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mariel-g · 10 months

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Sub!Miguel prompt! hugging and absentmindedly kissing his neck, resulting in his mortification. Just an idea! ☁️

Miguel O'Hara x Spiderwoman! Reader Fluff

I'm really sorry I'm not sure if this what you meant 🥲, I'll get better at doing prompts I swear.

contents: mostly fluff, extremely suggestive but no explicit scenes, short asl I have no time

You run your hands through the thick strands of Miguel’s hair, smirking as he annoyedly grumbles not to touch it from under you.

“Oh hush, I’m taking care of you, do you not know about aftercare Miggy?” You see his lip curl up at the nickname but carry on, “shall we bathe and cuddle after this?”

You boop two fingers on his nose before trailing them down to his lips, trying to hold in a laugh as his expression turns from post-orgasm blissed to exasperated to indignant.

“y/n-“ he says slowly, his words muffled by the fingers still on his lips that are currently trying to press the corners of his mouth into a smile.

“Yes Miguel?” You purr, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Get out.”

You sigh for the 20th time as you fix your lip combo in the elevator mirror, your clothes looking raggedy from the haphazard way you threw them on before Miguel physically picked you up and chucked you into the corridor of his high-rise apartment.

He has a very businesslike mindset on your relationship and thinks of your trysts as transactions, much to your chagrin. This is the 183rd day you have been kicked out like this, so every single day since you and Miguel have been fucking each other you have been kicked out like this. It happens sooner when you mention aftercare, or anything intimate after the sex. But at work, he is as clingy as he is snarky and rude. He doesn’t let you do missions with anyone but him, gives you extra work so that you’re stuck at HQ till the wee hours of the morning, and tails you on your breaks so that you’re not ‘causing any trouble.’

This unfortunate dynamic came to be many months ago, when you caught him in a bit of a rut. No like literally, he has spider DNA imbedded in his genetic makeup and for him it was apparently mating season. You found him in an incredibly compromising position in one of the more secluded hallways at HQ; his hair tousled and skin clammy with a very painful looking bulge tenting his suit. To be blunt, you sucked his dick then rode him for hours. Since then, he wasn’t able to get enough- or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You run your hands through the thick strands of Miguel’s hair and smirk when he annoyedly grumbles not to touch it for the 184th time. His head is lolled to the side and his body is relaxed under you, both of your chests heaving with exertion as you allow the haze to make your body sag on his torso.

“You’re not being as annoying as usual today” he mumbles suspiciously.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go.”

For the first time ever, you actually decide to leave him alone. He had a long and gruelling mission today, his body bloodied and bruised when he and Jessica dragged themselves back to HQ. For the rest of day, he was more pissy than usual, going as far as to reprimand you in front of everyone for 5 minutes because of ONE spelling mistake on a report. You aren’t going to antagonise him further; you just came to get good dick and then leave.

You’re distracted from your musings at the sound of his deep and satisfied moan before his soft lips press wet kisses at the base of your neck, teeth lightly grazing your pulse as the languid kisses continue across your neck to your shoulder as his arms hug you to his body in a protective cocoon. Your heart squeezes and you freeze, refusing to even blink in fear that any sudden movement may startle Miguel out of whatever spell he’s under right now.

You tentatively place your hands in his hair as he nuzzles his nose against you, repeatedly murmuring something in Spanish that (although you definitely failed that class in high school) sounds suspiciously like ‘thank you’ and whatever ‘te necesito como al aire que respiro’ means.

“Miggy…” you whisper, body filling with warmth from the gentle affection he’s giving you. The type of affection you could only shower someone with if you deeply cared about them.

His eyes snap open at your voice and you watch in fascination as his face bursts with heat, his cheeks and ears going a pretty shade of pink under the natural caramel of his skin tone.

