#spiderman 2099 x you

[sinsolstice]

★ 彡 AFTER DARK. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

oneshot ❥ be careful who you make your wishes and deals with.

❥  tropes devil au, human/devil relationship. el diablo miguel x reader. ❥  content warnings explicit sexual content (18+) blowjob, descriptive male sexual anatomy. minors do not interact. ❥ extras dividers by @/cafekitsune. this oneshot was part of a miguel o'hara zine called 'enrapture 2024'.

You didn’t think it would work when you summoned someone you shouldn’t have. 

You aren’t one to stir trouble, but you’re a curious person. Still, it hasn’t led you to situations where you can’t get yourself out. But perhaps this time, your curiosity has gotten the best of you, and now you’re faced with the unfathomable thought of inviting someone—a supernatural being—into your home. 

You don’t believe in the supernatural. So when you chanted El Diablo’s name three times in front of your mirror past midnight before bed, you thought of it as a harmless joke. You didn’t think he existed. But now, a strange man is standing right in front of you at an ungodly hour of the night. And with what you’ve done, you’re convinced that El Diablo is real, and he towers over right in front of you.

He is taller than any man you’ve come across. Heavily muscular with sharp features on the jawline and black horns that bend to the front and slightly fork up at the end. His complexion is dark, brown hair unkempt, and his piercingly red eyes glow red in the dimly lit room. 

“What do we have here?” His voice sounds distinctive, deep and imposing. He smirks at you in a taunting way that sends shivers down your back. “A toy that I can play with.” 

“Are you… the Devil?” 

The supernatural being laughs. “I go by many names. El Diablo is a famous title for what I am most known for. But you can call me Miguel.” He adds, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You summoned me. What is it that you desire?” 

You stare at him—at Miguel—as you process what he has just revealed. You want to believe that this is some sort of prank, but the aura he radiates in the room says otherwise. Maybe you’ve outdone yourself this time. “Desire?” You say with pretence. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“A mere human doesn’t conjure creatures of hell without intentions. Even if they do it on a whim or dare.” Miguel states, his expression solemn. “Everyone has one, pequeño. Whether it could be wanting fame, money, power or love. Anything their heart desires, they want to have it easily in the palm of their hand.” 

You’re quiet when he explains and you can’t help but think of your desires. Everyone has something that they wish for—that they yearn for. You do too, and it now makes you wonder why you summoned him in your room in the quietest of the night. Was  curiosity really the reason you summoned Miguel? Why did you summon him in the first place when you don’t believe in the supernatural? Do they really know about a human’s desires? 

“But your deal comes with a price.” You look at him. “That’s how making deals with you works, right?” 

Miguel grins. “You’re the skeptical type. I like that.” 

You shrug your shoulders. Cultural media always portrays how deals are made with devils in fiction stories, and it’s not much different to making an agreement for something and signing a contract to officiate the deal. “You want my soul if I strike a deal with you?” 

The smile on Miguel’s face curves wider, eyes glinting in mirth. “That is quite the assumption, pequeño.” He chuckles. It feels a bit like a mockery. “A soul is a heavy price to pay. But in your case—” He stares at you up and down, red-coloured eyes gazing tentatively. “There’s something more valuable than your soul.” 

You stare at him back; his words strike a streak of wonder in you. The words come out of you before you can register them. “What is worth more than my soul?” 

Miguel raises a brow at you. The corner of his mouth curves up into a smirk. “I can’t tell you that. Not until you tell me what your heart desires.” 

When he moves closer, you move back instinctively. The weight of his words puts you off balance, and you question yourself if it’s wise to tell El Diablo about your desire. Something holds you back—a tiny voice—from speaking about your desire. It’s a wish that you try not to dwell on or feed thoughts into your head. What you wish for isn’t money or power or fame or forcing someone to be yours; it’s something that you can’t have overnight.

But with Miguel right in front of you—the way he stares down at you, the temptation to confess is great. It’s like a whisper in your ear, eliciting you to tell him. That he won’t judge you for your desire, no matter how imbecile it sounds. 

After all, it’s not like you’ll be making a proper deal with El Diablo, right? 

“I… I desire companionship.” You admit softly. 

Miguel goes quiet. His expression is solemn. But not long after, a smile widens on his face and his red eyes shine intriguingly. There’s something wicked about his smile. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Go on…” 

“I’m tired of being alone. I’m surrounded by people who have someone they can constantly talk to. To go home to.” You continue. “I just want to have that, too.” 

“And why can’t you?” Miguel says bluntly. “Let me make your desire come true, pajarito. You want someone to greet you when you come home? Do mundane things together? To love you? I can make all of that happen overnight.” 

His words sound like gospel, and another whisper tempts in your ears. He can make it happen, it says. It’ll stop you from feeling lonely. From trying to bury away what you’ve been feeling for a while. You’ve never asked for anything in life, but maybe just this once…you want your desire to come true. 

“If I make a deal with you, what’s the condition?” You ask. “You said that there’s something more valuable than my soul.” 

Miguel smirks at you. He leans forward and his voice gravels as he whispers into your ear. His words send shivers down your spine, and from the moment he reveals it, you realize you should have thought properly before giving in to the temptation of your desire. “...Your innocence.” 

“And trust me, you won’t regret making the deal with me.”

***** 

If only you’d known what you were truly getting yourself into. 

Just like that, overnight, Miguel granted your desire. In seventy-two hours, your social circle was somehow aware that you’re with someone, but you’d never mentioned to anyone that you’re taken. Why on Earth would you lie about something like that? But when El Diablo showed up—when Miguel, in his ordinary human form without the horns and piercing fangs—appeared at your workplace, gifting you a bouquet of flowers and your favourite food, you knew that this had to do with the deal you’d made with him the other night. And until now, you’ve fooled everyone you know for a couple of months now about your relationship with your ‘partner’, Miguel.

In exchange for getting your companionship, the price you pay is becoming Miguel’s personal toy. His beck and call for his sexual escapades. You’ve heard stories about how not only Devils are creatures of deceit, but they’re also sexual beings. During the day, Miguel plays the role of your boyfriend very well. But at night he goes back to being El Diablo, revealing his true self as the Devil who brought debauchery into your life.

"You know what time it is, pequeño," Miguel declares, appearing at your doorstep with a big smile. You know better than to disobey, and you comply with his request. Despite your reluctance to partake in such debauchery for companionship, it is necessary to honour your end of the bargain. 

As thoughts swirled in the back of your head, you couldn't help but wonder why Miguel didn't simply take your soul instead. However, his influence on you had grown so strong that you couldn't ignore the temptation anymore, and you secretly found yourself enjoying and eagerly anticipating the forbidden acts you engaged in every night.

Miguel leads you to a room in a secluded corner of your house. The room is enveloped in a dim, dark ambience, illuminated only by the eerie glow of red fluorescence lights. Standing together in the centre, you feel a powerful gaze from Miguel, instructing you to lower yourself onto your knees. As you comply, you can’t help but notice his commanding presence, towering above you with an air of dominance. Your body quivers with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“You know what to do.” His baritone voice brings you back to reality. The sound of metal clicking—as he unbuckles his belt, you brace yourself for what’s about to come.The fabric of his pants ruffles, and your gaze is drawn to the prominent bulge in front of you, concealed behind a barrier of cloth. As his pants fall to the ground, you are confronted with his impressive manhood: a substantial shaft, with a thick girth, measuring ten inches in length. The pinkish-red head perfectly matches the rest of his dark complexion. It pulsates with desire, glistening with pre-cum, and its presence is almost overwhelming, as if it could be thrust upon your face. This is Miguel's, or rather El Diablo's, formidable member.

“Open your mouth.” Miguel’s voice is brusque in command. His cockhead brushes against your mouth, smearing a bit of semen against your tight lips. 

You’ve done this before, since the deal’s been made, and it never fails to make you tremble as your hands wrap around his shaft. Unclenching your jaw, you open your mouth and wrap your lips around his cockhead, circling the tip with the back of your tongue. Slowly, you open your mouth to accommodate taking a couple more inches of his cock, stuffing your mouth full. You use your hands to stroke the rest of his length that you can’t properly fit in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow as you suck his cock, careful to not make yourself gag. 

