Family Dinners - dpxdc
"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.
The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.
"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.
"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.
"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."
Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.
Ancients, that's so weird!
The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.
Wait. Family dinners?
He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.
"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.
"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.
From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.
"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"
"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"
"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."
"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."
The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.
Come on, Danny, recover!
"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."
"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?
"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."
"Costume? What do you mean?"
Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.
"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!
"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.
"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.
His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.
"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.
Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"
"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"
"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."
"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.
It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.
It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.
Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.
"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."
Once again, the whole table falls into silence.
"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"
"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"
"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."
Danny's grin freezes in place.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."
"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"
Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.
"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.
"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."
An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.
"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."
"What did happen?"
"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."
"How long in the future was it?"
"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.
Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"
"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."
"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."
"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"
"What?"
"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."
Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.
"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.
"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."
"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"
"Damian, stop—"
"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."
"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."
"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.
"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."
"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."
"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."
"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."
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At the beginning of your relationship with Dottore, there had been numerous times when he had tried to leave you, or rather, attempt to force you to leave him in the Akademiya. Ignoring you, snapping at you... most notably literally kicking you out of the dorm (to waking up and nearly stepping on you, as you had decided to knock out right at the door.) Merely because he still had difficulty believing he was loved by you, despite having known you for years. It took much time but, eventually, your feelings finally clicked in that genius head of his.
However, uncharacteristically enough, there was one time you debated on whether you should leave Zandik. Only one time. And he had found out. If only you had been more careful.
It happened during the later stage of your illness when your ability to do many basic tasks had been stripped from you, leaving you reliant on Zandik for many things. You felt very guilty, for making him so do much work for both himself and you, but there wasn't much you could do about it, being the way you were now. Did you tell your lover about this? No, of course not.
But today, today would just be another regular day of what you had accepted to be your new life. However, you had noticed in the morning he seemed rather irritated, but you had no chance to ask him about it since he had to leave for class. You wondered what that was all about. (You, somewhere in the depths of your mind thought. You were continuously being a burden on the knowledge-driven scholar, no wonder he'd be irritated.)
When he returned to the dorm, you could tell that the foul mood still remained. Though, you could not understand what had caused it. He was perfectly fine last night, something must have happened after you fell asleep... As you watched him, the words "welcome home" could not seem to come out as they usually did, especially when he had not even acknowledged you yet, only emptying his bag with all of his books and other tools. You swallowed nervously, wondering how you were going to go about this when he spoke.
"Where?"
"Huh?"
"Where do you plan to go?" You were understandably confused by this seemingly random question.
"Um... nowhere?" A nervous smile made its way to your face, as Zandik only gave you a blank look, before carefully unfolding a piece of paper, and reading it over once more, no emotion on his face. Which, was already quite alarming for you, because Zandik was the kind of person who always had a hint of annoyance written on his face. He then turned the paper to face you and you squinted, reading the contents.
Oh. You instantly recognized what it was. It was a form that one had to fill out if they wanted to move out of the Akademiya's dorms.
When you said you felt guilty for everything, you meant it. Meant it to the point you worried if you were still good enough for him, if you had become annoying, a bumbling nuisance that had become more of a chore rather than a partner. It worried you, and you couldn't help but think about it. What if you were right? What if he did feel all of those things? Then maybe, maybe you should relieve him of this burden. You. Then, he could continue to pursue his goals, without the added hindrance of taking care of you.
It wasn't something you were set on yet, more like something you mulled over in your head. But you had filled out the potential moving out form tentatively just in case you decided to go through with it. Ah, you probably had shoved it in your bag along with your many missing assignments, and Zandik must have found it after trying to check your homework... But now, your lover was staring holes into you, expecting an answer.
"Well, I- I didn't mean it. It was... just in case," you were just spewing words at this point because you really had no defense. After all, how do you explain to your roommate of many years that you were going to move out and disappear without telling him?
"Just in case," the scholar repeats. "Just in case..." And then Zandik laughs. At what? You're not sure, because you've only seen him laugh at other people's foolishness, or in scorn and bitterness. It's a bit unsettling, seeing him act this way, but you have no time to think about it before the paper is torn right in half twice and then abandoned in the trash bin.
"No." Well... alright then.
"Za-"
"No, no no no. How utterly absurd. Ridiculous. You are not going anywhere." The way he says it simultaneously sounds like an order to you yet also an attempt to reassure himself of your impossible departure. You wondered if he interpreted your reason for leaving as something more... drastic.
