side agrees with that statement.

This isn't something you have to do; one-night stands can give you a feeling in the moment, but you crave more. Relationships can be scary, but it was something that you did lean on. That sense of security.

Your feet are already in the water, so why not dip in further? “You don't have anyone waiting for you at home?”

He shook his head. “If I did, I certainly wouldn't be here.”

That got a snort out of you. You sized him up, trying to decipher if he was lying to you, but that gaze he was giving made you feel impartial enough to believe him.

“Right. Do we go back to your place?”

“Would you feel at ease going there? And I want to hear your honest answer. No throwing it back at me.”

You had to make the right choice.

Here you are with your back against the wall of a decent hotel room. You still weren't comfortable bringing Miguel back to your apartment, but you were willing to go to a hotel with him. At least it was a public space, so a cleaner could stumble upon your body stuffed lazily under the bed or something.

Miguel did make sure to check in on you, wanting to be completely certain that you were fine with this. You were seeing green flags, but you were always ready to rip off those rose-tinted glasses.

“If you need anything, tell me. I want you to be priority number one.” His tongue trailed down your chin to your collarbone, refusing to take off any clothes without your permission.

“Can we listen to music?”

“Yes, we can.”

He gave you space to slip down, and you hobbled to your phone and searched for a perfect playlist. You did glance at the items that sat perfectly on the small stand by the bed.

Right before this little excursion fell into place, you took a detour to a local store that sold the essential items you needed. You wanted to be better safe than sorry.

A bottle of flavored lube (the store didn't have any unscented ones, of course), morning after pills, and condoms.

The size Miguel picked up almost made you drop everything and deny him access. But that gut feeling was keeping you hostage, and that curiosity was peeking out.

You jumped when your name was called, as Miguel gave a look of concern. “You okay? Remember, we can stop at any point.”

“It's okay, Miguel. Thank you for checking in on me. I'm still up for that request, you know.” After clicking the list, the ambience settled in. “Can you dim the lights, please?”

He searched for the light source and stared at the ceiling, watching the room be shrouded in a soft glow. “You doing okay?”

Your heart and stomach flittered. Half from the nerves and the fact of how caring he was. He was really trying to do his best, but you still needed to examine him.

“Yes, I'm fine. A bit wonky, but I'm ready to continue.”

He made his way back over and sat on the mattress, sinking it down partially. “Remember, whenever you want to stop, tell me.”

You reeled yourself up into a heated kiss. If you wake up to an empty bed in the morning, then it'll all be on you. You really hoped this wasn't some elaborate scheme to get in your pants.

You had to clear your head; you had to focus on what was going on in front of you. It was you and Miguel, and this ‘promised’ future he laid out and presented.

His lips were soft, and his tongue worked endlessly in your mouth. Your moans alone were enough to make him burst, but he had to please you first. He pulled back, scratching the nape of your neck, and took his shirt off. You couldn't help but stare. Holy shit, he was built as a tank and then some.

Miguel followed your dazed eyes down to his chest. He didn't know if that was a good stare or not.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine. It's all peachy. I knew you were buff, but behind fabric it looks, well,” you signaled with your hands at his pecs to his abs. “Different.”

“Eres muy linda. Thank you, I think.” He puffed out a laugh.

“It's a compliment.” You hesitated to touch his muscles, but he took a hold of your wrists and placed them on his chest.

“You can touch, hermosa. It's okay.”

You took that permission and stroked every crevice of him.

“Really big.” You both giggled at that and went back for another kiss.

Miguel's pants were tight, but he held off. You took your shirt off with help from Miguel. You removed your bra as well and couldn't help but snort at his absorbed fix.

“I- uh, sorry.”

“No, it's okay. Making it equal.” You took his wrist, gawked at the sheer size of his hands, and placed them on your breasts.

Miguel took the hint and kneaded them, giving peppered kisses wherever he could. He tweaked your nipples, tugging and pinching at them. He dipped down to lap at one, toying with the band of your pants.

You were feeling stuffy and warm in them, ready to get them off. You pushed him off, startling Miguel. He was ready to ask if everything was okay when you ripped the fabric down to your ankles and kicked them away.

“Your turn.” You plopped back on the bed, holding back a smile at the stunned expression.

He stood up, took a few steps back, and unbuttoned his jeans. The relief that crashed when he was free was kept hidden. You gulped at the outline. You thought you were discreet, but the sheepish blush crept on Miguel.

“No, I mean, you're big in all ways; I wasn't expecting that. I was, but not really.”

Miguel craned his neck down. “You're fine.” He strolled up to you and right in between your legs, parting them with his body. “Just say the word, hermosa, and I will back away.”

You needed this. “It's okay. Go ahead and continue, please.”

“Ready?” He tugged at the waistband.

You didn't want to go back. “Yes.”

Lifting your bottom, he slipped them off in one fell swoop. He did it so smoothly, your brain couldn't register it. It did take note of how intensely Miguel was eyeing your pussy. You knew you were wet from the acts and his overall demeanor, but Miguel was eyeballing you like you were some sacred treasure.

You heard him gulp his steady gaze on yours. “May I?”

“Please.” You were ready to explode from that. He has you in his trance.

Miguel had to take his time; he wanted this to be a night you wouldn't forget, so when the time comes to reminisce about this night, you both will maintain this overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

Miguel was already whipped for you.

Kissing and licking your inner thighs, he closed his eyes to listen to your sounds. Nipping the flesh earned him a soft sigh; biting led to a whiny cry; and sucking gave him a needy moan.

He didn't pause until you were covered, or unless you spoke up, he needed to mark you for only you and him to see. He worked his way up to your glossy heat, watching as you clenched.

“Eager, huh?” He placed his lips on the folds, letting some of the delicious juices stick to them.

“You can—ah, yes, I guess you can say that.” You combed through his hair and smiled. Miguel's heart was ready to beat out of his chest. He needed to wake up to that every morning.

You bucked your hips, signaling him to keep going, and he wasn't one to tease you… Yet. Pulling at your folds, he waltzed his tongue along them, probing at the opening before lazily moving up and down along the slit.

Your toes curled, one hand on your breast and the other pushing his head further. You squeaked and mewled. It was like he knew your body; it felt so incredible. You grinded in a steadfast motion, your eyes rolling in the back of your head whenever his nose swiped against your clit.

And that's when you were caught off-guard.

