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hugmekenobi · 2 days

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S3: The Bad Batch (6)

Chapter Six: Infiltration

Gif by @timetodiverge

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion with Rex unveils some more intel

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, light spice (making out, dirty talk, teasing touches, praise, nickname 'sweetheart'), I make up Fireball lore, brief call back to Order 66, general threatening atmosphere, I also dance around the M-count stuff (please be nice and just accept it lol), suggestions of misuse of the Force for interrogation purposes, brief mention of food and referenced character deaths

Word Count: 4.3K

Author's notes: Don't get excited about CX-2 because I still haven't thought about a way around his fate in S3 finale and my current plan is probably going to be very boring lol. Also Ch7 is out too!

The meeting between Senator Chuchi and Senator Singh had started promising until a rather crude assassination attempt disrupted matters.

Unfortunately, Greer had fallen victim to the black armoured assassin– the grim silver lining being that he was the only casualty and they’d managed to capture the shadow clone sent after the senators.

As the ship flew through hyperspace, Rex and Howzer stared at the unconscious assassin- both of them wondering how such a change was possible. There was a distinct different to the clones that had remained loyal to the Empire and these shadow clones.

“Think he’ll cooperate?” Howzer asked apprehensively.

“I wouldn’t count on it, but we have to try.” Rex replied.

“We recovered this from his gear.” Howzer pulled out the puck. “It’s a data puck. Highly encrypted.”

“Have Fireball find out what’s on it when we get back to base camp.”

Teth

Rex stepped into the interrogation room to join the two other clones already in there and he saw that the clone assassin still unconscious. “Did you extract the device?”

Howzer handed it to him, “The electro capsule was implanted in one of his teeth. Just like you said. His identifying number’s been wiped too.” Howzer stared on the clone, “What exactly did the Empire do to him?”

No sooner had Howzer finished his sentence, did the clone open his eyes.

Rex knelt in front of him, “What’s your name, trooper?” He was met with stony silence, so he tried a different approach. “Listen, no matter what they did to you, no matter what you’ve done, you’re still a clone. Still one of us. I can help you, but we need answers.” Again, he was met with no reply, and he got the sinking feeling that whatever the Empire had done to him couldn’t be easily undone.

Tantiss

Scorch entered the communications office to stand in front of the holographic image of CX-2.

“Why have I been activated?” Came the modulated voice that had an air of contempt to it.

“One of the other operatives has gone dark. His internal homing device remains intact. So, we know he’s alive.”

“My orders?”

“He’s been compromised. Track him down and neutralize him.”

“We know there are others like you. Where are you based? Coruscant? Daro?” Rex asked. They’d been at this for hours now and all they’d gotten out of the clone was a series of hateful glares. “Tantiss?” That finally got a different reaction, the clone’s eye’s widening gave him away. “Oh, yeah, we know about Tantiss. And the clones imprisoned there. Were you one of them? Tell us where it is.” He said, more force behind his words now but again, the clone stayed quiet.

Rex shared a glance with Howzer who jutted his head and the two of them came together closer by the door.

“You need to push him harder.” Howzer stated in a hushed voice.

It had been what he’d been hoping to avoid but it was looking like all other alternatives were ineffective. Rex sighed but before he could do anything else, the door whirred open, and Fireball called his name.

“Rex.”

Rex and Howzer left the clone in the room with Nemec and met up with Fireball.

“The data puck was a target register.” Fireball revealed.

“Who was he after?” Howzer asked.

“Senator Singh. But that wasn’t the only person on his list.” He activated the device and showed the first image.

Rex saw the slight unease in Fireballs face as he changed to the next image and noticed a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach as he recognised the two targets. “Contact Echo and Hunter. We need to let them know.”

Fireball nodded and went of to do just that.

“We should bring them here.” Howzer insisted.

“No. No. I- I don’t want to involve them in this.”

“It’s too late for that.” Howzer said simply. “Crosshair is with them. This is our chance to question him.”

“Echo’s already done that.”

“But we haven’t. He knows more than he’s saying. If you want to locate Tantiss, then we need him to talk.” He moved away from him.

Rex thought through Howzer’s words and whilst he didn’t want to drag you all into this, he had to admit that Howzer was right.

Howzer paused after a couple of paces and turned around. “Rex.”

Rex angled himself to face him.

