Christmas lights. Johnny MacTavish x Fem!Reader (18+ MDNI)
Cw: SMUT, MDNI, PWP, cunnilingus(fem receiving), implied breeding kink, johnny is horny.
Not proofread sorryyyy. HAPPY HOLIDAYS XOXO
The holidays were always bitter, a reminder of all you’d lost that led you to where you were now, and for the longest time you’d shoved them away. No decorations warmed your home, no little lights or garland adorned with faux holly berries, not even candles flickering in the windowsill dared shed their light in the home.
And a part of you liked it that way, you’d lived alone for how long now? Who needed the decorations? Who were you trying to impress? Your parents never visited and friends were hard to maintain with how often you were deployed.
So halls stayed dark, living rooms stayed stagnant, and you stayed solemn.
That was, until he happened.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.
The man was a walking festival, somehow so bright and so warm despite the hell the 141 put him through. And though you tried to fight it, his warmth seeped in to your coldness, thawing your hardened heart day by day until eventually his warmth became something you craved. And then it became a constant. It started slow, a shirt and pants for him nestled in your drawers so he could change before he left in the morning. And then one outfit became two, then three, and then your dresser needed to be rearranged to accommodate him. His space. His presence.
And then it bled in to the rest of your home, from your bathroom now housing two toothbrushes to additional plates and cups in your kitchen cabinets. It was slow, it was steady, but it was there. He was there.
And in the softest way possible, he brought you back. You hated how you found yourself smiling more, rediscovering pieces of yourself that you had buried deep down over the years, and you especially hated how warm your bed was now…yet you never complained, and any mention of hating something was followed up by soft laughter and a stolen kiss.
He settled in effortlessly, and by the time the holidays rolled back around, he was a permanent presence in your now shared home.
Your keys would always announce your presence first, though normally overshadowed by something that gave reason to believe Johnny was home like water running or the TV up too loud. But as your keys twisted and you waited for noise, silence fell on your shoulders. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you pushed the door open, shaking snow from the bottom of your boots before stepping in to the dark house and kicking the boots on your feet off.
The step inside was met by the soft creaking of wood beneath your feet, yet nothing else. Your hands tugged off your scarf nimbly, halfheartedly hanging it up along with your coat before wandering deeper in to the darkness. Johnny clearly wasn’t home, you’d come to that disappointing conclusion from the sheer darkness and how empty the house felt, lifeless. It always felt that way when he wasn’t here and the emptiness left you in a silent house that for some reason reeked of pine.
“Holiday nonsense’s finally driving me crazy.” Laughter fell from your lips as your hand found the switch to the living room light, a soft click signaled the switch flipping and where the light should’ve just been one warm white ceiling appliance, the room instead sparked to life. No- it didn’t spark, it exploded in a myriad of blinding colors that made you squint before you blinked the brightness down.
“Welcome home Bonnie!” That damn Scottish accent hit your ears hard, there he was, in the middle of the lights Johnny was standing in his full glory with a smile spread wide across his face. Adjusting to the lights only took a moment, your eyes quickly allowing themselves to take in the utter explosion of festiveness Johnny had clearly splattered around your home. Garland on the unlit fireplace, a large pine tree decorated with glimmering ornaments and adorned with a star on its top, and around the tree hung cozy multicolored lights that lit up the dark room.
“Johnny? What’s all this?” You questioned softly as Johnny closed the distance between your bodies, his hands anchoring on your hips to pull you closer.
“Wanted tae surprise ya…” He answered with a soft hum, vibrant blue eyes searching your face as he gauged your reaction. “I know yer not too keen on Holidays, I tried to be simple, jus’ somethin for us…yea?”
His hands were gentle as they traced from your hips up your thighs, the dragging action repeated as he explained himself. He wanted to ease you in to this, wanted you to remember something good, you could feel it simply in the way he touched you so reverently. The room around you was warm, cozy, just like him. The multitude of lights both colorful and welcoming, coaxing the smile on to your face before you could try and fight it.
“It’s beautiful..” you’d admit, your hands coming to settle on Johnny’s broad shoulders, thumbs tugging at the dark navy fabric of his shirt gently. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling, not as his head dipped down and his lips pressed against the back of your hand.
“M’glad ya like it, wanted to surprise ma girl..” That damn murmured tone always got you, the way his voice dropped an octave lower as his whispers sent his warm breath fanning over your cold skin. His lips stayed anchored against the back of your hand, soft kisses drawing your eyes away from the warmth of the lights and to the warmth of him. Of his love. Of his touch.
A hand left its place on your waist, taking yours in his as he kissed from the back of your palm to your wrist and then up your arms, pulling you closer with each gentle affection.
“Wanted you tae see how nice it could be.” He breathed through parted lips and teeth tugging at the fabric of your sweater. Up the valley of your elbow to the dip of your shoulder before finally hitching on the pulse of your neck. His tongue, lips, and teeth coaxed you closer to his body with each soft sigh that you allowed yourself to exhale.
“Want tae make you feel good abou’the winter.” He muttered softly as his hands once again anchored on your waist, the pads of his fingers digging in to the plush of your skin as he dragged his hands down your hips and thighs.
Johnny didn’t have to persuade you to the plush rug beneath your feet before he had your knees digging in with himself settled in front of you.
“Lay back love, lemme warm you.” His teeth tugged your earlobe slowly in efforts to distract you from the rough hands pushing you back on the rug. And as your body went down, his landed in place on top of yours, the heavy weight pressing against you a welcome comfort.
“Did decorating get you this worked up?” The tease fell from your lips so easily, your lips curved in a soft smirk as he remained focused on mouthing at the skin of your neck, peppering gentle bruises in the wake of his efforts.
“M’always this worked up when I see ya…” He whispered softly, a groan accompanying his words as he made special effort to slowly roll his hips against yours. “Jus’ let me love ya.”
He added his last plea with another roll of his hips and his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, peeling the fabric from your skin as he moved to cup the underside of your breasts. His large hands cupped your tits effortlessly, thumbs tugging the wiring of your bra up and out of his way so he could feel the warm plushness he so desperately craved to feel. All it took was a simple whine from your lips before he was yanking the clothing over your head, discarding it somewhere in the room as his lips latched on to your nipple.
“Fuck…Johnny..” your lips parted in a pant as your body tensed, hips shifting slightly in attempts to alleviate the desire between your thighs. His lips remained closed around the bud, tongue laving over it as he sucked a dark maroon bruise in to your skin. He never had to tell you what parts of your body he adored the most, you could simply tell by the way he paid attention to them, from quick kisses to deep methodical drags of his tongue that made you squirm, he didn’t tell you what he liked he showed you.
His hands left your tits, nails scraping down your body before settling on the button of your pants, tugging the flimsy thing open in one fell swoop.