“Aah—mmn!” His tongue suddenly grounded into your velvety walls, clinging on with every sharp thrust of the soft muscle.

The sounds right in your ears, your long heaves, and the whiny calls of his name in his. Red eyes pierced into your soul as he quickened his motions.

“Fuck, Miguel—this feels—mmn! This feels amazing. You're doing so well.” You grabbed onto his curly locks, bucking your hips to have him plunge deeper.

Miguel was one for praise; he pretended to not hone in on his ego, simply brushing it to the side like it didn't exist. But hearing those cute sounds flow out of you made him feel as if he's the greatest creation in the entire multiverse.

Wriggling and exploring your tight, dripping pussy, he made sure to savor every drop of your delectable juices. Your flavor was astral—simply out of this universe.

Slurping up until he reached your clit, he toyed with the sensitive nub, allowing his two fingers to continue giving you the pleasure you desire and deserve.

“Miguel!” The shrill of great ecstasy had him almost come undone right in his boxers.

You hugged his fingers so well, stretching and scissoring for you to be able to take him. He wasn't going to neglect one inch of you; he wasn't going to neglect a single part of you.

“Mm, how are you feeling, hermosa?” He whispered against your stomach, leaving those small butterfly kisses on it, his digits picking up in a brutal place.

“I—ngh—I feel—fuck!” His thumb danced along your stiffened clit, prodding and rolling it, carefully pressing it down.

All he could do was smirk, lay his tongue flat against your nub, and roll it with it. Your back arched, and the stars were in your vision. You wailed his name as Miguel helped you ride out your orgasm, slurping up any juices that dared not fall into his mouth.

“Shit… oh, oh, my God.” Your spent body was light as a feather, like you couldn't move a muscle.

“Was it good for you, hermosa?” He kissed your lips and your cheek a couple of times, staring at your glazed-out expression.

You grinned, licking your mouth and tasting your wetness. “Very. I think I'm ready for you, Miguel.”

“You think or you know, hermosa?”

You gnawed at your lip and whispered. “I know.”

Miguel's stomach did a somersault. Standing up, he was fully free. Stepping out of his boxers, he went for the condoms, popping the package open and pulling out a wrapper. He climbed back into the bed and made sure you were comfortable.

Witnessing him rip off the foil with precision managed to turn you on even more. He slid on the condom as you eyed the long, throbbing penis. You didn't know whether to admire it or be terrified of it as you pursed your lips into a thin line. Miguel's eyes looked into yours, sensing the nervousness emanating from you.

“I'll go slow; I want you to experience nothing but pleasure.”

You nodded at the reassurance, needing him closer to you. Taking a hold of the nape of his neck, you bring him into a yearning kiss. Miguel's arms were on either side of your body, trapping you in, but you loved the heat leaving him.

“Ready, amor?” He nipped at the curve of your neck, wanting to sink his fangs into your delicate skin, but reprimanded himself, scolding himself for that thought.

I- uh…” you gulped.

“Yes?” His breath sent shivers down your back, and the tingling sensation between your thighs coursed from your stomach to your chest.

This man is huge in every single shape and in every possible form. You would like to be on the bottom to feel him rutting into you with every thrust, but his size scared you. And the gaze he was holding wasn't doing your nerves any better.

“Would you like to be on top?”

You scanned the room and nodded your head. With no hesitation, he flipped you both so you were straddling his hips and his back was resting against the headboard. His hands run along your sides, giving your behind a firm squeeze. Your eyes found their ways lost in his. The music gives that intimate ambience, and the dimmed lights show off the right amount of his gorgeous features.

You swore you saw his iris flash red, but you shook it away. Turning back, you took one more glance at him before grinding against the tip. A hissing intake escaped from you, nails digging into his shoulders as a grunt was left between those plump lips of his.

Biting your tongue, you continued on with your slow movements, wanting to at least get the head in, but with his size, it could be a bit difficult. You needed some more help.

“Miguel, I need to...”

Without a second thought, his hand reached for the bedside dresser and grabbed the bottle of lube. Using his thumb to pop off the cap, he held it close to you.

“Palm.” That instructive tone sent those goosebumps running all over you.

Obeying, you shakily move it right in front of him. A decent amount of clear gel squirted out. You blinked a few times, confused, watching Miguel place the bottle back in its original spot. Two of his fingers scooped up a small bit, a dangerous glint of desire and hunger.

“I- Miguel, I don't know what you-”

“Go on. Do what you need to do.” The two fingers glided in between his cock, from the head down to the base.

Creasing your eyebrows, you tried to put this puzzle piece together when it hit you. “This is a lot.”

He smirked, taking more, and went back to pleasing himself. “Still too much?”

Using the rest, you lathered up your digits and maneuvered them right to the entrance. Miguel stared passionately, his hand moving at a leisurely pace, enjoying the private experience. Sticking your fingers in, you felt yourself clenching. A hearty moan works its way out, your slick walls tender with every breach from your own attention.

You've never felt this euphoric when you touched yourself. Maybe it was because you both are helping yourselves out for one another, or it could be the fact that a beautiful man was glaring at you with an intent to rearrange your insides while wanting to show you that there is and will be more to this.

“Whenever you're ready, hermosa.”

“I'm ready for you, Mi- ah–Miguel.” He rubbed some of the transparent substance off of him onto your clit.

Repositioning back over him, you repeated the pattern of nudging yourself down onto him, finding it easier to slide down. A strangled groan trembled out of Miguel, observing the tip disappear in you. Rolling your hips, you clenched on him from your fluttering walls to your arms around his neck. Your eyes blinked rapidly as the tandem rhythm of you and Miguel rocking out of sync held every ounce of ignited need.

Halfway in, your cries and words of sweet nothings echoed in his ears and mind. A ring of your gushing juices formed perfectly on him. The music really did help.

with that intoxicating ache in your burning bodies. You were so glad you recommended it.

A couple of inches more down. You whine out. He mutters swears in Spanish, growling when you finally hit the base of the shaft.

“Yes, yes, hermosa. Estás hecha para esta verga. Estás hecha para mi.”

You felt full. Tears streaming down, your cries breathless, with Miguel taking control of the mindless thrusting. When you go down, he makes sure to drive up in full force. His fingers skimmed across your ignited skin, longing to take in everything.

The wet slaps were delicious. You bounced with every bit of delight, whining out when Miguel chewed and sucked on your nipple, adding to the fervid moment.