“You’ve talked about the kid before, but the woman, who is she?”

Strong hands gripped your hips as they backed you into the wall of the Marauder and an agreeable groan left your throat at the enthusiastic insistence of the man currently kissing you with such fervour and hunger, it made your head spin. You attempted to weave your fingers in his dark locks, but you didn’t get very far.

Not breaking away from you, Hunter gathered your wrists in one of his own hands and raised your arms above your head. His hold was strong as pressed them into the metal wall, not to hurt but to send the message that that’s precisely where you were going to keep them for this time alone that the two of you had managed to coordinate for yourselves.

You were utterly powerless to resist- not that you wanted to. You had to pull away for air eventually, but Hunter never faltered, he just turned his attentions to the rest of you and your body arched into him to rid yourselves of any offensive gaps between you.

Hunter pressed doting kisses to the skin of your neck, teeth scraping along your pulse point. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He murmured seductively.

Breathless whimpers were the only noises that came from your mouth. You were overwhelmed by him, by the feeling of his body pushing against yours, by the sensation of his touch, by his lips. Words were hopeless a hopeless venture with him against you like this.

Hunter grinned against your skin before he kissed the hollow of your throat. He pushed his thigh between your legs and relished in the soft moan that left your lips. He trailed his lips across your jaw as he rasped, “Tell me what you want.” He kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear.

Your entire body was pliant against him, and you couldn’t fathom one single word of basic due to his ministrations.

Hunter continued what he was doing, and he moved to the underside of your jaw, “Do you want my fingers?” He hovered his lips a mere few inches from yours before whispering in a low voice, “Do you want my mouth?”

And when he felt your pulse quicken at that last one, he brought his lips back to yours and kissed you deeply, teasingly. “You want my mouth, sweetheart?” He uttered softly against your lips whilst simultaneously applying more pressure between your legs with this. He swallowed your moan with another kiss before he started to lower himself to his knees.

Your hands scrambled for purchase against the wall, and you just about managed a nod as he mouthed his way down your still clothed body. You inhaled shakily as you felt his gloved hands dip under your layers stroke against the bare skin of your stomach before they suggestively toyed with the waistband of your leggings. “Yes, that’s what I want.” You panted, the dark lust you saw behind his brown eyes had you weak at the knees.

Hunter smirked up at you. “Good girl.” With that he properly took a hold of the waistband and got ready to pull them down.

And then the most objectionable and devastating of sounds materialised around you and the delicious anticipation of what was about to happen instantly evaporated as reality came crashing down around you.

Hunter paused what he was about to do and exhaled a deeply dissatisfied sigh as he readjusted your clothing.

“And I want that to be a software glitch and not our comms going off.” You grumbled; the words punctuated by you lightly banging the back of your head against the wall in annoyance.

“Hunter, (Y/N), do either of you copy?”

Hunter hung his head in his own disappointment before he stood up tall. He kissed your cheek before pressing his comm, “Yeah, we copy, Echo.” He confirmed.

“What’s going on?” You asked as both you and Hunter slipped back into your squad roles.

“Rex got in touch. We need go. Now.”

You two grabbed your gear and hurried out the Marauder to head for Echo’s ship.

“So, where exactly are we headed?” Hunter asked Echo as the ship travelled through hyperspace.

“It’s a base of sorts.”

“I thought your rendezvous with Gregor was top priority.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll pick him up after dropping you lot off.”

“Any idea why Rex wants us there so urgently?” You asked as you rubbed Batcher’s belly. The hound’s demands of attention were the distraction you needed from the growing nerves surrounding going to a base made entirely up of clones and although you knew they had no loyalty to the Empire, you weren’t sure how far that sentiment would extend with regards to you.

“He didn’t say. But it must be important.”

Hunter pondered over this for a moment before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced around his chair and thoughtfully observed Crosshair and Omega- who had a toothpick of her own- and she was mirroring the way Crosshair was using it. The behaviour was typically exhibited by her when she felt particularly close to someone or looked up to them in some way. Clearly their experience in Tantiss had it had brought them close in ways he hadn’t considered or in ways they- particularly Crosshair- were yet to fully realise.

You and Wrecker had been paying Batcher some attention, but you stopped as you noticed the way Hunter had looked between Crosshair and Omega. You saw what he saw but as you reached into the Force around him to get a gauge of his feelings, it wasn’t jealousy or hurt behind his eyes, it was more contemplative. She’ll have to learn to be a moody teenager from someone. You smiled over at him as he half-turned to face you.