“That’s it, pequeño. Need to have you loosen that mouth of yours to take my cock deeper.” Miguel praise. His growls rumble in his chest, sending shivers down your back. One of his fangs peaks out as he bites the corner of his bottom lip. “So, I’m gonna have to do this to make it easier for the both of us.” 

His hand holds the back of your head, curling his fingers to grip your hair. By the time you realise what he plans to do to you next, his cock is shoved deeper into your mouth, and his cockhead hits the back of your throat. He pulls your head back before pushing you onto his cock again—two, three, a couple more times—until the dragging back and forth becomes steady and consistent. Miguel howls, nostrils flaring as he heavily pants. He stares  down at you, intensely primal and wicked, alternating between tugging your head and thrusting himself into your mouth for his cock to nestle deep in your wet warmth. 

The red fluorescence creates a shadow on the wall that reminds you of chiaroscuro art. You, on your knees in front of Miguel as he stands proudly, displaying the dominance and submissiveness in the air; the lustful, carnal debauchery. You swear from the corner of your eyes you could see a shadow of his devilish horns—showing his true self—in contrast to his reflection from the mirror, where his devil physique does not show. 

“Mine to use and mine to fuck.” Miguel grunts. He drives his hips faster and deeper inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as his cock slides in and out. It pulses in your throat and your eyes widen as you stare at him, feeling it engorge and forcing yourself to loosen your jaw. A muffled whimper escapes out of your throat, nails gently clawing on the side of his thighs as you watch him fuck your throat with reckless abandon. Bracing yourself for what’s to come. 

A few more thrusts and Miguel’s cock quivers inside your mouth. He snarls and shoots his load down your throat, holding you in place as you’re forced to take him. His cock continues to pulsate as he breathes heavily from his orgasm. “It never gets old,” Miguel’s voice rasps. 

His fingers instinctively caress you gently, touching at the area where he gripped your hair too tightly as he came down from the high. You don’t pull off of him even when his cum spills down your lips, knowing that this arrangement has been set in stone the moment you called for El Diablo, the night you met him. 

thank you for reading!

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[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[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.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[fangswbenefits]

Frustration

Summary: Miguel’s desire for you has been taking a toll on him, and he really has no other option…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Masturbation. Sexual frustration. Obsessed Miguel. Inspired by this ask + gif.

* ˚ ✦ Part 2

There you were.

His walking and breathing torment.

You had been plaguing his every thought, and you didn’t even know.

He had lost count to the amount of times he had drained himself thinking of you. Oftentimes, more than once a day.

But his frustration was reaching new heights.

His eyes followed your every move through the orange floating screens in his living room.

You were pacing across sector 13’s warehouse in the middle of the night, working on some new tech. Of course you were. You were just so sweet and generous, and had offered him a helping hand.

How he craved that helping hand to relieve him of his sexual tension.

But for now, he got to watch you from a distance, as he lay sprawled on his couch, a heavy frown setting on his face.

Your fingers moved gracefully from one piece of metal to another, inspecting them carefully, and Miguel vaguely wondered if they would be this attentive while touching his cock.

One hand came to tap the screens so he could zoom in on you.

He had discared his suit for casuals before getting some rest, but he couldn’t help himself.

He had to watch you.

Leaning back with a groan, his cock strained almost painfully against his pants, but Miguel wouldn’t dare touch himself just yet. He needed to train himself to last longer without caving in.

You were absolutely on the task at hand, teeth digging lightly into your bottom lip.

He almost gave up right there and then, but balled his fists instead at his side.

If only you knew how hard he was for you. How much he craved your touch and attention.

A grunt escaped his parted lips as his cock hardened fully, the first beads of precum wetting his skin.

He was so ready for you…

His eyes were glued to the screen, roaming along your body. Your shirt was covered in grime and oil and the neckline was so low that if you were to bend over, he’d be able to take a glimpse.

“Come on…” he muttered under his breath, yearning for that reveal of skin that would tip him over.

You dragged a piece of cloth across your neck to wipe off the sweat, and he scowled deeply.

With him, you wouldn’t need to bother with that. He’d take care of you… he’d wash you clean right after devouring you whole.

His hands itched to set his cock free, but he needed more from you.

You were such a sweet and helpful girl.

Surely you could give him more, right?

He waited… and waited… patience slowly draining.

“Por favor…” he growled almost desperately.

The moment presented itself with you bringing a bottle of water to your lips, eagerly quenching your thirst.

A few droplets dripped down your chin, neck and finally soaking through your shirt.

He had waited for too long and had reached his breaking point.

Even though a part of him felt ashamed to resort to this, he just couldn’t find another way to deal with his frustration.

He brought one hand to rest on his crotch and ran his thumb along the underside of his strained cock, immediately hissing.

Resting his head on the back of his other hand, he felt the frustration taking over him as he knew there was no other way now.

Your bra was visible enough through the shirt for him to picture having his cock placed right in between your breasts that he would squeeze to add more friction.

Lazily dragging the zipper down, Miguel slipped his hand in to finally easy the tension.

His cock curved slightly, strings of precum dripping from the tip and he let lout a shaky sigh of relief.

You were suddenly smiling at something.

Or someone.

Who wasn’t him.

He narrowed his eyes in search of the source, but couldn’t find it.

Jealousy flared inside him like wildfire, coursing through his veins, as his fingers wrapped around his cock.

Why were you, his sweet girl, smiling? You should be right there with him, and he knew you’d gasp at his impressive size and at the realisation of how you made him feel. He’d take his time to make sure you felt comfortable enough to eventually touch him and let him touch you.

His fangs were now protruding in anticipation.

Would you let him graze them across your heated skin? Would you let him lick your neck? Would you let him make you his?

He’d be so good for you…

Miguel started gliding his hand up and down painfully slowly, precum rolling down his knuckles.

You were now fanning yourself with your hand and his hips bucked instinctively.

“Sí, cariño… so hot…” he said in between moans, fucking himself relentlessly.

He increased the grip around his cock, knowing fully well your pussy would squeeze him tighter than this.

It would be a miracle if he managed to last long inside you. He’d want your first time together to be with you on your back, so he could watch your face twist as you struggled to take all of him. He could picture perfectly in his mind how your lips would quiver and how he’d promptly comfort you, reassuring you that he would take it slowly.

His eyes fluttered shut, as he kept fucking his hand, wet sounds adding to the pleasure.

He pictured you riding him, soft moans escaping your lips as he guided you up and down.

Another broken thrust.

Deciding that he needed more visual guidance, his eyes snapped open as he watched as you tapped on your watch.

The one on his wrist beeped and Miguel groaned in pure frustration.

He considered not answering you, but…

“Hey, Miguel,” your sweet voice came through and it took all of him not to burst.

“Hey.”

You were pacing nervously. “I… think I fried the chip. I’m sorry… I thought it’d handle the added voltage.”

So fucking sweet…

He halted his strokes momentarily, inhaling and trying to steady his breathing.

“Say something…” your voice was low. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” he managed to say, cock twitching at the innocence in your voice.

How could he ever be mad at you?

“Huh… well, I know it’s late… but if you want to come…”

Bad choice of words…

Because he did want to come… deep inside you.

“… or not! You can take a look tomorrow,” you added rapidly with a nervous laugh, and Miguel had to bite the back of his hand to muffle a moan.

“You okay? You sound… breathless…”

Look at you… so concerned with his well-being… he’d love to leave you breathless.

He exhaled slowly. “Yes. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great,” he said, slipping into his tendency to praise you. “You’re really good.”

“You think so? I mean, you’re the expert here… I’m still learning.”

He dragged the pad of his thumb across the tip, feeling the

“You’re so good,” he nearly moaned out.

“It means a lot coming from you,” she chirped happily, unaware of how close he was. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Bye~”

You were visibly excited on the screen in front of him, and it was evident you had enjoyed his praise and approval.