“Fuck, Miguel! Your cock fits so perfectly!”

“For me, only for me.” Miguel's vigorous pumps sent you both in a spiral.

Your tight walls were constricted; you were experiencing his ridges and veins, all of him rubbing against you so nicely. Your fingernails leave indents on his beefy shoulders, one or two puncturing the skin. The sweat leaking down and shimmering on his chest and abs made you want to take a picture and hide it from everyone. You wanted this image to be for your eyes only, and the idea of keeping it was floating whimsically in the air.

Your murky fluids covering his, the melding scent of your carnal lust as Miguel picked up the tempo, forced you to throw your arms around his neck to not tumble over. His head is buried in the curve of your neck, biting at the flesh, his fangs threatening to sneak in.

“Tan bueno, tan jodidamente bueno. Te haré mía, hermosa.” Miguel took a fistful of your hair, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You screamed, tongues in a constant battle, his giant hand gripping your waist, surely to leave small bruises in the morning. His balls came into contact with your ass as the furious pounding made the bed shake and groan alongside. The fuse was to explode.

“I'm cumming! Miguel, I'm going to cum!”

“Cum for me; do it, hermosa, cum, cum.”

You shrieked. Shockwaves overtook your very soul as you quivered, and your muscles convulsed around his length.

“Miguel, you make me feel like I'm on cloud nine; you brought me to a new high.” You cooed in his ear.

He was close to his end, holding you tight. Your praises drove him insane; he repeated your name over and over until he finally washed over, moaning your name like you were a goddess from above.

Your head fell to his chest, loving the heaving and hearing his heartbeat slow its erratic pace. He began to soften, but he wanted the feeling of you to not disappear.

“So.”

“So.” You huffed out with a giggle.

“Did the offer leave the table? Did I give my worth?”

Digging your chin into his chest, your eyes darted side to side, pretending to search for an answer.

“Well, I suggest you better be here in the morning to get my response.”

You both smiled and snuggled up to each other, cooling down and enjoying the endlessly loving tunes.

•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Miguel stepped inside his place, closing the door quietly, and leaned against it. Every inch of his body was aching and exhausted after this tumultuous day. Disengaging his suit, a hefty exhale puffed out when he got a waft of different spices blending right in his nose. An aroma that can't be beat.

Slugging further in, he eyed the beauty in his big shirt, swaying to nothing in particular. He will always be enraptured by you.

“You look like you need a long shower.” You eyeballed him from your peripheral view.

“That and something more.”

“And what might that be?” You were fully facing him, arms folded, a tiny smirk twitching its way on your face. “Because if it's desert, then that's going to have to wait a while.” You didn't hold back on a cheese-eating grin.

“Then how about an offer?”

His stoic face didn't match that slyness to his voice, but you were ready to hear what he had to ‘offer.’

“Alright, I'm listening.” You loosen your arms, propping your elbows up on the counter.

The starvation in his eyes spoke for itself, but you wanted to hear them out loud. Eyes never leave, rapt by each other. Miguel stepped closer and closer, stopping right in front of you and letting his knuckle caress your cheek to your chin before grasping it and tilting your head back.

“I'll shower, but I want it alongside my dessert.” He was right next to your ear. “And I promise it won't ruin my appetite.”

“Well… I'll be willing to give that a chance on one condition.” You tip-toed up his chest with his fingers.

“And what's that?”

“You say I love you.”

There was a mischievous hint in his eyes. “Te amo, hermosa.”

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the-bittera-one · 4 months

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Happy Pride!

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who else on here tryna get dick from a fictional man

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he has one of those tiger blankets i just KNOW he does

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Chapter Keywords: I did say everything goes downhill from there, rain! date!, foreshadowing, getting sick Chapter CWs: Hurt starts here. Implied self-pleasuring.

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4. Blue Daisy

Another day, another last-minute assignment to submit.

It didn't matter, you were stoked for Saturday to come. The date with Miguel was all set, from the movie you two would watch (some intergalactic sci-fi flick) to the fast food place where you two would pick up your greasy orders, and then finally drive to a certain romantic and secluded spot where you two lovebirds could spend some quality bonding time together in the car while stargazing, maybe even talking about the movie while looking up at the dark, hopefully starry and not smog-clouded, sky.

... Or maybe do some more impure activities. God knew you needed it.

It wasn't just the assignments that kept you awake these days, but also the thought of spending some special time with your boyfriend.

Many nights you had been lying on your bed, the softness and comfort of your blankets and pillows not enough to lull you to sleep. The many cups of chamomile tea you drank night after night only caused you to stumble to the toilet at 2 am.

The culprits behind all this mess? Miguel, your hormones and your damn imagination.

Because those things were what had you lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing that the one embracing you wasn't the sheets, but him.

Wishing that what you were biting down on wasn't a pillow, but him.

Wishing that the thing satisfying you wasn't your hand, but him.

But all that was soon to be resolved that Saturday.

There was just one small, teeny, tiny problem.

Miguel didn't seem to know your plans.

Or maybe he did, you weren't sure. You had sent him the text with the plans for the date the day after you had studied together in the library. Text that appeared just below the goodnight message you had sent him before going to bed.

But he hadn't responded to any of them.

Perhaps the person he was teaching this time burned a lot of your poor boyfriend's brain cells, along with his infinite patience. You would have to reward him for that.

But you grew more and more uneasy as the days went by. He had replied, yes, but you still weren't sure if he had actually read the arrangements for your date because his texts had become monosyllables that functioned as short answers to every question you asked him.

Like:

Did you sleep well? - Yes.

Was tutoring tiring? - Yes.

Can we study together tonight? - Busy

Lol, look at this squirrel. It stole Mr. Crabgrass' toupee after the old man tried to chase it away with a stick - Huh

That last one wasn't even a question yet the answer was the same.

Was he starting to piss you off? Yes, but Miguel was much too kind a soul to do that knowingly, right? He had always been the sweet, caring guy who soothed you during your hard times, even putting his body under strain for you, like the time you twisted your ankle so badly on your way home that he had to carry you on his back for blocks. And that was back when he didn't have any of the muscular prowess that his physique now displayed.

There was no way this sweet summer child was doing it on purpose, he was probably, as he said, busy. College was a pain in everyone's ass, and the two of you weren't as wealthy as other students might have been to be able to slack off.

That didn't mean you didn't feel lonely sometimes. But things would work out eventually, wouldn’t they?

