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spiderlyla · 6 months

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miguel would never purposefully hurt you, would he?(gn!reader)

You remember it all too well, that god forsaken evening.

You were in the kitchen heating up leftovers from the night before for the two of you, all while retelling the events of your day to your boyfriend, who was silent the whole time.

It was a little odd how silent he was.

Even when he was extremely tired, he'd hum or throw in a few comments to show you that he's listening, all while looking at you the whole time. Now, he was just staring at the wall in front of him, his back turned to you.

You decided to mess with him a bit to see if he was really listening or not. "Oh, and then the statues all started moving around, and the museum turned into an arena--The Ancient Egyptian section was at war with the Greco-Roman one when I left. I wonder if they reached an agreement or not -"

To your surprise, he was listening.

And he wasn't amused.

"Qué?" He turned to look at you now, those gorgeous crimson eyes that usually looked at you with nothing but love, lacked any sort of emotion behind them. You laughed nervously, unsure what he wanted you to elaborate on. [What?]

"Was just joking around, Mig. I was checking to see if you were listening." You turned the stove off and grabbed two plates. His voice got a little louder when he spoke again, "Why would you think I'm not listening?" He rose from the couch, walking towards the counter.

"It's...you weren't looking at me, and you weren't saying anything, so I assumed you weren't concentrating. Thought I'd mess with you a bit." You heard his footsteps shuffle around the kitchen. You could hear him opening the fridge and aggressively pulling the door open so hard that it rattled. "Maybe if you didn't go off track ten separate times all while telling the same story, I'd be able to concentrate."

Oh.

Your body tensed up, and a cold shiver coursed through your entire body. You put down the half filled plate of pasta down on the counter and turned to him, your eyebrows furrowed. This harsh tone of his was absolutely new to you, and those unsympathetic words he spat at you were so foreign to hear coming from him. You waited for a moment. For him to realise what he's said, but he was staring right at you like nothing was wrong.

Uncomfortable, you shuffled in your place. "Oh, um..." His gaze lingered on you for a minute before he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and slammed the door shut. Your speech trailed off. You didn't feel like talking to him anymore.

"Well, go on. I'm listening." He sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, and you shook your head, putting a little more food in the plate in front of you and pushing it his way. "You're too tired. I'll just tell you later—"

Miguel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, seemingly exasperated. "Aye, vamos, no seas así, cariño." He got up and moved towards you, but when he came to reach for you, you moved away from his grasp. You didn't meet his eyes, but if you had, you'd see them widen at your avoidance. "Hey, you were upset that I wasn't listening, now you won't talk?" Even when you were infuriated with him, you would never move away from his touch. This was different. [Come on, don't be like that, honey.]

You were only getting more and more disquieted by the second. Sure, he was telling you he was listening, but it was like he was doing it reluctantly, evident by the way he spoke to you. "It's not like I don't want to talk. You don't have the capacity to listen. And that's fine, I'll talk to you when you're feeling better."

"I do have the capacity to listen—Why else would I tell you to keep talking?"

"You said you couldn't concentrate on what I was saying—"

"Yes, that's because you keep telling a bunch of stories about your coworkers in the middle–"

"I always do that, Miguel. Why do you only seem to mind now? It's a part of my day—"

Your voices got louder with each second that passed, you were on the other side of the kitchen now, while Miguel was walking behind you, trying to meet your gaze in any way he could, but you wouldn't let him.

"Oh, so that's why you don't want to talk? Because I told you it's distracting to listen to you speak about so many things at once?"

"No, I don't want to talk because you're being a jerk, Mig." The words left your mouth before you could even register them, and it sent him into a fit of loud irritation. Uttering sentences that you couldn't tell if they were in Spanish or in English. You couldn't take it anymore, so you turned your back to him and walked away, heading towards the bedroom. He could have dinner all alone tonight.

"Hey, where are you—" He followed you closely, his voice becoming a little softer, still the irritation was still very much present. "Oh, come on, don't run away—¡Por Dios! Look at me!" His hand wrapped around your wrist, and he gently tugged you his way. You finally looked at him, and the sight in front of him made his face fall.