His sweet girl always so eager to please.

That was enough to bring him over the edge.

He tapped his watch right away, feeling the unstoppable wave of an orgasm flush through his entire body at once as the first streaks of cum shot out, landing on his pants and lower abdomen. He rode out his pleasure with messy rolls of his hips, fingers squeezing out as much cum as possible.

A loud growl erupted from his throat and he did allowed the overwhelming sensation to completely take over.

By the time he came down from his high, breathless and swear rolling down his face, Miguel realised he would have to eventually do something about this. The amount of cum pooling at his lower abdomen was impressive and he knew it was all going to waste.

Unless he made you his.

Part 2

Masterlist

[cherryredstars]

omg hold on i love you so much i hope you are well. so i was sleeping peacefully in my bed today and suddenly this came to mind and i found myself on the floor.

it doesn't necessarily have to be sub Miguel, but i NEED NEED NEED a reader who has a sex stamina higher than burj khalifa. so miguel gets frustrated and overstimulated by the time its over, whining and trying to push her off of his lap type of shit because its his 4th or 5th orgasm. BUT HE WON'T, YKNOW WHY? BECAUSE HE IS HORRNY. BECAUSE ITS SEX AND IT IS GOOD SEX LIKE GAD DAYMMM

thank you

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, A Second of Fingering

Summary: Who is he to deny good sex?

Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)

He doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

He’s surprised that he can even cum still. You’ve been at this for hours, greedily milking his cock and mewling at him. It’s fucking amazing. It’s like some shit his teenage mind would jerk off too. Some bizarre porn video concept. Except, this is real and he’s more of a mess than he thought he would be. 

He started out on top, fucking your desperate pussy until tears flowed from your eyes. He has the scratch marks on his back to prove it, raised and red. But after his second orgasm and your fourth, you still wanted more. But he was so tired, deeply satisfied as cock almost went numb from pleasure. But you looked so sad, giving him that cute little pout that he can never say no to. So, to summarize, his own weakness is to blame for his current situation. 

You’re desperately bouncing on his cock, no signs of slowing down. He’s flat on his back, moaning and groaning as he tries to get a steady grip on your hips. His cock is on fire, overstimulated and tired. It’s creamy with your combined cum, making loud squelches everytime you impale yourself on his dick. You won’t shut up, mouth dropped open as you scream and moan. Miguel is approaching his fifth orgasm, and he doesn’t know if there will be much cum left in him to fill you up with. 

“Fuck, fuck, mi querida, let up. Gonna actually milk me dry if you don’t fucking stop.” Miguel whines, his hand moving to press on your stomach in a weak effort to push you off.

You shake your head and whimper, holding his hand there with both of your own. You use your hold as leverage, still moving up and down on him. Miguel moans out when he can feel where he makes your skin bulge, his orgasm rushing down his spine. You’re whimpering out ‘please’ over and over again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finish. He feels the way your walls flutter and squeeze around him, earning a dying groan from him as it triggers his own release. 

His hips buck up weakly, spurting the very last drops of his cum into you. Both of you are panting, Miguel’s cock begging to be freed from your vice grip. You rotate your hips, softly mewling when his cock skims over your g-spot. Miguel protests as you work his cock, trying to hold your hips still to stop you. 

You lean down and kiss him, that hungry look still in your eyes, “So, so good, Miggy. That felt real good.”

Miguel can only hum in agreement weakly, his head thrown back against the sheets as he tries to regain himself. He gasps as you get up, slowly removing yourself off his cock with a soft pop. Miguel’s cock is semi-hard when he hits his stomach, still coated with cum. He can feel it softening further, his cock throbbing from overuse. 

Suddenly, you gasp loudly. It echoes off the walls, a sharp and unexpected noise. Miguel’s head shoots up to see if you’re hurt. 

Miguel groans when he sees and feels what had you gasping. You’re still hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips. Cum fucking flows out of you, finally being able to escape your flooded hole. It’s white and thick, running down your thighs and forming a puddle under you. It splatters on Miguel’s skin, and his cock jumps and hardens at the sight. Miguel lets out a tired sigh, grabbing your hips and stuffing a finger into you. You cry out, face blissed out as he fucks the cum back into you. 

“Fucking minx, you’re insatiable.” He grumbles, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the skin of your thigh. 

You whimper, quickly turning it into a scream as he seats you back onto his raw cock. His cock stings, fighting in protest. His body is tired and he’s sure he only has dry orgasms left in him. But he doesn’t seem to care, especially when you instantly start riding him again. It feels good, so good. Real good. He falls back into his weakness again, whining and cursing. 

He’s just a man after all, and what good man passes up on pornstar-level sex?

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍🌫️

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.0k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Mama+Wife!Reader, lot’s of fluff, talks of sexual vulnerability, mentions of loss, mild emotional angst

𝐀/𝐍: Another vent fic…shocker. Loosely inspired by @cupcakeinat0r prof!Miguel story chap 8

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A late night talk with Miguel leads to unexpected confessions, drawing you closer to your husband.

The ethereal glow of the floating holograms filled the room, illuminating a soft light around Miguel. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, muscles taut with the weight of responsibilities.

He studied the swirling projections of different universes as his fingers moved expertly across the controls. The precision of each motion reflected how deep he was immersed in his task.

If it was so late and you weren’t so sleepy, you might have stood there longer. You would have watched in quiet awe as the muscles in his back flexed with every movement. The definition of his form stood out against the low light— powerful yet weary.

Instead, you lingered at the doorway, cradling your daughter in your arms. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too engrossed in his work. The weight of his responsibilities exhibited in the tension of his posture.

The soft hum of the hologram and the quiet hum of Lylas digital voice blended in the background, harmonised by the soft breaths of Maria, your one-year-old baby, who stirred slightly in your arms.

It was Lyla who noticed you first, her digital form glowed brighter as her eyes met yours. She offered a small wave, then disappeared with a soft glitch, leaving Miguel to glance over his shoulder.

When his eyes finally found you, they softened instantly. The soft glow of the marigold hologram flickered in his crimson eyes, casting a tender reflection back at you.

“Someone wants her papa,” you whispered. The moment Maria’s face lit up with a smile, Miguel’s stern demeanor melted away, his workaholic armor disarmed in an instant.

You always knew how much of a soft spot he had for your daughter, especially when she reached out for him like this.

“…and papa wants her too,” his voice soft and tender. “How come you’re both still up?”

Miguel extended his hands, carefully taking Maria from your arms. His usual sharp, deliberate movements softened as he turned to face you both.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a quiet reverence in his eyes, before lifting her gently and cradling her small body against his broad chest.

Maria nuzzled into his neck, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her tiny fingers brushed against his bare skin. Miguel’s free hand instinctively moved to her back, gently tapping as he lowered his chin to rest on her soft head.

“She wouldn’t settle,” you explained. “I think she's been waiting for you to put her to sleep.”

A low hum rumbled in Miguel’s chest as he gazed down at Maria, whose eyelids were already drooping. Her breath slowed in the comfort of his arms.

She was already sleepy, but you knew if she hadn’t been, her excitement as seeing her dad would’ve kept her wide awake.

Miguel’s eyes flickered back to you, his voice a whisper so he wouldn’t disturb the precious peace that had settled around you both. “She missed me, huh?”

You watched as he cradled Maria in his arms, his hold gentle but firm. There was something calming about seeing them both together, the strength of his form contrasted by the softness in which he held her.

But as your gaze shifted to his face, your chest tightened. The visible bags under his eyes were stark against his tanned skin— an unmistakable sigh of his exhaustion.

But what concerned you more was his constant drive to push himself past his limits, something he often didn’t seem to notice, or refuse to acknowledge.

“You’ve been working for hours.” You said gently, hoping your tone would coax him into resting. “I think it’s time you hit the hay.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, the subtle crease between his brow deepening. You knew that look— he was preparing to push back. To insist he could handle it, even though his body told him otherwise.

“I know, cariño,” his voice edged with weariness. “But I just need to finish a few more things.”