Your mind went to what he had told you back then when your ankle had taken on the shape of a tennis ball.

"Everything will be okay."

A sunny day greeted your weary eyes with a midday sting that Saturday morning, waking you from the peaceful slumber you had fought to achieve all night.

But instead of getting out of bed grumbling as usual, you slipped out of it with a cheerful smile and headed straight for your dresser as you unlocked your phone.

Swiping between Instagram (which showed some girl you know getting married), the weather app (which showed graphs of temperature changes), tumblr (which showed some cheff-kiss quality smut), and the browser, you finally found the two tickets you had purchased yesterday.

Yes, you had called Miguel last night and he had finally given you a verbal answer.

He had spoken rather breathlessly, and you had assumed that he was running late for something, and as the considerate partner you were, you had opted to keep the conversation short. After all, it wasn't the first time you'd caught him being late for class.

But as of now, you had to focus on getting lunch and dolled up. An "everything" shower, skin care products, whatever cosmetic you used and the outfit you had planned for the day were waiting for you, as well as the lingerie chosen for this "special" occasion.

Of course, the golden ring on the bedside table couldn't be forgotten, placed there so it wouldn't bend or slip while you slept.

The movie would start at 8 and end at 9:40. A jacket, your keys and your phone were the only things you would take with you. Miguel would be the one to drive you out of the theater anyway, all you had to do was show up on time.

You were late, it didn't take a genius to know that when your phone displayed "8:20" on the screen. The numbers looked so bright that they were downright mocking you.

It wasn't your intention, really, but your bed had suddenly looked so soft and cozy as you waited for what felt like hours for your moisturizer to work its magic.

The marathon you had to run had left your lungs stinging, but your mind was focused on something else.

"Miguel won't be upset, will he?"

The sentence itself sounded ridiculous to you, but it escaped your lips as you rested your back against a wall, puffs of hot breath accompanying the escaping question.

The cold air outside the theater was doing nothing to cool your body temperature after such a long run, so you knew that "sweaty" would be the first thing anyone would think of when looking at you.

An embarrassed sigh was the one that escaped from you this time as your fingers went to your phone, unlocking it and texting an apologetic "I'm here" to your ever loving and understanding boyfriend.

You felt sorry, you had hyped up this date so much and yet you were the one who was late? But, well, nothing a good smooch couldn't fix.

You were quite sure that the one who needed the smooch this time was you.

A couple of hours had passed and there was no sign of your man anywhere, no texts or calls. The movie had long since ended, and yet you were still there, waiting.

Hoping.

Nervousness had turned to annoyance, annoyance to anger, and anger to worry.

Was he okay? Did the rain catch him?

What seemed to be a sunny and otherwise cloudless day had given way to biting winds and a light rainstorm that soon brought bigger raindrops than the weather forecast had originally predicted.

Your calls fell unanswered, and eventually all signal went down as the power went out in a large part of the city that still had a shitty power grid.

By the time you made it back to your dorm, you were too exhausted, cold, and wet to make another 100 calls to Miguel. You did give him 5 more, but they went unanswered, just like the 5 texts you sent.

Feverish, you had barely managed to get into bed with clothes that were supposed to keep you warm in what felt like the worst cold of your rather short life.

And that's how sleep claimed you, sick, worried and cold, with drenched garments lying next to your bed, left there to wet the carpet as it took on a musty smell.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #divider by cafekitsune #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfic

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Chapter Keywords: Say goodbye to fluff, It all goes downhill from here. Chapter CWs: Studying, very light mentions of sex

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3. Primrose

College was going to be the death of you, you were sure of it.

Or so you thought for the fifth time that evening as the book between your hands seemed to contain unintelligible words that your eyes and tired, over-caffeinated mind failed to decipher.

A month and a half had passed since you returned from your hometown, and as much as you wanted to say that everything was fine, it wasn't.

Nothing too serious, really, but you weren't a fan of the fact that the only time you and Miguel had available consisted of dates that were really just studying together in the library.

Still, his presence comforted you, it kept you from banging your head against one of the many brown wooden shelves that surrounded you at the moment.

And while it wasn't your style to spend your time together in a huge, crowded room where you could only hear the turning of pages and the occasional murmur, it would suffice for now.

The weekend was just around the corner anyway, and you were plotting a wicked plan to steal him away for a few hours or so to spend some well-deserved couple time together.

The problem was where to spend that time.

His place, too casual, just like yours.

The arcade was fun, but not exactly what you wanted.

The movies, maybe, but then you would spend your time together watching films instead of interacting.

A nice dinner at the local steakhouse was too expensive for your current budget... combined.

"Hmm..." The sigh and grumble that escaped your lips didn't go unnoticed by the man you shared a table with. His eyes went from his own book to you, that familiar friendly smile appearing on his features when he knew you were ruminating, deeming it his duty to ease any worry of yours.

"Something wrong, chiquis?" He said as he pushed his chair over to yours, putting a hand on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you in a warm embrace. The nice scent of laundry detergent combined with the aftershave you had gifted him months ago made for a combination that instantly had you both feeling at ease and on edge at the same time.

You might have purred a little.

He had you spellbound, each and every part of you responding to a call he didn't even know he was making.

The infatuation had done nothing but grow and consume you from both in and out since that afternoon when he'd pressed you against your childhood bed, a palm around your neck and your knees bouncing on his shoulders.

"Nothing, it's just..." Mind back to reality, the hoarseness of your voice did not escape you, nor did the way your lungs felt empty and burning, had you forgotten to breathe?

You resumed your own respiration, putting it into "manual mode" (sorry) to prevent yourself from basically passing out.

His puzzled look still managed to get through to you, and you had to take another induced inhalation because of how cute he looked like that.

"Just... just... planning something." You said, tapping the wooden table with the pad of your fingers.

Calm down, calm down…

But then that damn quizzical brow of his appeared, "... Something?"

So maddening. "Yes, something. I'm allowed to think about stuff, you know."

Luckily, that didn't come out any harsher than anticipated, but it was thanks to the pout on your lips you failed to notice was there.

And such a sight was enough for him to know that you weren't upset, just overthinking.

So he smiled, and kept smiling as he took you into his arms. And kept smiling as he kissed your cheek. And kept smiling as he rested his chin on your head, hugging you close as if wanting your bodies to merge.

"You are, but your head is too pretty to let it go up in flames from overthinking, you know?"

Ah, shit.

