#miguel O’Hara x afab!reader

[roguelov]

Birthmark

Summary: Miguel discovered something he never noticed before on you: a birthmark, one specifically on your lower back side. At a single glance, a primal feeling started to burn inside of him. And there was only one way to satiate him.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex, doggy style, fingering, pull out/cumming on backside, voyeurism, manhandling, possessiveness, minor blood), some fluff, established relationship

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY

The world drifted away, lost and nearly forgotten, as music poured out of your headphones. The soft luminance of the sun peered through the windows, wishing to greet everyone, to kiss their cheeks with its warm light on this early weekend morning. The simple apartment space was filled with an assortment of things - both the necessary to the unnecessary but well loved trinkets - to call it a shared home.

You weaved around the living room, delicately walking to not to disturb your sleeping partner in the bedroom a short distance away. It was one of those days, a day of waking up and wanting to clean the place. It wasn’t exactly dirty per se, but it was dusty and needed a little more care.

Off in the bedroom, behind the cracked door with the blinds still shut, a body laid sprawled out on the bed - the body of an overworked Miguel. The steady rise and fall of his chest stuttered. The even rhythm broke as consciousness slowly took hold. It wasn’t any noise that disturbed him. No. It was the lack of presence. It was the lack of your warmth, the lack of your arms wrapped around his waist, the lack of your soft breathing against his skin.

He craved it - needed it to always have a well rested night of sleep.

A low exhausted groan tumbled off his lips as he rolled over. He pushed himself up, and hunched forward on the edge of the bed. He sighed loudly. He rubbed the back of his neck at a small stiff ache. The world and all of its sensations slowly poured over him. The first to return was sound. His ears perked up. Out in the living room, you sang quietly under your breath.

A smile cracked onto his tired face.

Standing up, and stretching a bit, he shuffled out of the bedroom. He opened the door, and the world greeted him. Basking in the sunlight, you glowed this morning. He leaned into the doorway, watching you with a loving, tender gaze.

The living room was cluttered with cleaning supplies: a vacuum with its long cords snaking around, a duster tossed onto the table along with a rag and cleaning spray, and lastly an unlit candle for later to fill the air with such sweet aromas. Unaware of Miguel’s presence, you continued to sing softly and only a few words at a time. You moved around with a certain grace, you were guided by the music and bounced to the beat as you cleaned.

Miguel’s smile grew.

How did you become a part of his life? He almost didn’t deserve you, or so he believed. You were a beacon of light and life.

Of love.

He chuckled once, unable to contain his joy.

Still lost in your task, you bent forward, picking up a blanket randomly tossed onto the floor from the night before.

Instantly, Miguel’s laughter seized. Confusion, and something else, settled into his chest.

What -

You, however, stood upright again. His eyes narrowed trying to comprehend what he saw. He definitely saw something, he knew he did. But, what exactly was it? Well, technically he saw two things; two things which made his chest clench and his heart skip just a tad faster. Firstly, you weren’t wearing any underwear underneath your plain cotton shorts. But, there was something else. Something he never noticed before.

And he was intrigued and determined to know.

Walking up behind you, he placed a hand on your hip. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Dropping the blanket, you spun around only for your minor panic to dissipate. You laughed and smiled at him. Your headphone slid off your head and dangled around your neck.

“Well, good morning to you too,” you cheekily said.

“What was that?”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “What was what?”

Miguel’s lips thinned. He turned his head, almost grumbling. His skin started to flush, and he strangely felt embarrassed. A little odd given the few months you had now been living together. “I … I saw something … like - like …”

You raised an eyebrow. Twisting your around, you searched over your body and clothes. “What? Is there a stain somewhere? A hole? A tear?”

“No,” he groaned, rolling his eyes more so at himself. Why couldn’t he say it? “Something here.”

He tentatively reached over. With a single finger, he very gently grazed over one of your bottom cheeks. Your eyes instantly dropped down to his finger. You blinked, still baffled by his odd behavior. You didn’t see a stain, it was just your shorts. Then it clicked. Realization flooded over your features, smoothing out the confused crease between your brows.

You cocked your head, trying to bite back your growing amusement, “Are you talking about my birthmark?”

“Birthmark?” He repeated, confused.

“Yeah, my birthmark.” You chuckled. “I thought you had seen it before, or I at least told you about it.”

Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t recall, but this certainly all felt like news to him.

“I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

“Well, yeah it’s always been there.” You picked up the blanket again. You kept your back to him as you refolded it. “I swore I told you before, it’s why I can’t wear certain things out. If I wear cotton shorts and they ride up, you’ll probably see it. The same goes for certain swimsuit bottoms. And if I wear white bottoms then there is a chance you’ll see it through depending on the fabric.”

As you started to move around again, placing the blanket into a basket beside the couch, Miguel’s eyes dropped. It was as if he was trying to burn a hole through your shorts to see it again - to see it properly.

Something was stirring inside of him, something he didn’t quite fully understand yet. He stepped forward. He wanted to see it, he needed to see it. His hands grabbed your hips, stopping you in place.

You jokingly rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. He was certainly handsy this morning.

Was it handsy, or needy? Needy, yes. But, it wasn’t in the sweet innocent way you initially assumed. He wasn’t needy in the way he always wanted to close by, or comforted by having you in his grasp.

Oh no, you greatly miscalculated.

You snorted, “Can I help you -“

A gasp left your lips. Miguel had forcibly grabbed the bottom fabric of your shorts and yanked it up. His eyes immediately locked onto the birthmark - the very obvious birthmark that was nearly centered on your one cheek.

There it was. Plain as day.

You twisted your upper body, and quickly latched a hand around his wrist. Now, it was your turn to get flustered and embarrassed. “Okay, okay, you saw it, can you let go now?”

His eyes flickered up.

Oh. Oh no.

Your breath hitched, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

His usual crimson eyes - the color of crisp ripe apples in the height of a chilly autumn, or the color of a bright lush rose given in secret to a lover - was gone. His pupils were blown wide, the darkness overtaking the lovely shade of red. They were black like the shirt of a priest who you should be praying with; they were black like the night where no one can see what sins were unfolding.

His thumb pressed firmly into your ass, into your birthmark.

“Miguel,” you whispered softly as your heart ticked faster and faster.

He dropped his head, nuzzling his face into your neck. His lips slowly brushed over your neck. You shivered. Ever so slowly, your initial surprise melted away. You lolled your head to the side, granting him more access. He always had this effect on you. One look, one touch, and soon you were putty in his hands.

Oh, he was losing himself. He didn’t know why, but this discovery riled him up. Maybe because this was like a secret, a secret only he was privy to.

His lovely little secret.

He groaned softly. His heart beat faster as he fell into this near animalistic passion - a primal frenzy. His talons slowly came out. He couldn’t - and wouldn’t - hold himself back any longer. One of his talons scraped over the birthmark.

You gasped at the minor spark of pain.

He smirked, and began to teasingly kiss your neck. A pepper of butterfly kisses that quickly shifted to heated opened mouth attacks as he bit and sucked on your now sensitive skin. He cupped your ass, giving it a rough, hard squeeze.

“Mine,” he murmured lowly into your neck.

One word.

One simple word.

And hell - all those forbidden yet heavenly sins locked away - was unleashed.

It happened all so quickly. He yanked you towards his chest. Lips collided. Tongues swirled together, drawing out beautiful sounds from each of you. Hands roamed over every curve and muscle. You were desperate for each other. You both always stoked such burning desires, such all consuming fires.

The next thing you knew, your shorts were pulled down and kicked aside along with Miguel’s sweatpants. You were immediately bent over the couch as Miguel finally slipped his cock inside your dripping folds.

You tried to hold back the obnoxiously loud cry of pleasure. Your forehead buried into your folded arms, which was supported by the backside of the couch. Your nails dug crescent shapes along your biceps.

Miguel sighed, tipping his head forward. He was panting heavily, unable to control him. God, you always drove him into such a state. He couldn’t think, he could only drown himself in the overwhelming and wondrous sensation of you. His hands happily - and downright couldn’t resist - kneaded and played with your ass. He squeezed harshly, and watched as your pliable fat pooled between his needy fingers.

Good lord.

He soon swore a string of curses under his breath in Spanish. He wanted to roll his eyes back. He wanted to completely lose himself. But, he also wanted to watch. So, he did. He watched hungrily as he pounded into you. Most importantly, he watched his thumb continue to dig fiercely into your birthmark.

A moan hummed in the back of your throat.

His eyes sparkled with such sinful delight. It was like a secret button. His secret button. His talon teasingly traced the shape of it. Then his thumb pushed further into your birthmark, enjoying the sounds you were making. He shuddered. Fueled by your responsiveness, he felt his fangs elongate as he moaned. Oh, he wanted to bite it, he wanted to mark it. Dare he say, he wanted to carve his initial into it.

His.

All his.

He gripped your hips harshly, digging his talons into your skin. Small pricks of blood swelled up under his deathly grip. Bruises and sores would most definitely appear later. He picked up his pace. It was sloppy and ruthless. The sounds were so loud, and so delightful: his hips slapping into your ass, his thick cock pummeling into you, his low groans mixing with your more high pitched ones.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, letting out a muffled whine. You buried your face into your arms, trying to silence how loud you were becoming. Desperate and needy, you soon grinded back into him, meeting his pace.

Miguel hissed, “Ah, cariño, nuevamente. Again, do that again.”

You obeyed without hesitation. You pushed back into him, moaning as his cock stretched you further. Your walls greedily clamped around him, sending him into a frenzy.

He moaned, and nearly slumped forward. He paced one hand on the backside of the couch, keeping himself upright. While, his other hand wrapped firmly around your hips. His hot breath fanned over your sweaty neck. Growling, he was furiously humping into you.

Your eyes rolled back. Fuck. You loved when he was like this, when he used you. You loved when he let himself go. And the best and worst thing was you wouldn’t last much longer. He was deliciously relentless.

You moaned, “Miguel -“

“I know,” he gritted his teeth. His voice rumbled near your ear. You shivered. Your walls fluttered around him. You were quickly nearing your end. And he knew it. “Let go, please. Oh, please, let me feel it.”

He uprighted himself, and gripped your hips again. You tried to match his pace, you tried to keep up, but you couldn’t. He mercilessly pounded into you. He moved your hips for you, he knew what you wanted and needed.

And that was it.

In a few more thrust, you cried out, gushing around him. Miguel swiftly pulled out. You whined. Yet, two of his fingers quickly plunged back inside. Your disappointment melted away as you moaned out again. Your mind went fuzzy in absolute pleasure. He kept pumping into you, overworking you. You squirmed as your legs began to shake.

“Miguel,” you mumbled, almost like a sob.

“Shhh, I know, I got you.”

With his other hand, he started to pump himself. Feeling you around his fingers, hearing your whines and delightful wet noises of his fingers slipping in and out of you, seeing your body shake with overstimulation, he spilled all over your backside.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you weakly hissed out.

He laughed once, a short breathy laugh. He pulled out his fingers. He paused for a moment, admiring your juices covering his fingers: the way it dripped down, the way it glistened in the light, and oh the way could feel his mouth water at the thought of tasting it.

And he had a little idea. An idea which had been stirring since the beginning.

He wiped his fingers clean over your ass, directly over your birthmark.

You groaned softly, still slumped forward over the couch. You focused more on trying to catch your fleeting breath. Your body still buzzed from the wondrous aftermath. Sighing deeply, you closed your eyes, thinking it was finally over.

Until something swiped across your ass. Specifically, Miguel’s tongue. Miguel licked up once, and cleaned up yours and his cum over your birthmark. He moaned at the taste. And, for an extra measure he teasingly, and gentle as he fangs would let him, nipped the birthmark.

Your body jolted at the sensation. A loud, almost pornographic, moan fell over your lips. “Jesus Christ,” you hissed.

He chuckled.

Miguel carefully stood you up, and turned you around. With still shaky legs, you completely fell into his chest exhausted. He wrapped an arm around your waist to support you. His smile softened, seeing the state he had brought you to. With his free hand, he gently cupped your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You hummed softly, and gave him a tired lopsided smile.

“Let’s clean you up,” Miguel whispered. His finger traced down your cheek, and along your jaw. He tipped your chin up. His lips brushed over yours again. His sweetness then vanished. A devious smirk crossed on his lips. His hand fell from your waist, and squeezed your ass again. “I’m still not done with you yet.”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Soothe & Sleep

summary: miguel always comes home to soothe your aches.

pairing: afab!reader x miguel o’hara

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, soft!miguel, kissing, biting, cockwarming, unprotected sex

wc: 1.3k

an: this was literally just an excuse to write cockwarming with miguel. not beta’d and barely proofread as i JUST wrote this like an hour ago lmao. might be ooc as ive only seen the movie once. in honor of Father’s Day for our favorite dilf 🥰

misc. masterlist | requests are open

You’re always needy when Miguel walks through the door. Sometimes there are days and days of missing him, short bits of contact here and there as he traipses through the multiverse, but none of that compares to having him standing and breathing right in front of you.

You know that he’s exhausted by the time he makes it home— and you’ve tried to quell your neediness, to show him you’re happy he’s home without latching yourself to him the moment he comes through the door. There’s something about him, about the love that you two share that makes moments away from him feel like an eternity, even if he’s gone just for a few hours. But, he never fails to come home to you and make you feel like he never left.

When he makes it home this time, you’re sprawled out on the couch, eyes fixed on a herd of meerkats that are trying to make it to a watering hole. The sound of a key in the door makes a smile spread across your face, but you keep your eyes on the screen, invested.

“They survived the jackals?” He calls from the door over the sound of him shedding his suit.

You pause the show, turning around to perch your head on the back of the couch. It gives you the perfect view of him sliding into a pair of boxers that he keeps in the foyer closet. “They survived the jackals two weeks ago.”

He sighs, closing the space between you so that he can cup your face in his large hands, “I’m missing too much, it sounds like you need to stop watching this without me.”

“Or, you could just stop going away,” You tease, raising up on your knees to press your mouth to his.

“If I could stay home with you, I would, amor,” He says longingly between kisses. He deepens the kiss, keeping you from responding to his rebuttal. The last thing he wants it’s to send you into one of your spirals, not when all he wants to do is show you how much he missed you.

Miguel’s hands trail down your body, slowly and softly. His fingers brush against your collar bones, the swell of your breast before taking their place at your hips and lifting you off the couch. You groan into his mouth— the way that he man handles you never fails to have arousal stretching through your entire body. Your hands raise to his hair, tilting his head back so that you can lick more deeply into his mouth, tracing over the points of his fangs.

He gets your legs wrapped around his waist, and walks around to the front of the couch, sitting you both down. Perched in his lap like this, he can grind you down against his clothed cock, which has been growing harder and harder since you kissed him.

You’re content to stay like this until the two of you lull into sleep. Sometimes he’s too tired to go any further than this, but that’s just fine. As long as you get to feel him, to taste him, to be completely surrounded by him after being apart for the last week. The way you miss each other shows— the kisses and grinding and groping grows frantic and rushed. Your skin is unbearably hot, seemingly only cooled by his hands or mouth. Only Miguel can soothe your aches, whether they sit in between your legs or in your heart.

“Need to be inside you,” He mumbles against your skin, biting down gently as his hands easily tear through your shorts and underwear with no warning.

“Miguel,” You breathe in surprise, pulling back an inch to look into his eyes.

“Let’s get you wet enough for me, cariño,” He takes two fingers and rubs them against your clit at a steady pace, licking and sucking at the bite mark left behind by his teeth.

In less than a minute you completely coat his fingers in slick, whimpers and moans spilling out of you at an increasing rate. He presses his fingers into your mouth and you lap at them eagerly as he removes his boxers and lifts you, lining himself up with you.

“I missed you, so fuckin’ much,” He sighs, head tilting back as you take every single inch of him. You’re hot and wet, gripping him so tight that it takes effort to breathe. His chest heaves, head swimming with everything you.

“Missed you,” You whine softly, tucking your face into his neck. He’s deep, it’s almost as if you can feel him in your lungs, taking up all the space inside of you— something you’d happily let him do.

“I know you did, needy baby,” He teases breathily, pressing several kisses to the side of your head as he rotates his hips.

The slow grind makes your breath catch, and you grow needy for more, wanting to build the pleasure that’s festering inside of you. You try to move your hips, to ride him properly but his hold on you tightens, tongue clicking in admonishment.

His lips fall to your ear, his voice firm and commanding, “I want you just like this. Can you feel how deep I am?”

“Mhmm,” You agree easily, though it takes much more effort than you let on to still your hips again.

“I want you to sit still, need to see if I can make you cum just from sitting with my cock inside you. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” He knows that there’s no need for him to ask, but he wants to hear you say it.

“So good, I’ll be so good for you, I promise,” You answer immediately.

Miguel makes a soft approving sound in the back of his throat before using a hand to grasp the nape of your neck, pulling you back so that he can see your face. He grins down at you, noticing the cock drunk look in your eyes. He loves you in all states, even when you’re cranky or fed up with him for the day, but this is one of his favorites.