You sighed, stepping closer. “You said that an hour ago,” you reminded him, trailing your fingers lightly over his forearm. The warmth of his skin sent a familiar ripple through you. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

You knew the effect you had on him when you touched him like that, your fingers tracing deliberate patterns.

His breath hitched slightly, his resolve wavering as yoh leaned closer. “You know I’m right,” you lowered your voice to a sultry tone. “Look at your eyes.”

Miguel took a quick glance at the holograms, clearly trying to hold onto his stubbornness, but you could see the struggle in his face— the pull between duty and the weight of his exhaustion.

It was a battle he was already losing.

His shoulders sagged over slightly as he exhaled a long, defeated sigh. When he looked back at you, his demeanour softened. The tension slowly fading from his posture.

Without another word, he switched off the holograms, the swirling projection disappearing into nothingness.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and finally surrendering to your touch. “You’re playing dirty.”

“Yeah?” You resorted, hands resting against his chest. “Only because it works.”

You headed back to the bedroom, tucking yourself into the warmth of the blanket while waiting for Miguel to put Maria down in her crib. The soft murmur of his voice, soothing your daughter to sleep, could be heard from the other room.

“She was restless for a while, you know,” you remarked once he joined you in bed.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your body to ward off the cold. Miguel slid besides you, his large frame instantly bringing warmth.

“She was probably restless without me,” he grinned, the prideful glint in his eyes. “She’s daddy’s girl through and though.”

You smiled at his confidence. You knew he loved that role— being a father, a protector. It was something he wore proudly, dispite the heavy burden he carries as Spider-Man.

Letting out a long, tired yawn, as you moved closer to him. The weight of the day— and the late hour— was finally catching up to you. Your eyelids grew heavier by the second.

“Looks like both of you can’t stay awake around me,” Miguel teased.

“We’ve been waiting for you to get to bed,” you replied with a sleepy voice. “You’ve been taking so long.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tone full of guilt as he pulled you closer. “I wish I didn't have to work so much. I'd be in this bed with you every night.”

You pressed yourself against his warmth, your face tucked against the crook of his neck to inhale his familiar scent.

“Eres mío,” your words were muffled by the skin of his shoulder.

“Sí, amor. I’m all yours,” he hushed, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Completely, utterly yours.”

His lips brushed against your neck, warmth and soft. “I missed this,” he confessed between tender kisses. “Touching you, feeling you.”

“I missed you too…you’re still my doting husband, though.”

“Of course I am. I’ll always be here to dote on you.”

You felt his hands slide down your back, lingering at your hips. The familiar tension between the two of you sparked, but the exhaustion weighed heavy on your limbs.

“I hope Maria’s actually sleeping,” you said if more to yourself, trying to distract how tired you felt.

“Don’t worry, she’s fast asleep. The baby monitors on, and I checked on her before I came in. She’s completely knocked out, trust me,” his lips grazed your collarbone, but his voice was tempting. “Now, stop worrying. It’s just us, remember?”

“Mhmm. I don’t want to do anything tonight…just talk until we fall asleep,” you said before barely suppressing another yawn.

Miguel pulled away slightly, enough to see your face. There was a hint of feigned disappointment in his expression, but he masked it with a small smile.

“Just talk?” he asked, pulling his lower lips in a pout “You sure? I was looking forward to doing a lot more than just talking.”

“I’m tired…”

Miguel sighed softly, his fingers tracing light circles on your back. “I’m pretty tired as well. I guess we can do it another time.”

“Mhmm, I don’t want to get pregnant again, not until Maria’s three at least.” your voice was firm through the sleepiness.

You already had your hands full with a one-year-old, and adding another baby to the equation— especially with Miguel’s dimension hopping work schedule— felt overwhelming.

You could already imagine the sleepless night, the extra demand, and the toll it would take on both of you.

Miguel looked back at you, his brows furrowing slightly, clearly mulling over your words. The hesitation was written all over his face. It wasn’t that he disagreed, he just wanted to consider everything carefully.

He let out a low sigh before he spoke. “So…uhm, are you suggesting we should use protection?”

“Protection?” you echoed. The word caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” Miguel said, running a hand through his hair, choosing his words carefully. “I was just thinking, you know, if we want to be careful… it’s up to you. I won’t get you pregnant again unless you want me to.”

You thought about what he said, letting the words turn over in your head. Realistically, you knew abstinence wasn’t going to work— not for three years. The attraction between you was magnetic, and it wasn’t something that could be easily ignored.

So, it only made sense to use some protection. Still, the thought of it made you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Hmm…I never really liked the feel of the rubber,” you said truthfully. You didn’t see the point in sugarcoating it.

That seemed to set him off. Miguel’s eyes twinkled in amusement as soon as the words left your mouth. You saw the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“And what if I told you I’m not a fan of them either, hm?” his voice dropped lower to a purr.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed over the sensitive spot just bow your ear, sensing a shiver down your spine. His hands hike up your sides, as if he couldn’t keep himself from touching you.

“You sure you don't want to change your mind about just talking?” there was the familiar hunger edged in his tone. “I'm sure we can keep it quiet enough to not wake up Maria..”

“Yeah, I’m sure…not tonight,” you felt Miguel’s grip loosened as he pulled away, respecting your space. Though, you could feel the reluctance in the way he did.

As you basked yourself in the silence like a comforting blanket, your thoughts began to wander. As peaceful as the moment was, it stirred some memories— of how far you’ve come, of every obstacle you faced before reaching this point.

You never imagined yourself in this role: a wife, a mother. The journey to get to where you were was winding, filled with doubts.

You’ve built walls, thick and impenetrable ones. They were meant to keep you safe from disappointment, from hurt, and things you’ve convinced yourself you didn’t need.

But then, there was Miguel.

Maybe it was the way he understood— truly understood— when you said no just now. He never made you feel pressured. Instead, he held you and let the silence do the talking.

That’s when something inside you shifted, tugging at the edge of memories from a past you would rather forget.

Meeting Miguel felt different from the start, but you didn’t know why at first. Things between you weren’t rushed or fixed, they unfolded naturally. As if fate guided you both to this very moment.

You still remember that early time in your life— the time when you began to heal, when you started to unlearn all those harmful lessons from before.

You were rediscovering yourself.

The moment you were first introduced to Miguel, you were intrigued by his sharp mind, his serious demeanor, and the way he could command a room without even trying.

His no-nonsense attitude should’ve repelled you, but instead, it pulled you even deeper. Maybe that was what made him so trustworthy.

With him, those walls didn’t come crashing down all at once, but rather they crumbled slowly, piece by piece. Everytime he looked at you with that silent understanding, when he respected your space without question, a part of those barriers chipped away.

Back then, you hadn’t realised he felt the same, at least not until the subtle clues vague to surface. You laughed at yourself, remembering how he went out of his way to wear a particular cologne that had aphrodisiac qualities.

As if he needed it. You’d already been captivated by him long before.

Now, as you lay beside him, watching his eyes fluttering closed and his arms wrapped around you protectively, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling.

“You know…” you began, your soft voice matching the dim glow in the room. “Before we got together, I always found intimacy quite…uhm…”

The words were harder to pinpoint than you expected. You paused, biting your lips as you searched for how to explain something so complicated— something you’ve kept buried for so long.

Miguel opened his eyes at the sound of your voice.“Go on, I’m listening,” he murmured, his deep voice anchored you in the moment. There was no judgment, just patient understanding.

Your heart skipped a beat under the intensity of his gaze. There was no biting back your words now. You started this conversation, and he was waiting, ready to hear what you had to say.

“Growing up, I was taught that sex and intimacy weren’t things that should be discussed, or explored openly,” you hesitated, the memories making your throat tighten. You let him digest your words before continuing. “It was seen as a stigma. And it was always the man’s domain to take control in those situations.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to moisten your dry throat. It felt like a release, but also terrifying— like exposing a part of yourself you’ve always kept hidden.

Your hands trembled slightly, and you gripped the sheets tighter, bracing for his response.