“So pretty…thought abou’ the way yer eyes would light up when ya’saw what I’d done. Thou’abou how yer pretty little face would twist inna smile an tha thought alone made my cock hard.” His breath was warm as he worked his lips down your body, tongue wetting your skin before he sealed his actions with a gentle kiss. Your hands were flat against the floor as you pushed yourself up on to your elbows, eyes landing on him just in time for your pants to be tugged down your hips in accompaniment by your panties.
His tongue was on you in seconds. Thick wet tongue dragging up your damp folds before bullying its way in your cunt all while his nose brushed against your clit.
“Back down…lay down.” He ordered sharply between licks, large palms gripping your breasts and pushing you down, knocking a moan from your lips with a squeeze. He flicked his tongue up your cunt again before he delved himself back in where he always wanted to be, his jaw ticking as he mouthed at your pretty little body without a care in the world and his hips rutting in to the floor.
You’d never understand where he learned how to use his tongue like that, didn’t need too, not as your legs anchored over his shoulders and he pushed himself deeper against you, one of his hands leaving your breasts in favor of thumbing at your clit in rough circular motions. Your fingers threaded in to his hair, accompanying a ragged moan that had your eyes shutting tight.
“Tha’s it, moan f’me while I devour this pretty cunny…” His words were less of a groan and more of a growl, his teeth teasing your inner thigh before he dug his tongue back between your folds, licking and sucking your cunt like he’d lose you if he stopped. He was steady, desperate, and perfectly sloppy.
And when he dipped two thick fingers in to accompany his tongue?
“Johnny!” You cried out his name as your hands tugged at his short messy hair, back arching slightly off of the floor as he curled his fingers so perfectly. The lewd squelching sound coming from between your thighs makes you blush and spurs Johnny on as he pumps his fingers faster to spread you open.
“More…please.” You don’t even realize you’re begging him until his fingers finally withdrew from your cunt along with his mouth. A whine tearing through you at the sudden loss of touch, your eyes fluttering open to watch as he tugs his aching cock free from his sweats.
You don’t need to be told that you’re staring, you know you are, how could you not? His cock was a masterpiece, thick and veiny and curved in a way that felt like he was made just for you, and as his hands gripped your thighs and folded them back against your chest, you were wholly compliant to whatever he’d do next.
“M’gonna fuck yer perfect lil’ cunt, m’not gonna stop until yer cryin.” His voice was low, slow, that deep tone that made your toes curl and lips part in breathless gasps. He wasted no time in bullying the head of his cock in to your weeping pussy, pushing himself to the hilt in a way that had your back arching and a borderline sob wrenching free from your lips.
And then his lips were on yours and his kisses were messy. Rough and open mouthed so he could force your moans free as he pounded his thick cock in to your pussy in perfect rhythmic thrusts.
“S’okay Bonnie, doin’ so good..” He grunted between thrusts, his lips locked on yours as he devoured your mouth. And his hips moved brutally, desperate snaps and rolls deep in your pussy as his cock twitched inside of you. He wanted you to feel him, feel his weight and fuck you so good you’d miss the feel of him when he pulled off of you. And he was bound and determined to fuck you dumb.
He put you on your side, settling himself behind you as he lifted your leg and fucked you sideways, his hand bullying your clit until your thighs were trembling and pussy was clenching around his cock.
Once he’d pulled one orgasm from you he rolled you over again, pressing your face down in to the rug and pulling your ass back against his hips so he could rut in to you harder. The sounds spilling from your lips were utterly nonsensical. Pants of his name, whines, whimpers, and pleas for more echoing through your house as he cursed out filthy praises.
“Ya take my cock so good, so fuckin’ perfect, m’gonna cum in yer tight cunt, d’ya understand?” He groaned, harsh snaps of his hips causing your ass to ripple with each slap of skin against skin.
“Please, please Johnny…fill me.” Broken whines interrupted your sentence as his fingers returned to your bullied clit, the action sending your hips bucking back against him seeking friction.
“Good girl..good fuckin girl.” A groan rattled his chest as he pushed himself in to the hilt, hands gripping your ass firmly as hot spurts of thick cum filled your pussy as another orgasm crashed over your body. Your breaths mingled as you and Johnny both panted in attempts to fill your lungs with air that calmed your tired bodies, both of you frozen in place as his hands on your ass tightened their grip. And then a low rattling laugh freed itself from his lips.
“Ya look good like this, should decorate the house more often, get you on yer knees under Christmas lights every day.”
Cw: MDNI(18+!!!!), dry humping, PWP. Not proofread
Simon was closed off, brash and blunt, not one to mingle with people outside of his task-force; hell, even with the people in said task-force.
So when you fell in to his life, it was like the whole world had shifted. He’d never given much thought to wanting to be close to someone up until now, and suddenly he found himself wanting more. Wanting to be selfish, to hold you and keep by his side at all times, wanting to love you as much as he could physically allow. And that scared him. Better yet, he found himself having fitful nightmares of scaring you away due to how much he craved you.
So when you ended up perched in his lap after one of your dates, thighs straddling his hips on the couch of his apartment while your lips were following each little movement of his own, Ghost was fucking terrified.
You felt so good, the way your hands were buried in his hair, tugging gently at his messy blonde tufts as you kissed him so slowly and so deeply. He didn’t try to bite back the little groans that escaped from his lips any time your tongue laved against his. He couldn’t, not when you looked so pretty and the tent had already formed in his pants long before you straddled his lap.
His hands traced up your thighs, pushing up the fabric of the sweet little dress you wore, needing to see more of you….feel more of your skin, while also not diving right in to taking you the way he wanted too. If he was a weaker man he’d have given in already and pushed you down on the couch so he could split you open on his tongue, even better, his cock. Still, he remained as respectful as the moment required him to be, only sliding up your clothes further as he feels you grind yourself down against his aching cock.
“Baby….fuck…careful.” He groaned between kisses, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and relishing In the way it made you whine, the action meant to be gentle punishment but only serving to spur you on.
“M’I doin it wrong?” You whined softly, adjusting the position of your hips as he releases your lip from between his teeth, and the wave of desire that crashes over Simon as he realizes you want to do this is utterly maddening. He wasn’t scaring you away…you wanted this. Wanted him.
“No,” he practically gasps, eyes searching for yours, “not at all, doin’ so good…” His encouragement was followed with his hand tightening its grip on the fabric of your dress, making sure it stayed out of the way so he could watch you grind against him.
And oh, the sight was utterly extraordinary. Your pretty little panties sticking to your pussy as you ground shamelessly down on him, the dampness of the fabric on full display.
“That’s right, good fuckin girl…” the moan left his lips before he could stop himself, his hips rolling against you as his jeans grew tighter. The praise encouraged you, making your hips move in more precise actions as a sweet little moan left your lips. Simon quickly took mental note of your response to his praise, completely intending to use it later. But for now, he leaned in, his tongue dragging up the side of your neck before he sealed his actions with a kiss right below your ear.
“Simon…” you whined, earning a deep groan from his chest.