His fingers return to your clit and his hips move side to side in the softest, steadiest rhythm you’ve ever felt. It almost drives you mad, the teasing feeling of him inside of you with such tame relief. But then you feel something building inside of you, the pleasure sneaking up on you so quickly that you hardly have to prepare for what is unknowingly your first orgasm of the night.

“There you go, look at you. Cumming for me just from sitting here. You’re so easy for me, aren’t you?” He asks, in a soft condescending tone.

All you can do is whimper, and he kisses you as deep as he is inside of you. If this were anyone else you’d have the mind to protest, but when it’s Miguel talking to you like this you know that there’s nothing but love and adoration— wonder even in the way you submit to him.

Over and over, Miguel makes you cum on his cock until he can no longer take it, groaning loudly as he spills inside of you. You pleasantly shiver at the hot feeling of him filling you up, pressing your face further into the crook of his neck as you yawn. You’ve grown sleepy from the late hour and the draining feeling of your repeated releases, unsure of how much time has passed.

He kisses your temple and adjusts so that you both lay on the couch, though he doesn’t withdraw, pressing his hand on your back to pivot your hips and keep himself deep inside of you.

“Sleep, baby, I’ve got you,” He croons into your ear.

Falling asleep with him like this feels like a waking dream and you slip peacefully into sleep, breathing in his scent. You hope that your dreams will be of him, and just as sweet as this.

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in miguel stuff!

tagging some folks who might be interested (let me know if you want me to not!): @campingwiththecharmings, @stargazingcarol, @soft-persephone, @k-ra

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Wash Day 🫧🚿

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel offers to wash your hair because wash days can be a lot, mischief ensues.

content warning: 18+ MDNI, lots of fluff and banter, talks of marriage/proposal, lovey dovey!miguel, head scratching + massaging, p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾, healthcare is expensive and so are babies), just the tip at one point, cussing, subby + service-like miguel (he does start to enter a daze that is similar to a sub drop, but it's not really that and the reader checks up on him immediately), needy!miguel, creative use of miguel's talons, kissing, hickys, a little hair pulling, manhandling, cunnilingus, fellatio, squirting, slight edging, praise kink, breeding kink towards the end, mentions of cum, overstimulation, a little aftercare, reader is a bit of a tease, miguel is a bit of a brat, more references to cats than I thought, no use of y/n

credit for the art/dividers: Me! (+ illustrator and canva)

a/n: This is my first fic that I am posting on here! 🤠 This one has been in the works for a while, but I am happy with the result. This story is written with a black reader in mind, but it's very inclusive minus the hair situation, so anyone can enjoy the story. There is one unrealistic part that NONE of my natural brethren would ever allow, I beg you to just go with it. 😭 I also used a little Spanish in here, to my Spanish-speakers, if anything is wrong, just let me know and I 'll change it right away!

I also imagined the shower to be one of those fancy walk-ins like this or this but big enough for two, because in my mind, Miguel is stacked in the money department as well.

word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

To all my sub Mig lovers and fiends! Love ya! 🩵🪮

It was finally time for the day you’ve been putting off for about a week now, the taxing Wash Day.

Normally, you would drag this day out because you knew that once you started, you had to keep going until your hair was done and either ready for the bonnet or the hood dryer. Although today, you were lucky because you had a braid appointment the following morning, so that meant just a simple wash and a blow-dry. You were even luckier because your boyfriend, Miguel, was more than happy to wash your hair for you.

“I know how tired you get afterwards and I just want to help make the process easier,” is what you remember him telling you last night in your sleepy, whiny state.

Now, here you are the next day watching his eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips pouted in a crooked M as you guide him to the old faithful: the kitchen sink.

“Why are you giving me that face? You said you were gonna help,” you chuckle at his expression, watching as his eyes turn to your hair supplies littered across the counter.

“No, no! I still want to help. It’s just that,” he picks up your wide-tooth comb, running his fingers over the teeth, “I thought we were going to be in the shower.”

You look at him, a little dumbfounded at the statement. You didn’t mind washing your hair in the shower, you did it all the time, but what was the point of getting you both wet?

“I just thought it would be easier for you this way,” you reply, pulling the faucet from the sink and waving it around in an attempt to hype up the situation. “I’ll bend my head in the sink, and you’ll wash it that way. Or! You can hike me up on the counter and I can lay down with my head over the sink. That one’s a little less comfortable for me, but it gives you more than enough room to maneuver.”

“Hm,” he grunts, eyes going from you to the counter, then right back to you. “That’s fine and all, but what if my back starts to hurt from bending for too long.”

You just stare at him, unamused. If anyone would be in pain, it would be you.

“In the shower, we can stand together and I can see exactly what’s going on. Plus, you can wash my hair too,” he continues, pulling you flush against his chest, comb forgotten. He starts to rub your hips in a slow motion. “Let’s make it a date.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re not that old to where your back can just give out like that,” you quip, leaning back from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Secondly, you expect me to believe that the Spiderman is unable to wash someone’s hair in this sink.”

“At 6’9? Absolutely.”

“Touché.”

Truthfully, Miguel was a bit turned on after spending the last 20 minutes watching you completely melt under his hands from scratching your scalp.

It was such a simple task but all of your sighs and whispers of “right there” and “harder” had him internally groaning.

When it was finished, you were up off the floor easily and blissfully unaware, while he was left with a few of your shedded curls covering his clothes and pre-cum threatening to seep into his underwear.

So yes, while technically the shower was the best option for him, he really wanted to ignite that same reaction from you again. It was addicting.

You reach up on your tippy toes and squish his face to give a quick peck to his lips. “Fine, fine! Quit your puppy dog eyes, we can go to the shower. Just let me pee first.”

Step 1 of Miguel’s master plan was already successfully underway.

He started to pick up your supplies, reading the ingredients out of curiosity. Today you were trying a new line of products that was making huge waves online. He remembers seeing how excited you were when the package came in. You had barrelled into the bedroom in a squealing frenzy, and had it not been for his spider senses listening out for you, he would have jumped from the way you threw the door open.

Even though it was another line of products that would fill up the bathroom cabinets, your giddiness rubbed off on him, so he was ready to see results.

“Baby, come on! I’m ready!”

Miguel quickly huddled up everything from the counter and made his way to the bathroom.

He walked in to see you standing next to the sink, birthday suit on and your hands reaching up to push your hair from your forehead.

Heaven-sent were the first words that came to mind. Here you were, standing in the steam of the bathroom just for his eyes. He couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.

You turned to look back at him, mirth in your eyes, “Mig, come on, the water’s running.”

He didn’t even comprehend the sound of the water hitting the tiles, he was so zoned in on you.

“I’m coming, I was just…admiring you,” he replies, moving to prepare for the shower.

“There’s no way you’re eyeing me up right now. I look a little crazy,” you say, turning back towards the mirror.

“Querida, you could be rocking a spiked mohawk right now, and I would still have the same reaction. You’re beautiful no matter how your hair looks.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering at his words. If you didn’t have to get ready for your hair appointment tomorrow, you’d stop everything then and there to love on your boyfriend.

For now, you settled on helping him out of his clothes, a smile growing on your face. You pulled his shirt up as far as you could reach, then let your hands roam over his chest, watching the goosebumps that followed behind. You kept your fingers walking down to the waistband of his pants, lightly scratching at his happy trail.

His stomach twitched in response to your touch, hands itching to pull you closer.

You placed your hands at his sides, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, slowly tugging at the bands. You stepped forward to get a better leverage, breasts pressing against his torso.

His breaths were coming out in short beats, not wanting to disrupt the spell that you put him under. He looked down at the closing space between you all’s bodies because if he looked up at your eyes, he’d stop everything and take you right there against the counter.

But the shower. He was supposed to make it to the shower. Which was in an area by itself. In the next room. With your hands roaming everywhere, he wasn’t even sure if he could even make it past the toilet.

His eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands back up his thighs, a deep breath building in his lungs. Like this, he was really able to tune in on both the heat of your body against his and the lingering touch of your hands. Hyper-focused on you and you alone.

Then he heard a loud slap.

His eyes bucked back open, body rigid as the sting came back in waves on the side of his ass.

“Come on, we’ve got heads to scrub!” you said, voice as clear as ever.

He watched you twirl towards the shower, his mind muddled from your switch to playfulness. Had he read that all wrong?

He looked down and sighed at the sight of his dick, half-hard at what could have been.

All he could do was stagger out of the clothes that pooled at his ankles, grab the hair products, and waddle to the shower.

You were already halfway under the spray of the shower head, head leaning back, waiting for the water to completely soak through the layers of your hair.

Miguel came up next to you and detached the shower head, bringing it closer to your scalp, careful not to get water in your ears.

“So first, we have to use the scalp scrub shampoo,” you say, grabbing one of the taller bottles and unscrewing it. “Just take this in your hands first, lather it, and work it into my scalp.”

You pull his left hand forward and squeeze some of the liquid in his palm.

“Is this enough?” he asked, noticing the little amount you put in his hand.

“Yep! A little can go a long way, baby,” you say, turning around to him, trying to determine how you would reach the top of his head.

Oh, how Miguel was so well acquainted with that phrase. Especially after this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing with him all day.

You faced him as he placed his fingers on your scalp, beginning to move in circles, spreading the shampoo in several sections.

“You can add a little pressure. I can take it,” you mumble out, almost low enough for Miguel to miss it.

So he does. He starts to scratch at your scalp, remembering that this is an important step. For your hair of course, not his plan.

“Ugh, that feels so nice,” you sigh, trying not to sway under him. “I should have had you do this sooner.”

Miguel thought so too. Here you are, head leaned back, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. He kept scratching at your scalp, your head nodding along with the motions.

“Can you scratch over here, please?” you ask, pointing at the right side of your head, eyes squeezed tight to not let any soap fall in them. Even after all of your teasing, you were still so cute in this moment. When Miguel complied, you showed your gratitude by groaning out a quick thank you. With a long sigh, you placed your hands in front of his chest, fingers balled up in loose fists.

“Does it feel good?” Miguel knew the answer, but he had to play along. “You want me to move anywhere else?”

“Yeah, could you just-” you leaned your head over, mindlessly guiding Miguel’s hands. “Right there, baby.”

You brought your hands up to grip at his wrists, needing something to hold onto. Miguel felt insane.

To curb the feeling, he quickly leaned down and kissed your forehead. His head was overloaded with the sound of your voice and he had to keep himself composed.

You looked up at him, eyes big and wide at his affection. He kept making you feel warm doing such mundane things. You purse your lips, silently begging for more.

Miguel brought his soapy hands to the water to quickly rinse them off, then placed them on your cheeks and leaned down again to kiss your lips.

One. Two. Three pecks and you were giggling.

Four. Five. Six pecks and you were on your tiptoes, arms crossed behind his neck.

Seven. Eight. Nine pecks and you were turning your head, opening your mouth for more.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve kisses and you were in his arms, feet off the ground, biting at his bottom lip.

By the thirteenth kiss, you were pulling your head back, staring into his eyes, grabbing at his nape.

“We still have to wash the shampoo out,” you say, watching as his eyes linger on your lips.

“We can do that,” he mumbles, still holding you close.

“Are you gonna put me down?” you ask, tone a little cheeky.

He snaps his eyes up at yours, eyebrow raised. “Are you gonna finish what you started?” He started to move one of his palms down your back, taking a thigh to pull around his waist, and placing his mouth on your jaw.

“Nuh uh, O’Hara,” you chide, pushing against his chest and wiggling to get him to remove his embrace. The water smacks against the tiles as you jump down, one calf still in Miguel’s hand.

“O’Hara?” Miguel scoffed, playfully pulling at you again and tickling your side. “I’m not sure who that is, but maybe you forgot how to say baby, mi vida.”

You laughed at him, finally calling out his bluff, “No, because my baby said he would help me wash my hair, and right now he’s being bad and trying to distract me. So, until you finish, it’s O’Hara.” You folded your arms and tilted your head to the side, daring Miguel to counter your words.

He dropped your leg and muttered out a gruff “fine” with his lips downturned. Two could play at this game and if he wanted to distract you, he just had to turn up the heat.

He grabbed for the shower head and started to rinse the thick shampoo from your hair, carefully weaving through the locks.

“When do we detangle it?”

You started to smile again, happy at his verb usage. He really does listen to you when you talk about your hair.

“When we put on the conditioner, but you can start a little now while the water’s running on it. Need the brush?”

“No, I’ll just use my fingers for a little bit.”

You turned your face back to him, shocked that he remembered another technique.

“You’re gonna finger detangle, ba- I mean, O’Hara?”

“Yes I am, corazón. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a great boyfriend that knows what his girl needs.”

You squint your eyes, wary at his words. “Uh huh, I bet you do. If you know so much, what’s next?”

“We shampoo again. Rinse. Then it’s conditioner and detangling, just like you said.”

You hummed, internally ecstatic that he actually did know the answer. “Another point for you,” you say, turning back around as Miguel places the shower head back on the hook.

Miguel smirked. He listened to you, he really did, but he also made sure to watch over 20 videos about washing coily hair while you were sleeping. You didn’t have to know that though.

His high was short-lived when you bent over to grab the next shampoo. He grabbed at your hips, watching as the swell of your ass aligned against his front. He pushed his head back and breathed in deep. How unfair.

You leaned back up slowly, turning the bottle around trying to fish for any specific directions.

“This one is a hydrating shampoo. It says you can just put it on my hair and just work it through.”

Miguel repeated the same shampooing process, although this time with less scalp scratching and more scalp massaging. You were once again in bliss at his ministrations, like a cat who couldn’t stop purring.

“O’Hara, you really have a way with your hands. Super relaxing,” you say with snickers underlining your voice.

Miguel just reached for the shower head, ready to rinse for the second time. “This guy sounds like a real catch. Too bad he isn’t here.”

You just laugh at how sulky he sounded, ready to grab the conditioner.

“Well, is there a Mr. O’Hara here? I kind of need him for this last step.”

Miguel stopped in his tracks.

You really didn’t understand how much he wanted to make you his wife. In fact, he started planning the proposal to a T after a year of you all being together. He started to dream about a future with you after the first couple of dates, despite how often he had to tell himself to slow down. It was terrifying yet thrilling how much you left an impression on his life.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara.

Mr. O’Hara.

Mrs. O’Hara.

Miguel bent his head in your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, face burning from his running thoughts.

“Y-you can’t use that against me. You know how I get,” he said petulantly, voice softened in the juncture of your neck, drowned out by the pouring water.

“And how do you get, baby?” you ask, reaching over to run your fingers through his damp hair. You tugged lightly at the root causing Miguel to hug you tighter and groan against your neck.

As hot as the water was, the heat of your body against his left him burning. The angle was weird so he couldn’t exactly rub up against you, but he could kiss along the surface of your shoulders.

He started to slowly press kisses down your neck, moaning as you tilted your head to give him more space. He stopped to linger at the top of your shoulder, taking in a small amount of skin. After he was happy at the mark he left, he opened his mouth a little wider, canines grazing against your skin.

You reach to pull his head back up, resting his jaw on your shoulder.

“Focus, Mr. O’Hara, it’s only one more step.” You say these words lowly right next to his ear, pressing your lips on his tragus then pushing his head up to kiss against his jaw.

When Miguel stood up fully, you could see the dazed look in his eyes. Staring closer, you noticed they were a little dewey.

You had to bring him back down to Earth. You couldn’t have him lost in this steam.

“Hey, baby look at me,” you even your tone and angle his face towards yours. “Are you alright? Do we need to sit down?”

You wait for his eyes to find yours, searching for discomfort.

“No, I'm fine. I’m ok, sorry,” he says, leaning into one of your hands, wrapping his hand around it for extra support.

“Positive? I know the water is really hot so if you need to step out and cool down, then that’s fine. I’ll help you settle down then come back and finish up by myself,” you say, adamant in your words.

“No! No, no. I’m really ok. I’m so cool and calm right now that it’s crazy,” he replies, frantic at the thought of leaving you in the shower. “Hand me the conditioner.”

You look at him again, tickled at the change in condition. All you could do was sigh, twist the cap off of the conditioner, and pull the inner lid off.

He dabbed two fingers on top of the cream, scooping a small amount off of the top. “A little goes a long way, right?”

“A little does go a long way.”

“Can you turn around, please?”

You comply, placing the conditioner in a corner.

“If you need it to lather a bit more, just add a little water,” you remind him.

He began to work the conditioner through, going from the root to the ends. The results were quick and he could see your curls begin to sprout. He started to thoroughly pull his fingers through, working out any leftover tangles. He got to a bigger knot and held the section of hair in one hand, and carefully combed through the knot with the other.

You were feeling peaceful until it dawned on you: you never gave him a comb or a brush to work with.

“Hold on, baby what are you using to take the knots out with? Do you have a comb?”

Miguel placed one of his hands in your face and pushed his talons out, like a cat showing its claws off when you press the center of its paw.

You panic, remembering that they can tear through people and metal, “Um. I don’t think using these bad boys on my hair is the right way to go.”