Miguel didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with a thoughtful expression. Then, his hand moved to gently cover yours.

“That must've been hard,” he said quietly, voice filled with empathy. “Having a strained view on something that’s natural and should be enjoyed without guilt

He squeezed your hand softly, silently reassuring you. The warmth of his touch eased some of the tension in your chest. He didn’t need to ask for more details or push you to explain further. He simply accepted what you shared, offering his quiet support.

For so long, you had carried the burden of that discomfort— the feeling that something that should be good and intimate only made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

It has left a lingering sense of fear and guilt, like you weren’t allowed to enjoy something so deeply personal. A special bond that was supposed to strengthen you as a couple.

You thought about how different things could have been if someone had told you earlier that it was okay— that intimacy didn’t have to come with shame. You deserved to feel safe, to desire more, and enjoy it.

But maybe the timing didn’t matter as much. What mattered was that it felt right now— with him. And you were grateful with how far you came.

“You make it feel natural,” you whispered, the fragile truth followed by a small smile.

Miguel mirrored your expression and took a hold of you hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to the knuckles. “Because it is natural. And I’m glad I’m the one who gets to help you feel that way.”

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

“There was a point when I found it hard to appreciate and accept romance or intimacy. I always saw anything remotely romantic as revolting or uncomfortable,” you let out a shaky breath, feeling your face getting hotter as more words trembled out. “I was really at my lowest then. I saw sex as…dirty.”

Miguel’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more serious, more pained. His eyes darkened with empathy, as though your admission had quietly fractured something in him.

You could see the weight of your words sinking in, and it made you wonder why it was so easy to share this with him. Perhaps because Miguel created a space that made you feel safe, even about the darkest parts about yourself.

“There’s nothing dirty or shameful about sex, amor. It’s a way of expressing love and desire. I hate that you had to go through that kind of pain,” you could hear the strong conviction in his tone. “You’re my wife and the mother of my child. I promise I’ll never let you feel that way again. I’ll always honour and cherish you.”

You knew that. It had taken time but deep down, you understand the truth of his words. Yet, hearing him say it, with such tenderness in his voice, made your stomach flutter.

It wasn’t often that Miguel spoke like this. Soft, sweet words weren’t his usual language. But when he did express himself like this, it always felt sincere.

He never said things just for the sake of it, or just to fill the space. He meant every word, and that made the weight of his promise feel more powerful by ten folds.

The tears came unbidden, welling in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as the gravity of his words settled straight to your chest.

Miguel noticed immediately, his thumb brushing against your damp cheeks. His touch was delicate, full of concern.

“Hey, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you sad, just expressing how much you mean to me,” he said softly, a slight tremor of worry in his voice as he tried to console you.

You shook your head, blinking through the tears. “I’m not…they’re not sad tears. Promise.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hands before letting out a small, shaky laugh.

“Oh, I see. I'm glad to know they’re happy tears then.” His hands remained on your cheeks, his touch soothing. “You’re so strong and resilient, you know that? Carrying our baby, giving birth to her…I’m so proud of you.”

“But I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I guess it goes both ways. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you either. You brought so much joy and love into my life. You’re my rock.”

You let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Oh please—”

“Oh please, nothing. It’s the truth.” His eyes softened as he looked at you. “You’re the only one who’s believed in me, supported me, and loved me no matter what. You make me a better person, amor, and I’m so grateful for you and our little family.”

“I could say the same for you. I’m glad I shared about my previous experience and what I’ve been through.”

“I’m honoured that you trust me enough to share that part of your past with me.” Miguel said.

You felt the familiar sting of unshed tears pressing at the corner of your eyes, a reminder of how hard it had been to keep everything inside for so long.

You glanced back at the baby monitor, watching the slow rise and fall of your daughter. The sight filled you with something unnamable, a joy you had once though was out of reach. “I’ve never told anyone about this. I was in a dark place…”

His brows furrowed with concern again. “A dark place? What do you mean?”

You hesitated, letting the bleak memories flash briefly behind your eyelids. The ache of the loneliness, the numbness that followed. “I don’t know, but maybe because I had no job back then too. Nothing to keep me busy, to keep me occupied. No drive.”

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “It can make you feel like you’re not worth anything, like you’re not contributing…but just remember you always have so much to offer.”

You looked at him expectedly, waiting for him to continue. At first, you thought he’d follow up with something sappy or cheesy, but this was Miguel. Sappy came in rare, fleeting moments— like shooting stars you barely caught.

“Like the coffees you make for me every morning,” he grinned at you knowingly. “You know you make the best coffee, right? And that’s coming from a perfectionist. I don’t think I’d survive without you bringing in my morning fix”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his comment, but the warmth didn’t last long. Once your laughter died down, you noticed his expression shift.

His eyes turned distant, the corner of his mouth pulling down into a frown. It was like a s bleak cloud loomed over him.

“Miguel?” you asked softly. “What’s on your mind? You just went quiet on me.”

Even after five years of marriage, there were still parts of Miguel that remained a mystery to you— layers he kept hidden, even from you.

Moment like this made you wish you could see into his mind, to understand his thoughts without needing the words.

You longed for that kind of connection where you could read his mood through subtle cues— the way his jaw clenched, or the way his eyes darken when something weighed on him.

But now, all you could do was wait and hope he’d let you in.

“I don’t…I don’t want to make this about myself when you’re talking about your own struggles. But…” he let out a sigh, you could pick up on his reluctance to continue. “Hearing you talk, it made me think about my own issues too.”

You squeezed his hand, gently urging him on. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m here to listen too.”

Miguel let out a breath, his chest rising and falling, like he was trying to steel himself. His hand tightened around yours as he began.

“I guess I’ve been carrying more than I realised,” his voice was low, almost strain. You watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed with a thick swallow. “Being Spider-Man, losing Gabriella…sometimes I wonder if I’m worthy of the life I have now. You, Maria…all of it.”

You could still recall the early days before marriage, when Miguel first opened up about his struggles. It had taken time and patience, and more than a few long nights before he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

But when he finally did, you could see the weight he had been carrying lift, if only slightly, as he shared his pain.

Hearing the full extent of his past had left a knot in your stomach that day. The loss, the guilt— it was staggering. The thought of someone you loved bearing such an immense burden was almost overwhelming.

You had questioned if you could be enough for him, if you’d be able to say the right things to provide the confront he truly needed.

But as time passed, you saw Miguel in all his complexities— the man behind the hero, the man who fought everyday not just for the multiverse, but for his own fragile sense of redemption.

And with every moment spent together, you understood more of what shapes him into the leader of the Spider Society.

“Miguel, you’re more than worthy. I know you’ve been through a lot, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness,” you gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles, hoping to have the grounding effect on him that he craved.

Miguel gaze fixed on your intertwined hands. “I know…logically. But it’s different when you’re in the middle of it. Everyday I wake up with the memories of everything I’ve lost. I don’t know how to let go of it.”

“You don’t have to let go of it all at once. But maybe…just start with accepting that you deserve good things too,” you looked up at him with a soft smile. “You’ve done so much for so many people. Don’t you think you deserve a little bit of peace?”

Miguel’s lips twitched into a small, weary smile too. “You always know what to say to get through to me.”

“Because I know you. And I’ll always be here to remind you when you forget.”

It didn’t take long before you both drifted off to sleep. Tangled in each others arms and the trouble of the day slipping away.

Having a negative experience with sex and should probably talk to a professional ❌❌

Writes a fic about it😗✅✅

I’ve mentioned this on AO3 but I’m gonna put it on here too, please don’t be mean (._.) while I welcome constructive criticism, there’s always an approachable way to give feedback without sounding condescending, rude, or sarcastic. Even though I don’t let hate get to me, I don’t have the thickest skin.

I also want to mention that many of my older fics, mostly from last year, were written during a phase where I was still exploring different tropes and writing styles. So, looking back, some of them might seem forced or rough, especially in areas where I was experimenting with kinks or tropes that I’m simply not familiar writing.