Seeing this expression on the Spiderman 2099 is such a delight that you can’t hold back the gales of laughter that assault you, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as Miguel pushes you off him and scrambles to the opposite side of the bed. “I-I must be having some hormone problems- not that I normally have hormone problems just unexpected things can happen when you have spider DNA…not that I can’t control myself,” he sputters, agitatedly fussing with the bed covers before pulling them up to his chest and surrendering himself to mortified silence.

You don’t give him time to recover from the embarrassment caused from this traumatic moment, you immediately tackle him onto the bed and litter his face with kisses, narrowly missing an elbow he half-heartedly throws at you before you cup his face and connect his lips with yours in a deep kiss.

He sinks into the mattress, his hands coming to your hips and his legs twining with yours as he yields the last shreds of his anger, apprehension and control to you.

“We’re dating now, right?” you say absentmindedly, leaning your head on his chest as you glance at the clock displaying 6:47 am on the bedside table.

“What?” He says, ripping his attention away from his k-drama on the TV to look down at you.

“What?” You repeat back, ripping your attention away from your geometry dash game to look up at him. “I mean, I’ve been here for nearly 10 hours, and you clearly have a crush on me so-“

“Get out.”

"Just admit you're in love with me already-"

"Get. Out!"

You in fact did not leave.

te necesito como al aire que respiro - I need you like I need air (that I breathe)

alleged from google

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #dom reader

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facethroughthemirror · 6 years

Text

In The End, We Come Right Back

Chapter Two

They’d seen Maine get back up after taking massive amounts of damage. And every time, he would get up and keep swinging, rush his opponents like an angry bull, shrug off the pain like it was nothing. This was Maine. Hulking, indestructible Maine. Maine with god-tier endurance and an adamantine skull. Maine with the strength of, according to Agent Pennsylvania, about twenty-three bears, give or take a bear or two. Maine, who was both the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

But Maine didn’t get up.

Cross-posted on ao3

"... the Mother of Invention has all kinds of information in the library, right? Not just military and history?"

The older blond glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, setting his coffee down. "... I think so. Why?"

Washington looked down into his cup. He'd already drained it once, and he was almost done with this one again. "... I want to try to learn some sign language. I know a little bit already, I tried to learn when I was a kid, but I want to try to learn a little more. Teach some to Maine while he's recovering. I can teach him to spell, and count to like ten, but after that, not a lot I can do. I think Florida was talking about knowing sign language awhile ago, maybe he can help out a little."

"I think that's a great idea, Wash," North nodded. "And I think Maine will too."

"... I know it won't be any replacement for Maine's voice, but..."

"I think he'll appreciate being able to communicate with someone. It might help him, even though he doesn't say much to start with."

"... maybe not to you guys," Wash mumbled, swirling his hot chocolate. "You just have to know how to understand him. He said... he says plenty to me."

"Well, yeah, you guys are bunkmates. You see more of him than anyone else. You probably have deep conversations about life or punching Wyoming at three in the morning. I mean, South and I do, anyway." North sipped his coffee. He tilted his head to look around Wash, and raised his cup in greeting. "Hey Carolina."

The teal-armored Freelancer made a noise in response to North's greeting as she walked around the table to sit next to him. She unhooked her helmet and removed it, setting it down on the table like the others. She looked tired, the youngest agent noticed. Clearly, the older blond noticed as well, as he immediately got up and wandered away, only to return with two more cups.

"So boss, anything to report?" North asked, handing a coffee to Carolina and another hot chocolate to Wash. "The Director debrief you yet?"

"Yes. He's talked to me, you, York, and CT." Carolina took an inhumanly-long drink from her cup before putting it down and folding her hands. "... Wyoming's awake. He'll be in Recovery for a few days getting the blood pumped back into him, but he'll be fine. York's got some pretty bad whiplash that they're checking out now. CT has a few cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay."

"What about Maine?" Wash asked instantly, thoughts beginning to turn back toward panic when he realized that Carolina hadn't mentioned him. And that there was probably a reason for it.

Carolina looked at him, and he withered a little under the burning of those green eyes, turning his own gaze down and away as he put his cup down and twisted his hands together in his lap. However, after a moment, the squad leader did answer his question.

