cherry!

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Series, Smut, Headcanons, One-shots, and Masterlists of all COD Characters

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Smut, Headcanons, and One-Shots of all JJK Characters

🕷Miguel's Masterlists ★

NSFW Series, Smut, Headcanons, and One-Shots SFW Series, Headcanons, and One-Shots

🍒Popped Cherries! (Smut)

Menace (Request) Rough Fun (Request)

🍒Sweet Cherries! (One-Shots)

Little Dancer(Request)

🍒Sweet Cherries! (One-Shots)

Car Lights ("Request") LOSER (Request) Pretty (Request)

🍒Sweet Cherries! (One-Shots)

Failed Plan (Request)

Check 1K Prompts Masterlist ↴

🍒Popped Cherries! (Smut)

Disgusting (Request)

1k Prompts Masterlist

You fucking hate this.

You feel gross: cheap and hypocritical. You would have never imagined yourself doing this once upon a time. You used to be all big talk about exes and rebounds and letting the past be the past. But, that was before two years of bad dates and missing him and regretting ever having become exes in the first place. Besides, you knew there was a reason why you never deleted his number from your phone in the first place. Call it delayed fate... or desperate circumstances.

But you really needed this- him- after the fuckass date you were just on. Sitting in a greasy restaurant for almost two hours, half-listening to another narcissist praise himself and somehow find a way to belittle you from the few words you said. You were just so fed up and needed something to forget your unending streak of bad date night candidates and even more unfufilling bedroom buddies. And, really, if Miguel didn't want you to contact him, he would have changed his number or blocked you by now. But he didn't, and he didn't call you batshit crazy for requesting him to come over to your apartment, so fuck yeah, you're calling this fate.

It definitely doesn't seem like a bad idea as his hands- still large and comforting- grab at you. Remeasuring and scaling your body as you clumsily walk through your apartment. The layout hasn't changed much since he moved out, making it easy for him to walk you back through the halls with his mouth locked with yours. Having him pressed against you once again, moving together in a way that is still so familiar, almost tricks your mind. It is easy to believe that the two-year gap never existed. That you're simply coming back home from a date with Miguel, and you'll make love like you used to, and wake up and do it all again. But that isn't the reality, and it will all come crashing down once this is all done.

So for now, you enjoy it. You lose yourself in the way Miguel lays you on your bed, in a way that is gentle and passion-filled. Not hazardous and desperate like your past few dates. His mouth and tongue are warm as they travel the expanse of your body, lacking the gross slime you've come to associate the act with. His mouth is gasp-provoking as they find your chest, and his hands use the perfect amount of pressure as he tweaks at your nipples. It leaves you squirming, already sensitive to the pleasure you've been deprived of for so long.

You get lost on the steady trail that he leads down to your sweet spots, remapping the areas that rest at your sides and along your legs. Your head is fuzzy, and your nails dig into his wide shoulders. He mumbles something as his tongue and fingers soothe over the tempting love between your legs: Ask me to stay, ask me.

And you moan, lifting your hips and silencing him as he tips you closer and closer to your long-awaited release. The feeling is electrifying, lighting up all your nerves at once until you crash from the high. Eyes heavy and foggy as Miguel gently detangles himself from you, massaging your prickling skin until you're lulled into a deep sleep.

And you do not ask him to stay.

You’re not completely sure what you’re looking at.

Of course, the mirror is dirty, but not dirty enough to so heavily distort Hobie like this. The thing behind you is vaguely molded to your boyfriend’s form, shiny and black bulges of muscle wrapping like dead vines across his body. Your eyes can’t seem to rip away from it, even as your drool starts to leave the fuzzy fur of your teddy bear uncomfortable against your face.

You can just peak over your arm as he pounds into you, eyes hazy as they track his body in the glass. You can feel the thick saliva on your back before it lands, the thing behind you drooling horribly as it’s bulging cock spears through your folds. Hobie has always been huge, but now it feels nothing short of monstrous. You can feel the stretch, knowing if he were to pull out you would be left gaping. Each drag of his cock is a rub against your clit, and you barely clench around him before it feels too tight.

But fuck, it feels so good.

“H-hobie!” You hiccup, grabbing onto the soft fur of the bear in your arms as you try to climb off your boyfriend’s cock.

A rumbling, almost purr like noise sounds from behind you. Deep and dark and nothing like your boyfriend. You hiccup again when you feel the needle-like nails of the creature press into your hips, dragging you back down to the hilt and pressing against your ass.