Your face got red and hot, there he was again with the nice compliments, always directed at you, your mind, your intelligence, your looks too, your personality. He knew you too well and because of it, he knew where to attack.

You were vulnerable.

So you sighed.

"I... I was thinking about going on a date... this weekend..."

A pause.

Two.

Three.

And he chuckled, but he was not making fun of you, he would never. He liked the idea as much as you did.

"This weekend, huh? What do you have in mind?"

The million dollar question was here and you could just confess:

"Nothing... yet. I wanted to be the one planning it, is that okay?" You asked, sounding and feeling a little insecure now. He wouldn't feel undermined by your proactivity, would he? You just wanted him to relax and enjoy, at least for this once.

Yet another chuckle slipped from his lips, vibrating against the top of your head as its presence soothed your worries.

Unfortunately, what also vibrated was his phone on the table as a notification came in.

Picking it up with a sigh, he unlocked it and read what was on the screen.

His glasses didn't seem to be doing their job very well as he still had to place the screen at eye level and to read it up close.

Your snooping needs remained unsatisfied because of that.

"I have to go." He said with evident regret, planting a kiss on your hair before letting you go.

"Ah... tutoring?" You asked as you watched him gather his things.

Right, you knew that Miguel had decided to start tutoring other students for some reason. He said he wanted the extra money, that it would help for something he had planned.

You couldn't contradict him on that.

"Yeah, I think it's someone from one of your classes." He replied, slinging his bag over his right shoulder and turning to you.

When he saw your disappointed face he smiled again and leaned in, planting yet another kiss on you, but this time on your lips.

"Text me later, yeah? Maybe you'll have come up with something for the date by then..." He suggested as his thumb caressed the spot between your cheek and your jawline.

The circles he traced sent sparks through your body, it had you speechless.

So you just nodded and watched him leave, the date dilemma still lingering in your mind.

Fingers played with a cheap golden band. You sighed, this man had far too much power over you.

He could unintentionally lead you to heaven with only a couple of touches and a few sweet whispers.

Once in your dorm room, you texted him and waited for his reply as you got ready for bed. An idea had come to you, a date that wouldn't be too boring, too much or too expensive. It was perfect.

But his spellwork could also drag you to hell.

However, a reply never came.

And you were about to find out that very soon.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #dividers by cafekitsune

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Chapter Keywords: Another attempt of fluff was made, childhood friendship recount, wonky english Chapter CWs: Implied sex, light mention of bullying, alcohol consumption, a squishmallow was traumatized in this fic. Prev - Main - Next

2. Phlox

The sound of a door opening and closing echoed through an occupied kitchen. The person inside, who was busy drying some cups with a cloth, calmly turned around. She already knew who was the one that entered. And because of it, her lips had naturally curved into a smile even before settling her eyes on the brown-haired man that looked like he had been caught red-handed.

"Miguelito! Here to hang out with my spawn, I suppose." Said the older woman, who looked friendly and at ease thanks to the laugh lines on her mature and beautiful face, not at all bothered by the younger man's sudden trespassing.

Your mother was a kind person, but reserved with those she was not close to. And that specially the case if you were involved in the equation.

In the beginning she had treated Miguel with caution. It wasn't anything to do with him, really, he was just a child at the time, but his household's (or more precisely, his parents') reputation was not something that could be simply dismissed.

She feared for you at first, but after a few years had passed she came to realize that he was harmless; a victim of his environment, yes, but not impressionable enough to let it dictate his behavior towards you and others, or even towards his own future.

He was a kind one, studious and patient, specially with you who sometimes had uncontrollable bursts of chaotic energy. Your occasional "zoomies", as you both had named them. But he was also determined and caring, brave enough to confront whatever bully crossed your path, even if that meant his frail and weak body was going to bear the brunt of it.

"Yeah… We're, uh… going to… that… thing…" With a poor attempt at lying, he replied. Listening to himself made him wince, knowing that his lack of familiarity with the action was causing him to perform terribly at it.

Ah, he was also honest… to a fault.

But luck was on his side, because as caring as your mother was, she also had her flaws. One of which was that once she started trusting someone, that trust was rarely questioned, unless major inconsistencies began to show.

And your mother trusted him. A lot.

So she just smiled, her eyes going back to the cup and cloth as she spoke. "Go upstairs. And be quick, my husband went shopping a while ago, I'm sure he'll be back soon."

A cold ran down his spine. Your father was the complete opposite of the woman before him. Many said he had the personality of a golden retriever.

And he did, he was such a lovable and high-spirited man that put your own chaotic energy to shame. Even Miguel himself had agreed with that comparison...

At least until you hit puberty, and then your father went from viewing Miguel as your friend to viewing him as a bespectacled wolf who could take his baby away in a heartbeat.

To say that your father was protective was a sickening, gross understatement. So the first thing Miguel did after hearing the news was to scramble up the stairs and hastily push open your bedroom door with a

BAM!

...

"…. Dude, what the fuck?" You said, arms up and stuck inside a shirt, leaving most of your torso exposed. He had just caught you in the middle of a shirt change, but you didn't seem as startled as any other person would have been considering the situation.

"No time, put that shirt on before I drag you out half dressed." He said as he picked up your bag and pushed you towards the door from behind.

"Are you really going to let everyone see me like this?" You replied, waving your shirt-bound arms for emphasis.

That, not surprisingly, did made him stop.

But not for propriety's sake, oh no. One look and it wouldn't take to be a person who had an English accent and used the term "mind palace" to figure out that you had been ravaged recently.

Those dark pretty spots on your waist and chest were as bad liars as he was.

And if your father were to see it-

"…Shit"

So he let go of your bag, making it fall to the ground and then helped with sliding your shirt down to its rightful place, one that covered all the sins he had committed with you over and over again.

Besides, he wasn't keen on anyone else looking at something he was just starting to enjoy.

The quick footsteps of two people descending the stairs were what followed, accompanied by a hasty "Bye Mom!" and then the slamming of the front door as you two made your escape.

That was the last thing the older woman heard before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The thing was…

No one really knew what was actually going on with you two.

Yes, you were still spending time together. And yes, things between the two of you were becoming more and more ambiguous over time.

You hadn't really talked about what had happened that sunny afternoon. Or the mornings/afternoons/evenings/midnights that followed.

The lack of formality didn't stop your little fling though; your intimate encounters continued, becoming more frequent, more intimate, and more risky.