“Tranquila, mi amor, I got it. I’m using the dull side, see?”

He put a tuft of hair in front of your eyes and showed the process of him detangling while talon-less, then working out the final tough knot with the side of the talon, turning his hand sideways to avoid cutting your curls.

As a result, the section was completely detangled, allowing him to run his fingers straight through the thick strands, and the curls springing back up once he was finished. Plus, from what you could tell, there was no breakage.

Color you impressed because Miguel was pulling out all of the stops today.

“Alright, just. Be careful.”

“Always.”

“If you jack up my hair, Lyla will have to place Jess in charge permanently.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stand, arms placed under your chest, waiting for Miguel to finish. Subconsciously listening to the pattern of his breaths and the sound of his talon going through your hair.

“Ok, that’s it. Do you want to wash my hair while this sits?”

Such a smart boyfriend.

“Yeah just let me go ahead and finish this shower while you get your hair wet.”

Miguel stepped back to get under the overhead shower head, letting the water fall on him like rain, watching you as you began to lather body wash on your net sponge.

You were scrubbing away at your skin getting into every crevice, peach fragrance filling the air.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, but look where that’s gotten him so far. Almost kicked out of the bathroom.

You were just as stubborn as he was, no, resolute.

He admired it, especially when you gracefully brought him down from clouds that were his own fantasies.

Focusing back on you, he stared openly as you folded your body in half to reach your ankles causing everything to be on display.

A normal person would put their foot on the ledge to reach below. You were definitely fucking with him.

He watched as you pulled the net sponge across your body, leaning up as the languid movements of your hands pulled the net side to side.

He was glad that the water drowned out his harsh breathing.

You finished off your shower, working the detached shower head over the soap, clearing up your skin.

You brought the shower head lower, making sure that there was no bubble left behind.

When you held your ass to help the water pass all the way down the back of your body, Miguel jumped to hold the base of his cock, softly groaning at the picture you were painting.

He lifted his face up and pushed his hair back, in hopes that the stream could help him clear his mind. But, the water was hot, all it did was make him lightheaded at the thought of you.

“Miguel? Come over here so I can wash you too.”

Miguel tottered over, looking down at your body, shining after all your thorough work. You were placing soap on a pair of exfoliating gloves you had bought for him, lathering them together once you were satisfied with the amount of soap.

You got to work on his body, starting at the shoulders and moving in circular motions.

Miguel stared in silence, hoping you would put an end to this charade. But you continue to be meticulous, covering every inch of his upper body. Lifting his arms when you wanted to. Moving him around when you wanted to.

In this moment, he felt like a ragdoll, letting you do whatever you pleased.

You squatted down to do his lower body, eyes laser focused, not missing a spot.

All Miguel could focus on was your face so close to his dick that was twitching in anticipation. You just ignored it and continued to rub the rest of him down. Miguel wanted to cry.

You were touching everywhere, slowing down on his inner thighs and ass causing his knees to shake.

You held him steady by gripping the back of his thighs and finally looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.

Your eyes traced him all the way down to the gift that was in front of you. You parted your lips and let your tongue brush against the tip, watching as spurts of pre-cum escaped. You couldn’t have that. You leaned forward a little more, taking the head in completely, and allowed yourself a few more licks and a suck before you let go with a pop, watching the thin trail of spit grow as you leaned back.

Miguel whined in frustration, a cloud of desire fading so quickly.

“Amor, why did you-”

You quickly jumped up and rested against him, arms wrapped around his waist and hands lightly groping his butt.

“I didn’t even wash your hair yet, silly,” you quip, chin nuzzling against his sternum. “Now, go rinse off and sit on the bench so I can reach your hair.”

Forget wanting to cry, Miguel might actually do it.

He was so, so hard.

After the soap was gone he trudged to the bench, glancing over at you washing the conditioner out of your hair.

“I could have washed it out for you,” he protests, half bothered by his situation and half annoyed that he let it blindside him from the main point of this shower.

“It’s ok, baby. You really helped me out a lot today and I’m thankful. I’m also making sure you don’t drop to the floor right now, so hold on for me,” you reply earnestly, chuckling at the look of frustration slapped across Miguel’s face.

You bring over the hydrating scrub, some conditioner, and the shower head, and stand in between his legs, ready to start.

Miguel looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, undeniably in love and unbelievably aroused.

You started to unscrew the scrub, making sure to part his hair down the middle.

“You’re using your products on me?” he asked, confused at your actions.

“Just the shampoo. I don’t think this conditioner will do you any good, but for the most part, the line is pretty inclusive. Ain’t that neat?”

“Mm-hm,” he responded, cheeks squished against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs.

“Look forward, for me, baby,” you say, starting to spread the shampoo on his scalp.

He just hummed and groaned in the safety of your torso, while you scratched at his scalp and pulled the shampoo to his ends. He started to kiss and nibble at any skin he could get his mouth on. His grip was getting tighter and he felt a stutter in your breaths.

“Lean back so I can rinse this out.”

He placed his chin on your stomach again, eyes full of hearts.

“I’m almost finished, I just need to put your conditioner on.”

Miguel hummed once more as you placed the conditioner at his ends first, then scrunched his hair up, careful not to mess with his scalp. Mindful of his wavy, curly hair texture like he was for yours.

His wine eyes kept staring at you, as if you were the 8th wonder of the world. You felt heat in your face, an accumulation of the almost boiling water and Miguel’s full attention.

He was simply grinning, face wet and tinted from the water.

“You’re so cute,” you say, rinsing out the last of the product.

“Only with you,” he replies, still trying to make you look into his eyes. “Can you come closer?”

You set the shower head down and run your hands through his strands, “I feel like I’m already as close as it gets.”

“Not really,” he said, swiftly sitting you on his lap like you weighed nothing. “You could always be closer to me, cariño. I can think of many ways to make that happen.”

You finally allow yourself to indulge in his shenanigans. Leaning your forehead on his, you open your mouth to say, “Is that why you were so adamant about getting in the shower? To get as close to me as possible?”

He looked from your eyes to your mouth, “No?”

You bring your hands from his hair to his neck, “You know you can’t lie. In fact, you’re like, really bad at it.”

“Fine. It was partially because of that. How did you know?”

“Like I said, you can’t lie and neither can your face. You’ve been pouting ever since I let you scratch my head and especially when I wanted to wash my hair in the sink.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Kind of,” you say, a laugh twinkling off your lips. “I can always tell when you want me.”

“Yeah? And what am I telling you right now?” He starts to move your hips, placing his erection right under you, grinding your lips against him.

You close your eyes, a flame beginning to blossom within you, “I guess that you need, fuck, you need me.” Your clit was throbbing against his length as he dragged your body back and forth.

“I do, bebé, I do,” Miguel was moaning loudly, melting at the feeling of your pussy finally warming him up. He moved his lips to yours, desperately trying to have more of you, gripping your hips even harder.

“Baby, s-slow down,” you say in the midst of his kisses, trying to put your feet on the bench next to him to gain some sort of stability. You knew he was pent up, but he was moving so frantically, you were scared he might slip off.

“Te necesito. Please, just-” Miguel cut himself off with a groan in your neck, grinding your slit along himself faster. He started to kiss down your chest, finally getting to your breasts, and gliding his tongue along the wet skin. He took a nipple into his mouth, allowing himself to suck.

The flame from before was starting to grow, “Miggy if you keep going, I’m gonna cum.” He was just starting and you already felt everything coming to an end.

How were you so close, yet he was the one who was riled up?

“Miguel, I’m-” you hold on harder to his neck, eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh huh. C’mon, give it to me,” he encouraged, staring at you, eyes cloudy.

You break above him, a scream crawling from your throat, hips stuttering in his hold, and liquid leaking onto the floor.

“Oh my god,” your mind was hazy, reveling from how quick you came, but mostly at how needy Miguel looked.

“Was it good?” he asked, hugging your body as he switched angles, dragging his body closer to the edge of the bench, letting your feet fall to the floor. His voice was whiny, desperate, wanton. “Was I good for you? Did you feel good?”

You brought your mouth to his temple, movements shaky and heart still thumping, “You were so good for me, baby. So good.”

He sighed, breath leaving his lungs as if what you told him was a matter of life and death.

“Then use me,” he leaned back, hands pressed against the seat. “Use me, however you please.”

You stared at him, a little stunned but fully immersed. When you brought your hand to his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was moving. You brought your mouth to his once more, a thumb on his chin pushing so that lips could part. You kissed him deep, making sure to direct his focus there while you placed your knees on the bench.

Sitting just above him, you guided your sex to his, allowing his tip to barely kiss you. You wanted him, yearned for him inside of you, but not yet.

You slid his tip past your slit, only edging it in partially, then rubbed your pussy up and down the head, allowing yourself to open up.

Miguel moaned into your mouth, hands curling into fists as he felt your walls close around the top of him. He started to move in tiny thrusts matching your rhythm.

“Nuh uh, baby, it’s just me right now, remember?” You break your kiss to reprimand him, bringing your hand from his chin to his stomach, and stopping all movement.

Miguel could only cry out and nod, upset at the loss of your body devouring his own, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going. I’ll be still, cariño, please.”

“Good. There he is, my sweet baby,” you say, voice a prime example at how much Miguel begging for you was affecting you.

You start back, ass moving with a bit more force. You lean to press a long kiss against his neck, losing yourself in the sound of him barely inside of you, his groans a lovely melody filling up the room.

“You feel amazing, Miguel. So big, and you’re only giving me so little,” you pant in his ear, knees starting to hurt from how hard the tiles were.

“It’s all for you. Just for you,” he gasped, twitching when the sounds of your juices got even louder at your constant movement. “Mi amor, please, can I hold you?”

“Always, baby.”

Internally you chuckled, you never told him he couldn’t touch you, you just followed his plea to use him like a toy. He was so pussy drunk, he forgot the parameters he set for himself.

He wrapped his biceps around you, your arms folding behind your back in the process, but that didn’t stop you from riding out the high that was another orgasm.

“That’s right, keep going. Úsame, take what you need,” he requested. He was itching to dive deeper into you, not wanting your pleasure to end.

You threw your head back and whined high with Miguel’s name on your tongue, gushing out your release for a second time.

“Fuck.” Miguel was still holding onto you, legs taut in their position. He swerved your pussy across his length, listening at how wet you were.

You laid your head on the tile above Miguel, relieved with its slight coolness and trying to slow down your rapid heartbeat. Your hips kept bucking as an aftereffect.

You didn’t get that much of a cool down before Miguel was at it again, finally sliding his dick in until he bottomed out.

The two of you let out long moans in unison, a harmony that wasn’t unfamiliar to your apartment.

In this position, your face was back in front if Miguel’s, eyes watery from the sensation of him filling you up.

“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” Miguel cradled you, trying to get as comfortable as he could, despite the impossible position he put himself in.

Lifting his hips off of the bench, he held himself up by his back pressed against the tiles.

Before you could even ask him if you all should move to the floor, he knocked the wind out of you, holding you up as he slammed into you.

“Miguel!” you shout, clamoring for anything to grab onto after the impact had you knocking forward.

“I got you, I promise. Won’t let you fall,” he heaved out, words spilling out as fast as his hips were snapping.

All you could do was mutter out words incoherently, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass reverberating off of the walls. Your eyes finally let go of the tears they were holding, overwhelmed by your state of being.

“What’s that, mi amor?” Miguel cooed at you, licking off one of your tears and kissing your cheek. “Can you feel me? Is it too much?”

“I, ngh, I,” you could barely get your words out, your brain turning into mush after each thrust. Miguel kept going, humming as he spread kisses around your face.

“You gotta answer me, baby. I need to know,” he whispered.

“I’m trying,” you respond, voice cracking from overuse. You were still peeved at his composure. “I thought you said, oh my god, you said you didn’t want to hurt your back.”

Miguel just pursed his lips, eyes clearing up for just a second, “I didn’t. And I’m not going to, super-healing, remember?”

“That’s-” your sentence was cut off by Miguel hiking you up and smacking you back down in time with one of his thrusts.

“Shit! Do that again,” you sob, thoughts coming to a stop.

“Yeah?” Miguel tried his best to keep his eyes on you, but you were squeezing so tight around him that his eyes kept rolling.

“Yes, Miggy. Right there, that spot. It’s so,” you were drooling at this point. “It’s so much.”

Miguel kept it up, glad to be hearing those words, proud of himself for igniting you.

You held your head down, body wound tight, “I think I’m gonna cum. I’m close.”

“Again?” Miguel asked, heart fluttering at you falling apart on his dick.

“Yes, baby. Don’t stop,” you say, voice wavering.

Right as you felt your body beginning to let go, Miguel halted and sat back on the bench.

“No, no, no. Why did you-” You were cut off by Miguel grabbing you and placing you on your shoulders, pussy in his face.

He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in where his cock once was swirling in and out, sucking at your folds. He starts to hum as if you've fed him his last meal, causing your orgasm to come in waves.

“Oh!” you shout, thighs quivering around his head, one hand gathering a fist of hair and the other pawing at the wall. Miguel was lapping everything up, holding you so that you couldn’t even think of falling.

“Ok, ok,” you say, mewling as he kept you in place while your hips shook. “S’too much.” He finally let’s go, placing you back in his lap.

“Did I do good?” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly now that he catered to you. His face was a mess, evidence of you all down his neck.

You kissed his nose, giggling at his need for praise, “Yes, baby. You did amazing. Fantastic. Perfecto.”

He was practically vibrating with joy, kneading at your thighs.

“But Miggy, there’s still a problem,” you say, holding his face with both hands. “You still didn’t cum yet.”

You watched his face flit through several phases: ecstatic, worried, then hungry.

“Can I keep going?” he asks, hands starting to roam again.

You simply nod and try to prepare yourself for him moving you around again.

He sinks back in slowly, careful of your sensitive body. You try your best to move, hips working in circles, hands holding onto his thighs. You couldn't help but to squeeze onto him, despite how tired you were.

“You look so pretty,” Miguel mumbled.

“Bet I would look prettier if you finished. Inside.”

That fired him up even more. He started to help you to bounce up and down his length, teeth gritted. You held your head back, eyes scrunched at the feeling of him inside again.

Then he started to whimper, a telltale sign that he was close.

“Can you say it again, please?” he said, moving to stand with you in his arms.

“Say what?” you ask, exhausted yet in awe that he still had so much energy. “That I want you to cum inside? Fill me up?”

You could feel him twitch inside of you, mind hazy at the thought.

“Shockingly, no. My name. Porfa, mi vida. I need to hear it.” He was still holding you as he pounded away, eyes never leaving yours.

You’ve been saying his name the whole time, so surely that can’t be it. Then, it dawned on you.

“Let go, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, mouth right next to his.

And so he did. He bent over, hands gripping your sides as he snapped his hips frantically, groaning into your mouth as he kissed you hard. You could feel him seeping inside you, hot liquid filling you up.

You clutch at his shoulders, feeling your hold slipping from how wet his skin was from the shower and the heat. You cry out again, body sore from all of fun and sensitive from overstimulation.

Miguel finally let up for what felt like hours, standing up straight and pulling you off his dick. He hissed at the feeling, angling your body parallel to his so that everything could fall to the shower floor.

You lay your head on his shoulder tiredly, grateful that he was still carrying you.

“That’s going to mess up the drain. You should have just let it stay in me until it took,” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his breath hitch at your words. “Or until I got to the toilet or something.”

He brought you both back to the bench, “You're on the pill so stop teasing me about that.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t live out your breed-”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, mi amor,” he says, pecking your lips to stop you from continuing. “Now let's clean you up. Again.”

He reaches for the shower head and checks the temperature. Humming, he aims the spray at your lower area.

You jump and yelp, “That’s so fucking cold!”

“Bébe, it’s literally warm. I just checked!”

No wonder he was about to die in the steam, “You know how hot I like my showers, and that’s ice cold right now.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s not burning, but we have to clean you up,” he said, trying to console you. “I’ll warm you up later.”

You look at him and there’s this playful look on his face. “No,” you say, just the thought of doing this again making you sleepy.

You eye his body up and down. “Maybe later.”

He just chuckled and finished up.

An hour later, the two of you are dry, blow dried, and comfortably laid out across the couch with baking competition shows queued up on the TV.

You look up at Miguel from your position on his chest, cheesing from ear to ear.

He feels you staring at him and looks down, eyes warm. “What?” he asks, watching your face light up.

“Nothing. I just love you,” you say, unable to look away.

He kisses you, heart keeping a steady beat, “I love you too.”