"... Maine was shot ten times, nine at point-blank range, and kept fighting. He lost a lot of blood. Not to mention, he was tossed off a truck at high speed, bounced across several lanes of traffic, before getting hit by a bus and knocked off an overpass. No one could survive that."

Wash's mouth had gone dry as Carolina re-described Maine's injuries. He knew. He was aware. He took a shaky sip of his hot chocolate, partially to hide his fear and partially in an attempt to keep his tongue from shiveling up. He couldn't blame her for explaining, though, she probably didn't exactly know that North knew. However, at the last thing she said, he swore he felt his heart stop. Had Maine...? No, surely he would've been notified, he was Maine's partner after all...

"Those injuries would have killed anyone else," Carolina continued. She took another drink of her coffee, finally looking at Wash. "... so I guess we're lucky it happened to Maine."

Wash felt his blood boil, anger rising up from where it had retreated into his gut. Carolina went on to explain that Maine was still in surgery, but the current report was that he would recover. She informed them most of the wounded would probably be back on the M.O.I. tonight, including Maine, if nothing went catastrophically wrong in surgery. But all Wash could hear was Carolina's tone sounding far too chipped and businesslike. Didn't she care that one of her squad members had almost died?

After she finished speaking, there was a heavy pause. North made some comment or other, and when Carolina gave a laugh in response, Wash's temper ran out once again. It took him a moment, but he finally spoke into his cup, his voice small and forced. "... 'we're' lucky?"

"Huh?"

"We're lucky?!" he shouted, slamming his cup down. "No one is lucky here, Carolina! We're not lucky, the project isn't lucky, the only person who's maybe lucky here is Maine, and I think that's really for him to decide!"

Carolina and North were silent, Carolina actually looking a little shocked while North merely set down his coffee cup. He likely wouldn't hesitate to keep Wash from attacking Carolina out of anger, by any means necessary, now that he knew that it was possible. He may have agreed not to mention the incident to any of their superiors, but if Wash assaulted Carolina, one of those superiors, technically, that promise would probably have to go right out the window. However, his caution proved unnecessary when Wash merely crumpled inward on himself, folding his arms on the tabletop and putting his head down on them.

A long, quiet moment passed, before Carolina spoke again. "... I know how you must feel. It's... scary, when your partner gets hurt like that."

"Don't patronize me, Carolina. It's fucking terrifying," Wash shot back bluntly, voice muffled by the table when he didn't bother to raise his head. "Don't pretend you just saw Maine laying there and you weren't scared shitless. Because if fucking Maine dying on the pavement doesn't scare you, you're not fucking human."

North reached across the table, placing a hand cautiously on Wash's elbow. "Of course it scared us."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"... he's right."

Wash's head snapped up, startling North enough that he pulled his hand away. He had never heard Carolina sound that way. So... upset. Even teary. Green eyes turned down and away from the men around her, as if she just... couldn't look at them. Her gaze was fixed on her hands, folded in her lap.

"... Maine took a bullet for me. The shot to his chest, that was a sniper that got past me. It was enough to knock Maine down for about forty seconds. We think it was heading right for my spine, and if it had hit me, I could have been paralyzed. After I called him a baby and pushed him out a window."

"Maine would never complain about taking a bullet for someone," North reminded her. "He does it all the time. And he knows any of us would do the same for him."

"I could have knocked Maine off course when we were thrown off of the truck, maybe helped him stay out of traffic. At least maybe he wouldn't have gone off the overpass."

"You can't possibly have controlled that."

Carolina finally turned her eyes up, then turned her head almost robotically to lock them onto North's. Wash noticed that they no longer seemed to burn in their sockets: on the contrary, they seemed blank. Detached. When she spoke again, there was no emotion in her voice. As if she had simply shut her heart off. "I let that soldier throw her gun to the man who shot Maine's throat out."