After writing Miguel for a year, I’ve found tropes I’m most comfortable with and happy to post. If these don’t suit your tastes, feel free to move on …💕

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @smokeywhalee @nina-from-317 @thealleydog @f1-hoff @nommingonfood

@kavimoo @honey-bee2002 @club-danger-zone @sp0ck136 @youhaveraybies

@deputy-videogamer @laysmt @hyperstardaydream @crimin4llyins4ne @yougoodsis10

@asterrrrose

[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

[miguelspriscilla]

fucking rcd!miguel in the back of his car after he won a race

“Oh—fuck..”

Miguel grunted as he continued pounding into you deeply from behind. His eyes staring down at your ass, the small-spaced car covering the sounds of squelching and skin-slapping. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust, your fingers digging into the center console where you were forced to lay on as your best friend fucks you roughly in the back of his car.

This is how the night usually ended after Miguel won a car race. It all started during a sleepover at your house when you suggested the idea, giving him motivation to actually put more effort in the competitions. So after these races, the car would be parked by a cliff nearby the city while the two of you fuck round after round—not stopping even when you were on the verge of passing out.

“You like that, nena? Tell me.” His lips curving into a smirk, both of his hands gripping on your hips tightly. You squirmed, feeling his hard cock still thrusting into your tight, spongy walls.

“Y-Yes..I love it so much, Miggy!” you moaned breathlessly, the cute noises you were letting out were only bringing Miguel more pleasure.

“Fuck, I love when you call me that..”

You responded with a sweet smile before feeling him suddenly hit that sweet spot of yours, your face contorting with pleasure once again. “Please, Miggy! I want you to cum inside me!” you beg without hesitation, your knuckles turning white as your hands move to grip the center console instead. “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Your chants only encourages Miguel to set a relentless pace, driving his cock into you so roughly to the point the tip kisses your cervix. Pornographic moans leaving your sweet lips as Miguel reaches over to grab a handful of your hair to pull you back, forcing your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the leather material of the console, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper.

“You drive me crazy..never wanna leave this sweet pussy..” Miguel darkly chuckles, just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself wanting to stop, you felt yourself reach a climax that had you seeing white spots in your vision, moving your back closer to your best friend’s chest. Your face completely stained with tears and drool while shuddering as your legs shake— Miguel felt you continue to clench around his cock.

“Oh Miguel!” you mewled, Miguel watches a white ring of your sweetness cover his cock and it leaves the man almost falling apart on top of you. He groaned into your neck with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, his cum filling you up as you moaned at the hot sensation.

As your best friend continues emptying himself inside your cunt, both of your chests heaving heavily with a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. You were completely fucked out, not one thought in your pretty little head while you stayed still.

Suddenly Miguel’s phone began going off, as if it knew when to start ringing. He seemed to forget to shut it off before he impatiently jumped your bones. He gave your butt a harsh slap, laughing when you responded with a loud whimper before he reached to his race car jacket to grab his phone from the pocket.

“Damnit!” Miguel rolled his eyes, looking at his phone screen and it read, ‘Dana.’ His girlfriend. As much as he didn’t want to answer, he still clicked the green button. As soon as he held his phone to his ear, he slid his now soft cock out of your pussy.

“Aw! Come back, Miggy!”

“Give me a sec, nena. It’s Dana.” Miguel murmured, hearing you continue to protest for him to stick his cock back in but instead he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit as he waited for Dana say whatever the hell she wanted to talk about at 1am. “Hey— Dana..right now isn’t a good time.”

“Yeah you must’ve been sleeping! But..I just missed you.” Dana replied affectionately through the other line. She seemed eager at the fact Miguel picked up.

Though he didn’t match his girlfriend’s enthusiasm, his focus remained on you. Resting himself on your back, using his tongue to finally explore your drooling mouth while listening to Dana talk endlessly about her day, how much she misses Miguel, and how she wished she could have attended the race to see him win.

Your knees still prompted on the car floor, slowly aching from how long you stayed in that uncomfortable position as you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of your best friend’s cock. You swore you could fall asleep from the boring conversation Dana was basically having a conversation with herself. You never liked her, she was obnoxious and passed herself around way too much. But the feeling was mutual between the two of you, she never liked how you and Miguel are so close..Dana has suspected most of the time that you were both hanging out— you were sucking his cock at the back of his car.

Miguel mindlessly nodded at whatever Dana said, humming against your lips until he pulled away and watch you lay your head, pouting your lips. “Mhm..mhm..yeah?” Miguel shrugged, not paying attention at all. He was watching the mixture of your juices and his cum oozing out of your pussy, the scene was absolutely breathtaking, literally. He couldn’t breathe right as he watched your fluids drip down your thighs and onto the carpet, staining it but Miguel didn’t care.

Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly— surely Dana had catch that. “Hey Dana, I’m kinda busy right now. Let me call you back in 20 minutes?” Miguel interrupted his girlfriend during mid-conversation. His eyes trained on your leaking hole, watching as more of his cum spill out of you, the feeling making your body shudder once more.

“Actually let me call you back in the morning, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!!! IVE BEEN CONTEMPLATING ON POSTING THIS FOR 5 DAYS NOW. PLEASE PLEASE IM SORRY ITS BAD I JUST LOVE MIGUEL😭

[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 19!! this ones dirty hehe whoopsie wc: 400 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You know by now that Miguel loves pumping you full of him. Coming deep inside and making sure it stays. Pushing it back in with his fingers. Shoving two digits inside your aching pussy after he’s stretched and worked you out for hours.

Slipping through your slick and his cum mixed together. And massaging your velvet walls in an almost tender way. Like he’s trying to soothe the sore within you. Since it is the result of his thickness bullying through your heat. Forcing you to accept him over and over.

Almost like an apology. Similar to the soft kisses he peppers over your skin, soothing the spots he bit and sucked crimson.

He’ll also push it all in with his dick. Keeping you plunged full. Cockwarming you sometimes and making sure he’s not far from your sex for long. It’s just a need of his. For you to always be touched by him, full of him, tainted by him.

But something else Miguel loves almost just as much is watching it drip out of you. It’s not what he prefers but sometimes it just hypnotizes him. Has him staring at your weeping pussy as you drip his essence on the sheets.

"Oh, so pretty, mami... made such a mess..." He chuckles behind you, smiling and panting like a hound after having you face down in the pillows for what felt like an eternity. Yet at the same time, not long enough. His hands on you still, making sure you don't move too much yet so he can watch the white dribble out. Such a sinful sight.

Leaning over you and kissing up your spine, his chin finding its place in the crook of your neck and laying a little bit of his weight on your back. Pressing you into the mattress. Something he knows you love. That feeling like you almost can't breathe. Smothered and dominated by just his weight alone. Until he smirks, kisses your cheek and lifts off of you, rolling onto his back at your side.

You're a trembling, whining mess from his touch. Knowing you’re just so full your cunt can’t take any more.

It’s such a dirty thing, almost like a treat. But he’s always quick to soothe. Quick in tending to the aches he’s caused you. A massage, a bath, kisses to your cheeks as he washes you clean and tells you he loves you most.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[sunflowersteves]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

Ithe reader’s got THICK thick thighs and he keeps playing w them

Either way,

He loves..

squeezing, pinching them, nipping at them anywhere n anytime he can

laying between your thighs, he’d place his head between your boobs

getting his head between ur thighs , tightening the grip on his head while eating u out

When sitting on his face you’re afraid you’d suffocate him with you thighs “Then I would die a happy man”

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, SMUT, thigh biting, miguel has a thigh kink, thigh fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), dom x sub, [18+ ONLY]

masterlist

Miguel knew he was obsessed—that much was completely clear as day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down to your thighs as they jiggled with each step. He couldn't help when his hands tightened around them, unable to fully wrap his large hand around the plush skin. 

It drove him fucking insane. 

“Cariño,” His voice was quiet in concentration, “y’need to stop moving.” 

You squirmed in his lap, legs perched up across his thighs. While you were watching TV, Miguel had a book in one hand, eyes scanning the page. However, for the past ten minutes, Miguel had been kneading into your thighs. He would squeeze them, feel them, and occasionally pinch them. 