I hope you enjoyed reading! 🩵🩵

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

(And did anyone catch my Beyoncé Cécred refs?? I have no idea how brand names work with fics so I just stuck to nameless descriptions😭)

- Blue 🧼

[o4i0n]

do u guys think miguel gets hard if ur nice to him ., miguel nation what do we think 

reblogs, comments & likes r highly appreciated !

it’s not like you being nice is anything out of the ordinary—if anything, it’s one of the things that comes the most naturally to you and what others notice whenever they catch you around. your care comes in the form of small, gentle reminders, shared smiles when your eyes meet another’s, or asking how things are when you pass by someone else to make simple conversation. nothing special, really, but it’s sweet. 

miguel o’hara thinks that it’s too sweet, but it’s more of a ‘him’ problem, if anything. he’s not even supposed to be this worked up over something as careless as your hand brushing against his shoulder to let him know that you’re there for him that’s coupled with a chipper ���bye!’ thrown his way before you turn around and leave, but he is. every time you leave him be, the throbbing ache that settles between his legs grows a lot heavier, and he knows that if he deals with it, it would just make things worse. 

it’s not like he has any plans to stop, though. he may be growing tired of the countless times he’s caught himself thinking about you, the image of your pretty self occupying his mind so much that he swears he sees you even when he closes his eyes, but the scenarios that he’s so keen on turning into a reality make the job a whole lot easier. there may be a twinge of guilt that crosses his mind after he spills into his hand once he’s done fucking himself raw into his fist, but he tries not to thinking about it too much. even when you’re not there, you’re still assisting him in some way. 

which is why he thinks that the universe is playing one massive, fucked-up prank on him when you chose the worst time to drop by his office—that dark, secluded area away from everyone else that he considers an office, anyway—and get greeted with the sight of him biting down on his fist while he furiously ruts into his hand in an attempt to get off. the need that emanates off his body is palpable; no matter how fast he’s stroking himself or how desperately he’s letting his fingers swipe over his leaking tip as pre-come trickles down the remainder of his length, he still can’t come. right now, the sounds that he’s making have more emotion than in any of the words he’s spoken to you, or to anyone, for that matter. it doesn’t make it easier that he’s suddenly terrified of how you’d treat him after seeing that spectacle of pure desperation on his part once he notices you’re there. 

but you, being you, are nothing short of understanding. when miguel asks you to leave (well, he kind of shouts at you because you were never supposed to see anything like that), you’re so caught up by what you saw that you stupidly offer to help him out, your voice and demeanor taking on your trademark shyness. 

miguel is many things, and you know him to be an incredibly efficient man. everything that follows is a blur, and you end up sprawled out on his desk, your clothes haphazardly tugged out of the way so that he could take up up on your offer. 

“you’re too fuckin’ nice,” he whines, wasting no time to peel away your panties and drag his fingers over your entrance. it almost sounds like he’s complaining at the fact that you are the way you are, but he doesn’t say anything. as his fingers curiously prod at your pussy to spread you nicely for him, his free hand is wrapped around his cock, dripping with his own arousal as it lays heavy in his fingers. 

a soft whimper slips out of your lips as he toys with your body, and it’s only sinking in now that you’re not sure if you can take all of him. but he needs help, right? he needs to feel better, so you keep your legs apart for him while he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit. 

when he hears that, it takes all of his self-control to not sink his cock deep into your sweet little cunt right then and there. “i just—s’too much for a guy to take,” he mumbles, trying to push his tip past your soaked folds, because he’s so nice to let you off easy for now since he knows he’s big. “i never know if you’re teasing or not.” and it’s true; the way you tread so carefully and so gently with everyone, especially with him, makes him wonder whether or not this is your way of being coy. “it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you.” 

miguel doesn’t know where all these words are coming from because he knows for a fact that he’s not all that open with anything, much less with things this personal. however, there’s something about the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes and being completely exposed in a way he’s fantasized about for so long that it sends him reeling. 

you’ve been so nice for him, going above and beyond for something you don’t even need to do; of course he needs to return the favor by making you feel good too! it’s only fair, after all, that he shows his very specific way of thanking you. 

the moment you give him the go, he slides right into you, your wetness and his pre-come making it easier for him to finally feel what it is he’s been dreaming about for so long. he can’t stop the low moan that escapes him when he feels your warm walls enveloping his cock, your pussy so accommodating and welcoming, just like you. he’s so relieved that it’s not his hand that’s making him feel this way anymore; immediately, he wants to bottom out, to bury himself so deep inside you that he’s positive his tip nudges against your cervix. he never thought that you’d be so kind as to let him fuck you, and he’s so eager to draw out all those sounds and reactions when you let him take you. 

he pushes in deeper, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit because he knows it’ll make you whine. “don’t think i can control myself, pretty girl,” he groans out, all the sensations hitting him like a ton of bricks, and he’s resisting the urge to move right after as you’re adjusting to him. you’re equally as fucked out as miguel and he’s not even all the way in yet. “i won’t stop until you’re crying for me, okay?” 

first time dabbling into smut writing so please be kind nyahaha also if there r grammatical errors no there aren't haha wdym

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Intercorrelated

Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 29: Cream Pie

Summary: You've had a bad day.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader has tattoos on their legs, kissing, teasing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral, fingering, swimming pool adjacent smut, reader works at Alchemax, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2244

You sighed, annoyance bubbling along your veins, threatening to boil over and overwhelm you. Tears pulsed at the back of your eyes, trying to fight their way to the surface. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

The experiment had failed. Fine. These things happened. But Stone giving you a fucking public dressing down and all but promising to destroy every scrap of research you’d gathered? Yeah. Not so fine. 

You pushed open the door to the swimming pool. It was on the upper levels, part of the built-in gym in the Alchemax building. It was always empty this late, everyone who stayed at this time was either working on their own experiments or had accidentally fallen asleep in the carpark. The pool was the perfect place for you to wallow just a little bit. 

The door swung shut behind you, enclosing you in the smell of chlorine, and you were just a few steps into the room when you spotted him. Miguel-fucking-O’Hara. Mister 6 foot-fucking-9 and ‘Oh, I would never have any experience blow up in my face.’ 

You sighed. 

It wasn’t Miguel’s fault that you’d had a shit day. But you’d quite like for him to piss off out of the pool so you could lay down on the seating at the edge of the room and contemplate your life choices so far. 

He was doing laps at a practically insane speed, gliding smoothly through the water. Another thing he was annoyingly good at. Prick. 

As he reached the wall of the deep end he turned, intending to do another lap, but paused when he noticed you standing on the side, just at the edge of the swallow end. 

You swallowed, skin prickling under his gaze. You didn’t want him to think you’d come in here just to gaup at him, but it wasn’t like you could just jump in and swim in your work clothes. Fuck.

You marched with purpose towards the middle of the pool and hastily pulled off your socks and shoes, leaving them fairly neatly on the side, before you rolled up your trousers and sat on the edge. You dipped your feet and calves into the water. Temperature wise it was surprisingly pleasant. 

You assumed that maybe O’Hara would have the common decency to ignore you, continue his lengths until he finished his workout. Something any normal person would have done. 

Anyone else certainly wouldn’t have slowly swam towards you, barely making ripples in the water with their smooth strokes. 

He stood up in the pool, not quite directly in front of you. He didn’t say anything at first, though you could see him watching you out of your perpetual vision. Slowly he ran a hand through his hair, pushing errand strands away from his eyes as droplets ran down his temples. 

There wasn’t much hope that he’d ignore you and your slightly red looking eyes now.

“You okay?” 

Why the fuck was he like this? All calm words, with that stupid low voice of his and big doe eyes. 

“Fine.” 

He hummed, not sounding like he believed you in the slightest. He sank back down into the water a little, lifting his legs up and spreading his arms out so that he could float in a sitting position. 

“Why are you sitting on the edge of the pool, in your work clothes?” He asked deadpan. 

“Why not?” You somehow managed not to grimace at your childish response. It wasn’t like O’Hara would understand anyway, he was oh, so, perfect. 

To your surprise, Miguel smirked slightly at your response. He watched you for a moment before pointing at your leg. “I like your tattoos.” He said matter of factly. 

“Yeah?” A brief smile flashed across your face and you angled your left leg out of the water for him to see it clearer. “You’ve seen them before.” 

“I know.” He nodded and looked closer. “They’re pretty..” 

“Thanks.” You tried to fight down the heat that spiked along your skin. You cleared your throat, “erm, do you have any?” Despite how many times he’d been inside of you, you’d never actually seen him as naked as he is now.

He shook his head. “Not a massive fan of needles.” His stupid little smile was infectious and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. 

Miguel held your gaze for a moment too long, the action almost hypnotising. There was a slight upwards twitch to his lips for a second before he moved a fraction closer and stood. It was almost as if he wanted you to get a good few of the water running down his smooth skin and- no, you were just being silly now. 

He touched the outside of your calf with the tips of his fingers, a ghost-like touch that made you shiver involuntarily. Lightly he traced the outline of your tattoo, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in concentration. “What do they mean to you?” He asks softly. 

“Erm,” your voice cracks a little as if you hadn’t spoken for a while and you swallow, gulping down air. “Lots of things…” 

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, the tips of his fingers still gliding across your skin. 

“This one is… erm, well, sort of a memento mori, I guess.” 

He smirks, one eyebrow raised. “You guess?”

You pull a face at him for a second. “It is.” 

He smiles, going back to looking at the tattoo. “Morbid.”

You’re about to retort back when his fingers slide higher, slipping further up your calf. “What about this one?” He says softly again, his voice low and deep. 

“It’s…” you shiver again as he delicately strokes your skin, his touch maddeningly distracting. In all honesty, you should snap at him, push him away, get him to stop touching you. This was inappropriate, this was unprofessional. But it’s not like that has stopped you before.

“It’s?” He repeats, not looking up at you as he continues caressing higher, sliding up to your knee and over the top of your rolled up trousers to your thigh. 

Your breath catches in your throat, all possible thoughts and words dissolving from your mind in an instant.

Miguel smiles ever so slightly, still looking unwaveringly at your leg. But he can hear the little gasp of air escape your lungs. 

He lets the quiet hang for a moment before he speaks again, his voice even lower than before. “Why do you have so many?” 

“I… I like them… they make me happy.”

He hums again, but this is a satisfied sound. “They’re beautiful on you.” 

You swallow. “Thank you.” 

“You’re beautiful.” He smiles and you forget how to breathe. “And smart, Stone’s a fucking idiot.”

“You heard about that.” You mutter, ignoring the first part of his sentence. 

He nods and hums. “He’s fucking unprofessional. And a dick.” 

That makes you laugh and he smiles. “You ignored what I said.” 

You pause, frowning slightly and his grin widens.

“You’re beautiful.” He repeats, stressing the words. 

You swallow and shift a little, your mind working in overdrive. “Erm… thank you.” 

He chuckles kindly and you wince, putting your hands over your face and groaning.

“I mean…” 

“I know what you mean.” He repeats, he steps closer his hands on your knees and lightly presses as he moves between your legs. 

He softly strokes your cheek, leaning closer as his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” You mutter, mesmerised. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, a cheeky edge to his voice as he places a gentle kiss to your lips. 

For a second you freeze, practically forget how to react. But then you press closer, leaning against his wet skin, the water seeping into your work clothes. 

You feel him grin, but it’s not in a slimy self-confidence - it’s happiness. 

Before you really know what’s happening, Miguel has you on your back against the floor, tugging off your trousers and panties and putting them on the side. 

Part of you is sure that you should be at least vaguely protesting. What if someone else walked in? The other part of you is sure that if you’re going to get fired for the failed experiment, you might as well go down a legend as the researcher who fucked by the company pool. 

Miguel sucks your clit into his mouth as he pushes two of his large fingers inside of you, groaning as you arch your back and whine softly. 

“Hmm, god you taste nice.” He mutters, curling his fingers and swirling his tongue around your clit before he goes back to sucking. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” 

He pulls his fingers out quickly, putting his hands on the side of the pool and lifting himself up and out of the water completely. 

He shuffles you back a little, so that he can kneel between your legs and helps you to pull off your top. The material is barely over your head before he has his thick cock in his hand, already lining up with your entrance. He pushes in gently, even though he knows you can take him now, still as gentle as he was when you first started this little game. 

He grunts in your ear as he bottoms out, sighing as your walls squeeze and pulse. “I didn’t expect to cross the pool off my list.” 

You snort, “You got a list of places you wanna fuck?” 

He grins at you. “Mentally.” 

You giggle, “Nah, you’ve got it written down, probably a spreadsheet somewhere.”

“Who told you about my spreadsheet?” He teases, leaning up a little so that he can rock into you slowly. 

You spread your legs a little wilder, raising your hips to match his rhythm. 

“Maybe I can,” he tries to keep his voice as calm and controlled as possible, but you can hear the strain in it. “Actually take you out somewhere first? We could eat then fuck? In a bed?” 

You bite your lip, trying to match his even tone. Another part of your game. Whoever broke and moaned first lost, and so far, you were on a winning streak. “What, is that on your list too?” 

“I’d like it to be.” He groans softly. 

“Oh, was that a moan?” You grin.

He shakes his head rapidly, “You must be hearing things.” 

“Fuck,” you swallow as he changes the angle, pressing the head of his cock repeatedly against your g spot while he rubs his pubic bone against your clit. 

“Was that a-”

“No.” You give him a look and he grins. 

“Let me make you dinner.” He breathes, the strain starting to show in his voice.

“So desperate to get me to your house?” You tease.

He gives you a soft look, his eyes dark. “You know I am.” 

You falter, that wasn’t what you were expecting. Every time in the past you both fucked, usually in his offices on suite, he’d been light-hearted. Kind, but teasing. This was just a way to blow off some steam, a fuck and see you later. Now he sounded more like… like…

“Come on,” he grins, and sinks wonderfully deep. “How about a wager?” 

You nod. 

“You moan first, I get to take you home and fuck your brains out in my bed?” 

You swallow down a cry. “What do I get if I win?” 

“What do you want?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

You pause, lost his expression. “For you to take me home and fuck my brains out?” 

“Oh, very good.” He grins and quickly leans down to nip at your neck, his hips hypnotising as he rocks and rolls, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. 

You squeeze his shoulders, shivering and shuddering as he moves expertly, the pattern to make you fall apart practically embedded in his bones. 

He breathes deeply, pressing his lips close to your ear and then moans deeply at the exact moment he grinds down against your hips. You gasp. 

“Looks like you won again,” you can hear the glee colouring his voice, “Guess I’ll have to try to make you scream at home later.” 

You groan, “Miguel…”

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” he rocks faster, groaning at the wetness between your legs, how your pussy flutters around him and sucks him impossibly deeper. “Be good and come on my cock.” He hisses, his muscles tensing. “Before I fill you up completely and-”

Your back arches as you cry on, pleasure erupting along your nerves as he pushes you over the edge. Colour explodes behind your eyes, dances along your skin as you sink and float at the same time.

He thrusts twice, his moans rising as he follows you into bliss, coming hard and deep and, true to his word, filling you completely. 

He kisses you hungrily as he comes, his hips slowing as he sucks on your tongue and then nuzzles into your neck. 

You both breathe hard as the sweat on your skin cools. “You’re not worried about Stone are you?” He asks softly. 

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but it’s clear you are.

“Don’t be.” He kisses your pulse point. “He won’t talk to you like that again.” 

You wriggle a little so that you can look at him fully, Miguel smiles up at you. “How do you know that?” 

“I can be intimidating you know?” 

That makes you laugh kindly, “You’re too sweet for that.” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I have my moments.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[miguel-ohara-lover]

Miguel M@sterbating(Solo)

CW: NSFW, M@sturbating, heavy description of male gënitals, “bitch” used to describe a woman

Poll results:

———

The lack of physical touch started to get to him. Miguel had been so sheltered from everyone, and it was getting on his nerves. Granted it was he who pushed everyone away, he gave them glares when they got too close, growling and flashing his fangs to scare them off. Yet here he sat in his office, wishing he had someone to hold, someone to fuck.

Miguel shook his head a little as the thought of self pleasure crossed his mind, shaking the thought away. How pathetic would that be? He’s so desperate to feel someone’s hands that he’d use his own? The thought alone was humiliating. He’s Miguel O’Hara, he could easily get some bitch to fuck. But he didn’t want just anyone… he wanted something special.

With a heavy sigh he finally gave into the temptation. He ordered Lyla to lock all the entrances before deactivating her with his gizmo. She may be AI but… do you really want some tiny hologram woman staring at you while you beat it? Yeah he didn’t even want to think of his AI assistant watching this. She’d probably never let him forget it.

Miguel fiddles with the gizmo a bit more, making his hologram suit dissolve. His large and stiff cock stands tall, the tip oozing precum. It twitched and throbbed as he looked at it pitifully. This was so embarrassing to him, he couldn’t explain it but the thought of touching himself in such a way felt… dirty… more dirty than fucking some random bitch. He truly couldn’t tell you his reasoning.

He took a long deep breath before bringing his hand to his cock, smearing the precum over his member as lube. He shuddered and closed his eyes as his finger tips slowly tracing every ridge and vein on his monster of a dick. It throbbed and pulsed under his fingers, he didn’t know he was this desperate until now.

Miguel carefully strokes his cock, letting out a low groan of pleasure as heat comes over him in waves. He covers his face with his free hand, steadily increasing the speed. His breath quickens as he wraps his hand around his girth. After waiting a beat he starts pumping his cock slow at first, picking up the pace as he feels an knot form in his groin.