It’s clingy, you realize. It’s weird hands massaging and grabbing at every inch of soft skin available. Its slippery tongue lapping against your spine and savoring the ridge of every vertebrae. You can’t escape too far before its pulsing tip is snug against the opening of your cervix again.

Each twitch of its cock is more like a fully body shake. You can feel the heaviness inside of you, weighing down against your walls as each stroke leaves you feel like you’re floating. He hits everywhere- every tiny, sensitive spot imaginable. You’re like a frail leaf in his hold, body sinking into the army of stuffed animals below you as your body succumbs to an unearthly amount of pleasure.

“Please!” You gasp, back arching as a rapid stream of lava rushes through your body. You sob when it reaches its destination, body locking and trapping his cock inside of you as you explode.

You can feel your release dampening the sheets, and you whine when one of Hobie’s large claws cups at your sex and makes it splatter against your skin as he collects it in his palm. You’re lightheaded, mind dizzy and blank and he grows and thrusts shallowly inside of you. You almost miss the overflow of warmth flooding and bloating you, your walls pulsating in a slow squeeze to have him fill you.

You sigh sleepily as his climax dies down, micro thrusts encouraging his seed to stay inside of you before pulling out. Your body shudders, cunt weak and quivering and it tries to close up and safeguard his release. The furry animals under you are damp in drool and sweat and tears, but you ignore it as you huddle close to them. You’re too exhausted to care, and Hobie can always buy you new ones if they’re beyond saving.

Your eyes flutter as you watch the creature, slowly receding until the familiar sized-frame of your boyfriend is back in the mirror. His hands, not as large as before, shakily try to wipe away at the pooling of saliva on the small of your back. You sigh deeply, shutting your eyes as he mumbles small, breathless praises.

You’ll let him tell you when he’s ready.

He can spend hours between your legs, fingers teasing and rubbing against that pretty pearl that twitches for attention. His heavy breathing warming your soft skin as his pupils dilate. Your poor, deprived man who just wants you to feel so good and looks up at you with those crazed eyes that scream for your praise.

His whimpers vibrate against your cunt as he tries to pull your own noises out of your plump lips. Eyes half-lidded as he slurps and drowns himself in your thick scent and sugary juices. Tongue exploring every inch of your folds, growling against your fluttery walls when you try to push his head away. His teeth threatening to nip at your fingertips when you try to toy with your own clit, greedy to be the only source of your pleasure.

This is below him.

He isn’t some low-level security guard, he’s fucking spiderman. He has a city to protect, entire universes that require his full attention. Yet, he finds himself lounging in front of blue screens with black and white security footage. The chair makes his back hurt, and the blurry, flickering video feed that is beyond outdated makes his eyes hurt.

Miguel doesn’t have many friends in his universe, too busy with so many other things that are completely unfathomable to the normal man. So when an old friend- a friend of a ghost from his childhood that he barely remembered- had contacted him for a favor, the feeling of obligation struck and hooked him in. It would have been wrong of him to say no, especially since the favor was not that great to begin with. A simple house watching gig for the weekend, one that didn’t really need much attention and could be a backdrop as he did out of office work for the Society.

But, it wasn’t just a house sitting job.

He found himself distracted every time the pixels of the old security cameras flickered, eyes snapping up to the screens to see you moving around and going about your day. He was surprised to see you- another fragment from his past that sprang to his head on occasion. You looked older now, but everything else about you was the same. Even the way you quickly had his hands sweating and his heart stumbling.

It was…weird coexisting with you in the same space. You always seemed to find him when he was wandering the house instead of being holed up in the security room. You just suddenly appeared, dressed in your usual nighties used for lounging and stalking past him with a smile and fluttering eyes.

It drove him crazy, his senses picking up on your presence from miles away and zoning in on everything that was you. It made his mouth salivate and his hands itch and for his dick to thicken in his pants. It was painful, having to constantly chastise himself that everything in the house, including you, was like a museum. He could look all he wants, but under no circumstances can he touch.

Doesn’t mean he stopped you when you did, though.

In fact, he welcomed every brush of your arm against his body. He liked the way you held eye contact with him as you tried to squeeze past his hunkering frame, lips slightly parted and forming a brief smile as you walked away. His spine tingled each time you walked by him, feeling the way your eyes tracked his body as he watched you.