Anger began to leech into Wash's blood again, coursing through his veins and oozing into every fiber of his being. Someone with Carolina's skill should have easily been able to prevent what had happened, and what made it worse was that she prided herself on her apparent-flawlessness. On being he very model of a warrior. Being perfection incarnate.

However, Carolina's voice halted the building anger before it could erupt again. "... Maine nearly died because of me. A sniper shot him in the chest instead of shooting me in the back. And I couldn't stop him getting shot in the throat."

"Carolina, don't say that," North started.

"Why not. It's true. Maine will probably never be the same after this."

"You didn't shoot Maine. You never laid a hand on the gun that did this to Maine."

"It doesn't matter if I pulled the trigger or not!" Carolina's voice broke alongside her composure, tears beginning to leak from her eyes and slide down her face to vanish from sight beneath her chin. "... I was the team leader. It was my responsibility to ensure the safety of my squad, and I failed. Arguably, I failed all of them."

"Failure is certainly an appropriate word, Agent Carolina," a new voice drawled from just out of their lines of sight.

The sound of it was enough to send all three Freelancers scrambling to their feet. They stood at attention, Carolina's cheeks still wet with tears, as the Director came more clearly into view. He had changed gout of the borrowed station scrubs, and had replaced his sunglasses on his face.

"The objective was, however, completed. No lives were lost, although two of your comrades were severely injured. Your failure, Agent Carolina, lies in your inability to remain objective about battlefield casualties. Are you going to blame yourself for Agent Wyoming's injuries as well?"

"Sir, she had more direct contact with Maine," Wash began, as respectfully as he could manage, though he was starting to get angry again. "It makes sense that she would feel responsible for--"

"I did not ask for your opinion, Agent Washington," the Director barked. "Agent Carolina, this is behavior does not suit a soldier of your ranking. You will collect yourself and report to the docking bay to board a dropship back to the Mother of Invention. Agents North Dakota and Washington, the same goes for you two. Agent York will meet you there, and Agent Florida will be the one flying you back. We need our better pilot on-hand at the moment."

Wash clenched his fists, but didn't dare to argue. He didn't want to think about the consequences just now. But, Carolina's voice surprised him yet again. "... sir, I believe it to be in the best interest of all involved that Agent Washington be allowed to remain with his partner, to keep him calm."

"And why would I allow that, Carolina?"

"... Agent Maine will undoubtedly require a few more blood transfusions after his surgery, and probably intravenous painkillers."

"Your point?"

"Agent Washington can explain."

When both the Director and Carolina looked at the gray-armored young man, he felt his blood freeze. He made a noise in the back of his throat, but then squared his shoulders a little more and cleared it to disguise the fact that he'd almost used his partner's real name. "... Maine doesn't react well to needles, sir. And IVs are kind of the worst. The Counselor can tell you why he doesn't like them."

"This is a civilian outfit, sir," Carolina picked up. "The staff would not be equipped to handle Maine if he acted out. And only Agent Washington has shown consistent ability to calm Maine down if he becomes agitated or enraged."

The Director stared silently at Carolina for a long, long minute. His jaw set, and Wash swore he could hear the man's bones crack. He straightened up, sweeping a look down the short line of soldiers in front of him and lingering briefly on North, as if silently daring him to add to the conversation. When North said nothing, the Director continued to speak.

"... arguing with a superior does not suit a soldier of your caliber, Agent Carolina. And it does not suit a soldier in general, Agent Washington, but you know all about that." He adjusted his sunglasses. "The wounded are being prepared for transfer as we speak. Agent Maine will be kept sedated in order to be relocated back to the Mother of Invention. Despite the issues we've just had here, Agent Washington will be waiting in Recovery One for his arrival. Now, all three of you, get back in uniform and report to the docking bay this instant. That is an order."

#agent washington #agent north dakota #agent carolina #the director #project freelancer #red vs blue #rvb #malarkey #my shitty writing #roosterteeth #mainewash #The only way to argue with the Director is to gang up on him #in the end we come right back

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