A deep moan escapes his lips as he pumps his cock faster. “Mierda… mierda…” He mumbles pathetically as he jerks his cock. He adjusts his position, now wrapping both hands around his member as he thrusts his hips. His eyes are shut, and he imagines he’s fucking some bitch he thought was hot enough to deserve his time.

He groaned and moans more as he fucked into his hands like a desperate animal, mumbling swears in Spanish as he feels his climax approaching. His thrusts become erratic. He’s grunting and even let’s out a whimper pre two.

With one final pump into his fists he releases ropes of sticky white cum, covering his hands and the floor. He didn’t care about the mess right now, his mind foggy as he came down from the adrenaline. His breath was shaky as he panted, slowly stroking his length until he was soft again. He let out a small grunt at the slight overstimulation, but he pulled his hands away before it became too much.

He had to clean up before he activated Lyla, acting like nothing happened.

[scoobysnakz]

Hard Luck

It’s hard finding love when your sole reason to live is your daughter, but when her best friends dad is annoyingly attractive and might have something to do with your rent randomly getting paid, who can blame you for being a little curious?

||* mentions of masturbation (m receiving)

Chap i

The crisp autumn air carries a sense of nostalgia, which surprises you. It has been a while since you've experienced autumn in this way, but nostalgia is supposed to be a pleasant feeling, right?

Your daughter's small, chubby fingers firmly grip your hand as you playfully swing your arm out of her reach. You can't help but laugh at her adorable pout when you pull your hand away.

"I'm just teasing you," you say with a wide grin, extending your hand for her to take. "Stop being a grouch and hold my hand, RayRay!"

Her scowl quickly turns into a cheesy grin as she latches onto your hand. The sound of her pencil case and notebook thumping matches the rhythm of her skipping, and her glittery, purple sequin backpack bounces on her back.

Raya, or RayRay as you playfully call her, is your best friend. It's a bit sad, you know, but you've never really had time for friends. Ever since her dad left, she's been the only person in your life, aside from colleagues and your parents. And it's not so bad. She has adapted to your lifestyle, developed a sense of humor—her sarcasm is surprisingly on point for a nine-year-old.

The journey from your rundown apartment to her school isn't long, but it's far enough for the houses to transform from shabby boxes with crooked slate tiles to fancy condos with gleaming windows. It always amazes you how a few turns can take you to an area where people don't even know the meaning of a food bank.

You can tell by appearances alone that you don't fit in. The navy blue cable-knit sweater and boyfriend jeans, dirtied with mud stains, don't exactly scream, “I can afford more than one vacation a year!"

On the other hand, Raya always looks pristine. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you'd rather wear nothing than have your daughter look as unkempt as you. Ensuring she has enough clean, stain-free clothes is your number one priority.

As you round a corner, narrowly missing a puddle that Raya "only wanted to look at" and not jump in, her disappointed expression gives her away.

Parents bustle around, urgently trying to retrieve their kids from the playground. It's nearly impossible to spot her teacher amidst the crowd of what seems like millions of moms, dressed in thick white scarves and thigh-high brown boots.

And then you hear it—a loud screech that, under different circumstances, would signify fear instead of the original joy it was intended for. "RAYYYY!" an excited girl squeals from the opposite end of the playground. Her dark brown hair is scraped back into a painfully tight ponytail as she races toward your daughter.

The two girls jump up and down gleefully, holding each other closely. It's a nice seeing her not alone.

You're so engrossed in watching your daughter giggle with her friend that you fail to notice the tall man standing next to you. What catches your attention first is his cologne—it's expensive.

The scent of thick oak is overpowering on its own, but it's tempered by the most unremarkable shower gel known to man.

"They're cute, aren't they?" he asks, causing you to turn your head and face him. You bite your lower lip for a moment, trying to figure out who this guy is. "Yeah... they are," you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Your words come out ruder than you intended, but you can't be bothered to fix your manners when a surprisingly attractive man is staring at your daughter, enjoying her time with another child. If you weren't genuinely confused about his identity, you might have reacted more strongly. Instead, you stand there, arms folded and brow furrowed.

"I'm... sorry, I'm Gabi's dad," he explains, his tone surprisingly apologetic.

That's her name.

"I'm Raya's dad," you reply, nodding toward the two girls. Hearing who he is instantly eases your fear that he might be something worse than just a father.

An awkward silence ensues as the man continues to study your appearance, seemingly taking you in. With a soft laugh, he smiles at you—a warm and irritatingly charismatic smile. "You don't look like a dad," he grins.

You open your mouth to give him a sharp, quick-witted retort, but your expression falters when you realize your mistake. Refusing to let this stranger have the upper hand in your first interaction, you smirk at him. "What do you mean?" you ask, poking your tongue past your lips to swipe across your teeth.

He instantly catches on to your smirk, and to be honest, it's endearing. "Because you don't look likea typical dad," he responds, matching your quickness. The same mischievous grin is plastered on both of your faces as you engage in a playful stare-down.

This morning, when you hastily applied expired mascara and cheap lip balm while trying to wake up Raya, you never expected to encounter such an annoyingly funny and undeniably attractive man—by your standards, at least.

With high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, and broad shoulders, anyone would take a second look at him.

The loud peal of the school bell interrupts your scrutinizing gaze, drawing your attention back to your daughter. You quickly give her a kiss on the cheek, and she instinctively wipes it away while giving you a glare, before you push her towards the school entrance.

The man—whose name you still don't know, aside from being Gabi's father—does the same, but his daughter doesn't wipe away the kiss.

"When I asked who you were, I was hoping for a name," you mutter, mostly to yourself, but hoping he hears it too.

"Miguel," he responds, his voice lacking the warmth he had when his daughter was present.

"I'm..." you begin to introduce yourself, but he cuts you off, his voice now tinged with cockiness.

"I know who you are," he says, raising an eyebrow. Your scoff makes it clear how creepy he sounds. "Gabi talks about Raya a lot, and with you being her mother, it's only natural."

You narrow your eyes at Miguel, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. Raya is your world, and beyond that, you've kept everything else tightly guarded. It's a defense mechanism, a way to shield yourself from potential hurt or judgment.

"What exactly does Gabi say about Raya?" you ask, your voice tinged with caution. You're not sure if you should be flattered or concerned that your daughter is a topic of conversation between Miguel and his daughter.

Miguel chuckles, seemingly amused by your response. "She just talks about how funny and cool Raya is," he replies. "They've become good friends at school. Gabi is always excited to see her."

There's feel a sense of relief that washes over you. It's comforting to know that Raya has found a friend who appreciates her for who she is.

“Well I need to go,” you say while motioning over to the school gates. “Work and stuff.”

He nods his head, expression just as nonchalant as it was moments ago.

***

After dropping off Raya at school, and a brief yet intriguing conversation with Miguel, you head back home. It's considerably warmer now than it was before; sun poking out of the clouds, shining down onto the leaf-littered pavement. The odd car whizzes past and it's all you can do to jump away in time before it splashes you in murky brown liquid.

Fortunately for you, you don't have to leave for work until ten so you get some time to yourself. As soon as you unlock the door to your apartment, it took longer than you'd like to admit as you forgot which way to turn the key, you flop down onto the worn-in sofa. It creaks beneath you- a sign that you need to get a new one.

If you had the money, you would. God, if you had the money you’d move out of this shitty apartment and into… anywhere else. Maybe a house on the coast would be nice, or one of those fancy condos by Raya’s school. Either way, you want out.

You feel your eyes grow heavy, the temptation to allow yourself a few moments of sleep all too good. With a low groan, you pull yourself up off the sofa and drag your feet over to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee.

You open the jar only to find a minuscule amount granules left- six to be exact. All you want is that burst of energy and yet you are denied it. “Fuck me,” you grumble under your breath.

***

Even though it was a painfully short moment between the two of you, Miguel decides you are tolerable. Okay, maybe you’re more than tolerable, he'll settle for bearable as he's feeling especially nice today. You’re funny, well that might be a bit dramatic since he hasn’t even had a proper conversation with you, but you made him laugh- internally that is.

But right now he needs to push you, the nice lady with a pretty smile and even prettier face, out of his mind. He has to focus on this paperwork that's been sitting on his desk for God knows how long.

Begrudgingly, he picks up his pen with a sigh and starts scrawling his signature on the limitless reams of paper. It's all nonsense about him signing off on random projects, and safety procedures and- those sweet lips.

Something about you is intoxicating. Even when he was skimming through the infinite amount of universes, you didn't seem that special. Yes, there were the odd facts that caught his attention but everything else just seemed… dull. So why now, after not even a full five minutes of your company, can't he get you out of his head?

At first, he assumes it's because you’re oddly charismatic but that's not it. You weren't even trying, you just didn't want him to pull a fast one on you. Maybe, just maybe, he underestimated your personality and being around you as a real person and not some fact file actually made you likeable- no, bareable.

Double checking his office door is closed and the blind is pulled down over the frosted glass before sliding back into his chair. “LYLA,” he calls out, words muffled by his head in his hands.

There’s a small glitch next to him that quickly turns into a digitalized woman. “You called?” LYLA asks, hands on her hips.

Fuck he feels guilty but maybe seeing that cocky smirk on your face will ease the culpability he’s feeling. “You… you know what I want and I don’t want teasing or anything about it, just do it, ‘kay?” Miguel’s voice is gruff, full of an annoyance he doesn’t even know he’s feeling.

“Why would I tease you about wanting to innocently look at something?” she drawls with a smirk.

He shoots her a look, an unamused one at that. Giggling childishly, LYLA pulls up a screen full of writing. Miguel’s eyes flicker back and forth trying to find something until he catches a glimpse of your name.

He swipes and flicks the blue pixels a few times before your socials are pulled up. It’s nothing much, just your Twitter, Facebook and a surprising amount of Instagram accounts. That, makes him laugh. He can tell exactly which ones are the accounts you use for stalking people and which ones are for actually posting things.

There are mostly pictures of you and Raya together on days out but there are a few of you on nights out nights out alone. He immediately notices you never post anything with friends and it’s oddly comforting because it’s not just drunk girls with smeared eyeliner that’s missing from your pictures. It’s a boyfriend as well.

Not that he wants to fill that missing gap in your selfies, he's just feeling a little lonely cooped up in his office. He's in this universe for Gabi and no one else, not the lady with a pretty smile.

Just as he’s about to zoom in on a picture that shows an alluring amount of your cleavage, LYLA cuts him off. “I like her smile,” she says while getting up a different picture. This time it’s one of you and Raya in last year's Halloween costumes. Pirates. That’s the two of you had dressed up as.

You’d drawn a black beard on her face, Raya’s outfit cute with the oversized black and white striped shirt meanwhile you… A tight black and red corset pushes your chest in a way that makes something inside Miguel stir.

He shouldn't be looking at you like this- it's wrong and perverse. The two of you only met today and yet he's salivating over a picture of you in a Halloween costume. Yet he can't stop himself from allowing his body to react to the way you look.

That feeling slips down from his chest to his gut until it eventually reaches his crotch. You look so pretty like that, cheeks appled and eyes wide as you pull a stupid face with your daughter. The picture is innocent enough in its own right but seeing you in something ever so slightly revealing makes his brain malfunction.

He bets could make you prettier, more gorgeous than ever if you let him. His cum painting your perfectly plump lips and his hands gripping bruises into your supple flesh.

[freshtoes]

another fluff before the like 4 smuts I’ve got lined up. for me. excuse the Google translate Spanish I wrote this whole thing in one sitting

You’ve Got Me

Hurt/comfort

Miguel/Afab! Reader(no gendered pronouns or (Y/N), reader has a uterus)

You felt stupid. You knew you shouldn’t, this was fully a roll-the-dice, cross-your-fingers-and-hope-Lady-Luck-is-on-your-side thing, but you couldn’t help it. After all, the only real safety measure to not get pregnant is to not have sex at all.

You were lonely, sue me, was the thought. Anyone would’ve done the same thing. It’s not your fault the guy was a pump-and-dump either, he hasn’t returned any of your messages since that night. It sucks because you really liked him, he was so sweet that whole night and it’s like the second you got out of his car, you weren’t a person anymore. You should’ve known, he wouldn’t even kiss you.

You were hurt. You felt even more hurt staring down at the positive test two weeks after. You can’t help but feel your heart in your throat when you read it.

Of course, the universe has its way of doing these funny, silly, downright infuriating things, and just at that moment, your fancy-dancy-I’m-gonna-chuck-this-thing-at-the-wall watch went off.

Urgent meeting with Miguel O’Hara— Report ASAP.

You groaned, dropping your upper body so you were slumped past your knees on the toilet. As soon as you were able, you gathered yourself up, pushing your emotions down to your feet, and walked on them as you made your way to put on your suit.

It’s a temporary fix; and it feels like broken glass every step.

——————————

In any other situation you’d commend yourself on your ability to not snark at or prod Miguel, it was just too easy to do. But now you just didn’t have the energy. It was gone, not even three cups of the water the HQ called coffee could bring it up, now you just jittered, trembling slightly. You hoped he was far enough away you couldn’t tell, and that he didn’t ask questions that’d bring out your wavering voice.

On the other hand, it also seemed your lack of response was making him more infuriated. Going on about this thing and that and gesturing broadly, but clearly seeing his words go in one ear and out the other. He thought you just weren’t paying attention, making him feel hot with anger behind his eyes. That’s when he jumped down from that stupid lift, sauntering up in front of you with a hard look and scowl.

“You got a good explanation for why you’re not listening right now?” He said it in a low voice, and by the jump you gave him when you heard it, you didn’t even notice him approaching. He scoffed, “No puedo más, esto es ridículo.”

That’s when you looked up, and the look you gave him was a hard punch in the gut. Your eyes were red, glossy and all the eyelashes were stuck. Your face was wet all over, like you’d been trying to wipe tears away but they would just keep coming. You were biting so hard into your lips and cheek he was surprised you didn’t have blood on them.

Worst of all, you didn’t look angry. You just looked…

Wounded.

“I—I,” you started, feeling your voice fail you as you tried to find the words, “I’m sorry— Miguel.”

“Hey, hey,” His tone was much softer now as your gaze dropped, “¿Que paso…?”

And then the dam broke.

You were immediately shaken by a sob, a full body convulsion that sounded painful, your hands shooting up to hide your face from him. You shook your head, hard, you couldn’t even find the words to tell him.

How could you? He’s Miguel. He doesn’t do mistakes or accidents and he certainly doesn’t understand when someone else does either. He’d probably blame it on you, or tell you how stupid you are, or, or—

You felt large hands grab at your shoulders, before moving to wrap tightly around you, and before you knew it, Miguel had you enveloped in a tight hug, holding you to his chest as you shook and sobbed into him. Only then did your hands come down to grip at the back of his spider suit, not wanting to let go no matter how the delicate tech under your fingers protested it.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” He started, his head resting on yours, “I-I didn’t think you’d— cry—“

He felt your head shake in its spot smushed to his chest, “No, no, it’s not that.”

You sniffed hard, taking a deep breath and steadying yourself before looking up at him. His face was contorted into so much worry you’d have though your eyes were hanging out of your head.

“Then… what’s with—?”

“I-I’m pregnant,” you said, like it was the hardest words in the world to say, “And—and I’m really scared. I took all the precautions I needed to, he got me Plan B, he wore a condom, and-and they didn’t work and the guy dumped me the second he was able to, and I really liked him so it just sucks, and I’m tired, and I’m lonely, and I’m— and I’m so sick of being the only one that takes care of me, as if I don’t have enough being spiderman, and—and fighting inter-dimensional bullshit—!”

“Shhhhh, hey, hey hey,” Miguel’s voice was like a blanket as he pulled you back into him, stroking at your hair as he did, “Estarás bien, confía en mí. I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked at him in surprise, wiping your nose on your suit sleeve, “Re—really? You do that for me…?”

He nods, “This isn’t something you do alone. And it’s not your fault, these things are a two person effort after all. And that guy— él no lo vale. He’s not even the shit on your shoe from now on.”

You laughed at that, soft and pitifully, but Miguel could’ve seen heaven in it if he looked hard enough. Miguel swallowed, closing his eyes as he weighed his words in his mind. He needed to pick them carefully, he knew that, you were delicate right now and he needed to respect that, digging up all the bedside manner he could surface from when he was a genetics undergrad. Knowledge wise, at least, he knew he’d be the best option for you to talk to, but emotionally you’d be better talking to a rock.

“Whatever you want to do,” he said, cupping under your face to look up at him, “I’ll help you. And I do mean whatever you decide because it’s your choice.”

You sighed deep, feeling as if the weight you’d been carrying was finally off your shoulders as you sank so far into Miguel, his hand and his arm and his chest. “Thank you, Miguel. You’re— you’re really sweet.”

He shook his head, “Well, I don’t know about…. Is there anything else you need? Anything I can do in this moment?”

You looked up at him, racking your brain for anything, anything but the thing that came to mind. When nothing popped up, you went with your impulse.

“Could you please… hold me? Just like this, for a little while?”