“Tha’s it, say my name like that pretty girl..” He wanted so badly to push you back on the couch, to stuff you so full of his aching cock and pound in to you until you could only remember his name. And he shifted to move, trying to implement his plans when suddenly your hands were on his belt and his body went still. His eyes shot down to your hands immediately, his body leaning back on the couch to let you work, and when you tugged his jeans open and pushed them down so you could grind against his boxers- Simon was gone.
His hands gripped your ass almost immediately dragging you down against him so he could feel you grind even further. His lips surged forward a second later, on a mission to capture yours in a messy kiss that was more teeth than tongue, and he made sure he succeeded.
He swallowed the desperate moan that escaped your throat as he bucked his hips up in to you, and fuck he couldn’t think straight from just how good this felt.
Simon had never wanted anyone like this, ever. And now, with you grinding in to him in a way that made him feel like he was going to lose the last ounce of sanity he had left, he wanted you so bad.
“Cmon pretty, grind on my cock, gotta prep you for when I fuck you good..” his words were sharp, bitten, desperate. And as he felt your thighs trembling, he threw his caution to the wind.
His thumb was quick to slip under the hemline of your panties, landing on your clit with a newfound fervor. And oh if he could frame the image of your back arching and your head falling back in a cry of sheer pleasure, he’d hang it on every inch of his flat.
“Simon, fuck, feels too good!” You almost sobbed out, aching with how he only tightened his hold on your ass and increased the pace of his thumb. You ground your pussy down firmly, sporadic harsh movements sending jolts of need though your veins. You were so damn close, and with the way he twitched under you, so was he.
“Can’t wait to see what this pretty pussy looks like cumming on my dick.” He groaned suddenly, the pressure of his thumb coming down in one white hot wave of lust and sex and utter desire. And that damn pressure broke the dam inside of you. Your hips stuttered, grinding down on him in one frantically harsh movement and tearing a loud moan from him as well, and the wave of your orgasm crashing over you was nothing like you’d ever felt before.
Wave after wave crashed down on you, and you bucked against him shamelessly chasing your orgasm.
And only when his head had fallen back against the couch and you were both panting for air did a soft smile cross your lips. Your hand was gentle as you reached for his jaw, turning his attention to you as his lust hazed eyes locked on yours.
“Bedroom?” You asked far too sweetly earning a soft huff from Simon.
Just imagining Reader being close friends with Missus Laswell. You met by chance in a weekend crafting class; and despite being two decades apart, with wildly different backgrounds, the two of you somehow clicked. She was warm, witty, and steady in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. And it was comforting to have someone local when Kate was off saving the world.
Of course, eventually you met Kate Laswell herself: sharp, charming in a dry way, and surprisingly easy to talk to. The three of you grew close, the kind of bond where wine nights blurred into sleepovers, and you found yourself slowly opening up.
They knew all about the boyfriend. About the subtle threats. The tracking apps. The gaslighting. The bruises that never turned black, only ached deep enough to scare. They never pushed, but Kate made sure you had a key to their house, just in case.
And one night, just in case became now.
You burst through the door, rain soaked and shaking, hair plastered to your cheeks, voice raw and cracking as you blurted, “He cut the brakes in my car. I think- I think he cut the fucking brakes-!”
And then you froze.
Because there, at the dining table, were four men you didn’t recognize. Big, broad shouldered, all turning to look at you mid-sentence, eyes sharp, expressions going from surprise to cold calculation in seconds.
Missus Laswell rose slowly from her seat. “Sweetheart,” she said evenly, stepping between you and the table, “come here.”
You blinked. Your pulse roared in your ears. “… S-sorry. I didn’t realize you had anyone else over.”
Kate’s jaw ticked, but she smiled, calmly.
“Friends of mine,” she said. “And now, yours.”
The man at the end of the table stood. Big. Bearded. British. Voice like gravel “Did you say someone cut your brakes?”
You nodded, breath catching, dazed, tears pricking your eyes again. “M-my boyfriend…”
He looked to Kate. Then to the others. There must have been some sort of communication between them because when he turned back to you all he said was:
Warnings: SMUT. 18+. PIV, foul language, p!with a plot. Simon is pathetic and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!
Synopsis: In the low light of your bedroom, Simon finds himself needing a reminder that you, and all the beauty that comes with you, are truly his.
There was a goodness in this world that many would never have the privilege to experience. Who knows what they did to deserve the punishment, but goodness would elude people at every damn turn if it deemed them unworthy. No sunshine would be warm enough, no money worth anything substantial, no music that made their heart soften, and definitely no sweetness, not even from candy.
So what had Simon Riley done to deserve the goodness of you? He would never know. The man who was jaded, disgruntled, and frankly unpleasant. The man who shrugged off any attempt at sweetness from anyone around him for the pure and simple fact of feeling unworthy. The man who drained the light from people’s eyes with his own hands. Simon Riley was not worthy of goodness, he never had been, and probably never will be, or so that’s what he told himself.
Yet here he was, tucked under the blankets of a large bed far too comfy for him, with you curled up and tucked against him like a damn missing puzzle piece.
He never knew how you did it, how you so effortlessly chipped through the walls of reinforced iron he’d built around his heart and soul, but there had just been something.
Something about you that made him stop, that made him feel like there was something bordering on good in this world he’d seen so much horror in. Something that made him listen to you at the bar as you so shamelessly flirted up the 6’4 blonde soldier in a black surgical mask.
Something about you that had you and him moving in to a house together barely six months in with no complains from the man, because he enjoyed it. Enjoyed every damn second of the meticulous bullshit you put him through, like how the walls couldn’t be white because that was boring so instead they had to be alabaster.
“They’re the same damn shade.” He’d responded as he looked between the paint samples you’d given him, only for you to laugh and explain that Alabaster would look better with all the colorful decor you’d be putting up.
“I don’t want people to think we’re boring and beige..” You’d responded before walking away all too happily to go get paint mixed…Simon still thinks you should’ve just painted the whole place black. But he never complained, he gave you the closest thing he had to a smile and followed you without hesitation.
Because for as unworthy and depraved as Simon Riley believed himself to be, he was still at the end of the day only a man. A man who wanted to leave behind more than dog tags and a folded flag that would go nowhere. And you were his key in being more than the unworthy bastard he was, and he knew it simply by the way you shifted in his arms to push yourself closer to him.
“Needy thing.” He teased gently, his words a fallen whisper from his lips as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. He relished in the way your leg draped over him, lifting so shamelessly before your thigh was draped across the expanse of his waist and your leg had fallen to the other side of the mattress.
“I don’t wanna hear it…” you mumbled out softly, your eyes shut tightly in a state of half-sleep. You could feel the way Simon chuckled, the way his rough calloused hands gently gripped your thigh and kept you anchored against him like he always did. You felt the way his thumb pressed in to the plush of your skin, as If he was feeling for something, for anything that might make him wake up from this dream or prove that you weren’t real.