His reading glasses slightly slid down his curved nose. His head was turned to you, ruby eyes intense with just the smallest of smirks across his lips. It was so distracting—he and his hands flushed up against your legs.

“Can’t read with you moving all around like that.” He says coolly. His voice was deep and gruff, the eye contact never wavering. You could feel yourself squirm again. Your body felt increasingly hot as his eyes gravitated towards his lap. He watched you move your thighs once more, and he subconsciously licked his lips. 

His large hand sunk deep into the molding flesh, creating the indents of his fingers into your skin. “Miggy—” 

He slapped his book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table. You let out a gasp as he moved so fast you hardly knew what was happening. Miguel had maneuvered himself so your thighs were slung over his shoulder, and he was crouched down so his chest met the couch. 

“Too fucking distracting.” He growls. His hands go to re-grip your thighs once more, spreading them apart. “Your fucking thighs—”

He cuts his own self off as he starts to kiss your thighs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he craved them—how much he thought about them completely enveloping his face. 

He loved when he could kiss them and put his fangs in them. He loved to see the indent of the way his teeth punctured your skin. 

He could feel his cock jump at the sight of them on display for him. He could picture the sweet memory of last night when he had his slick cock in between your thighs and fucked up into them. 

“Fuck, Miguel—” Your hands reach to his hair and pull. He lets out a groan, tongue swirling around your supple skin. 

He unsheathed his fangs and grazed them over the meat of your thighs. He watched as you gasped, head falling back. His hands continued to mold around the flesh, and he groaned, hips bucking into the couch. 

“So fucking thick,” he murmurs. “So fucking good to me, cariño.” 

He goes to kiss your mound, covered by panties and a pair of shorts. You whimpered, watching his glossy lust-filled eyes gaze at the skin before him. 

He lets out one of his claws, hand in the middle of the air, before ripping your shorts in half. “Miguel!” You scold. Another pair of pants and underwear were destroyed. Again. 

He doesn’t waste time, ignoring your scolding. He dips his tongue into your folds and growls at the wetness that sticks to your walls. “Taste—” He licks up to your clit and swirls the swollen bud. “So fucking—” His fingers press deeper into your thighs. “Good.” He gasps. 

Your thighs instinctively get tighter around his head, and he could practically feel his eyes roll in the back of his head. His head backs up as far as possible—wild eyes looking aflame. 

“Baby?” You say, concerned. He looked at you for a bit longer. Your eyes were hazy, your face looking completely fucked out. You had been squirming in his lap for some time, and he relished in the feeling of your body becoming hotter and hotter.

His eyes flashed. “Do it again.” He demands. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do what?” You were being genuine—not the innocent bratty nature that he was so used to. 

“Put your thighs around my head. Again.” He growled out the last part of the sentence. His cock twitched again at the sight of your thighs wrapped around him. 

Your hand subconsciously lightly tugs on his hair. “B-but, Miguel.” Your eyes flicker away from him. “I’ll crush you.”

He takes a good look at you once more. He then chuckles under his breath before kneading your thighs again. 

“Good. I want you to.” He pressed his lips back onto your slick and pushed a tongue between your folds. “I want you to crush my fucking head, cariño.”

He taps your thigh in an inpatient manner, the other hand teasing your entrance with a finger. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

He pleasantly hums. “Now sit back and wrap your thighs around me. Be my good girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

[fettuccin-e]

So Good

Kinktober Day 17: Praise Kink

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, fingering (r!recieving), praise kink of course, Miguel has a filthy fucking mouth, shy!reader, miguel going feral because of course he does (w/c: 1.2K)

A/N: Back on my Miguel bullshit for my Kinktober catch-up of course. I cannot help it when he is so big and broad and sexy okay??? Anyway enjoy him goin' feral for his girl for 1k words hehehe (For the month, I have been following this list from flightlessangelwings!)

He first noticed it after a mission, and cursed himself for never seeing it before. 

It had been innocent, tugging you close to his side as you both walked through the portal back to HQ, whispering a “you did good out there,” into your ear. Innocent enough.

But you had practically squeaked, your eyes looking anywhere but him, nearly pulling out of his grasp. Miguel saw how your thighs clenched together at the compliment, and it takes everything in him not to take you in the hallway right then, bury his face between them.

He doesn’t. He opts for filing it away in his mind, saving the information for later, somehow knowing that it would be important.

You both hadn’t been together for very long then, still in the trial stage of this new beautiful thing between you both. He was still hesitant to kiss you then, you had still been hesitating to go to his apartment with him.

But Miguel watches, waits, and of course, gathers more information. Starts complimenting you more on missions, in the office. Tells you what good work you’ve done, how you look so pretty in the new dress he bought you. It makes you fluster nearly immediately, your gaze pinned to the floor as you smile shyly, and fuck, those gorgeous, gorgeous thighs clench together every time. Taunting him.

Finally, after months of watching, waiting, he gives in.

He’s got you spread out beneath him, practically sobbing as he fucks you deep on his thick fingers. You loosen up so easily for him, desperate for it, your slick fucking dripping around his hand. Finally, after so long waiting to tell you exactly what goes on in his mind when he has you like this,  he lets himself speak aloud.

“So good, hermosa, taking me so well,” he murmurs, and watches as your eyes fly open, a strangled moan flying from your lips. He can’t help the smile that plays at his lips. “You like that baby? Like hearing how good you are, how perfect you sound when I’m playing with this gorgeous pussy?” He can fucking feel the way your cunt clenches around his fingers with his words.

“Fuck, oh my God, Miguel-” you gasp, but you can’t seem to help yourself as you grind your hips towards Miguel’s hand. He adds another finger, stretching you wide to take his cock. “You- you can’t just-”

Miguel growls, leaning forward to nip at your jaw with fanged teeth. “Oh baby, of course I can. I can tell you how fucking good this pussy feels around my fingers, how it’s going to feel even better around my cock. This little cunt gets so wet for me, doesn’t she?” You whine wordlessly, and Miguel grinds the calloused pads of his fingers into that sweet spot that makes you fucking scream for him. “Answer me,” he snarls.

“Yes! Yes, ‘m so fucking wet, need you to fuck me so bad, Miguel,” you cry, humping your hips desperately into his hand, chasing your orgasm. 

“Come on, sweetheart, soak my fucking hand,” he says, deep and dark, his eyes trained on the way your entrance leaks around his fingers. He reaches a thumb up to rub hard circles into your clit, and chuckles darkly when you let out a shaky moan with your orgasm, clenching around his thick fingers and somehow getting even wetter.

“So fucking pretty when you cum for me,” he mumbles, and your eyelids flutter shut, trying to breathe through the aftershocks.

Miguel pulls his hand out of your gaping entrance, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking your slick off his fingers. “Tastes so good, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine softly under your breath, completely at a loss for words.

Leaning down, he licks into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself as he notches the thick, leaking head of his cock to your entrance, pushing in, in, in.

Like every time you take him, it’s so much, and you gasp into his mouth as his cock reaches so deep inside, spreading you wide enough that you fear you’ll break.

“I know, amorcita, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it?” he whispers against your lips as he pushes in to the hilt. "You’re taking it so well for me though, baby, so fucking good for me.” 

He can’t help the groan that wrenches its way out of his throat when you clench around him like a vice, moaning high in the back of your throat. His hips move of their own accord, pulling slowly out of you before he shoves himself back in, and it feels like he reaches even deeper.

“God, Miguel-” you moan, “it feels so good, you feel so big.” And Miguel’s vision blurs at the edges, his eyes tingeing red at your words.

He loses himself to it, the way your cunt squeezes him every time he pushes inside, hot and tight and fucking maddening. You claw at his shoulders every time he presses deep, grinding the tip of his cock into your cunt while overwhelming pleasure sparks up your spine.