"Hey-" You stand up, hoping an embrace would calm his nerves, but he begins to pace around. Now, this wouldn't be unusual, he tends to do this while he's ranting or deeply thinking about his research but obviously, it's different this time.
"Leave? No," Zandik scoffs to himself, "the possibility is nigh on impossible. There is no need to plan for such lengths, I shall make sure it doesn't come to that." When he finished mumbling to himself, you tried to interject before his gaze snapped back to you.
"And you. You, how dare you go behind my back and do such a thing? Do you think me incompetent? Do you think me a senseless fool that I would allow you to do this?"
"..."
"I find this quite tasteless, especially after how much you parroted about 'always being by my side' or 'never leaving'. Or have you finally shown your true colors? Leaving me after-" Zandik cut himself off because the words he was going to say next shouldn't be said out loud. Leaving him after he's already obsessed with you, when he's already in love with you and would go mad without your presence. But then all he could feel was your arms around him and your face buried in his chest.
"Zandik please, I'm sorry," your voice was but a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything like that." Zandik's hands itched to hold you back, but he restrained himself, needing to hear your reasoning.
"I don't want to leave you, I really don't. I love you! So... that's why I filled that form out. Because I... am scared of burdening you too much. I know how you are. I know you want someone who is useful, w-who can be of assistance in all kinds of ways, not someone who is dead weight. So I... I don't want you to force yourself to- ow!" Your increasingly pitiful dialogue was interrupted by a flick to your forehead and the clicking of a tongue.
"Fool..." he moved his hand to rest on the top of your head. "You can be quite intelligent, but the reasons for your stupidity can be headache-inducing sometimes. Now that you've said all of that, has it clicked how idiotic it sounds?" Though your partner's words sounded harsh, his tone was noticeably softer. You could only cast your gaze downward as he sighed.
"I too wonder why you do not take your own advice. Were you not the one who said to... 'talk things out', before jumping to conclusions? So why have I not heard of this?" (The phrase feels out of place and rather disgusting on the man who normally refuses to hold a conversation on anything other than research, but he forces it out for your sake. Unfortunately, he can also hear your sing-song voice in his head as he replays the words.)
"Because... it's dumb, like you said. I shouldn't waste your time anymore..."
"I usually do not entertain dumb inquiries but... you are an exception. My assistant's questions must always be clarified." And as his lover, your troubles must always be assuaged, but that part was left unsaid, although you knew what he meant. "Yes, your usefulness was a great help, but I couldn't care less about that right now. I care about you, and if taking on extra responsibilities happens to fall under that feeling, then so be it. I don't care," Zandik said bluntly. Was it elegant? No. Was it truthful? Yes. It made your cheeks warm a bit.
"Well... thank you for the honor," you couldn't help but crack a tiny smile as Zandik only mumbled something incoherent before pushing you back to bed. Ah, you were feeling a little drained from all of that.
"Now that all that is sorted out, and that hopefully every inch of that nonsense has left you, I suggest you go to sleep quickly, unless you want to be kept awake by the sounds of my latest experiment." You only giggled at your boyfriend. He's unkind... in a kind way if that made sense. But before you could be whisked away to the land of dreams, Zandik spoke once more.
"[Name]."
"Mhm?"
"...Do not try to leave me ever again."
"...I know, Zandik."
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The Death of Peace of Mind
Miguel O’hara x female reader
Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"
You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely
Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )
Word count: 3.3k
Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;
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"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."
Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.
"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know."
He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."
You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."
"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible.
Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart?
"You're right," you said, finally.
"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous.
"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."
"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"
You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied.
"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?"
"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window.
"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-"
Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.
He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?"
You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence.
"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in.
You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet.
"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"
You held your breath, nodding.
"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.
Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response.
"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them.
"Yes what?"
How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious.
"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply.
"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"
You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between.
"M-Miguel?"
"Mm? What is it?"
"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."
His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused.
"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."
"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level.
Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him.
You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."
He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-
The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.
The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling.
Good.
He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel."
You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were.
He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door.
"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart.
You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.
Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering.
That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it.
You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant, full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.
"M-move-" he croaked.
You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.
"Move your shocking head, amor."
His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him.
"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well."
Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good.
The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.
"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible.
His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.
He groaned to himself through his hands.
"Miguel…? You alright?"
"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."
You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back.
"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."
He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy.
He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear.
"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."
"Do it," you said, your voice strained.
"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."
"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."
"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into."
"Do it," you said again.
His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."
You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.
"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."
He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock.
"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."
You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening.
“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”
“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him.
His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight.
"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that."
You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you."
"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded.
"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him."
He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.
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