Miguel could feel himself melting at the plea you gave, how clearly starved for affection you felt and in that moment he doesn’t think he’s wanted to truly kill another man more. He would do anything to make sure you never cry or sound like that again. So he nodded.

“I’ll hold you forever if thats what you want. Me tienes.”

[roguelov]

All Work, No Play

Summary: After another mission, you returned back to Miguel. Yet, he paid little mind to you, focused solely on his work. Soon, your mind wandered to all your times together and you quickly craved him. Miguel, however, being stubborn and busy as per usual would not budge. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: ~3.9k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used/ reader described as beautiful)

Warnings: SMUT (thigh riding, oral (fem!receiving and male!receiving), cockwarming, dirty talk, edging, riding, unprotected sex, mainly dom!Miguel, creampie, begging, a little biting and blood), some fluff also sprinkled throughout, established relationship

Based of my post here

MINOR DNI/18+ ONLY

Another anomaly.

Another mission.

Another universe saved.

You should be thrilled, or at least pleased with the work you have accomplished. Yet, all you wished was to go back to Spider HQ and collapse.

Or more specifically, you wanted to collapse into someone’s arms.

Opening a portal, you stepped through with the tied up anomaly in tow. You almost relaxed hearing the cacophony of chatter from all the other spider people. It was strangely homely, if not comforting to see others similar to yourself. A few approached - the ones you called to tell of the anomaly you were bringing back - and swept up the anomaly to be sent back to their own universe. You thanked them and headed straight to the one person who ran this entire operation: Miguel O’Hara. His office was up ahead, and a place few willingly entered without explicit permission.

Walking down the hall and passing all the machines and discarded work, you glanced up to see the high platform in the air with a dozen or so monitors. You don’t announce yourself. You fired a web, swinging up. Your feet landed quietly, stealthy, onto the platform. But, you knew he sensed your presence. The man leaned forward in his chair, tapping away at the holographic monitors. News feeds, reports, surveillances of other universes, cases of anomalies, all of it zipped by.

“Good job today,” he muttered, still distracted by what was in front of him.

Pulling off your mask, you walked forward and leaned your hip against the edge of the massive desk. “Yeah, well after fighting so many Green Goblin variants you start to understand their patterns a bit.”

His dark crimson eyes peered over at you. He hummed, and nodded once. He glanced back to the screens, obviously more interested with his work than this basic conversation.

It stung, just a little. You quickly pushed down those bitter feelings, this was truly nothing new. However, this gave you an opportunity to drink him in. And most of all, to let your thoughts wander for a brief moment.

“Miguel,” you moaned, tugging on his dark locks.

He chuckled, lifting his head from in between your legs. His mouth coated in your juices. He rested his cheek on your bruised thighs, smirking up at you with such mischief and adoration in his glowing crimson eyes.

“Yes?” He murmured, and pressed endearing butterfly kisses on your thigh.

You groaned at his antics. You yanked on his hair, directing him towards where you needed him most. He laughed again.

“Oh?” His hot breath on your dripping core made you instinctively buck your hips towards his wondrous mouth. His hands curled around your hips and forced you back down into the bed. “Talk to me, cariño. Hmm? What do you want?

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Blinking, you hummed confused, “What?”

Miguel sighed, heavily, “Never mind, we can discuss it later.”

He shook his head, and returned to his work. You, however, stood staring. Almost hungrily. When was the last time anyway? A month? Longer? You both have been so busy lately. You peered down at the hallway and entrance of the office. No one was coming, and no one could truly sneak up the two of you if -

“Is there something else you need?”

Your eyes snapped back over to him. He didn’t look at you, but his question lingered in the air.

There was.

There was indeed.

“Miguel,” you began, stepping towards him.

Internally, he groaned. He knew that tone. And now was certainly not the time.

“No,” he quickly answered.

“Come on, Miguel,” you complained. You wanted to collapse into someone’s arms, and why not make it more fun while you were at it. Why not find a wonderful way to distress? “A quickie before anyone notices.”

“Later,” he muttered, still typing away at screens and reviewing reports.

Later?

You huffed, crossing your arms. Your lips thinned, very obviously annoyed. Later, it was his new favorite word. But, you wouldn’t take ‘no’ or ‘later’ this time. No more excuses. And luckily, you didn’t have to dwell long before an idea struck. One to satisfy yourself, and to get underneath his skin.

Just as he has with you.

A win win.

In a flurry of movements, you quickly straddled his lap, completely unbothered by his minor protests. His chair rolled back as he glared up at you. He was ready to argue, ready to throw you off. But, your next words intrigued him enough to pause momentarily. You leaned in closely, and whispered sultry, “If you won’t, then I will.”

You positioned yourself over one of his massive thighs. He knew exactly what you were doing now. And oh, he would not cave so easily.

Or so he told himself.

Your hands rested on his shoulder. You blocked out the screens and forced him to look at you, forced him to acknowledge you and your needs after so long. You rolled your hips, and purposefully let out an outrageously pornographic moan. His hands balled up into fists at his sides.

Two could play at this game, he thought.

His jaw clenched. He would work, and work he did. He would not let you win. But, god he was starting to crave you. His thoughts were now being dragged through a lustful haze.

He ran this thumb over your bottom lips, pushing your mouth apart. “Just like that,” Miguel praised you as he slipped his cock inside your mouth.

He sighed deeply, dropping his shoulders.

On your knees, you slowly bobbed your head. Your hands wrapped around his thighs to steady yourself. One of his hands rested on top of your head, guiding you. It was a soft, easy pace.

A slow build up.

You glanced up at him. His head was tipped back, looking up at the ceiling. His mouth was agape as soft moans tumbled out. Sweat beaded across his forehead. A few of his dark curls clung to his sculpted face. Sensing your gaze, his head dropped forward as he smiled lovingly down at you. His hand moved from the top of your head to your cheek.

You, on the other hand, shared a darker look, a more devious one. Before Miguel could ask, you moaned loudly, sending waves of pleasant vibrations and instantly picking up your pace. He hissed out. Almost doubling over, he braced his forearm onto the nearby wall.

“Ah,” he groaned as a string of curses spilled out of his lips in Spanish.

You smiled to yourself, taking such pride in rendering Earth 2099’s Spiderman into a babbling mess.

“Oh my god, just like that,” he moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

You grinded down, and moaned unabashedly.

A vein nearly popped in Miguel’s forehead.

You bunched up his suit, and quickened your pace. Your wall fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled. You needed him, but you wouldn’t say that.

Both of you were a bit too egotistical at times. This being one of them.

His teeth grinded together as he listened to you, to your growing heavy panting. He relented somewhat. One of his hands rested your hip - his talons poked at you - as he very gently followed your movements. Your forehead rested onto his shoulder as you whined desperately and so closely to his ear. All to just tease him further.

God, how could he focus? How could he work now?

Your soft moans and cries, your panting, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your obvious attempt to finish as you sped up but can’t quite reach it, it all riled him up. It all went straight through him. The bulge in his suit became more and more apparent with every agonizing second.

Fine, he thought.

He clenched his thigh.

You immediately gasped, “Miguel.”

You had finally won.

He finally caved.

He instantly turned his head, burying his face into your neck. His hot breath on your already flushed skin made you shiver. His lips teasingly brushed over your neck then began to place sloppy kisses up and down. Both of his hands now forcibly grabbed your hips as you continued to rock back and forth. He yanked you harshly forward, setting a new brutal pace.

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

“Now?” You breathed out. It was a jab at him, even though you were unbelievably grateful right now. He grinded you down on his thigh, and you squirmed. “Now, you want to help?”

“Would you like me to stop?”

“God, no.”

He smirked to himself, “Good.”

Yes, you had finally enticed him. You had also awakened something else in him - that familiar sinister fiend.

“Take it off,” he whispered.

“What?” You barely registered his words. All your focus was on the overwhelming relief you were now feeling as well as the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You hissed. His talons started to bury further and further into your hips and thighs. Such pain brought such sweet, undeniable pleasure.

“Your suit. Take it off.” He repeated a little more sternly in your ear. His lips skimmed over your neck again. “Or I could rip it off -“

“Don’t you dare,” you huffed. This was your only spare left.

“Then take it off.”

His grip loosened.

Fine.

Unzipping the suit, you quickly stood up, shucking off everything, and leaving nothing behind. Miguel, however, only removed the lower half of his suit. Whatever tech he wore allowed such privileges. You wanted to complain, you wanted to scoff. Yet, it was all silenced.

His cock sprung out, the swollen tip leaked with precum.

Your heart leapt up into your throat, and you shivered in delightful anticipation. Not to mention, how your eyes drank in the happy trail which followed up his abdomen.

After so many times, it still all excited you.

“Come here,” Miguel sweetly whispered, almost too sweetly. He had a plan for you. One you happily ignored. He reached out, grabbing your hips guiding you back to him. You clambered back into the chair, straddling him.

His thumbs soothingly rubbed at your hips. He stared up at you with a small smile on your lips. You had mistaken his smile for kindness, it was utterly devious. His eyes blazed with a certain sinful lust. The tip of his cock teased your entrance. You whined softly, then viciously dug your nails into his shoulders. “Miguel, I swear to -“

“Shhh,” he purred, and kissed your neck. “All will be better soon, cariño. But, let me have my fun … just for a little bit.”

Another mistake on your part.

You just nodded.

You needed this desperately. But, he possibly needed this more. He simply didn’t realize it until you were in his grasp again.

He groaned, slowly bringing you down. Inch by sweet delicious inch, he stretched you out. With your head still resting on his shoulder, you could look down and have the perfect view as he filled you completely.

Fuck.

Bottoming out, he slowly rolled his hips, sending a small wave of pleasure through you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed in delight. His fang now protruded, grazing over your neck. You lolled your head to the side. He smirked. He licked up your neck, and nibbled on your ear. “You are going to pay dearly for what you did.”

You opened your mouth, a retort was ready to leap off your tongue. His hands then wandered up. His talons softly scratched across your back. You shivered, and hummed instead. The faint touches over your needy skin sent dizzying spells through you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, flushing you to his broad chest.

His lips brushed by your ear, “So impatient.”

You let out an airy laugh. You lifted your head, staring directly into his intimidating crimson eyes. “You’re right.”

You bucked your hips. He groaned, burying his face back into your neck. Your fingers tangled into his dark hair. You tried to lift your hips, tried to get more friction. But, his hands flew down keeping you in place. He chuckled darkly. He slowly kissed your neck, a sweetness despite the words that soon followed. “Oh, no. You have to sit here.”

He scooted his chair forward with you still in his lap. Your back bumped into the desk. You squirmed, wishing for some relief. But, it would not come. At least not now. One of his arms locked around your waist, easily keeping you in place as the other began to tap on screens.

“I think it’s time for you to learn some patience,” he hummed into your neck with a wide, devilishly smirk.

“Miguel, you can’t be -“

He instantly clamped a hand over your mouth. Staring directly into your eyes, he leaned in closely, and almost snarled. “Patience and silence.”

You had to bite back a snide remark. You wanted to get under his skin again, you wanted to get more of a rise out of him. But, you also wanted relief.

As if knowing of your impending comeback, he dipped his head, whispering in your ear, “Maybe if you let me finish my work, there might be a reward.”

His hand fell from your mouth, your pouty lips, and rested on your hip again. His fingers dug into you: a final warning to stay perfectly still.

“So, can you behave for me?” He asked, clearly amused by all of this.

You gritted your teeth, and opened your mouth. He bucked his hips upwards. All the words died. A moan fell out of your lips instead. He chuckled, and lightly smacked your hip, “Good.”

Your silence was now taken as obedience.

He turned his attention back onto the multiple screens and went back to work.

Minutes crawled by. Maybe an hour? Maybe it was only seconds? You clung to his body fiercely like it was the only life preserver left in this sea of torment. Sweat broke out across your forehead. You buried your face into his shoulder, panting. The clicks, and beeps, of the screens couldn’t drown out your desperate noises. The hums, the whines, the moans, you were becoming so vocal. Any slight movement - whether intentional or not - sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Yet, it wasn’t enough.

Even if you tried to move, Miguel’s grip was ironclad. One twitch and you were met with a tsk of disappointment followed by a snarky remark along the lines of ‘the more you move, the more I work’ or ‘relax, patience is often the best reward’.

And if you had any comment at all, he silenced it before you could utter a single letter by giving you just a minor taste of relief. He would buck or roll his hips, or grind you down further on him.

By the end, however long it was, you were a complete mess and slumped heavily into him. Most of your fight had worn out.

Soon, his fingers sneakily moved across your stomach. You tensed. Dipping lower, they found your sensitive little bud. You gasped, and moaned. His fingers slowly circled around your clit, just teasing you more and more. You bit the inside of your cheek hoping to prevent all the insane pleas that were ready to crawl out. You were so sensitive and so needy. Your walls clamped down around him, aching for more.

He groaned at the sensation, “Oh, I want to fold you over this desk.”

You shuddered in excitement. “Then do it,” you taunted, despite your incredibly shaky voice.

“No.”

You whined, “God, you are so annoying sometimes.”

“And so are you.”

You swore under your breath. He was so infuriating, so annoying, and still somehow so unbelievably gorgeous. If you had any less of a spine, you would let him get away with so much more. But, just how he teased you, you equally loved to return the favor.

You thought today was your turn, but you underestimated him.

“God,” you mumbled. You started to kiss his jaw, trying to soften him up. “Just fuck me already.”

His fingers pulled away from your clit, and you almost wanted to cry. Chuckling, his lips brushed over your ear and teasingly asked in a low seductive voice, “Aw, qué pasa, cariño?”

“You are the worst,” you groaned, half heartedly.

He smirked. Your words and how your body reacted were always at odds. “I am? Says the one who strolled in here asking for it.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you hissed.

He rolled your hips, and you instantly moaned. “Oh, but you love it,” he hummed. “Don’t you?”

No response.

“Aw, no witty comeback? No attempts to bruise my pride? Or to simply irritate me?” He looked into your eyes, seeing your obvious and desperate want. “Maybe you have finally learned some patience.”

Your heart soared. You didn’t dare say yes or nod your head in fear of more sinister tricks. You could be here for another hour if he so wished.

He slowly rocked your hips, giving you just a bit more friction. That small simple movement was downright hypnotic. “Just say please for me, okay? Dame uno por favor, sí?”

Your head tipped back as you sighed blissfully. You didn’t hear him. Or you willfully ignored him. He quickly grabbed your chin, yanking you forward.

“Ah, let me hear it.”

Normally, you would fight. Yet, you were at your wit’s ends. You instead melted into him, gazing longingly into his eyes. You conceded. “Please,” you whispered very softly.

“Más fuerte. Say it louder.”

“Please,” you begged. You cupped his face, bringing him closer. You peppered kisses all over his face and continuously said ‘please’ after each one. “Please, I need you.”

He hummed, “Perfect.”

Grabbing the back of your neck, he kissed you passionately. His tongue slipped inside without warning, swirling around and drawing out more desires. You moaned unapologetically into him. With inhuman strength, he easily picked you up, laying you across the desk. All the holographic screens disappeared. He attacked your lips with a ferociousness, one you had experienced time and time again. And yet it continued to leave you breathless. Pulling away, his sharp teeth tugged on your bottom lip, and drew out a small spot of blood.

He smirked down at you, at your droopy lust filled eyes. His thumb grazed over your now swollen lips and wiped away the dot of blood. “Qué hacer contigo? Hmm? Should I really give you what you want?”

Your hands curled around to the back of his neck, drawing him back down. You gently pecked his lips. A tiny plea, and almost a small apology for starting this. “Please,” you begged again quietly against his lips.

His hands traveled down your body, latching back onto your hips. “Why can’t you be this nice all the time?”

“You love it, though,” you smirked a little, tossing his same words back at him. “You like when I’m annoying you.”

“Perhaps.” He pulled out, before forcibly slamming once into you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan. “But, I do like when I’m able to silence that pretty mouth of yours.”

After so long, he pounded into you. Mercilessly. You arched your back, and wrapped your legs around his waist. You had driven him insane since your little stunt, he had his fun, and now he was going to take everything you gave him. He would have you crying, and whining on his cock. He would have you begging nonstop. He would have you cumming again and again if he so pleased.

You kissed him messily again. Tongue and teeth clashed. You bucked your hips, matching his mind numbing pace. You wouldn’t last long. You could feel the knot ready to burst, but you didn’t want this to end. Breaking apart, catching a fleeting breath, you moaned as his cock easily split you open.

He growled, rutting into you like a feral animal.

But, then something snapped in him.

This wasn’t enough for him.

He lifted you up off the desk, holding your waist. Bucking his hips upward, and lifting you up and down, while also using the help of gravity, you were being slammed tirelessly on his cock.

“Fuck, Miguel.” You clawed at his shoulders.

His cock kissed new places you didn’t think was possible. You nearly went limp in his grasp, like a rag doll. It was all so delicious, all so wonderful, and oh so sinful. The wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out, the slapping of his hips against you, his soft moans and hisses of pleasure, it all added to this building sensation - the impending euphoric crash.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t last long now in this new position.