He was infatuated, subtly trailing after you like a floating cartoon character every time you entered and exited a room. Physically restraining himself every time you disappeared into your bedroom or the bathroom with a sultry, beckoning look. He hated the guilt he felt when his cock twitched and he had to ignore it because he simply refused to jerk one out in his friend’s house to his girlfriend.

But fuck if he didn’t see how lonely you were through the screens. How you spent every moment where you weren’t riling him up, bored and lost in your own home. It made him wonder how many times his friend has left you like this, traveling away for work and leaving you stuck at home all by yourself. Miguel was a busy fucker too, but his thoughts snobbishly protested that if you were his, he’d never let you go to sleep alone or leave you cooped up in such a big house by yourself.

And maybe you sensed that.

Because you were always trying to coax him like a mythical siren. With pouty lips and smooth swaying hips that paired well with doe eyes. It was embarrassing easy for you to absentmindedly draw Miguel in. Planting small seeds in his head that he could have you if only he let himself. That the only obstacle in his way was himself. And damnit, he deserves a reward for all his hard work.

Even if that reward was as dishonorable as fucking you in the bed you shared with your boyfriend. But was it really? Miguel figures if he wasn’t ever here to keep you company then it isn’t really his bed. It’s your bed. And it wasn’t any of your boyfriend’s business what- or who- you decided to do in it. At the end of the day, your boyfriend had no say because he wasn’t here, Miguel was.

And he was fucking enjoying it.

You made the prettiest noises, mewling into his shoulder as your pussy squelched with each thrust of his leaky cock. You took it like a champ, his head spinning from how fucking tight you were. All lonely and left with nothing but your dainty fingers to stuff yourself with. Your walls practically ushered him in, clinging to his dick until he was balls deep and in danger of shooting his load too quickly.

“Poor girl.” Miguel practically growled, pressing his hips against yours and drawing out those pretty sounds as he grinded into you, “Been so lonely with no one here to take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded shakily, mouth dropping open with a hum as you bucked your hips. Miguel’s hold tightened around them as he hissed, giving you a small thrust to sedate you momentarily.

“Just needed someone to take care of you and this pretty pussy.” He cooed, hand traveling into your hair and cupping the back of your head.

“M-Miguel,” you sniffled, desperately trying to get him to move inside of you. “Please.”

He gave you a devilish smile, slowly pistoning his cock into your gummy walls. “Hmm, what is it mamí? This what you need, huh? Use that pretty voice to tell me what you need.”

You sobbed, hands digging into his shoulders as you nodded. “More. Please, Miguel.”

He groaned, eyes locked on the way your chin wobbled with a pout as you begged so sweetly. His sweet, lonely girl. Miguel gave you a sweet smile, kissing the corner of your lips before withdrawing his hips and snapping them forward. The gasp you let out was beyond beautiful, hands raking down his back as you arched into him.

Miguel had to be careful about marking you. He couldn’t follow his instincts and bite marks into your neck or leave hand shaped bruises on your ass or hips. They’d never heal before your boyfriend came back. Instead, while you left lined welts on his back, he’d have to work on molding your pussy to the shape of his cock and filling you to the brim with his release.

And you would happily take it all.

You sound like an angelic chorus with the pearly string of moans you gifted him, eyes rolled back as you clench around him. He can feel his cock nudging against that pretty spot inside of you, making him twitch as he draws the two of you closer to release. Your smooth skin quivers under his hands, your body jolting with each of his thrusts and your tiny clit throbbing each time his pelvis brushes against it.

Your tiny hole stretches so beautifully as he pulls in and out, stomach showing just how far he reaches inside of you. It takes less than a second for you to explode around his cock as his finger traces the outline of it, your legs locking on either side of his waist. Miguel can feel the vicious grip your cunt has on him as you try to milk out his release, his hips stuttering until his tip is right against your cervix.

A weak, fluttery moan tumbles from your lips as you get filled with his warmth. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and shoulder, breathing beginning to normalize as you come down. Your walls weakly pulse around his softening cock, and Miguel’s eyes stray to the red, blinking light in the corner of your room.

He’s definitely saving that recording.

You hate this place.

You never understood why Ellie was so obsessed with the abandoned mall. Everywhere you went, it felt like something was lurking in the dark corners of a trashed store. It made you overly paranoid, and your hand constantly twitched towards your weapon.

"Boo."

You whip around, hand coming up before being grasped firmly by a warm hand. You freeze up, an annoyed exhale parting from your lips as you come face to face with Ellie's freckled face.