You felt a wet nose nudge your palm and you went back to petting Batcher.

Teth

Rex and Howzer watched as the ship landed. Once the doors opened, they went to meet up with the oncoming group.

“They don’t look happy to see us.” Wrecker said. “Just like old times, huh?” He remarked cheerfully with a nudge to Crosshair’s back.

“Are you alright?” Echo asked as he saw you had yet to follow the others out.

“Yup.” You answered distantly as your hand subconsciously came to unclip and reclip your lightsaber to your belt.

Echo picked up on your tense fidgeting. “Rex assured me that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“I know, I know.” You inhaled a calming breath and jogged to catch up with the group.

“Thanks for coming.” Rex said as Hunter’s squad came to a halt in front of him. He then nodded at you and Omega.

You had heard the hushed whispers and murmurs from the surrounding clones as you’d approached the rest of the group and you saw the brief moment of shock that flashed across the features of the clone next to Rex. “They already knew before I walked out here.” You guessed, their reactions and shared looks told you that it wasn’t just because they only just noticed the lightsaber on your belt.

“I, uh, filled a few of them in before your arrival. Word travels fast but some of them still didn’t believe it and, well, some of us knew already. I’ve been to quite a few Outer Rim planets… you haven’t exactly been laying low in recent months.” Rex replied, glancing curiously as you.

You sighed, “Fair point. It’s certainly been an… interesting time.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Rex reassured you. “We all have that past to contend with.”

“Well, that’s comforting I suppose.” You said lightly before you fell into place beside Hunter.

“It’s good to see you, Rex.” Hunter said sincerely.

“Wish I felt the same.”

You all glanced to the hostile voice of the clone beside Rex who was glaring at Crosshair.

“I have unfinished business with this one.” Howzer stated as he kept his sights firmly on Crosshair. “Remember me?”

Crosshair just stared at him blankly.

“Surprised I’m alive? Most of my squad from Ryloth is dead because of you.” Howzer spat.

“Easy Howzer.” Rex cautioned. “I know you two have history. But we’re all on the same side now.”

Howzer only released a doubtful scoff, but he eased off.

“Why’d you call us here, Captain?” Hunter asked.

“We have something to show you. Follow me.” He led the way to the base.

You got ready to follow behind, but Echo’s voice made you and Wrecker pause.

“Omega!”

Omega turned and ran back to the ship.

“I was planning on giving you this after I made a few more modifications. But, uh, now’s as good a time as any.”

Omega released an excited gasp as she examined the weapon. “An energy crossbow. Where did you get it?” She eagerly took it from him.

Echo laughed, “Well, I’ve made a few interesting contacts across the galaxy.”

She activated it and the green glow of energy hummed strongly before she turned it off. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Echo.”

“Well, I won’t be gone long. You better head inside and, uh, keep them in line.”

They shared in a salute before Omega dashed off the ship to rejoin you and Wrecker and the three of you made your own way to the building.

“Your numbers are growing.” Hunter commented as he saw the clones in the room.

“Well, we need all the help we can get. Once we find the exact coordinates of the Tantiss Base, we have to hit it hard if we’re gonna pull our brothers out of there.” Rex said, coming to a stop by the centre console. “I have questions about the facility but that’s not the only reason why I sent for you.” He picked up the puck and chucked it to Hunter. “We recovered a target list from an Imperial operative. And both of them are on it.”

“Not a surprise. You’ve got a Jedi and someone who escaped Imperial custody.” Crosshair replied, sounding bored as he put a toothpick between his lips.

“So did you. But you’re not on the list.” Howzer retorted.

“Guess I’m not as valuable to them.”

“Or you’re feeding them information.” Howzer accused.

Hunter frowned at that and came to his brother’s defence. “You’re gonna have to back down, Captain.” He warned sternly.

“You expect us to believe he was held on Tantiss for months, but he doesn’t know how to get back there?” Howzer said angrily.

Crosshair removed his toothpick and faced up against Howzer. “Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth.” He waited for his words to sink in before speaking again, “But I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer.”

That wasn’t enough for Howzer. “Your squad may trust you. But I don’t.”

Any further argument was cut short as the doors whirred open again and they all looked to see you, Wrecker and Omega come in.