Tears filled your eyes to the brim, and you were biting on your lower lip so they wouldn't spill. His grip on your wrist loosened, and his hand fell to his side. Just as he realised what he's done, you were gone, slamming the bedroom door behind you and locking it.

You sat down on your bed, letting the tears stream down your face. How could the man you've always felt comfort speaking to about anything make you feel so...dejected?

No matter how tired he was, he never behaved this way, not even when the multiverse was collapsing. Miguel always made you feel important, always listened to everything you have to say—

You heard movement outside. Clattering plates, the sound of the oven starting, and...the sound of the stand mixer?

You assumed Miguel was just reheating the food, and it pained you more that he was so fine with just letting you be by yourself than to fix what he caused.

You wiped the tear drops off your cheeks and just laid down on the bed, trying to ignore the noise in the kitchen, trying to take your mind off of what had just happened between the two of you.

An hour passed, maybe more, you weren't sure. There was a sweet smell seeping through the small space between the bedroom door and the floor. You were still holding your phone, mindlessly scrolling through your socials, when finally you heard a knock on the door.

When you didn't say anything, he knocked again. His voice was uncertain, and his tone was much more gentle than earlier. "Honey?" The knob turned, and light from the living room spilt into the darkness of the bedroom. You didn't turn to look at him, so he made his way to your side of the bed.

Miguel knelt down to face you, and you put away your phone to finally meet his eyes. "Hey..." He gave you a sheepish smile, his gaze much more softer. He looked like he was unsure of what to say, evident by the way he kept opening his mouth without anything even coming out. He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Mi amor, I'm sorry." He got up to stand in front of you, and you sat up to listen. "I can't disagree with you, I was a jerk. It's just... today has been stressful." He paused again as if realising something. You looked away. "But that's no excuse to treat you the way I did."

You just let out a small hum, and he kneeled down to your level, sitting down on his knees in front of you. He placed one of his hands on your thigh while the other cupped your cheek. "Por favor, Mírame." He sounded so tender, so apologetic. You've never seen Miguel kneel in front of anyone, and yet here he was, on his knees begging you to look at him. "Lo arruiné. But please, just..." [Please, look at me. / I messed up.]

You met his maroon eyes, and it seemed to have taken him by surprise. He choked up on his words, going queit, then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. "Forgive me, okay? I never meant to hurt you, and I can't live with myself knowing I made you cry." You didn't reply but wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. His tense shoulders relaxed under your touch, his hands snaked around your waist, his grip firm and protective.

Although you kissed him first, he took the lead, as always, only pulling away when the two of you needed a breather. He set his forehead on yours, before speaking.

"I reheated the food, and made trés leches. It should be ready," His fingers laced with yours, as the two of you stood up. "That is if you want to have dinner with me." He gave you small smile, and you chuckled, squeezing his hand.

"Mm, only because I'm hungry." He laughed, a wave of relief washing over him once he heard your voice. "I'll have to work harder for you to completely forgive me, isn't that so?"

"Surely you didn't think it'd be this easy."

"No, no. I'm planning to make it up for you after dinner."

"With what?"

He grinned, shooting a playful wink your way. "You'll find out."

Safe to say, you did find out. And safe to say, you did forgive him.

He was very persuasive.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #lumi talks ♟#miguel o'hara #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel atsv #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse

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huggingkoalas · 3 months

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ride me it

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis riding a motorcycle should be similar to riding her face, right?

word count 1.8k

warnings smut, use of vibrators (using a literal motorcycle), mentions of ‘exhibitionist’ kink, mentions/use of ‘mommy’ kink, pet names, teasing, cursing, established relationship, bottom!reader, top!natasha

author’s note am i going absolutely feral over nat's motorcycle scenes in age of ultron and black widow? yessir :P + this fic is inspired by this tiktok edit of nat too <3

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“Will you teach me how to ride, Nat?” You asked, stopping your gentle scratches on her scalp.

Natasha, lying on the bed with her head on your lap, turned her attention from the movie playing on the television to you. Amused, she raised her eyebrows, her infamous smirk on her lips. “Are you talking about my face?”

You slapped her hard on the arm and shook your head in amusement. “I meant the motorcycle, you weirdo.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” Natasha hissed with a pout on her face.