“Si…” You grumbled softly at his squeezing, your hand finding his own and stilling the motion as you earned a soft sigh from the man. You knew that some nights he looked at you and wondered what he did to deserve you, and by the way his hands were already moving to pull you on top of him you knew that tonight was one of these nights.
“Need you..” He whispered, “I need you close baby, need to know you’re here.”
His lips were quick in peppering kisses on your face, then to your jaw, and then down your neck as his hands anchored themselves on your waist to keep you from going anywhere. You grumbled softly, being woken up from your sleep with every kiss he pressed against your skin as they grew more and more desperate.
“I’m here..” you answered in earnest, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands guiding your hips to grind against him slowly and stirring your body to life from the simplest actions. Simon groaned softly under you, his lips against your neck leaving harder more deft kisses in their wake. You could feel how easily he strained against the front of his pants, the way his hands pulled you down to grind harder against him.
“Baby please..” he mumbled softly, his hips pressing up in to yours so gently as he tested the waters of If you’d let him have you tonight. He always did, one little gesture to see if you’d let him have you no matter how desperate he was, he needed to know you wanted him before he could let himself hold you.
You could’ve teased him, made fun of him for calling you needy when he was the truly desperate one, but as he looked up at you with his eyes full of unease and a fear that you’d slip away, you could feel your heart ache. It was a genuine rarity to see Simon without his mask of a hardened veteran, without the mean exterior he showed the world, so to see him so soft beneath you and desperate for the only love he allowed himself to know, you caved instantly.
“I want you..” You whispered softly, leaning your body against his before bringing your lips down and kissing him slowly.
And Simon returned your kiss as if it was the only thing he knew how to do right.
He kissed you slowly at first until he decided slow didn’t convey how much he needed you, and then he was parting your lips with his tongue and rolling you over on the bed. Your back hit the mattress and his body covered yours, his legs keeping your thighs spread as he nestled himself against the junction of your thighs.
Simon swallowed the moan that spilled from your lips as he ground himself against you in deep heavy rolls of his hips, and when you put your hands on him gripping at his biceps he wasted no time in sending his own hand traveling down your body.
His hand slid down your stomach, sliding right past the waistband of your cute little sleep shorts before ignoring the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side and letting his fingers rub slow circles in to your wet heat.
“That’s my pretty girl.…” He whispered softly, his lips abandoning yours so he could nip and bite at the skin of your neck and shoulders. You could feel your teeth dig in to your bottom lip, biting back a desperate whine as he dipped one of his rough calloused fingers in to your pussy like it was nothing.
One was followed by another, and he was quick and efficient as he scissored them inside of you. The use of his fingers was simply a formality and you knew it, the way he dipped his fingers impatiently in to you so he could stretch you out so you’d fit his cock, it was all a trial of his control. Yet tonight you weren’t sure if he had any control left to be had as he bit out a low curse and withdrew his hand. The absence of his fingers immediately made your pussy clench with need, and the sight of Simon putting his fingers between his lips and sucking them clean of you made you moan.
“I don’t have fuckin time for this….need you now.” He hissed before his hands were on your ass and he was hauling you over, putting you on your knees before pushing your upper body down into the mattress so you were pliant and arched. He kept one of his hands on your upper back, right between your shoulder blades while his other hand made quick work of discarding your shorts and panties, dropping them down to your knees without hesitation.
“You’re so pretty. Got such a pretty pussy, I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” He practically gasped out the words as you felt him eye you, his breath stuttering as he tore down his sweatpants and boxers until they clung to his thighs. He didn’t care about clothes, didn’t care about being bare or being proper, he cared about you. Or better yet, being in you. Proving to himself that he could have you, and love you, and make you feel so damn good you’d never go anywhere else.
So he lined himself up, and he pushed his cock in to you with a fiery resolve and a deep rumbling groan, one accompanied by your own broken moan.
“Si…” You called for him softly, earning a soft ‘shh’ from his lips as his hips began to piston in and out of you at a steady pace.
“I got you baby…gonna make you feel so fucking good.” He practically moaned as he looked at you under him, his eyes drinking in the sight of your back arched in to the mattress beneath you and the way your ass rippled with every slap of his thighs against yours. God you were a vision, a dream personified, and Simon loved it.
He loved you. Even if it was hard for him to verbalize all the time, you knew he loved you, knew that he knew you. You could feel it in the way he angled his hips, adjusting your bodies so you felt every drag of his cock to its full extent. You could feel it in the way his hand slid from your shoulders and to the small of your back, pressing down gently to adjust the arch of your back as his knees parted yours an inch more so he could thrust deeper.
Because Simon had studied you, he’d spent months watching and taking mental notes of how to fuck you so good every time he got you in to bed. He knew how to make you moan, to drag gasps from your lips, how to make you cum over and over again.
He knew you.
“C’mon pretty girl, lemme hear you cry.” He’d hiss out as his thrusts picked up pace, his eyes locked on your pussy and the way it swallowed him so fucking perfectly. He relished in the way you cried out his name, your hips matching his thrusts to the best of your abilities.
He sucked a breath through his teeth as his head fell forward with a brutal thrust of his hips, his chest pressing firmly against your back. He wanted to feel you, to taste you entirely, and in a frenzy his teeth found the shell of your ear and bit down just hard enough to make your breath hitch in pleasure. Your body was wrecked from the feeling of him pounding in to you, the way his hips slammed against yours without a fucking care in the world. Your senses were already peaked as his hand slipped down your body, snaking its way between your thighs as he began to bully your clit.
“Simon…you feel so good, make me feel so good.” You babbled out, lifting your head from the pillows as you felt his lips kiss and bite each inch of your skin he could get in his path before finding the junction between your neck and shoulders, and he bit down hard sucking at your skin desperately.
His fingers moved relentlessly creating a steady rhythm that made your eyes roll back when matched with the rhythm of his hips.
“When you cum, I want you to tell me you love me..” He whispered in your ear suddenly, his words broken and ragged and low in that tone that made your toes curl. He gasped and groaned against your skin, his hot breath fanning your skin as broken moans fell from his lips without any shame. He’d let you hear him any time of any day if you liked it, and from the way you were clenching around him, he figured you liked it.
A heavy gasp broke through your lips, unlike the other ones he’d freed from you previously, this one was soft and it bubbled up in your throat before forcing itself free. You knew your release was imminent, knew with the way he worked your clit so expertly that you wouldn’t last much longer.
Your hands gripped the mattress under you, sweat dripping down your skin as you panted and babbled out sweet nothings that drove Simon to work harder. A stutter of Simon’s hips sent him driving deeper in you, and with a quiver of your bottom lip your jaw fell slack and the room around you practically disappeared. You couldn’t feel your legs trembling, or hear Simon’s panting as he spilled himself inside of you, all you could feel was wave after wave of your orgasm crashing down on your body as your ears rang and you choked down a gasp of air.
“I love you.”