"What the fuck, Ellie." You scoff, roughly tugging your hand away from her grip.

Ellie only chuckles, walking past you to scope out a store. "Not my fault you're so fidgety."

You roll your eyes, reluctantly following after her. Trash and random objects thrown to the floor during raiding and panicked evacuations crumble under your shoes. The sound echoes in the hollow area, and you wearily glance over your shoulder. Nothing looks amiss, but it never hurts to be careful.

"God, could you relax? The place is cleared out." Ellie calls back to you.

She's preoccupied with scanning what's left on the shelves. They're remnants of what was popular before the outbreak, all covered with dust and rotted. Sometimes, when you and Ellie were paired on outings together, the two of you would theorize what they were used for or why they were so popular. When clothes were in good enough condition, Ellie would sneak some back for you and have you model them for her. Now, you'd rather get infected before dressing up for her again.

"You never know." You defend, looking back one more time before venturing deeper into the store.

Most of the things here don't catch your interest, all too decayed to really decipher what they were. You walk out from a row of shelves at the same time as Ellie, and you swiftly look away when you make eye contact.

"What are we even doing here, anyways?" You sigh, just loud enough for Ellie to hear as you browse through another aisle. "This place has been raided too many times to have anything good."

"Do you always have to ruin the fun?" Ellie calls back, the sound of her picking up and placing something down reaching your ears.

You make a face at the rusty metal shelves, rolling your eyes as you silently mock her words. You almost bump into Ellie when you exit to the main walkway, and she quickly grabs your elbow to stop you from falling into the shelf. You grumble, shaking her off again as you walk over to a counter with an empty register. You hoist yourself up, wiping the dust sticking to your hands on your pants.

"I don't understand why you like this place so much," You remark, tilting your head at Ellie as she makes her way over to you.

You expect her to sit besides you if anything, but her hands find their way to either side of your body as she cages you in. The position is intimate, and it reminds you of all the other times your quests were delayed due to stolen moments reserved for just you two. Your eyes trail to her chapped lips, and you hold your breath for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

She has that annoying know-it-all look in her eyes, and you've always been stuck in a limbo of wanting to punch her in the face and kissing her every time she flashes you with it. As if sensing your thoughts, Ellie leans her face closer to yours. You can feel the suffocating warmth of her exhales ghost over your skin, and your lips part slightly as you continue to hold eye contact.

"Sentimental value." Ellie whispers in response to your question.

You can feel her hand creeping closer to your thigh, her pinkie brushing against the covered skin. You try to hide the way your breath hitches and your leg tenses, your thighs pressing closer together to escape her touch. You start to lean your head back, desperate for some personal space, but Ellie's other hand quickly grabs the back of your neck to keep you in place.

"Careful, you might fall back." Ellie jokes, pulling your head back towards her.

You can feel her lips brushing against your own with each of her words. The dry skin catches on your lips, and your eyes fall to them. Ellie seems to be doing the same, a small smile twitching at the side of her lips as your tongue brushes against her mouth as you go to lick your lips. Her thumb brushes over the pulse point in your neck, and you know she can feel the way it jumps.

"What's got you so nervous?" She teases, "Scared a monster will getcha?"

Before you can respond, Ellie silences you with a slow kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, exhaling through your nose as you slowly move your lips to match hers. You can practically feel the way her brows furrow, her tongue licking at the seams of your lips as her hand near your thigh slowly brushes up the side of it. She swallows the gasp you let out effortlessly as she squeezes the fat of it, grasp firm as she slowly pulls it away to part your legs. Despite the buzzing bliss swarming in your head, your hands land on her shoulders and you roughly pull her away.

"We can't-" You choke, locking your elbows when she tries to push against your hold. "There might be Infected-"

Ellie groans, pushing hard enough against your hands that they break away. She almost topples into you from the force she extorts, but she's quick to catch herself.

"I told you the coast was clear." She scoffs, roughly tugging you back into a kiss. It's messier than the earlier one, clearly fueled with annoyance. "You never fucking listen when I speak."

You moan against her lips, melting into her as she continues where she left off. Her fingers skim over the seam running down your crotch, and your body bucks into it. Ellie huffs against your lips, a proud smirk disrupting your kiss. Her fingers trail higher up until they reach the button of your jeans, fingers skilled as they flick it open and reach for your zipper. The sound of the zipper scraping against the teeth echoes in the small space between the two of you. Ellie groans when she feels you place all your weight against the counter, making it impossible to pull your pants down.