“Miguel,” you moaned. “I’m about to -“

“I know, I know,” he murmured into your neck. He nipped and sucked at your tender neck. Your walls fluttered around him. God, it drove him nuts. You felt amazing, heavenly even. “Cum for me, carñio. Please, I want to see it.”

You tried to help, tried to grind on him or buck your hips. But, you were at his mercy. He was relentless. And god, you loved it. You were happily bouncing on his cock as he used and abused you.

“Fuck,” you moaned again.

You were so close.

“Come on,” he hissed. “Let me see it.”

You clashed your lips to his. It was sloppy. Your legs tightened around him, as if needing him closer. As if he wasn’t already buried deeply inside of you. Miguel moaned. He slammed you back down, and rolled your hips.

That was it.

The knot snapped.

You moaned loudly into him, and you came around him. Miguel peppered kisses all over your face. “Ah, just like that. Oh, you are so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you hissed as you began to work yourself back down from your high. You pressed your forehead against his. Breathing heavily, you whined softly he still continued to use you to reach his own end. It was all so much, and somehow not enough. Fuck, he truly was amazing. Looking into his eyes, you gently stroked his cheek and murmured tiredly, “Come on, Miguel. Fill me up. I want you to.”

Miguel moaned.

“Just like that. God, you feel amazing.” You hummed, playing with the ends of his hair on the back of his neck.

His talons dug into your hips, cutting them and bruising them. After a few more thrusts, he stuttered. Tumbling forward, he quickly set you down on the desk, his arms on either side of you as he finished inside of you. He stared deeply into your eyes, his pupil blown wide with an animalistic haze still behind them. Your combined breathing filled the space between you.

With your legs still around his waist, you jerked him closer. He hissed, still very sensitive. “Still want to go back to work,” you smugly asked.

He chuckled, then smiled at you. “Still have that mouth on you I see.”

“Oh, but you love it.”

His thumb - and with his talons still out - ran across your lip. “I do, and how about we continue this elsewhere. Maybe I can have it put to other uses.”

“Maybe if you beg nicely.”

His eyes lit with such passion at your lightning fast remark. His eyes flickered to your lips, smirking, “Hmm, maybe.”

You truly knew how to push him. God, he did love it. No, actually he just loved you.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Through the Window

summary: despite the complexities of your relationship, Miguel always shows, ready and willing to slink through your window and submit in your bed.

pairing: afab!reader x miguel o’hara

contents: nsfw/18+/smut, sub!miguel o’hara, unprotected sex, light bondage, pet names, idiots in love, angst, happy ending

wc: 2,701

an: sub!miguel rights!!!! reducing him to a needy mess is in my hierarchy of needs, and it should be in yours too <3.

writing masterlist | marvel masterlist

“You have the nicest window, you know? None of the others can even compete. It's not flashy like the others, or bleary – your window gives off this nice, quiet light.” — Banana Yoshimoto, The Lake

Miguel has weaseled his way into your heart. He’s decidedly not your type— too much of a tight ass to even allow a smile at one of your jokes. Too broody to show what he’s actually feeling, hiding behind that glaring mask his face is set in.

That is until he breaks under the everpresent pressure of being a leader— the leader. It feels a little sadistic that you realized how well the two of you work together despite all your differences, when his mind is on the brink of collapse.

There’s a telltale knock on your window, five sharp taps in quick succession. He never uses the door, partially because he’s spiderman, partially because whatever this is that happened between the two of you isn’t real and it will never be. Letting him in through your front door would be a sign that you’re letting him into your heart. You’ve avoided that successfully, that is until tonight.

When you make it to the window to let him in, the sight of him makes every hair on your body stand on edge. Sure you’ve seen him struggle, but never like this. You’ve never seen Miguel look so defeated, his eyes somehow as cloudy with emotion as they are dead.

You cup his face in your hands, examining him, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” He says sharply, not bothering to mumble to hide his fangs.

You know too much about him. You’ve studied him, his behaviors, his DNA, his patterns. There’s many reasons the two of you have decided to keep this purely physical but the most convincing is that you’re a scientist partnered with the police force to catch him. When he realized that knowing him, seeing him the way he allows you dampens your efforts, he told you some of his past. You know everything there is to know about Miguel O’Hara; everything he’ll let you know.

There are plenty of things you don’t know. You don’t know why he chose you. Why he comes back to you time and time again when there’s someone he could actually have a future with. You don’t know that he longs for you, dreams of impossible outcomes where the two of you can truly be together. Those are things that Miguel can never share with you— not when you do what you do.

Not when you only let him in and out through the window.

“If you don’t want to talk then strip and lay on the bed.”

Miguel melts under your commands. His shoulders that stay stiff—poised for control under the weight of keeping order— relax when he’s with you. He’s completely naked and sprawled out in your bed in under a minute. You grab some silks from the top drawer, and make your way over to him, straddling his lap.

His eyes are already ravenous as he looks up at you, their usual bright redness almost looking black in this lighting. His hands are restless as the rest on the sheets, itching to touch you. But when he’s in your bed like this, you call the shots.

You get both of his hands tied to the posts. You check them, tugging on them to make sure they’re secure but not too tight. “You remember what to say if you need me to stop?”

“‘Course I do,” He breathes, and you can hear the eagerness in his voice.

“Yeah you do, because you’re such a good boy for me.”

Miguel whimpers underneath you, chest rising as his breath quickens with anticipation. Sometimes he thinks that he can cum just from the sound of your voice, just from you looking at him the way you are right now. He’s used to having the power—to towering over others and making them feel as if they’re in his grasp. You’re looking at him like you own him, like you want to consume him completely. He’s ready to give in, to disappear in you.

There’s no reason for you to ask this question, but you can’t deny that your heart wants to hear his answer to it— so you ask.

“Why’d you come tonight?”

His legs shift beneath you impatiently, “Because I need you.”

“You need me,” You repeat, feigning skepticism. That skepticism isn’t completely unreal but you don’t have time to unpack that, not when he looks so desperate beneath you.

He nods, “Yeah, need you baby, please.”

You bend to kiss him, a smug smile on your lips, “Shh, you don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I won’t tease you, not tonight.”

You take him into your hand with a firm grip, stroking him the way you know will reduce him to a whiny mess— slow, drawn out strokes, slicked by his precum.

He practically dissolves under your touch, eyes rolling in the back of his head, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, yeah baby.”

“Feel good?” You question playfully. You weren’t completely honest with your promise not to tease, but you’ll get him out of his head, give him so much pleasure that his brain fries despite poking fun at his desperation.

“So good, can I have more? I need to feel you, please.”

“You need it?” You ask. wanting to hear him say it again though he's already said it twice tonight.

“I need it— need you. Always need you,” He looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You aren’t sure if you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go or ride him until he’s a shuddering, crying mess. The first isn’t a possibility, so you go with the latter.

There is something distinctly unique about tonight. He’s always needy, always asking and begging for what he wants. But there’s a new depth to his desperation and his words. You almost believe him. You almost believe that he truly needs you, and not just the release he’s chasing. That he wouldn��t be able to get what he needs from anyone else, though this is just sex.

The way you guide yourself down onto his cock is gentle, teasing. His eyes shut, a soft gasp leaving his full mouth. He looks so beautiful beneath you. Miguel is large, one of the largest men you've ever seen and despite how many times you’re with him it takes a little effort. You shift steadily, using your free hand to rub at your clit so that you bloom and open more easily for him. When you whine at the stretch his eyes open, tracking immediately to the way your wet heat envelopes him.

“So fucking big, baby. You like that don’t you? Watching me take you? Watching me fuck you.”

“I like it,” He breathes easily. You’re about to tease him but then he says, “I love it.”

“Me too, baby. I love it too. You’re so fucking perfect for me, so fucking easy. You’d let me fuck you until I felt satisfied wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you need.”

“What I need, sweet boy, is to feel you cum. Fill me up. Can you be good and do that for me? Make it all messy.”

“Mhmm, just–kiss me, please? So close,” He groans beneath you, his body practically shaking with the effort it takes to keep his hips still.

“Since you asked so nicely,” You tease him, bending down to press your mouth to his.

Your hips don’t stop bouncing, taking him fast and deep, and the soft groans that echo out of him and into your mouth turn to high pitched whine as you feel him cum, filling you completely. You continue to ride him until tears prick his eyes from overstimulation. But, he doesn’t ask you to stop, doesn’t say that safe word because despite his orgasm he needs to feel you cum.

It doesn’t take long; with his cum and your building arousal it's easy to take him faster. You need a bit more, just a little. And while you know Miguel’s body well, there’s give and take. He knows yours just as well. He can see the desperation mounting in your eyes even in his subby haze. He rocks his hips up when you come down, biting out whimpers that meld with the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Untie me. Let me help you,” He suggests softly.

You have no arguments, reaching up to undo the knot at his wrists. His hands are on your body in an instant, one dropping to rub diligent circles into your clit while the other rolls your nipple gently through his fingers. You go completely stiff above him, squeezing the life out of his cock in a way that makes him cry out again. When you collapse against him he draws you close without another thought.

The two of you lay there for an eternity, breath returning to normal as you trace shapes on his chest. That’s the thing with you and Miguel, it starts quickly, a flurry of skin on skin, of hushed whines and limits pushed. But it ends, and that ending is always sobering. The longer you lay on his chest the more anxious you get.

Pushing up, you peer at him, seeing if there is any distress or anything he needs. Miguel’s very good at returning to his controlling headspace, the time frame of his vulnerability is tight. There’s nothing there when he gazes back at you, none of that desperation or longing that was just in his eyes. It’s eerie.

You look away, clearing your throat to ask, “Miguel, what are we doing? This…this is dangerous.”

He groans— it is full of exasperation and not pleasure— and scrubs a hand over his face, “We talk about this everytime and we end up here all over again. Don’t waste our breath.”

You ignore him, pulling his hand away from his face, “You could get caught coming in here and my job—“

He glares at you, shifting you off so he can sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. “We both know that you don’t give a fuck about that job. Not the way you’re supposed to anyway.”

“That wasn’t my point.”

“Then what was? Because you’re wasting my time.”

“What happened to ‘we talk about this everytime’?” You drop your voice an octave, tightening your shoulders to mock him. “Shouldn’t you know then?”

“Let’s not pretend that your spiel about getting caught has anything to do with me. It all has to do with you,” He starts to slip back into his suit, standing to pull it up and over his shoulders.

You reach for your robe as you step out of bed, following after him, “Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I would care?”

“If you care so much about me getting caught swinging through your window then why haven’t you let me in through the door? Y’know like a normal man would.”

“Because…because this is all I thought you would give me. And you’re not a normal man. You’re not just some guy to me. You have to know I don’t let you into my bed because you have fangs and swing from webs, right? You being Miguel to me…it has nothing to do with being Spiderman. Keeping things the way they are… made it easier to deny that.”

He stares at you through narrowed eyes, as if he’s gauging whether or not he believes you. He wants to…but he doesn’t. He can’t. Vulnerability begins to unravel in his chest, the kind that he distinctly avoids even though he submits to you. He needs to run before you see him.

“You know what…you were right. This is dangerous; I won’t come back, not for this nonsense. This bullshit.”

Panic rises in your throat as he starts toward the window. You always knew you would lose him but you never thought that it would be like this, with him walking away. Choosing to part.

“What about you? Why do you keep coming back? Why is it the first time you’ve brought up being a normal guy, walking through the door instead of sneaking in?” You ask quickly, reaching out to grab his hand.

He pulls away from you sharply but turns around his bright red eyes bleeding down into yours, “Your time for asking questions is up, maybe you should’ve asked when you had me tied up.”

Miguel can try to intimidate you, try to be the man he is outside of this window with you, but you know the truth. You know the way he bends and breaks and molds for you. Just for you. It’s what makes staring back at him so confidently easy.

“Until you slip out of that window you’re mine.”

“I’m never yours, this isn’t real. Never has been.”

“Then why? Answer my questions. Why do you keep coming back? Why are you just bringing up the thing about the door—“

“Because I didn’t want you to say no!” He shouts at you, the points of his fangs glistening in the moonlight. “There? Are you happy? Seen enough of me to bulk up your stupid little file?”

You stare at him, completely speechless for a moment. Is that what he thinks this is? That he’s at your mercy? Sure, he submits to you in bed but that’s his choice. He has all the power, he’s set the limits, he chooses when this all happens. And if one day he decided he didn’t want this anymore, you’re not sure how you would cope.

“Miguel, when have I ever been able to say no to you?”

He flushes, looking away, “Pretty often when we—“

“Because that’s what you need. It’s what you ask me to give you, but besides that? Tell me when.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it fucking matters. You’re being avoidant.”

“I’m not being avoidant,” He says firmly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Fine then what was your other argument? That I put the things you tell me here in the file? I’d never do that to you.”

“That’s bullshit, you’d squeak for that job in a heartbeat.”

“They don’t even know about your daughter,” You counter.

His eyes finally snap back to yours. If it were anyone else to get this stare from him, they’d think he was angry— but you know Miguel and see nothing but pain. “His daughter.”

“His daughter,” You amend quickly, knowing that it’s easier for him to view it that way. “It’s true anything you told me or showed me here, it’s…it’s ours.”

“Ours,” He tests cautiously, brow furrowing together as he looks down at the floor.

This must’ve been some reverse psychology ploy that he’d been waiting to use on you. How did you go from adamantly telling yourself that you and Miguel could never work to convincing him that every moment between the two of you is real? That it’s— that he— is the realest thing that’s ever happened to you.

How had this ended with you unable to let him go like all the times you had before?

“Stay.”

“That’s not—“

“Stay,” You say gently, reaching for his hand again. You thread your fingers through his. “Just for tonight, and if it’s too much, if it’s not what you thought it would be or something you want then in the morning you can walk out the door and never come back.”

“And if it is something I want?”

“Then tomorrow night, I imagine that around— I don’t know— 7 p.m. Miguel O’Hara is picking me up and taking me to dinner.”

His mouth twitches, fighting a smile, “Is that so?”

“He said it himself actually. Wish he was here to back me up, but I guess I’m stuck with you for now— the freaky spider guy in skin tight tights.”

And finally, for the first time, Miguel snorts before letting out a soft laugh at your joke. It’s a sound you never heard before but one you want to keep hearing over and over again.

“So that’s what your laugh sounds like,” You murmur as you pull him closer, burying your smiling face into his chest.

He quickly wraps his arms around you, whispering, “Get used to it.”

miguel taglist: @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh, @scaraza, @stargazingcarol, @soft-persephone, @k-ra

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in miguel o’hara stuff!

[a060403]

❝𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.❞

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬... 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ✿❀✿

✎ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝟎𝟗/𝟎𝟕/𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

✎ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝟎𝟗/𝟐𝟗/𝟐𝟒

✎ 𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝟏𝟓

✎ 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭. 𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

✎ 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐘!!!

✎ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭! 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝!

🔞 – 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

🫀– 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

⋆ 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 ⋆

✎ 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

⭒𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐕⭒

✎ 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐕 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

• 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 •

✎ 𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[o4i0n]

happy holidays everyone! this isn’t a christmas fic btw i just wanted to say happy holidays 

reblogs, comments & likes r highly appreciated !

the first time the two of you meet, miguel o’hara easily picks up on the fact that it doesn’t take a lot to please you. 

well, to rephrase, he finds that it doesn’t take much to make you happy and ensure that you’d reward him with one of your bright smiles if he does right by you. if he thinks that you couldn’t get even more perfect in his eyes, you somehow manage to prove him wrong, that he, in fact, could love you more, just because you give him so many reasons to. 

since he’s crowned you as one of the only people whom he can say he’s had the utmost pleasure of meeting and getting to know, he vowed to himself that he would make it his absolute mission to spoil you as much as he’s able to, so long as you let him. you do, of course you do; besides, why deny him one of the simplest pleasures in life, the very ones he thought he wouldn’t get to experience? you can’t say no to him, oh no—not when he’s been so eager to make sure that you always know that he loves you this much. 

it’s not like you weren’t treated as well in your past relationships, it’s just that miguel makes sure that he goes above and beyond to put a pretty smile on your face. his treatment of you has ruined the potential of any other person who would attempt to surpass what miguel has done and will continue to do for you, but there are no complaints from your end. even so, it takes you by storm just how much more attentive he is as compared to your previous partners.

until now, you’re always quick to reassure him that he doesn’t need to do so much for lil’ old you; you tell him that you don’t need anything extravagant or anything of the sort, because you already appreciate the fact that he always wants to make you happy. you keep saying that it’s the thought that counts, because if it’s from him, it’s already enough. however, it’s also difficult to argue with a man who’s so set in stone with his ways, that he mentions again and again that you deserve the world and so much more—all you had to do was say the word and he’d bust his ass to make it happen for you. 

then again, if it doesn’t take much to make you happy, then it doesn’t take much to placate him, since you can always tide him over with one of your sweet smiles, the ones he knows is specifically just for him, and the unwavering look of love in your eyes. after all, he does it all for you. whatever makes his girl happy, even if she refuses to give into being spoiled because she’s insistent in sharing the simpler things in life with him. 