You were friends and you were not. You were lovers and you were not. You weren't keeping it secret, but you weren't making it public either.

Your relationship was Schrodinger's cat, its status uncertain until the fragile box in which it was contained was opened, revealing either Pandora's curse or the most sublime of joys.

So instead of finding out if the cat was dead or alive, you chose to pretend that everything was just the same, even as you kept screwing under the sheets, or on his desk, or on his parents' kitchen counter, or even inside the car the two of you just got into.

People did have suspicions, like your mother, who had just finished drying cups and was now drying plates instead, or your father, who was just entering the house, carrying bags and more bags filled with groceries with him. But those suspicions had been there even before anything had happened.

In fact, they had been there ever since you became teenagers.

So, in a sense, no one actually knew what was really going on. The only ones who knew the truth were you, him, and your poor flattened Axolotl Squishmallow who to this day remained there, in the corner of your bed while facing the wall ever since that day.

The dates you had together were mainly focused on having a good time. And just like now, he would drive you to a place where you'd perform your usual hanging out routine: talking, bantering, playing with your phones (or the game machines if you were at the arcade), stealing each other's food and gossiping even after you both said that activity was beneath your extraordinary minds, and giggling when he finished the session with a "pero quiénes somos nosotros para juzgar" (but who are we to judge).

Of course, there were a few things thrown into the mix that weren't there before, like you deliberately using clothes that were easy to get under and then discarded, or him needing to bring wet wipes and some little square packets made out of aluminum foil, or both of you needing to eat mints before going home to keep the smell of certain fluids from clinging to your breath.

But it felt like it wasn't enough. It was never going to be when it came down to him. Which is why your friendly time together was sometimes clandestinely continued under the veil of the night, and maybe even under the covers of your bed.

Your plushy still faced the wall while your pillows were riddled with bite marks. The walls of your bedroom were ticker than his, after all.

Vacations were getting shorter and you began to hang out a lot more, as if you felt your time together was coming to an end. For some strange reason, you had a bad feeling about the next semester…

Maybe it was the dread of knowing the amount of academic load that was waiting for you.

As much as you loved having made it into this specific college, the assignments, tests, and other crap were already beginning to weight on your mind.

That was why you were now lying on the verdant grass of a park in the middle of a beautiful afternoon, hangovered and wearing the same clothes you'd grinded on Miguel the night before at a party.

How did you get there, you ask? Let's just say it all started with a trip to a board-game-themed bar with a very unethical owner who was willing to offer alcoholic drinks without the requirement of an ID and a bet on who could do more damage at a party thrown by one of your ex-classmates you planned to crash.

It was wildly uncharacteristic for both of you.

But then again, you had both been acting out of character for quite some time.

The cold can that suddenly touched your eyelids brought you back to the present, and your hands went for it as Miguel's retreated.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, concern coloring his tone.

You grunted as a response, the weight of your own body felt so heavy that it crushed whatever desire you had of replying verbally.

That, and the spinning of your head.

You were the one who came up with the idea for the bet, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that you were 4 drinks in when you placed it.

Why were you doing this to yourself? Had you finally awakened your wild child phase that your parents had dreaded so much when you hit puberty, but which never came?

"Should I take you hom-"

"No," you finally replied.

And have your time with him cut short? Not a chance.

So you sat up as more pained groans escaped from you.

"I'm fine, see?"

Your voice came out hoarse, worse than your Aunt Rita's who had spent 5 of her 7 decades on this earth smoking like an overworked steam train.

You guessed that cigarettes did make her healthier than a horse just like she proclaimed. She had managed to outlive her 4 husbands after all.

The can between your hands made a sizzling sound as the tab was discarded. A peachy scent accompanied the smell of fresh greenery that surrounded you. Your eyes went back to him, who looked as handsome as ever, even after such a long night.

"I… went too far last night, sorry." Your apology came out mumbled as your eyes went back to your opened drink, the fragrant bubbles not enough to distract you from the sense of guilt you were experiencing.

"I know you're not much of a party person, and yet-"

His deep laugh distracted you from your self-deprecating session, and your attention returned to him as he flashed those canine teeth that normally put you on edge, especially when they sunk into the skin of your neck.

"Don't worry, it was fun. I don't know what you're doing with all that booze, though."

You groaned again.

Right, the booze… it hurt to think about it. Of course, you had managed to steal the entire liquor cabinet's content without that idiot of Allen McNamara noticing.

His stupid ass was way too focused on the lap dance he was receiving from a drunk girl who was clearly not old enough to be there.

Had you had more time, you would have stolen his parents aifryer too. He deserved it, being one of the guys who had bullied Miguel for years just because he refused to do his math homework. Was algebra really that hard?

"Sell it? There's way too many bottles for me to give them all away," you said, pointing to your tote bag, which was filled to the brim with bottled goods whose labels were unrecognizable to your penniless self.

But before the conversation could continue your phone vibrated as a notification chimed in. You read the text, which was from your parents who were checking in to make sure you were safe and sound and in the park, just as you had told them an hour ago.

A reply was sent, reassuring and promising to return early this time, but as you locked your phone, your eyes caught today's date.

It weighed on you how little time you had left before you had to go back to campus.

4 days to be exact.

You must have turned into a bear with the amount of grumbling you had been doing today.

" Everything okay?"

You felt a presence shuffle to your side and a warm hand on yours.

"Yeah, yeah…" The sigh that left you sounded defeated, which was why Miguel used his other hand to pull your head back to rest on his shoulder. "…classes are about to start again."

Miguel chuckled. "Is it so bad for you to have to go back?"

His carefree attitude made you pout, a little resentful that he didn't feel as down as you were feeling right now.

"Hey, hey…" He said as he placed your head back on his shoulder after you had tried to straighten up. "It's not that bad, we can still hang out."

Your cheeks flushed red, a little embarrassed that he had read you so easily after you tried to disregard the real reason of your fluctuating emotions. What bothered you the most was not the huge amount of academic work that waited for you, but the notion of not being able to spend time with him as often as you did now.

Still, his words comforted you.

"…Promise?"

But his smile stopped, as did the comforting stroke of his hand on your head. You even felt it tremble as he removed it.

Not comforting at all.

"…Wait here," he said before leaving your side to get up.

Once standing, you saw him awkwardly pat his pants pockets, front and back, then pat his chest through the blue sweater he refused to take off even if the sun was blasting down.