"It's gross here." You comment, breathing heavily. Your lips are puffy from her kissing, and saliva makes them shiny.

"So is everywhere else in the world." Ellie tsks, tugging at your pants. "Want me to take you against a wall instead?"

You huff, lifting your hips as Ellie begins to pull them down just far enough to get access to your underwear. Her fingers skim over the dampening fabric, eyes trained on it. You shiver when the cold air brushes against your skin, and you exhale slowly when Ellie's fingers ghost over your inner thigh. Your eyes fall to watch her, but you quickly scrunch up your nose.

"Ellie, you're hands are disgusting." You sneer, catching sight of the dirt clinging under her nails and crusting over her palms.

Ellie groans, slapping the hand from around your neck over her mouth. An annoyed tick scrunches the space between her brows and she glares at you. "Don't you ever shut up? If you care so much, you can lick them clean."

She rolls her eyes at the disgusted look that casts over your eyes, and she pinches your cheeks together and gives them a small wag. "Then be quiet."

Your breath hitches under her hand as her fingers slowly pull your underwear to the side. Your cunt is dripping and glossy despite all the lame excuses you've used to delay her. Ellie admires it for a second, watching the way you pulse from her attention before running a finger over your slick. She can feel the warmth of your gasp against the crevices of her palm, mimicking the warmth of your wet folds. Your hips buckle into her touch, and Ellie chuckles at your desperation. Her finger dips into your small hole, moaning at the way you instantly suck her in.

"God," Ellie mumbles, eyes trained on the arousal dribbling down her finger. "So needy."

You mumble something against her palm, closely resembling the tone of a rebuttal. Ellie quickly shuts it up by forcing another finger inside of you, your walls clenching quickly around the new thickness. Her fingers curl into you, pressing into the gummy walls of your cunt. They squelch from the wetness, the sound echoing in the quietness of the mall. Your moans escalate in volume despite being muffled, and Ellie groans as your walls flutter violently against her fingers.

"That's it, let it out." She coos, her fingers spearing into your soft spot until you spasm.

You fall slack against her, her hand falling away to cradle you as you mewl into her shoulder. Your body shakes against her, and Ellie pets your hair as you come down from your high. When your muscles finally feel solid again, you slowly push yourself off of her and take a deep breath. Your face scrunches as Ellie takes her wet fingers into her mouth, cleaning them off. You turn your head away, sliding off of the counter and pulling your pants back up.

"You're fucking disgusting."

You must be the worse cat owner in history.

You can’t even begin to describe the panic you felt when you found the day pass that was supposed to be dangling around your cat’s collar, ripped and laying next to a pile of broken shards on the ground. At a later time, you would need to pay Miguel back for all the broken things your naughty cat had knocked to the ground, but that was a distant note in your mind.

You looked everywhere, trying to follow the path of destruction and asking any spider you came across if they had seen your cat. Your hunt was going nowhere, and you can’t even begin to imagine the fear your cat must be going through in such an unfamiliar environment on top of randomly glitching in and out of reality. The very idea makes tears well up in your eyes, and you find yourself in front of Miguel’s large office. You trudge in slowly, defeat sagging on your shoulders as you prepare yourself to explain this dimensional emergency to your boss.

However, you’re caught by surprise when a familiar yowl echoes along the room. Your head snaps up, and a gasp rips through your throat as you take in the view in front of you. Your cat, who is very much not glitching out, stands on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders. Your cat meows at you again, seemingly telling you off for all the trouble it endured today. The weight of worry on your shoulders is instantly alleviated, and you sling yourself towards Miguel.

Miguel had turned to face you when your cat screeched loudly in his ear, alerting him that its owner had finally came to retrieve it. He isn’t the least surprised by who he sees. Miguel watches as that look of worry melts away on your face, and he clears his throat.

“Last time I checked, animals weren’t allowed in the building unless they were spider variants or service animals.” Miguel gently reprimanded, extending his arm out towards you so your cat can gracefully walk the clear path.

Your cat chirps at you, nipping your fingers in a last show of attitude before snuggling into your arms with a delighted purr. Your cheeks flush, hand coming up to stroke the new day pass that was secured around your cat’s back paw. It had tiny teeth marks on it, showing how your cat probably got out of the last one.