Both you and Natasha knew she could handle physical pain since she was literally the Black Widow. Even if she didn’t have superpowers like Thor and the Hulk, she was still one of the most powerful women in the world. Fighting the desire to roll your eyes, you played along with her antics. You rubbed her arm, eyes twinkling in faux pity while mouthing ‘sorry’.

“I read the mission reports everyone sent from the Ultron Offensive mission. I had no idea you knew how to ride a motorcycle.” You remarked, continuing your featherlight strokes along her hair. You wish you were there that day. If you witnessed Natasha riding a motorcycle, skillfully navigating through traffic and avoiding danger, you’d be drooling right away.

“I guess it just never came up. I wouldn’t mind teaching you, though. It would be hot if you rode something other than my face.” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” Your cheeks turned bright red from her comment. “I-I mean, you’ll have to teach me the basics first, though. I don’t think I’m ready to drive one yet.”

The thought of driving a fast vehicle sent shivers down your spine. Despite feeling scared, you wanted to impress your girlfriend. Maybe if you tried something dangerous, like learning how to ride a motorcycle, she wouldn’t keep calling you a scaredy cat.

“I can teach you the basics now.” She replied, removing her head from your lap and sitting up.

“N-Now? You sure?” You hesitated. “I mean, sure, yeah, okay.”

You didn’t think she’d teach you how to ride a motorcycle now, but you weren’t complaining. Natasha intertwined your fingers with yours, dragging you to the garage quickly.

You could see the excitement in her eyes as she led you to the garage. The green in her eyes was brighter than usual, and you couldn’t help an endearing smile appearing on your face. Seeing this side of her made your heart melt. Sometimes, she reminded you of a puppy.

Your eyes adjusted to the amount of sunlight flittering through the ceiling-to-floor windows once you reached the garage. It was your first time here, and the spaciousness of the area amazed you. Numerous cars, including SUVs and Humvees, were lined neatly side-by-side. Your gaze immediately spotted the familiar black and red motorcycle you had read in her mission report.

“What’s its model again?” You asked, walking to the motorcycle and running your fingertips along the tank cover before resting your palm on the leather seat.

“It’s a Harley-Davidson LiveWire.” Natasha walked up behind you, resting her hands on your hips. “It’s brand new. The motorcycle from the mission got totalled, so Fury and Stark had to buy me another one.”

“Yeah, I know. I had to deal with financial reports afterwards. It’s... really expensive.” You turned your head to look up at her, leaning up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Only the best motorcycle for the best woman in the world.”

“Enough compliments or I’m bringing you to my room and showing you how much you’re the best woman all night.” Natasha husked, her teeth tugging at your earlobe. Her hot breath whispered in your ear, making you weak to your knees.

She released herself from behind you, her famous smirk on her face as she noticed your flustered state. “Alright, get on the motorcycle.” She said, her voice an octave lower than usual. You looked at Natasha, and she was looking at you with darkened eyes.

You both knew what that tone meant. It was the tone she would use on you when you were writhing on her sheets, moaning her name over and over again as she brought you to multiple orgasms. Both of you knew what the tone did to you. You’d willingly get on your knees and do anything she asked if she used that sultry voice again.

Clearing your throat to brush your mind off the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with, you inquired. “Won’t it tip over if I get on it?”

Natasha lets out a short laugh as you shoot her a nervous look. There’s a mixture of amusement and something else entirely in her green eyes. You're not sure. She’s making you even more nervous than you already are.

“See that little stick on the side propping up the bike?” With a nod of your head, she points to the black pedal holding the vehicle up. “That’s a kickstand. The bike doesn’t magically defy gravity, and it certainly doesn’t fly.”

You wanted to wipe the smug grin off Natasha’s face. Normally you’d make a snarky remark now, but instead, you let her off with a shrug.

“I promise to catch you if, for some reason, the kickstand doesn’t do its job, detka (baby).” The use of the pet name relaxes you a bit, and you nod your head.

“Fine, I trust you. Is there... A specific way to get on it?” You asked.

“Just mount it, lyubov’ (love). It’s the same as riding on my face.” Natasha replied in a teasing tone. Your head snaps towards her, and your cheeks warm. Her arms are crossed, and her biceps are clearly visible as she wears a black sleeveless sweater. You know you won’t survive the rest of the lesson if she acts (and looks) like this.