The ringing in your head hadn’t even subsided as you felt Simon’s hands on your hips steadying you as he pulled himself out, pulling your body against his as he rolled over on to the bed completely spent with you tucked in to his side. His chest was heaving with pleas for air as he tried to regulate his breathing, his hand tracing along your spine gently, fingers brushing the slope of your back reverently. Of course he’d touch you gently in the burning afterglow, of course he’d lay next to you with his eyes locked on the ceiling like he’d finally understood that you were his and you were staying, like some cosmic secret was just imparted on to him. And you’d laugh. You’d laugh softly, your voice crackling like the embers of a dying fire as your lungs continued to search for steadied air, but you’d laugh nonetheless. Laugh because this big beautiful idiot at your side couldn’t seem to grasp that he’d had you completely and entirely for himself from the moment you laid eyes on him in that shitty pub. But it didn’t matter, no matter how many times he would find himself lost in his own thoughts or doubting what he’d done to deserve you, you’d remind him in any way, at any time.
Simon Riley lives in a world of violence and fear, but at night when the world is silent, he thinks of the one thing that is anything but violent….you.
In a world where there isn’t violence, Simon could see himself a different man, a man unmarred by the claws of the life he currently led. A man who let himself have a nice flat in the city rather than the hovel he hid away in when deployment came to an end. Hell, maybe he’d be a man with a normal job and a normal family.
That was a million dollar thought.
Simon Riley…a family.
He could’ve laughed at the mere mention.
The brash, abrasive, and frankly arrogant lieutenant of task force 141…a family man? With a pretty little wife and a child? For a man with as many sins as himself? Impossible.
But sometimes, when the night was dark and the world outside fell too a deafening silence, he found himself awake, eyes locked on the ceiling and his mind wandering back to the town he called his home….back to you.
You, the sweet and gentle barista at the only tearoom in town he frequented when he found himself back from yet another life threatening mission he wasn’t permitted to talk about outside of work. You, the worker who wasn’t afraid of the tall blonde man who showed up every now and then with a black surgical mask obscuring the bottom of his face and who would promptly strike up a conversation with the stranger on the odd days he seemed up for company.
He thought about you often while he was away, how you’d relented him with tales of moving to his city in search of an escape from your old life as if he was just any regular person and not a man with years of blood staining his hands. And as he laid in his cot, he’d wonder what it would be like to know more, to lean in to the idea that he was simply just a normal man. To ask questions about your old life and why you’d moved here alone and ended up in the tearoom, to get to know you. Know the way you liked your tea, if you even liked it at all, to know what your family was like or what your favorite foods were. To know who you were, and be able to say you were close to him…and on nights where he was far more desperate, far more shaken from the near death experiences he danced with on a daily, he’d wonder what it would be like to hold you.
You were so soft, a vision of kindness and grace he knew he did not deserve, but the selfish part of him wondered: how would you feel in his arms? How would it feel if he held you close and breathed in that delicious scent that followed you around, the one that belonged specifically to you and to no one else? The thought had his eyes fluttering closed, his heart thumping harder in his chest as he cursed himself silently and rolled over in his cot.
He was a hardened special operations agent, he shouldn’t be crushing over a damn tearoom barista. But maybe it wasn’t a crush, maybe it was simply a bitter idea he liked the taste of, or at least that’s what he told himself as he let his mind wander forward.
Visions of you in his arms, against his body, in his bed flashed through his overly active mind. And he liked it. He liked the idea that maybe in a world without violence he’d hold you close and pamper you with kisses, make you gasp and sigh his name in sounds of pleasure only he got to hear, and maybe one day he’d come home, not his rundown hovel but a home, and you’d be there with a ring on your finger and a little version of you and him running around rampant.
He groaned in to his pillow at the thought, more out of annoyance than anything else. He wanted to be that man, to be the one who came home to you, the one who knew all of your secrets inside and out and knew how to make you fold with a drop of his voice. But instead, he was here, in a dank dark military base on a painful cot that would have his back aching in the morning.
To know you would be a privilege, but to hold you? That would be the highest honor this life could ever give him. But he was not worthy.
So instead he laid still, his eyes shutting tight as he thought more about the world where there is no violence, the world where he gets to be a normal bloke, one that you might love if you found it in the goods of your heart to do so.
A world with you in his bed, by his side, with your body entangled with his.
He sighed.
Maybe there would never be such world, but, the more he thought about it the more he was simply driven to say screw it. To walk in to that damn tearoom and simply tell you that he didn’t want his regular order, that he wanted you. He wanted that glimmer of kindness you poured in to his world, he wanted the softness, the love, the warmth…..
He wanted you.
Wholly and entirely.
And maybe one day he’d have you, in a world without violence.
Grieving!Miguel x reader where he constantly goes back to a universe where they’re still married but every time he goes back he tries to make the best of it knowing that their time is limited due to the readers inevitable death and he tries his best to put a stop to it every time
"You Happened." (Miguel O'Hara x FEM!Reader! Angst Drabbles/Scenario.)
Authors note: And it is here! The long-awaited Miguel Angst fic. Thank you all so much for being so patient with me surrounding this fic. Death is a hard topic to write about for me, but I knew this was something I really wanted to write. Please read with caution, and once again, thank you for your patience.
Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings: Death, grief, depression, mentions of violence, angst, depictions of spousal death, murder, and funeral mentions.
Miguel knew he was obsessive- or, as he called it, 'work-oriented'. Jessica and Lyla didn’t have to tell him twice. Miguel O’Hara was so obsessed with canon events and keeping the multiverse in line that it kept him cooped up in the Spider-Society headquarters or away in another universe for longer than he wanted. But he did it all to protect the one good thing in his life. Every minute spent working, every fight against an anomaly, no matter how bloody, was all for her. It was all for you. (Y/n) O’Hara, Miguel’s wife and the love of his life.
He knew he probably worked for too long, but that fact was reinstated when he returned from a three-day-long anomaly hunt in a far-off universe. Nueva York was dreary when he returned, and the rain that poured outside was relentless. Miguel hated the rain, although it was always your favorite, so he decided not to let it bother him too much. After containing the anomaly, Miguel returned to his office, only to be met by a somber Peter B. and an emotionless Lyla. He questioned their presence immediately, only to be told to sit down.
The news that reached Miguel made his world stop.
You had died. No- you had been murdered. According to Peter, you were trying to visit him at the Spider-Society headquarters when you were suddenly attacked by a villain who had discovered Miguel’s affections for you, and while you suffered, he was away in a far-off world, none the wiser to his wife’s murder. Miguel remained motionless in his chair, his body weak as the tears streamed down his face relentlessly. He wasn’t there when you needed him most, and now you were gone because of him. You were gone, and he was never going to see you again. Nothing even mattered anymore.
His mind was a swarm of grief. Anger consumed his every moment, and his eyes grew sore from having cried non-stop for as long as he could recall. His hours were now dedicated to sitting in the home you two had shared, curled up in a pile of your clothes and holding them close to his chest just so he could pretend you were still there. He lay motionless, holding tightly to your favorite t-shirt and crying loudly, he cursed out apologies until his voice was hoarse and continued after. He let you die. He did everything to protect you, and he still failed.