“I’m so sorry, Miguel!” You sighed, looking up at him as you scratched your cat’s warm belly to comfort yourself. “I just couldn’t find a sitter or something and I couldn’t leave my cat at home by itself, it’s too young.”

Miguel huffs, holding his hand out towards your cat who angles its head to rub against his large palm.

“It didn’t even have a day pass on, LYLA informed me of its presence.”

You wince, holding up the destroyed pass. “It broke off.”

Your boss takes the broken pass from you, examining it. “I’ll have LYLA issue you an animal friendly version of the pass.”

You blink up at him, surprised by his proposal. “But I thought normal pets weren’t allowed in HQ.”

Miguel glances over at you, already typing up the task for LYLA to complete. “Well, it’s only inevitable that your cat will be back until it’s old enough to be left alone in your dimension. You can keep it in here while you do your reports and missions so it doesn’t make a mess of my building.”

You thin your lips, the image of all the broken decorations and equipment filling your mind’s eye. “Sorry about that…”

Miguel sighs affectionately knowing he can never be fully mad at you or your feline companion.

“Just don’t sneak in anymore pets.”

He should have know you were up to something.

You only give him that fluttery, innocent smile when you have some sort of trick up your sleeve. But this time around, after being surrounded by screens for the past few hours, he let his guard down at the pretty smile you threw his way. Of course it was too good to be true.

“Miggy, hold out your hand.” You bounced, cheeky smile on your face.

Miguel sighed, eyes focusing on the screen in front of him again. “Why? I’m busy you know.”

You poured groaning at his workaholic nature. “It’s a surprise! It’ll only take a second. Please!”

Miguel’s lips thinned, and he shook his head to himself before impatiently offering you the palm of his hand. He can hear your giggles as he worked, trying to tune you out before he felt something fuzzy and wiggly in his hand. His brows furrowed and he spared a glance at his hand.

His body locked, meeting eyes with eight other ones. The spider in his hand lifted its front legs, curious about the large platform that was much more wider than its owners. The ends of its legs tapped against the indents of Miguel’s palm, finding steady places to step as it moved.

“What is that.” Miguel gritted out, voice strained as he tries to not move his body as much as possible.

You giggled again, holding out a bent finger and gently petting the fuzzy arachnid. In a soft voice you cooed, “Mini friend!”

Miguel could feel his eyes twitch, breath stilling when your “mini friend” began to gain the confidence to slowly travel up his arm.

“Get it off.”

Your brows furrowed and you huffed. “What? He’s harm-”

“Get. It. Off.” Miguel ground out, eyes never leaving the spider in hopes of scaring it into not crawling up his arm. The spider didn’t seem to care, furry feet brushing against his wrist. “I will throw it off my hand if you do not get it off.”

You gasped, quickly retrieving your innocent friend from the horrible monster that was Miguel O’Hara. You coo at the fuzzy creature, reassuring it that Miguel was the problem as you slowly put it back in its small exhibit. You began to walk off talking to the small creature about the next victim you would terrify. Miguel huffed, still feeling the fuzzy sensation on his hand.

He’s getting a no pets allowed sign for his office.

Miguel has always preferred to really prepare for his roles.

It's something you've admired about him since you've started working for him. No matter what the role is, he does his research. You've seen the man spend hours studying dinosaurs and going to museums because he once had a role where his character was an archaeologist. He is completely dedicated to his craft, and he always brings an authentic experience to the screen.

For his newest role, he's starring in a film about an inspirational story of a want-to-be Olympic swimmer who had their journey postponed due to an accident that had them unable to swim for a year. He had come to you, mentioning offhandedly that he'll have to hire a swim coach soon to learn professional swimming techniques to elevate his performance. You had nodded, until you remembered your years spent in college and university doing swim.

"I can teach you." You had said, shrugging and telling him of our experience when he had questioned it. Almost instantly, he had agreed.

So now, you stand in his outdoor pool, waiting for him to exit the house. You've already adapted to the temperature of the water, not that there was much to adapt to with the water heater he has. You sigh to yourself as the sun beads down on you, overly aware of how tight the swimsuit you have on clings to your body despite the water softening it. The one piece was sitting in the back of your closet, the same one you would wear to practices when you were still in university. With the new muscle mass, the material stretches and clings to every indent of your body.