You almost ran into the clone that was exiting at the same time and your eyes widened as you saw his face. “Fireball?!” You gasped as you recognised the clone that had been your trusty second in command of the battalion you had been assigned during the war.

“General?” Fireball replied, completely stunned as he instinctively straightened his posture. When he’d seen your holo-image, part of him still couldn’t believe it. Even with Rex’s confirmation, he still had his doubts but that all vanished that very second as he heard your voice. As he saw your face. As you were standing in front of him. It really was you.

You couldn’t help it; you gave him a quick hug. “It’s been years! I’d heard Master Tobar Ka-Teen took over from me…” You trailed off and cursed yourself as you realised the added effect of your words and you immediately became apologetic. “Fireball-”

“About that day… I did- and Order 66- I couldn’t- And I know if it had been you, I know I wouldn’t have been able to resist-” He stuttered.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Fireball. I’m not holding anything against you.”

Fireball released a sigh of relief before he said, “There’s something else you need to know, General.” He jutted his head over to the others before he headed out the room.

You then saw the way Rex, Hunter, Crosshair and Howzer were all glancing between you and Omega. You felt the tension in the Force around them as you approached. “What’s going on?”

“The Empire’s targeting you-” Crosshair started to say.

Wrecker let out a dry chuckle. “No surprise there.”

“Yeah, we already knew that.” You replied with an unconcerned shrug.

“And Omega… again.” Crosshair added.

That got your attention and achieved a sufficient amount of worry. You came to stand just beside Wrecker and behind the young girl. Your voice was serious as you asked, “Do we know why?”

“Not yet.” Rex answered before he addressed Omega, “Why were they after you before?”

“To force Nala Se to cooperate and conduct certain experiments.”

“Which were what?”

“She was working on something involving M-Count? I don’t know what that means, but they were taking blood samples from everyone, even me.”

“They were looking at your M-count?” You repeated. You thought through the possibilities but dismissed the main one that ran through your head because surely you would’ve sensed if she had that particular potential. You racked your brain for other theories but came up empty.

“Uh huh.” Omega glanced up at you curiously.

Her inquisitive look matched the expression the rest of them were giving you. “I know how it can be significant, but I have no idea as to how it would relate to her or any clone that matter.” You admitted ruefully.

Rex took a knee in front of Omega. “What else can you tell us?”

“When we escaped, there wasn’t enough time to free the other clones. We have to find a way to get them out.” She said resolutely.

Rex rested a hand on her shoulder. “We will.”

The door opened again, and Fireball re-entered holding a bowl of food. “Chow time!” He announced. “Gregor’s recipe, with a few spicy modifications.”

“Oh, now you’re talking.” Wrecker said eagerly, leading the way as he, Batcher and Omega went to the table.

You watched them go with a small smile before Crosshair’s voice brought you back to the discussion at hand.

“Wait. There’s more you should know.” He paused for a second as he readied himself for what he was about to say. “Not all of the clones on Tantiss are prisoners. Some are loyal to the Empire. There is a division of clones trained as specialised operatives and initiated into a secret deep cover program run by Hemlock.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled the time spent in that room. “Their identities are erased. They undergo conditioning. The few that make it through come out different.”

“If the program’s so secretive, how do you know about it?” Howzer questioned suspiciously.

“Because they tried to make me into one of them.”

“Tried?”

“It didn’t work. Being defective is in my nature.” He finished his explanation.

“You’ve encountered one before. The assassin on Coruscant.” Hunter said.

“We’ve known they existed but never knew exactly what they were.” Rex said cagily.

It wasn’t just their visual mannerisms that gave them away, you felt the evasiveness around them. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Rex hesitated a moment before he said, “We captured one. I’ve tried questioning him, but he hasn’t been very cooperative.”

“This is where you come in.” Howzer said to you.

You noticed the grimace on Rex’s face and regarded the clone captain warily. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“Well, you’re a Jedi, aren’t you?”

You gave a single slow nod of your head as you awaited further information.

“You’ve got certain… skillsets.” He took half a step closer to you. “Ones of persuasion that we don’t have.”

You realised what he was getting at. You shook your head. “That only works on the weak-minded and from what Crosshair just described, he’s anything but. No clone is.”

“You could make it work though if you really had to. You could get him to say what we needed him to.”