Having to bury your body in a closed coffin destroyed Miguel in a way he never thought possible. He sat next to your grave for hours until Jessica finally coaxed him away from you, and even then, he fought against her relentlessly. Work was abandoned, his duties ignored, and If anyone dared criticize his shutdown, they found themselves removed from the Spider-Society within a matter of seconds. Miguel was completely and totally lost, he was so desperate to feel you against him again, to smell your perfume, to kiss you…and he would never get that privilege again.
That’s when the idea hit him.
{{
“Miguel, you can’t…you said it yourself; The multiverse can’t be tampered with! Her death was a canon event!" Lyla was cut off as Miguel glared at her holographic figure. His gaze was unwavering, and it was apparent to the woman that he was a second from snapping at anyone who spoke against his plans. Lyla sighed softly, she hated seeing him like this, and deep down, she knew that if she were human, her heart would be breaking for him with every second they spent near each other. He looked a mess, obviously having been awake for days while in the throws of his grief, but even then, he stood here, dawned in civilian clothes but still covering his face with his normal Spider-Man mask and tapping relentlessly at the watch on his wrist.
“I don’t care, Lyla. That’s my wife, and I’m going to find her.” Miguel snapped at her. Lyla winced before sighing softly. She knew how much this was killing him, but she also knew that no matter what he did, no matter what (Y/n) he found, she would never be his again.
“Miguel, you could destroy the universe she lives in…and you’d just lose her again.” Lyla attempted to reason with him; her voice was soft, bordering on a whisper, Miguel continued to glare at her. His glare usually had no effect on Lyla, but this one was different from all the others…He was lost. Completely and utterly lost. So as a portal to a new dimension opened, Lyla only sighed.
“Fine. If I can’t stop you…Just promise me that you’ll be careful, Miguel.” She closed her eyes as her arms crossed over her torso. The man only nodded before disappearing in a flash of color, tapping at the watch on his wrist, Miguel would find (Y/n), and when he did, he promised himself that he would never let her go again.
The city he arrived to was almost indescribable. Vibrant hues of blues, pinks, and soft pastel oranges mixed effortlessly in the night sky. This was Nueva York, without a doubt, but this was definitely not his Nueva York. Once chromatic buildings that he had been so familiar with now were dimly hued in shades of navy blue and dusk pink, the lights from buildings surrounding them reflecting off of the glassy windows. Miguel closed the portal behind him, the mask on his face disappearing in seconds and allowing him to feel the cold raindrops that fell around him in their entirety. The feeling of the cold air against his face, the water trickling down his cheeks, and the brisk wind filling his senses almost made the man fall to his knees. She was here. Somewhere in this city was his wife, and she was waiting for him. He assured that he had traveled to a universe on the same night his counterpart in this universe died, knowing it would be easier to replace him since this universe’s Miguel’s body would go undiscovered for months after his death. The thought sent a shiver up Miguel’s spine, but he brushed it off. He was going to save (Y/n) the feeling of the grief that consumed him so effortlessly. She would never know her Miguel died, all she would know is that her lover was home in her arms every night, and the only one who would know the truth would be Miguel. Lying to her never crossed his mind in the ten years they’d been married, but now, he would live a lie just to live with her. So, with a deep breath, Miguel swung from the rooftop of the building, masking himself again and beginning to search the city for his long-lost love.
Miguel was searching for what felt like hours before he finally locked his eyes on an ivy-covered building resting neatly between buildings identical to itself. The lights were on, open windows allowed him to peer into the home effortlessly from the rooftop of a building across the way. His heart stopped as a figure walked in front of the window, a saccharine smile on her face as stopped to look out of the window, as if she were taking in the city block around her for the first time. Miguel froze. She looked up at the rooftop. Their eyes met so easily, her jaw dropping slightly and Miguel swinging into action before his mind could process the feelings exploding in his chest. He knew she was racing for the door the moment he left the rooftop, but as his feet hit the porch of her house and the large oak door swung open, Miguel felt the sadness facing him head-on.
“Miguel?” She said softly, a tinge of disbelief lining her tone as she stood standing in the brightly lit doorway looking up at her lover. “You’re al-" Miguel didn’t let her finish her sentence as he picked her up into his arms, holding (Y/n) close to his massive build as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. He hugged her so gently, afraid of breaking her, as tears began to stream down his cheeks relentlessly.
“Te extrañé mucho mi princesa..” He spoke between shaky breaths of air, not caring if his sadness may reveal the truth of his identity immediately, only caring that she was in his arms again. After a moment, he felt her arms wrap around him, her soft hands carding into his hair as she held him close to her body.
“Rough day at work?” She questioned softly. Miguel buried his face in the crook of her neck, desperate to be as close to her body as possible. He took in a deep breath, the scent of her perfume filtering into his nose and making the man feel his knees grow weak.
“You have no idea..” Miguel chuckled softly, collecting himself as he begrudgingly pulled himself free from her hold. She was here. She was breathing. She was alive…His wife was alive. And as she looked up at him, eyes glimmering in the lamplight of the foyer of their house, Miguel felt all of his grief begin to shift. “You know that I love you, right?” He spoke oh so softly. His heart skipped a beat as she nodded slowly, a smile on her lips and her hands taking hold of his.
“I do…And I love you too.” Your words were gentle, just like they always were. “Now come on, Mrs. Behnam dropped off some Halva, and it looks absolutely delicious.” Gently, you urged him to follow you as you tugged on his hands. Miguel chuckled softly before nodding. He didn’t care if what he was doing was wrong, he was here with you, and you were alive and breathing.
He wouldn’t ever let you go again.
The week that followed was the happiest Miguel had been in a very long time. Holding you close to his body in the night, kissing your lips so sweetly, and spending the days with you in the comfort of your apartment. It was paradise.
Although. Miguel had noticed some oddities in the past week…you seemed duller than you should be, with bags under your eyes and exhaustion riddling your face. You looked almost dreadful. He knew It couldn’t be because of his counterpart’s death seeing as you were none the wiser to the fact. But still, he heard muffled sobs escaping the bathroom in the dead of the night when you slipped away from him, he caught the moments you would wipe at your lips after he kissed you, and he found it strange that you seemingly never let him be seen outside of the house. It was strange, he’d admit it, but if it meant he got to be with you, he would conform to whatever you wished from him.
A week. That’s all Miguel would get. One week of happiness and blissful ignorance is all he would get. On the night of the first Sunday he would spend there, he found you standing alone on the balcony of your home, looking out at the city around you as you took in the peaceful night. His eyes were locked on your figure, and immediately he knew something was wrong.