"Fuck…" He muttered, his tone growing increasingly desperate.

"Miguel, what…?"

His hands went under the woolen sweater, patting the pockets of his blue and white striped button-down shirt. He seemed to have finally found what he was looking for as he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

You began to worry as the seconds passed and he remained motionless. With your mouth open, you were about to say something. But then he turned abruptly, making you jerk back while still sitting on the grass.

And yet there was another pause.

"Mig-"

"I… have something to tell you." His voice was the one that cut you off this time. But as your head tilted to the side with a puzzled look, all air left your lungs as you saw him drop to one knee.

"W-wha-"

"I… I know I don't have enough money to get you a better one, and, God, rings are so expensive, and this might not be the best time or way to do it, and I might scare you off by asking, so I don't want you to take it too seriously if you don't want to, but-"

He seemed to catch himself rambling on for he stopped. Closing his eyes, a shaky sigh escaped as he tried to compose himself.

You would have said something if not for the small box his hands held out to you, capturing your attention and making every nerve in your body quiver.

It was wooden and shaped like a book, but seemed too rustic to have been made to order.

"We've known each other for so long. And, and…"

It was then when you noticed the bandages covering his fingers, and you remembered that they had been there for days.

Maybe even a weeks.

His sonorous swallow was scarcely enough to jolt you out of your frozen state, but it did the trick as your eyes returned to him.

The blush on his cheeks and the sweat forming under his hairline were enough to convince you that he was just as nervous and probably as close to passing out as you were.

"We… We've been partners- friends since we were kids. I keep going back to the day you threw your pencil at me for snoring too loudly during nap time."

A shaky laugh left you, but the tears didn't let you see straight.

"You… You've been in my head. Not just lately, but for a long time. And this summer has made it clear- that I'm too enchanted by you to let you go. So- so, please…"

The box opened to reveal a pair of modest looking rings with stones so small and bands so thin they looked as if they might bend with the slightest force placed on them.

But it didn't concern you. Not because you were wearing rose-colored glasses that were product of infatuation...

But because the filter had already been ingrained in your brain years ago.

"Yes, yes!" You shouted, ignoring the fact that the volume of your own voice was making your head hurt a little. He didn't need to finish, because you threw yourself at him, making the both of you crash against the green ground.

Your combined laughter surely attracted the attention of many passers by, but the two of you didn't care as you kissed and hugged one another. The PDA had to be cut short or your wandering hands could land you at a police station for public indecency.

So, forced by the fear of having to pay a fine, you both sat up, still laughing while looking silly. The hand he had on the back of your waist went to the box that his other hand was fortunately still holding. With your thighs straddling his, he slid the fragile-looking ring into your finger, then the other one into his own.

"It's a promise ring," he said, wanting to clarify the reason for its cheap appearance. "I'll get you something better soon, I promise."

Another giggle rang through the air, yours.

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy with it, really." Your lips landed on his cheek to reassure him, he seemed a little insecure about the rings while you just wanted to kiss him dumb.

He didn't seem convinced, but dropped the subject when he saw your sincere smile and felt your loving hug.

You were sure now, and as a wise philosopher from your time had said, that sandbox love never died.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #dividers by cafekitsune #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel x reader

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the-bittera-one · 4 months

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me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

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the-bittera-one · 5 months

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The Purple Flower

Whoo, my first fic! Ha-ha...

I'm so gonna get flamed for this The writing is not too good on this one, have mercy.

Series Keywords [Subjected to updates]: Childhood best friends turned lovers, Nerd! Miguel, Nerd! Reader, Tried my best to do a GN! Reader, 2 nerds k-i-s-s-i-n-g, WAY Out of Character Miguel, like a lot, ANSGT!, betrayal, MATURE themes

Series CWs [Subjected to updates]: Eventual DARK THEMES path, mentions of bodily harm, Reader getting drugged (no roofies), some NSFW

Chapter Keywords: An attempt of fluff was made, childhood friendship recount, college sucks, nepotism is unfortunately a thing, wonky english Chapter CWs: Implied smex, some mention of blood, NO VIOLENCE THO, mid writing

☀︎ (ML) - Next

Two peas in a pod

Nerd! Miguel and Nerd! Reader being best friends since childhood.

You both know each other thanks to living on the same block, going to the same kindergarten, then to the same school and also having pretty much the same age. You grow up being close, really close, who else is going to listen the other's rant about sci-fi/literature? No one, because your hyperfixations are too boring for the other kids, who by then just want to troll each other on social media.

So you both are the school nerds, big deal. Fortunately, you're not the only ones who are labeled as part of the "misfits", but you're of the ones that the teachers say will have a bright future ahead, if your grades keep being the same as the ones they're now, that is.

Puberty hits you first, but you've been so used to covering your body that it's barely noticeable to the eyes of others. Because of this, you never get the attention that you would have received otherwise. It's fine though, it keeps you focused on your grades, extracurriculars, and hanging out with Miguel to bitch about science and video games.

Of course, you have interests of your own that he doesn't share, that's for sure, but as your best friend, he does his best to make you feel heard. Hell, he even bought you a limited edition set of Jane Austen books for your 15th birthday after hearing you swoon over Mr. Darcy for the 154th time that month.

You do the same for him, saving what little money you make from your part-time job to buy him something nice. Even though you both get bullied by those who call themselves "popular" and "relevant," life is good.

Miguel's "glow up" comes only after you both enter college.

Yes, you both made it, and you're both in the same one! It wasn't a surprise to you though, you've been paired by destiny over and over again that having him by your side is the natural thing to happen at this point.

Or it should feel like that, but you've been feeling somewhat giddy and nervous around him, even before his growth spurt made him look like a gigantic hunk.

The start of your college days is well received by both of you at first, that is until you get hit by the harsh reality of how connections and networking are pretty much what will get you a job in the future, not much your grades.

The popular people you disliked so much back in school are smarter and well connected here. An so you suppress the envy that threatens to spill out of your eyes every time you see them live their easy lives, and move on.

But even as your first semester of college kind of sucks, at least you have him. Him with whom you pass your late nights studying, with whom you spend your lunchtime chatting, with whom you even sleep at night when you both, exhausted, go to his room to watch something on his laptop only to end up curled up on his bed.

Your touches have become more intimate over time, going from binging series on his bed, each sitting on their side, to huddling together and even feeding each other microwave popcorn that you both know is not good for your health (but it is what it is).