You grab the handles and slowly swing one leg over the seat. Your feet barely touch the ground, and you’re tiptoeing while sitting on the vehicle.

“I think the motorcycle is too tall for me.” You looked at her with a frown.

Natasha expertly climbs onto the bike behind you. “Shortie.” She taunts.

“Careful!” You exclaimed, holding onto the handlebars as the bike tilted left and right due to her movement.

You shift in your seat, getting used to the weird position. The motorcycle seemed larger between your thighs. Furthermore, there were a bunch of pedals, levers, and buttons. You were familiar with what the side mirrors do, but you were not sure what everything else does.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The seat slope caused Natasha's body to press up against you. You shudder slightly as you feel her breasts press up against your back. You tried to make yourself comfortable, but her breath against the back of your neck sent a small shiver down to your core.

“You’re so tense, detka (baby). Do I make you nervous?” She rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands running down your arms to take your hand in hers while you hold the handlebar.

“You’re sleeping on the couch if you don’t shut up right now, Nat.” You replied, gritting your teeth. As much as you liked her relentless teasing, the heightened adrenaline and fear in your body spiked your anxiousness.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, lyubov’ (love). Let’s start the lesson then.” Natasha said, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

She turned the key in the ignition on. The rumbling of the motor startled you as the engine started to thrum softly beneath you.

“I’ll put it on neutral since you’re not driving.” She added.

You nodded your head. You had a license to drive a car, so you knew some driving language. But even though you had experience driving a car, you knew that riding a motorcycle was something completely different. You could feel your heart racing and your grip on the handlebars trembling slightly.

“The lever above the left handle is the clutch lever. The one on the right is the lever for the front brake.” Natasha continued, showing and explaining the parts and their functions.

You couldn't concentrate. The vibration of the engine below you and the slight vibration of the seat had your attention instead. You pursed your lips and nodded as you pretended to understand what she was teaching you.

Closing your eyes for a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Natasha’s lips touch the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Are you listening to me?” She murmured against your skin.

You pursed your lips and speak shakily. “Y-Yes.”

Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly see that your mind was somewhere else entirely, exactly where she wanted it to be. “I can make you feel even better...”

“This is the throttle handle that gasses the motor.“ She taps a finger on the right handle. She slowly turns the handle towards you, her wrist applying pressure, and the engine revs louder.

“Shit, Nat-” You gasp out loud, the vibrations beneath you getting stronger the more she turns the handle. You feel even more wetness gathering in your panties.

“Nat,” You whimpered with desperation. “Please, I..I-”

You arch your body against her and throw your head back against her shoulder, enjoying the vibrations from the seat. Natasha almost moans at the sight of you aching for her. She gently pulls your shirt off, throwing it behind her. The cold air sends goosebumps down your arm and her left hand rests on your thigh, squeezing and kneading your clothed thigh.

“Shh... Quiet. You don’t want someone to walk on us like this, do you?” She warns you.

Your lungs are struggling for air as you gasp. Shame and desire course through your veins at the thought of someone catching the both of you in this position. You bite your bottom lip, biting it hard you think it might bleed.

“Want me to go faster?” She asks in a sultry voice. Without waiting for your response, she twists the handle down quickly, the seat pulsating quickly and louder.

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat. Your panties and pants are sticking to you uncomfortably as the leather seat vibrates harshly against your folds. You’re rutting down onto the seat desperately, aching for release.

“I-I’m close, Nat, don’t stop, please-” You somehow manage to plead through the haze.

You moan loudly as she revs the engine loudly once more, and you scream ‘mommy’ as you orgasm, stars blinding your eyes as your body shakes with bliss. Your arousal sticks to your thighs and pools onto the leather seat below you as you come down from your high.

Natasha switches off the ignition once you finish tumbling over the edge. The vibration and the sounds from the motorcycle quiet down, and all you can hear is your increased heartbeat and the silence of the garage. You feel your legs and body twitch slightly from the orgasm.

You turned your head towards her, seeing a shit-eating grin on her face. “Wow, ‘Mommy’, huh? That’s a first.” She teased, licking her lips. “I’ll have so much fun cleaning the bike later.”

You groaned, hiding your face in her neck. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

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#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #smut #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

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