“Captain-” You objected as you sensed his growing desperation- it was rolling off him in waves.

“But could you do it?” He took another step towards you.

“Doing so verges on torture, Captain.” You attempted to explain. You felt Hunter gravitate closer to you in response to Howzer’s movement.

“But could you do it?” He asked again.

You remembered the last time three Jedi tried that- against Cad Bane of all people- and the impact had nearly been disastrous. You held his stare with a strong one of your own and spoke steadily and with plenty of conviction behind your words. “One, I don’t have that kind of power.”

“But-”

“Two, even if I wanted to, it could destroy his mind and you get nothing.”

“The time for debate is long gone. We need the information.” Howzer insisted. “It’s a risk-”

Further debate was silenced as Crosshair interrupted, traces of panic in his voice. “You have one here? Alive?”

Rex nodded.

“Impossible. The Empire would be on top of us already. They have ways of tracking their operatives.”

“We scanned him. He’s clear.” Howzer said.

“It’s not the kind of tracker your scans would pick up.” Crosshair asserted. “Hemlock’s smarter than that.”

“Where’s the operative? Show us.” Hunter requested.

Sneaking into the base had been all to easy and as he scanned the room ahead with the scope of his sniper rifle, he saw the other two targets in the room, but they weren’t his first priority. He’d bide his time with them. He retreated back outside.

First, he had to give Scorch the news about the targets and his location for the Recovery Strike Team.

Then there was the other operative to take care of.

Then he could get his hands on the next set of targets that were so easily within his grasp.

The five of you stood in the interrogation room and studied the cuffed clone in front of you.

You weren’t sure if it was solely because of the look of pure disgust he gave you as you walked in, but there was disturbance in the Force that you couldn’t just dismiss. Your guard was up.

Crosshair inhaled a sharp breath as the clone then looked directly at him, “We need to leave. Now.”

You glanced at Crosshair and saw a level of fear you’d never witnessed from the clone before. It sent a chill down your spine.

“If you want answers so badly, why aren’t you asking him?” The clone sneered as he looked at the familiar clone ahead of him. “Right, brother?”

“He’s lying.” Crosshair shifted uncomfortably as all of your eyes fixed on him.

The dark, menacing voice of the operative spoke up again. “You’re right about one thing. They are coming for all of you.”

An explosion suddenly rang outside.

“Comms are down.” Rex said as he attempted to check in with those patrolling the perimeter. Another dark chuckle from the assassin clone told him their time was up. “We move out. Now!”

Howzer opened the door but just as he went to press the button, you sensed what was about to come.

“Rex!” You shoved him down just as the shots fired and dove to cover but you couldn’t stop them as they hit the operative in the centre of his chest. You tugged your coverings up just as the others put on their helmets.

“We’ve got a shooter out here!” Wrecker yelled as he put his helmet on and provided a round of cover fire for you all to get out of that room and to better cover.

“Shots coming from the back of the room!” Omega yelled from her position.

“Nemec, we need to get comms online” Rex said.

Nemec went to the centre console at a crouch, but a shot made contact with the exposed wire and all he saw was the light of an explosion as his body was flung backwards into a crate. He struggled to get back up as he fought for consciousness.

“Backup plan. Into the command post!” Rex ordered before looking at Wrecker and Omega. “I’ll cover you!” He timed it out. “Go!” He stood up and fired on the assailant as he helped Nemec to his feet.

You began running with the others but paused as you realised Fireball had split off from the rest of you. You saw him grab a flamethrower and run directly towards the attacker. “Fireball!” You yelled in warning, but Hunter pulled your arm to get you to follow the rest of them back to the room.

Rex could only watch in dismay as Fireball took a shot to the shoulder and crashed into a crate of grenades, but the flamethrower was still activated.

The resulting series of violent explosions had the roof of the base collapsing and Rex was left with no choice but to sprint back to the room. He dived through the entrance just as it was completely blocked by rubble, and it was then he felt a stray piece of rock collide against his helmet and black spots clouded his vision.

The Recovery Strike Team entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“Commander, we’ve lost contact with the operative.”

“Prepare to land and set blasters to stun. Our orders are to retrieve the targets alive.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @nightmonkeysstuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers

41 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Note

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please."

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.

You wince."...F-Fine?"

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You look… wet."

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"

He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.

"Huh. I guess they do."

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums.

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name."

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily.

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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