And in the midst of buttery smells and dim nights, your feelings began to grow.

And you assume that his are as well, when you both walk out of the library, his hand reaching out for yours to clasp as you chat, acting like it is the most normal thing in the world to do.

As said, it all came so naturally to the two of you.

Aside from how much it sucks, your first year does go without a hitch. And after months of struggling, the two of you finally get a break and decide to go back home together.

With your laundry in the trunk and him in the passenger seat, you drive off. And with him by your side, the trip is always enjoyable.

Your reunion with your folks goes well, but you know that Miguel's situation is not the same.

Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara (you know better than to call them by their names) have always had a strained relationship.

And that is why you, as the good friend you are, do your best to get Miguel out of the house as much as possible.

You go on picnics, hikes, to festivals, to the beach, to concerts, but sometimes he just stays with you at your parents' house and idles away the afternoon, doom scrolling as the rays of the sun keep the environment comfortable and warm.

The time you have been spending together reminds you of your childhood, without the phone addiction that is.

Even as nerds, you both spent a lot of forced time outdoors. That's how you broke your wrists falling out of a tree, or how he lost a tooth learning to ride a bike.

Luckily, it was a baby tooth, but it had your kid-self sobbing as you little self dragged an unconscious bleeding smolguel back to your house.

You had been so scared then, believing he was going to die and that it was all your fault.

It seemed so silly now.

The memory made you laugh out loud, which got his attention.

"What is it?" He asked you as he got up from the brown, tattered beanbag.

Your eyes were on him as he lay down next to you, trying to take a peek of your phone, thinking that was what sparked your laughter.

It was something he did whenever he caught you reacting to something, always wanting to see what had caused it. Like he didn't want to be left out of things that involved you, and you found that adorable for the most part.

"I just remembered something." You said as he took the phone from your hands. His interest in it soon fading after listening to your words, so he placed it on your bedside table and curled up next to you instead.

Platonic and not. Such a contradiction was typical of childhood friends who were still physically close to each other as children were, even though they were adults by now.

"Yes? What?" He asked, resting his head on your shoulder and looking up at you with those puppy eyes that came so naturally to him.

You chuckled and flicked his forehead, drawing a grunt from his lips.

"About the time your dumb ass crashed into Mr. Torres' fence while learning to ride a bike."

He seemed to take particular offense to your words (and forehead flick) as his response turned candid.

"Hey, my ass ain't dumb. Do I need to remind you who of us was class valedictorian? And you were the one who pushed me to do it, even after I said the puddle would make the tires lose traction!" He protested as he poked one of your sides, knowing how ticklish you were and using it to his advantage. His retaliation had yo cackling in laughter, and your palm was soon all over his face (and glasses) when trying to push him away as he kept trying to attack your waist.

"Man, you're such a nerd. Do you even listen to yourself? 'The water would make the tires lose traction,'" you imitated in a mocking tone, twisting your body to avoid his vengeful fingers.

So he scoffed and grabbed both your wrists with one of his giant hands, pinning them on the top of your head to pin them against the Axolotl Squishmallow you'd decided not to take to college before the first semester had yet to start.

"Sí serás…" The words were barely out of his mouth before he resumed his attack, but this time his fingers had more of your body to nip at.

You squirmed and wriggled, laughing and bending your knees to try to kick him away.

But he was already familiar with your move, and before you could even start, he was straddling you, trapping your thighs between his knees.

You could barely focus on him as you squirmed, laughter filling your childhood room as he continued his tickle attack. He had gotten stronger, you noticed, because before he couldn't hold you for long until you somehow managed to break free of his grip and pushed him away.

So, acknowledging your own weakness, you squealed a plea,

"T-Truce, truce!

But he seemed to have no intention of stopping, determined to finally give you a taste of your medicine after so many years of not being able to.

His glasses were loop-sided and had your palm print on the crystals. His pearly white, straight teeth, product of years of orthodontic work, shone as he grinned and looked down at you with not well hidden glee.

While you were usually meek and soft-spoken, you had a habit of being more vocal and teasing around him. It was as if your confidence grew a hundredfold around him. And with the way he usually praised your personality and intelligence, it was hard not to.

Having you there, finally weak in front of him, was something new for Miguel.

But as you "wrestled" and laughed on the cushioned surface of your bed, his glasses slipped and fell, hitting your nose and causing you to yelp in pain.

That made him stop immediately, releasing your wrists and leaning into your face to assess the damage.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" He asked, his eyes and attention too focused on the red mark that was beginning to appear on the bridge of your nose to notice how close your faces suddenly came.

His glasses were heavy, the thick frame doing most of the damage and leaving a bruise visible to the naked eye.

And yet, he kept leaning forward, as if he couldn't quite see you from where he'd been looking at you before.

His thighs were still straddling yours, but his palms were now cupping your face, holding you still to get a better look.

"Y-yeah, it' will probably just leave's just a small bruise…" You replied as you opened your eyes, but your words died as you took in the sight before you.

Had his canines always been so sharp? Were his eyes always so penetrating? Were his lips always this full?

The small mole at the corner of his mouth was new, or perhaps it had always been there, blending into his tanned skin to the point of being barely noticeable.

But just as you laid stunned by the way your perception of your childhood friend began to drastically change, something similar was happening to him.

Your eyes sparkled as the golden rays of the afternoon light struck your irises. Your breathing seemed calm, chest rising and falling in a soothing pace that made him feel as if the world itself had stopped.

Were your eyelashes always like this? Seeing them up close gave him a tickling sensation, as if they were brushing directly against his skin. And that same recognizable little scar on your right cheekbone was still there, a result of being hit by a bully after defending him in elementary school.

Goose bumps appeared on your flesh as the butterflies inside your stomach began to go wild.

But as terrified as you were, your rising temperature and confused mind made it difficult to focus on anything but that damn mole of his.

And God, the way his frame towered over yours...

"…Miguel?" a choked whisper escaped your lips, slightly distorted thanks to the way the pad of his right thumb tugged at your lower lip.

His attention moved then to your eyes, which held both hesitation and unrest.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, softly enough that his breath, scented with the strawberry popsicle he had eaten earlier, hit your nose.

It took you a heartbeat to answer, too short of a time to dictate what would come next.

Too little deliberation on something that would change your relationship forever.

And too much hope and trust placed in someone you thought you knew well.

"No."

And so began your downfall.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #divider by cafekitsune

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