Miguel comes out eventually, wearing swim trunks. You can't help but oogle at him, seeing the toned planes of his chest and stomach. If he catches you staring, he doesn't say anything. Maybe that's because he's too busy staring at you too. His eyes scan the navy blue material of your swimsuit, following it down to where it gets distorted by the water. He clears his throat awkwardly, apologizing for taking so long as he climbs into the water.

You start off simple, showing him the basic strokes. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you swim quickly to the other side of the pool, eyes trained on the fluid movements of your muscles as they slice through the water. He finds himself distracted each time he tells himself to pay attention, eyes wandering from their focus on the basic movement to your muscles. Your arms and legs are powerful as they carry you through the water, the muscles on your back flexing and rippling. He wouldn't be surprised if he was salivating.

When you look back to him from the other side of the pool, you yell at him to try out the movements himself. He blames the burning in his cheeks on the sun as he tries his best to mimic your fluid movements, mind trying to piece together what you were doing. It's clumsy, and he breaks form a handful of times as he tries to swim over to you. You take mental note of what needs to be fixed, encouraging yet strict as you explain his mistakes to him.

By the end of the session, Miguel's bones feel like jelly and he can feel an aching in his muscles from fighting against the water. His eyes stray to you as the two of you dry off with towels, and he curses under his breath as he watches water drip from your skin and sees the way your arms flex trying to reach the water sitting on your upper back.

He doesn't know how long he'll survive this.

You sob the second you look at yourself the next morning.

You don't know what you were expecting to see, but the sight of your shaved head would never be something you were prepared for. It's done horribly, splotchy due to your tear-blurred vision the night before. What used to be strands of your longer hair still lay in the sink and on the bathroom floor, and it makes you cry harder. You have to spend the next hour crying as you fix the mess on your head, cutting it even shorter to make it even. Even after that's done, you end up three hours late for work because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in a reflective surface you begin to cry. It doesn't help that you've missed a meeting, and you know Miguel will be pissed the second you walk into his office to apologize. You'll have to swing yourself into the nearest bathroom stall after you meet with him if you miraculously don't end up sobbing in front of him.

When you compose yourself to finally get to the Spider Society, you just begin to wish you stayed at home. It seems that everyone in the overpopulated halls stops what they're doing to look at you, throwing astonished faces your way as they turn to follow you. If you could, you would throw your mask over your head, but you found that the material is too baggy now that you don't have the hair to fill it. You promised yourself you would cry over that after you send in your suit altercation request and go to the supermarket to buy enough chocolate and ice cream to eat your weight and more.

You're slightly grateful when you enter Miguel's office, his back turned to you and now shielded away from the eyes of the other spiderman variants. You hope it stays this way, but life is never on your side. Miguel turns slightly, lingering to look at his screens before throwing a glance at you over his shoulder once he's heard you enter. He moves to turn around again, before stiffening when he registers what he just saw. You fidget as you imagine the look on his face, brows scrunched as he tries to decipher if what he saw was an illusion from the harsh glow of his screens. He turns around quickly, his staring blatant and insecurity-inducing. You want to yell and scream at him for making it so obvious, but you've cried all your energy out today.

"Are you trying something new with your hair?"

You consider Miguel lucky that everything in his office is too heavy to pick up. Otherwise, you would be throwing everything in your vicinity at his face. Instead, your bottom lip quivers and a pained noise fumbles from your mouth. If you weren't having your hundredth breakdown of the day, you would laugh at the wide eyed look Miguel gives you.

"I-I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just asking a question. I think it looks good!"

You cry harder at his words, shaking you head, "It's horrible!"

Miguel is at a loss of words, knowing that whether he agreed or disagreed with you, it would end in you crying even harder. He makes his way to you hesitantly, gently pulling you to his chest and his hand cradles the back of your head. The short hairs prickle against this skin, and he whispers reassuring words to you as you sob and sniffle into his chest.

"You're okay, it's all good now. Give it some time and it'll all grow back."

You stay glued to his chest until your sobs die down to weak sniffling. Miguel pulls away from you, giving you space as you wipe away the tears on your face with a shuddering breath. It takes a moment for your airways to clear up, breathing returning to normal and your inhales losing its noisy quality. Miguel seems to take pity on you today, allowing you to stay with him in his office as he works silently. You're grateful for it, not having to do anything or face the rest of the society any more than you have. Miguel doesn't even bring up the meeting you missed, but you're sure that once your psyche could handle it he'll tell you off. But for now, you get a short break from your rough life.

You'll have to find a way to thank him later.