“(Y/n), darling? Are you ok?” Miguel’s voice was barely a whisper as he walked to your side. Slowly, his hand found its place on the small of your back, ever so slowly daring to inch up to your shoulder. You remained silent, only leaning against the iron rod fencing around the area of your balcony as Miguel examined the side of your face. Miguel felt his heart begin to race, and he couldn’t deny that he was consumed with worry as he noticed the smile you normally wore was long gone. As his hand landed on your shoulder, he felt your body shudder, and his eyes widened.
You were crying.
Tears streamed down your face with no remorse, not even daring to spare you the embarrassment of being discovered by Miguel in this state. The brunette man beside you felt his free hand move without hesitation, preparing to place itself on your cheek and wipe away your tears before you flinched away from his touch. His hand faltered, and his heart threatened to stop.
“Stop.” You spoke bitterly, a heart-wrenching glare shooting up at Miguel as his hand pulled back quickly. ‘What?’ His mind took off faster than he could handle, ‘What happened?’ He questioned internally, his heart skipping beats as nerves crept up his body. This past week was paradise for him and you, every minute of every day was spent with him pampering you with the love you deserved. He thought back to every second he’d spent in your presence, trying to figure out what he could have done to upset you. And he kept drawing blanks.
“(Y/n)? Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked oh so gently. His words were hushed, each one delivered with such carefulness it seemed as though he were afraid of hurting you by simply speaking. Your eyes flickered up to his, your heart faltering as you noticed the expression now painted on his face. Miguel looked so lost, his eyes glimmering with fear as he looked down at you steadily, his gaze didn’t falter as you straightened your posture and ran your hands over your flushed cheeks. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and your glare seemed to soften as you noticed the worry painted across his face. Miguel knew you’d seen this worry before, if not on him, on the face of his counterpart. But at this moment, the way you looked at him made his heart skip a beat, the anger in your eyes was entirely new, and you looked at him like he was someone you didn’t know.
“You happened.” You whispered. Your voice was bitter with betrayal, a wave of anger lacing your tone so easily it was almost as though it was natural for you. Miguel felt his eyes widen, taken aback by your comment. He almost stumbled backward, feeling as though he had just been hit by a freight train at full speed. 'He happened? What?' His confusion was evident as he looked at you.
“You’re not my Miguel….” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you reigned in your tears. Miguel felt his heart skip a beat.
You knew.
You figured him out.
Oh god. You knew...
“What?” He asked breathlessly. His hand pulled away from your body as he took a step back. Your eyes scanned him over, bitterness dripping from your gaze as you did.
“My Miguel had a crooked scar on the bridge of his nose and a lopsided smile.” You pointed to Miguel’s face before your hand fell back to your side, “My husband died three weeks ago…he died in my arms…I buried him alone….you are not him.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, pain evident in your tone. Miguel couldn’t even begin to defend himself. What he’d done was horrible. The realization of the pain he must have caused you tore a shaky gasp from his lips as he looked away from you.
“You died in my universe..” He began, only for you to cut him off all too quickly.
“And you died here.” You snapped at him, “But I didn’t steal my dead husband’s multiverse goober and run off to find some grieving Miguel and try to replace myself.” Your argument was valid, but Miguel couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. He knew what he did was wrong, he just didn’t want to accept the reality.
“It’s not a goober- it’s a gizmo..” Was all he could respond. You let out a laugh of pure annoyance. His audacity was truly record-breaking.
“That is really not important right now.” You hissed through gritted teeth. Miguel looked back at you, the defeat on his face apparent.
“Sorry.” He murmured. You only rolled your eyes. “Please, (Y/n), You have to understand why I did this…I had a chance to have my wife back-.” He began to try and defend himself, but you quickly shut him down.
“Miguel, I completely understand, but this needs to stop. And it’s going to stop.” Your tone was laced with a wave of sympathetic anger. Of course, you understood why he did what he did, your husband died in your arms, and you were left completely alone..deep down, you knew that you had to bury his multiverse watch with him in order to keep yourself from doing what the Miguel in front of you did. But that didn’t make anything any better. You understood his grief and his loss, but you understood that having him here was chipping away at your heart relentlessly. Miguel prepared to argue against you, but you put your hand up in a silencing motion.
“Miguel, you need to go home.” You began, your hands clasping over your heart, “I can’t keep looking at your face…his face…it’s killing me. Every day I wake up, and I see you lying there next to me, and the only thought in my mind is that you’re not mine…” You fought back the tears that pooled at the corners of your eyes again. Miguel might look like your husband, but he never was, and he never will be. You knew you’d never see your husband again, and the man in front of you only made your heart break with every second he spent at your side. Miguel looked away from you, his eyebrows furrowed as he realized he'd been caught in his frivolous attempt to return to his life before his wife's death. That grief, the guilt, it was so evident on his face, but even if it made your heart hurt, you couldn't let him stay. Slowly, you turned your attention back to the glimmering city surrounding the two of you.
“Y’know…I left the door unlocked for weeks…waiting for him to walk back in and just tell me it was okay.” You whispered softly, “I watched his body be put in the ground, but I still held out hope…and then you showed up, and I wanted to believe the lie I'd told myself.” Your hands held each other gently, trying to support yourself with every breath you took. Miguel looked down at you, standing by your side after a sigh escaped him. "I wanted to believe that he was back, but this, this is too much...and everything hurts worse knowing that someone I don't know is wearing my husband's face and sleeping in our bed."
“I know how you feel..” He whispered gently, “When you- when she- died, I felt like the last good part of me died with her…I’ve never been more angry with the world.” His confession was weighted, and it was clearly the last thing he wanted to admit as he spoke with obvious hesitation.
“But it didn’t. Miguel, you’re still so good and so loving…You’re just hurting right now.” You argued gently. It took everything in you to be gentle. Truthfully, you wanted to scream, to slap him across the face and let him have it for everything he put you through…But something was stopping you, and you knew exactly what it was. That goddamn face of his. If he looked like anyone else, you’d have no problem giving him your full fury, but that was his face, just missing the scar and the smile. You sighed softly as no response came from the taller man, your head hung low as you rested your forehead in your crossed arms. You’d always been strong, but right now, you just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, right now, you just wanted your husband. Miguel knew it too. Miguel watched as you toppled over, your arms crossed on the iron rod railing and your face hidden as you leaned down. You did that a lot, hiding your face when an emotion became too much for you to handle, he always found it cute. But now, he just felt bad…no, he felt horrible.
“How do I fix it?” He asked softly after a few minutes of silence passed between you two. You looked up at him quickly, your eyes wide with surprise as you heard him speak. “Other than going home, I know I have to do that…” He added before you could say the same thing.
“Well…I guess you go live the rest of your life doing what she would want you to do…Do you think she’d want you to be miserable all the time?” You began slowly, your posture straightened as you looked up at Miguel. The mention of his wife from your lips made him look away, it was obvious that whatever happened to her truly haunted him.
“I feel guilty too, y’know.” You added. His attention snapped to you immediately, his eyes wide before he turned away. “I see it written on your face, you feel guilty about her death… don’t you?” Your eyes locked on the side of his face, your gaze unwavering as you watched him.