────────────────────────

“listen to me,” he huffs out, and with the pace he’s going at, you’re pretty sure that the last thing you’re able to do is to listen to whatever it is he’s going to say next—not when he’s busy making sure to fuck every sensible thought out of your pretty little head. just because you like being good for him, you try to do what he says, but the only things that are reaching your ears are the wet, creamy squelches from when he thrusts into you, and the short, ragged breaths that both of you take. 

your body is caged between miguel and the mattress, a pillow beneath your hips so that you’re propped up without tiring either of you out too much. if you weren’t so busy being lightheaded at how well he’s fucking you, you’d think something along the lines of how pretty miguel looks right now; the attentiveness is shining through once again, with just enough casual dominance for you to melt even more into his touch. the low rumble that pairs with the filth he’s about to spew adds something else to the entire experience, and you whimper when his cock drags along the warm, velvety walls of your sopping wet cunt as he pulls out ever so slightly. 

miguel leans in closer to you, the heat of his breath tickling the shell of your ear when he presses a kiss right where the pulsepoint is on your neck. even with how hard he’s been going, you find some kind of momentary peace at the feeling of his soft lips against your sweat-soaked skin. “if i can’t make you cum every single night, then i’ve failed you. understood?” 

there he is again with the absolute certainty in his words—as if he could ever fail you. you don’t think that he could ever do that, not even if he tried; his devotion is one you’ve never witnessed before nor have been on the receiving end of, and it makes your head spin. no one has ever spoken to you like this in your life, and you’d almost be embarrassed at how receptive you are to him with the way you clench around his length when he says all that, but you aren’t. he’s just that good at what he does. 

you’re not even doing any work at this point, not when your thighs burn from your previously exerted efforts. in your daze, you don’t even notice that miguel stopped moving for a moment, and it’s not before you whine out a small ‘mhm hmm, understood!’ with much effort before his fingers dig into the fat of your sides for support as his hips snap up against yours at a grueling pace.  

even with how tired you are, you somehow want more, so in the times that miguel slows down for your sake, you move your hips along with his thrusts to get more out of him. with how hesitant you started out, you don’t think he’d notice, but it’s miguel: of course he notices. when he catches on, miguel smiles, a slight gleam of fang peeking out, and he plants a kiss on your forehead, a stark contrast at how he’s completely abusing your pussy. 

“there we go, that’s right,” he croons at you, watching your once shy movements get lost in a flurry of pure desperation, your back arching off the mattress and your hips raised as you grind down on him. to make you squirm even more, he lets one of his hands wander along your body, starting with your chest as he takes a pebbled nipple in between his fingers, his touch then ghosting the curve of your stomach, right before his fingertips come into contact with your poor, sensitive clit to rub small, practiced circles over it. “fuck yourself on my cock—there’s a good girl. doing so well for me, taking what’s hers.” 

he’s going to be the death of you one day, you think. you don’t know how you manage to get even wetter or even more sensitive, but you do. with how long the two of you have been at it, coupled with the utter precision miguel has to make you fall apart in the best of ways, it doesn’t take long before you cry out miguel’s name as you chase your orgasm. a few more times of you rutting your hips against his own so that he hits that specific spot, all while he’s lazily fucking into you, has you creaming around his cock and leaves your thighs shaking. 

when your hips drop back into the pillow, miguel chuckles softly while he watches you try to catch your breath. you don’t know how many times you’ve come that night, but miguel looking like he hasn’t broken a sweat annoys you—lovingly, of course. it might be because of how drunk you are off him, but you swear that the light in the room makes it seem like he has little hearts in his eyes. 

“pussy’s treatin’ me so well, honey. let me make you come again, yeah? you know i’m all yours.” he lets out another groan as pushes into you and bottoms out yet again, the leaking tip of his cock nestled comfortably inside you. you love him, you really do, but good god, he loves you too much. with one hand, miguel still holds you by your hips while the other gently pats your mound. “she can take it, i know she can.” 

you want to roll your eyes at how corny he’s being, talking to your pussy like she’s her own person, but whatever. he looks so proud of himself too, with that stupidly adorable, boyish grin on his face—a little lopsided, but you love it all the same. as his deft fingers find their way back in between your legs to gently toy with your overly sensitive clit, you twitch a little, but you don’t fight the fact that you succumb into whatever it is he’ll do next, just because he’s so willing to make you feel good. once your legs fall open and give him a short, tiny nod, miguel is ecstatic.  

“give me a break,” you sigh, feigning exasperation as you wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “then just one more, okay?” 

when his eyes crinkle at the corners ever so slightly right before the smile on his face flattens into a smirk, you know that it won’t be ‘just one more.’ it never is with him. 

still, he gives you a nod, his body pressing into yours in a way that you didn’t think he could anymore. “promise.” 

still learning the ropes of writing smut so please be nice ashdfgsh also again if there r grammatical errors you didn't see them :P

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

hear me out

Detective!miguel with His sidekick,or agent

but he falls in love with his sidekick/agent while being her partner for soo long

(FEM!reader pls) make reader care free or just friendly to everyone,but when it an case.It game time,Serious time,no playing around.

Ahhhh! I love the vibes!

Detective!Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Warnings: injury references, brief sexy time references, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 307

Miguel’s usually very quiet and collected, methodical in how he approaches cases. 

Pretends he doesn’t love your little jokes and snips, but you can tell by the way his lips twitch ever so slightly that he really loves them.

Everyone thinks he’s so stoic all the time, but that’s only because his sarcasm is so deadpan and his normal tone is so low it’s almost impossible to decipher. 

You can tell though. He makes you snort laugh at the worst possible times. It’s one of his favourite things. 

Always asks your opinion on everything, likes to hear you talk about the case. It helps him to process.  

He gets injured badly on one case and absolutely panics afterwards because he realises, when he thought he was going to die, his last thoughts before he passed out were of you. 

When he wakes up in the hospital you’re asleep on the chair next to his bed.

He nearly pulls out several tubes trying to climb out of bed and hug you. 

Gets told off by not only you, but three nurses. 

Only settles back down when you hold his hand, he strokes your cheek and tells you he loves you.

“You must be on some really good drugs right now, O’Hara.” You tease.

You only believe him when he keeps telling you every single day.

You chew him out for getting so badly hurt, and how he shouldn’t take stupid risks.

“Take a stupid risk on me?” 

“Do not change the subject, Miguel.” 

“Go back to calling me O’Hara, you saying Miguel in that tone…” 

“Makes you nervous?” 

“Horny.” 

Your first kiss is only when he’s finally allowed to go home, because he didn’t want it to be in a hospital bed. 

He did kiss your cheeks, hands, neck, shoulders, forehead and everywhere else he could reach though.

Thank you so much for reading!

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[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[fake-bleach]

all mine | miguel o'hara x reader

summary: You have an unspoken rule with Miguel O’Hara. He takes care of you, he provides for you, and in return, you let him take what he wants.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), literally porn no plot, unprotected piv sex, implications of free use but also not rly, slight choking, dirty talk, roughish sex, no foreplay (straighttt to it), use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, girl, etc), coming inside, i think that's it lolll, !no atsv spoilers!

i know this isn't p but i watched spiderverse last night and had to get him out of my system + i adore oscar isaac <3 working on two joel fics rn so expect those :)

ao3 link | masterlist

The ruffling of your sheets weren't nearly enough to wake you from your sleep. But, the pressure of Miguel's body on yours was.

It always was.

"Hey, baby.. It's me," he whispers in your ear, his hands and arms practically consuming you as they roam across your entire body. With you laying flat on your stomach, his hips and chest press so tightly against you.

It runs chills down your spine; the force of his pent up cock in his rigid suit as the sultry voice fills your hazy mind, barely wakening from your deep slumber. His lips plant desperate kisses on the back of your neck, lowering the more he lifts your flimsy pajama shirt up and up and up.

He never did really like you wearing anything to sleep.

Your sluggish murmurs barely register to him, a soft, “Mmphf," and "Miguel.." making him almost instinctively say the same words he always does when he comes to you.

"Yeah.. Missed you too, cariño." He mutters out, his hands already reaching for your shorts to lower them along with your panties, not taking a single second to waste. The small kisses he plants on your lower back never slow, giving you that bit of reassurance which almost sends a surge of energy through you.

He was always so needy with you; never putting much effort to make any small talk. He was here for a reason and you knew that.

But, you didn't mind it one bit.

The cool air from the sudden exposure on your skin sends shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble just enough to force a faint laugh out of Miguel's throat.

It's that same laugh that makes you crave him; the deep, heavy tone of it making your eyes flutter open with need already soaring through you and your core.

His fingers trail down to your inner thighs, almost teasing you with the gentle glide of the tips, wanting to force those little noises out of your mouth, which he successfully does. Your faint whines just make him grin, knowing that you need him.. just as much as he needs you.

He drifts them over your soft folds, nearly hissing out at how wet you already were. It makes him chuckle, your whimpers growing louder the more he touches you. "Already soaked for me, honey? Bet you were just waitin' for me to come see you.." He whispers out lowly, his lustful eyes fixed onto your glistening cunt.

His fingers take their time, faintly pressing against your entrance and swiping through your lips, gathering the wet slick that you were so graciously providing for him.

It always makes this so much easier for him.

You moan out, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his body and the movement of his free hand releasing his cock from his suit, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He desperately guides the tip of it through your folds, getting ready to indulge himself into your warm heat. The feeling of his cock pressing into you makes you groan, gripping onto the sheets as butterflies flow through your stomach and core, hole clenching around nothing.

You needed him so bad already, just like you always did.

Mouth falling open, you whimper out, "please.." and all it does is make him laugh, smirking as he glances up at you. "Need me that bad, baby? Barely getting started.." He rasps out, nearly pressing the head of his cock into your cunt, but just enough to get him a taste of you.

He groans out, his hands now moving up to squeeze your ass eagerly before slapping it. The harsh sound and the sting of it makes you cry out, thrusting your hips against the sheets in attempt to get some kind of friction.

"Fuck, missed this pretty pussy.. Gonna cherish it.. fuck it.. just like you need, honey." He lets out with a faint hiss, taking his time to start pushing his cock inside of your tight hole. The girth of him makes your walls constrict around him, gripping onto him tightly as he presses himself into you, each inch making your jaw fall wider and wider.

You've been at this too many times with him, but you never get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

It doesn't take too long until his hips are flush against your ass, the tip of his cock piercing so deeply inside of you and filling you up to the brim. It has you letting out small pants, eyes almost rolling all the way to the back of your head at how heavy the air feels around you, how full you feel.

Your face lays on the bed, the side of your cheek pressed against your pillow as your eyes gaze onto Miguel's hips and large body nearly covering you entirely. He licks his drying lips, staring up at you for a moment to look at your face.

He coos at you, almost patronizingly. "Too much?" he teases, "Fucked you so many times, baby.. n' your cunt's still so tight around me."

His head tilts down to stare at the sight of your walls wrapped around him and slightly pulls out as he lifts your thigh up a bit, just enough to see you clench around him involuntarily. It makes him groan; the feeling of your warm pussy enough to wash all of his problems away.

That's why he was here, anyway.

His hips begin to create an unrelenting pace, slowly yet surely making your entire body push and pull into the mattress over and over again, every force of his cock hitting you harder each time.

The echoing smack of his hips slapping against your ass and thighs fill the room entirely, along with your moans growing louder with each thrust. The recurring sting of his skin leaves you breathless, letting out small gasps as you grip onto the sheets tighter.

Miguel doesn't take a second to rest, making sure he slams his cock into your cunt to the brim, using every inch of your hole as if it were only his to use.

He lets out short, hoarse moans each time he enters you. The squelching noises your soaked pussy gives out makes him smack your ass, your slick coating his cock and nearly running down your thighs.

The sounds make your cheeks burn, his mocking laugh forcing a groan out of you as he moves his body forward to lay his chest on your back now, the weight of him keeping your waist and stomach flush into the bed.

The pressure of him feels intoxicating, your breath hitching as he leans his mouth towards your ear. His grunts are the only thing that you can hear now, along with the faint sounds of the constant slaps of his hips against you. It's so filthy, yet you crave it every time with him.

His grunts now turn into whispers; faint, heavy breaths that you can barely process from how full and fucked out you felt.

It's almost like you're going in and out of consciousness, hardly registering what he was saying, until you hear, "Good fucking girl.. Lettin' me use you like this, fuck, taking such good care of me.."

You whimper out in response, his words making that heat in your stomach and core rise. The praise, yet degrading things that Miguel tells you always leave you wanting more.

His hips begin to slow down now, instead taking his time to pull his cock out of you, letting the tip of it rest against your entrance. Lifting his head from your shoulder, his eyes travel from your bare skin back to your ass. He shoves himself back into you, harder with each thrust so you can feel every inch of him, taking you completely.

You cry out at the intrusion, the harsh force making your eyes roll back as you whine out his name. The push of his cock reaches that spot deep inside of you, forcing your eyes wide open at the overwhelming sensation.

His name on your tongue drives him insane, lifting one of his hands from your ass to reach underneath the weight of your head, wrapping his fingers around your throat. He feels your heart pounding beneath his fingertips, his grip on you tightening just to see you gasp with his eyes fixed on your face now.

He moans your name, his coarse voice making you tighten around him, "There we go, sweetheart.. Think I hit a spot, yeah?" He murmurs out, your groans giving him the answer he needed. The repetitive movement of his thrusts never relent, Miguel making sure that the pace and aim of his cock stay the same.

Your body shudders at the feeling, sending waves of pleasure through your core as you feel him buried to the hilt. You breathe out, desperation seething out through your teeth, "Yeah, Miguel, s-shit, yeah..", feeling your orgasm build up the more he fucks you.

"That's it, honey, let me hear you say it.. Who's fuckin' you this good? Who's gonna make you come, baby?" He pants, thrusts growing faster as he chases his own release, needing to come with you.

Another smack of his large hand on your ass makes you gasp out, eyes shutting tightly as you force the words out of your lips, "You, Miguel, fuck, s'always you.. no one else.."

Your confession goes straight to Miguel's cock, pride growing at the knowledge that you give yourself to him and only him. He grits his teeth, groans slipping out of his mouth while he reaches between your stomach connected to the bed, pressing his fingers against your clit.

"Yeah, baby? I'm the only one who can fuck this pretty pussy, that right?" He urges out of you, hardly processing his thoughts before he can speak them, "You're mine to use? Mine to fuck when I want, huh?"

His words mixed with the pressure of his fingertips on your clit, pressing small, tight circles on it has you moaning out spurs of nonsense; mindless, fucked out noises, with the way his cock slams inside of you over and over again. You feel so full, the heat and coiling inside of your stomach and core increasing.

You whine out, biting your swollen lips, "F-Fuck! Yeah, yeah, m' yours Miguel, all fucking yours.." you breathe out, "Yours to fuck, whenever you want.. Yours to use; whatever you want, Miguel.."

Admitting that shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

You never thought you'd be able to speak like that, much less degrade yourself in such a way; not until he came into your life.

Not until he ruined you for everyone else.

His chest presses tightly against your back, lips back in your ear as he grunts into it, "That's my girl.. knowing your fuckin' place, that's right.." His hands press into the small of your back, forcing your stomach into the bed. You didn't think it was possible for you to feel even more full, but the way he buries his cock to the hilt has you seeing stars.

The quick circles on your clit with the force of his hips has your stomach tightening, coiling up as your walls constrict around his cock, making you come without any warning at all.

Your head lifts, pants and moans escaping your throat with your eyes shut. Miguel's voice encourages you, his fingers on your clit slowing, though his hips never let up. He lifts his chest off from your back to gain better leverage now, hands gripping onto your ass as he pounds himself into you.

The pressure of his cock into your sensitive, spent cunt has you wailing out, whining at the overstimulation. Miguel just uses you and your abused hole, chasing his own release as his cock twitches. "Shit, honey, gonna come, gonna fill you up, fuck," he groans out in rushed breaths.

You clench around him involuntarily, the spasms of your pussy and orgasm hardly to your own control, letting out, "Fill me up, baby, ruin me, please.."

Your words were enough to push Miguel right to the edge, the sudden halt of his thrusts making you gasp out as he buries himself deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick streams of come. He lets himself fall against you, chest pressed into your back with his hips up to the hilt of your hole.

The mix of your heavy breaths and his pants fill your ears and the entire room, the air filled with the scent of sex as you both fall from your highs. Your chest fills with air, heaving up and down with each breath you take as you stare at Miguel, taking in his figure entirely.

You could never truly allow yourself to actually feel for him; you knew that would never be wise, but you can't help the words that escape your mouth.

"Stay tonight?"

Miguel just lifts his head to look into your eyes, giving you a small, tired smile. "Yeah, honey.. Thank you..” he breathes with a press of his lips to your shoulder, “I needed this.”

"I know."

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a/n: idek if this made any sense bc i wrote it so quick but idgaf i need him <3

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[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

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Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)