“I wasn’t there when she needed me most…” He whispered. His breath was shaky, his hands held to the iron rod fencing in front of him tightly. "She was killed because of me."
“Miguel, even if you were there, nothing would have changed.” You stated the obvious. Miguel knew you were right, he just hated to hear you say it. “I was there when my husband died, and I couldn’t do anything to save him…” your voice grew bitter with grief, and quickly, Miguel’s eyes flickered to yours for a second.
“Do you think about that night a lot?” His question came with a sudden crashing weight on your shoulders. His eyes held your gaze, unwavering and laced with the knowledge of your answer. Of course you thought about that night. How could you not? The image of finding your husband bloodied and bruised on the dark concrete of an alleyway a few miles from your home haunted you.
That night haunted you.
You remembered the feeling of falling to your knees at his side, gently holding him in your arms as sadness immediately flooded you..it always seemed that before you knew what was happening, your heart knew what would come. You remembered the look on his face, how hard he tried to console you, but the fear in his eyes spoke louder than his words, your husband wasn’t a scared man, but for the first time on that night, you saw fear trap him and hold him hostage. You remembered how you begged him to let you call an ambulance and how when you reached for your phone, he stole it from your hands, he knew he would die no matter what, and he wasn’t going to let you waste your last moments with him on the phone with paramedics.
‘No…no, you gotta look at me.’ He would say softly, his blood-soaked hand holding the side of your face gently, ‘I love you. Okay? Don’t you ever forget that- you are the love of my life, and it was an honor to have known and married you.’ His eyes shut tightly as a bolt of pain shot through his body, and your heartbeat quickened to an alarming rate. The fear, the anger, the denial- it was too much. Your husband was dying, and you could do nothing to stop it. There was nothing you could do to save him.
‘Mig…save your strength, let me call them, please…let me help you.’ You begged through consistent tears. Miguel looked up at you sadly, his body growing colder by the minute.
‘You’re so strong, so resilient, and so unbelievably stunning…I wish I had more time to tell you just how much I adore you.’ He smiled up at you, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known a love like yours, and I am so thankful that you let me be your husband.’ And with that, his hand fell from your face, a shaky breath escaping his lips. You watched in horror, begging whatever god might be out there for this moment to be a horrible dream. But as Miguel’s chest rose for the last time, you realized no one was coming to wake you up.
“Of course.” You finally answered. Miguel nodded slightly, looking back to the city surrounding the two of you.
“I’m sorry..” he murmured. You shrugged your shoulders, everything sucked, and everything still hurt, but what could you do about it? Miguel seemed to share your silent sentiment as his hand ran through his curly brown hair. The two of you fell silent for a moment before you spoke up, disturbing the already uneasy night.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” You spoke softly, a gentle bitterness lacing your tone. Miguel’s head fell forward in defeat as he buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t know if I can go back.” He mumbled, your eyebrow raised. You knew he could. If he was anything like your husband, you knew he could go back and return to the life he once led, just a little bit more broken than before.
“Well, you have to.” There was a gentle sternness to your voice, “And if you don’t go back to your universe, you can’t stay here. And you can’t go find me anywhere else…It’s cruel and unfair.” You lectured him softly, earning a nod of agreement from the man. He knew what he did was wrong, and it was apparent to you that it was hurting him just as deeply as it was hurting you, now you just needed him to leave…and never return.
“This feels like losing you all over again.” He complained softly, his hands visibly shaking as he lifted his head from his hands. You turned to face him in your entirety, and gently, you took his hands in yours.
“But you’re not losing her. You’re walking away from a version of her that isn’t yours.” You reminded him, earning a soft sigh from the taller man. You knew that your words were harsh, but someone had to say it, and you knew you were the only person he’d listen to. Miguel remained silent for a while, and you could see the war waging in his eyes. The ruby-red eyes that peered down at you were so conflicted, one side set on ignoring your anger and refusing to leave, whereas the other side was wracked with guilt and knew that he had gone too far. Miguel knew which side was right, and as he took in a deep breath, his hands gently squeezed yours.
“I can never apologize for the pain I caused you…I was so blinded by my grief that I ignored the damage I could be doing, and I am forever sorry for that.” He spoke softly as if he were afraid his words would cause you harm if he spoke too loudly. “I’ll return to my universe…Thank you for being so good to me while I was here. It was nice- having my wife back for a while.” Miguel’s voice dropped to nonexistence as he peered deeply into your eyes. You took in every word he spoke, a sympathetic smile forming on your face. He stepped away from you, pressing a few buttons on the watch on his wrist and keeping his eyes locked on yours as a vibrant explosion of colors appeared behind him. His portal home waited expectantly.
“Goodbye, Miguel.” You spoke softly, “It was nice having you back…But I sincerely hope I never see you again.” A pained chuckle left your lips, and Miguel nodded in understanding. He gave you a soft smile before turning over his shoulder, disappearing into the portal that closed behind him seconds later. Slowly, you turned back to the city surrounding your home and took a deep breath of air. Your husband was gone, but a part of you felt relieved knowing that in the multiverse surrounding you, he was still somewhere out there….for better or for worse.
Sorry I just sent a request but I have a really random thought I wanted to share bc it BLOWS MY MIND.
MORE TARANTULA THEMED SPIDERPEOPLE FANG IT!!
ik the point or something is that they’re all sorta the same whilst not being the same but wouldn’t it be SO FRICKING COOL to have that? Like sure they can’t climb that well and maybe they’re not the best at webs or whatever but imagine the stealth?!! And the traps!!! They’d be really smart too, for all of that.
But at the same time that’d mean some idiot got a tarantula mad at them enough to bite and idk if that’s something I want to imagine, bc I saw the movie arachnophobia and YEAH NO THANK YOU
Anyway point is, would it be worth the image of angry bitey radioactive tarantulas if the result was a super stealthy super intelligent super spy kind of character?
…maybe. Idk?
No cause this is SO GOOD!!!
A Spider-Person who’s stealth is absolutely unrivaled and who’s attacks are so sudden it’s completely disorienting. Could you imagine how much chaos they could cause??? Especially if they were a part of the Spider-Society-
Although you’re totally right- how the hell did they manage to piss off a tarantula enough to bite them 😭
Like all I’m seeing is this person squaring up with a tarantula for shits and giggles and the next thing they know they’re a Spider themed super hero. That would be HILAROUS.
“I just wanted to see who would win.” -Spider-Person
“And who did?” -Miguel
“The spider.” -SP
“Mhm…” -M
SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE THIS YOUR SPIDER-SONA!!!!
Also, I read your request, and I will get started on it as soon as I finish my Miguel Angst Fic.
GUYS IM ALIVE I WAS AT WORK‼️‼️‼️‼️ SORRY YALL!! MY JOB IS WILD!! Anyways- I see your requests and I promise that I will be writing a new Miguel O’Hara x reader fanfic soon!!