He wraps his strong arms around the small of your back, tugging you up into a nearly impossible arch as he fucks into you like a goddamn animal, your head pressed back into the pillows. “So fucking perfect,” he snarls, and God, he’s not even talking to you anymore. His eyes are unfocused, wild, unable to focus on your face or the sight of your swollen pussy as you take him over and over and over. But he doesn’t stop talking. 

“Fucking perfect, beautiful girl, taking my cock so goddamn well. My fucking girl, so good to me with her perfect pussy, feels so good, Dios, necesito este cuerpo constantemente, mi nena, mierda-”

Your head swims, blood pounding in your ears as he takes and takes and takes. You feel tears fall down your cheeks, choked moans forcing their way from your lungs.

Your orgasm rips through you without warning, without buildup, your body just locking up and electrified like a livewire as you soak his cock, his thighs. 

“Good girl,” he rasps. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

“Shit- Miguel-” you keen, but he only shushes you, nearly hissing through his fangs, as he pushes as deep as he can into your body, pumping you full as his cock pulses inside of you. It’s fucking everything, pure bliss, and you both tremble through it together. He lowers your hips slowly back down to the bed, keeping himself buried deep inside while you quake through the aftershocks.

Time passes, but you can’t tell how fast it does. Only that you try to match your breathing together, Miguel wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Fucking perfect,” he whispers, but you’re too fucked out to respond.

He pulls out slowly, rolling you to your side, and plastering himself to your back. You can hear the way he breathes you in, and you settle into his warm body.

“Got a thing for compliments, baby?” he murmurs into your hair.

“You ass, I was trying to be subtle about that,” you admonish, but you can’t help the way you smile.

“Can’t hide anything from me, sweetheart,” he chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back. You tilt your head to the side, and Miguel leans to meet you in a kiss.

“I’ve still got my secrets, O’Hara,” you mutter against his lips, and Miguel grins.

“If you say so, baby.”

[lostalioth]

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲

→ premise: miguel considered himself a very put together and composed man until your hands were on him, he lost himself.

→ pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, handjob, overstimualtion, begging, miguel switches between spanish and english a lot

→ a/n: kinktober 10

Miguel was laid back with his legs widened to accommodate you sitting in front of him on your knees on the bed. He had been so over worked all day, you wanted to give him a little stress relief.

That was about three orgasms ago and he was a blabbering, needy, overstimulated mess now.

“Bebe, mhmm-mireda slow down please please” Miguel rambles out breathlessly, his brain on overdrive as his words switch between English and Spanish and his hips buck up into your hand. Your grip on his cock tightens as you speed up your movements, rubbing your thumb through his leaking tip when you go up. Your saliva and spit coating and dripping down his shaft from having him in your mouth earlier makes your hand glide along easier.

“Ay coño, amor ahh~ Por favor bebe i can't take it, no more” he cries out his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips thrust up and squirm. “You can give me one more baby come on Miggy” you slow down your movements just for him to catch his breath. “Just one more orgasm my love” you explain smiling sweetly at him, though he swears he heard those exact words before his last one. Miguel’s head was far too fuzzy and his cock throbbing too much from both his impending orgasm as well as the overstimulation to know if he was remembering correctly.

“Mi vida, Bebe mmm~ no puedo, s’to much, feels s’good but too much” he whines, all his words slurring together, his balls tighten like he’s gonna cum and yet he feels as though you’ve already drained it all out of him three orgasms ago. His eyes screw shut as his head falls back agaisnt the plush pillows behind him, hips still fucking up still into your hand as if they had a mind of their own. His cock aching and extra sensitive and yet still stiff as a rock, he’s barely gone soft this whole time as your hand hasn't left him for a minute. Your hands on his body, rubbing along his tip and shaft felt heavenly and painful at the same time and yet he makes no move to stop you. “I promise Miggy, one more baby, you're my big strong man you can do it” the latter half of your sentence was intended to be taken as you mocking him. He knew this, the position he was in, whining, panting, letting out strings of Spanish curse words that blend together with his English ones. He was a pathetic mess right now, not the typical strong well composed man he always was. He could care less however, this is what your touch does to him and it feels far too good to fight back against your teasing words.

”Gonna cum Bebe, please let me cum amor, necesito, fuck- hurts s’good” he moans out, his hips flattering in their synced rymth with your hand, now thrusting desperatly for your hand to milk the last drops of cum even left in his twitching overstimualted body. “Cum baby, cum for me” you command softly, watching as his face contorted in pain and pleasure mixed together as his high crashed over him hard. Long ropes of cum shoot out, spilling over your hand and even land on his chest and thighs. He lets out some morph of a whiny sigh of relief when finally after what has felt like hours, your hand moves off his hyper sensitive cock as it twitches and softens against his cum stained stomach.

→ a/n: sorry this is hella short, i have also never written much for miguel other than a wip i never posted nor even finished from a year ago soo also sorry for errors in the spanish, the little I know is rusty so

[spdrvyn]

MIGUEL O’HARA — and places he’d kiss you in

rewatched atsv and was hit with a very strong wave of yearning for this man that (unfortunately) doesn’t exist so now we’re here! tagging @greensagephase too as she was the one who inspired me to write this, please enjoy!! (^_^) ♡

☆ his lab, at work

like i’ve mentioned a thousand times before in my other fics and posts, miguel isn’t the biggest fan of pda. he prefers intimacy when it’s just the two of you, without the crumbling pressure of his snoopy coworkers.

that is mostly why his laboratory is one of the most secure places in headquarters. with a platform that might as well be touching the ceiling, it grants utmost privacy to him and you. he enjoys it when you visit him, whether it’s to bring food or company, the fact you go out of your busy day to come see him makes his heart swell.

he loves to shower you in kisses in those fleeting moments you’re both together, before the day ends. he presses a kiss to your hairline, and takes a whiff of your shampoo. before he moves down to your forehead, your nose, then your lips. he’ll tell you about the day he’s had, you will tell him about yours in return, and he’ll wonder how he got so lucky.

☆ the park, early mornings

i’d like to think that miguel is a morning person. when he can, he goes on brisk walks in a park nearby to wind down a little before he starts a very hectic day.

you, on more than one occasion, have chosen to join him, which miguel feels guilty for most of the time. mainly because he thinks you need sleep, as adorable as you look when you’re tired. he notices how sluggish you can be when you join him, which is why neither of you give that big of an effort to make conversation. not like it makes the moment any less meaningful.

there is a way that the peeping sun reflects on you so beautifully. even with tired eyes, unkempt hair, and an “uncoordinated” outfit (according to you. but he’d be attracted to you even if you wore a potato sack), every inch of you from head to toe looks like it came straight out of a renaissance painting.

he will pull you behind a tree, pepper kisses to your cheeks, before kissing you senseless on the lips. he holds your face in his warm palms like a prized jewel, and each kiss feels slower than the next. his breath is hot against your mouth as he pauses before he leans in for one after the other.

☆ at a restaurant, dinner time

on date nights, it really depends on how both of you are feeling on where the location is. maybe, it feels nice to doll up and look nice, but if it’s too much effort, somewhere casual and near-by is sufficient enough for you and him.

either way, those nights are the ones where miguel’s romance levels are reaching through the roof. he simply can’t stop and won’t stop looking at you, and how stunning you are. he doesn’t know how you always manage to keep him relaxed, because even he knows about how high-strung he can get, but he always gets so eerily calm when you’re around.

while you’re in the restaurant, he will subtly hold your hand under the table. on the rare occasion, he’ll break his ‘little to no PDA’ rule, he will press kisses along the inside of your hand to your knuckles. he does try to be discreet, but the way you get so flustered by his boldness eggs him on.

☆ bonus: at home

when miguel comes back home, a lot of the time he lets his actions speak for how he feels.

normally, if you’re doing something when he returns, he embraces you from behind, lets out a huge sigh of relief, and clings to your back like a koala until you are both seated. if you’re on the bed or couch, reading a book or watching something on the tv, he collapses on top of you and puffs all the air out from your chest.

he will kiss you on your neck, or when he’s really tired, just leave his lips there. he’ll lay on your chest and kiss you there also, while leaving a trail down to your stomach.

i'm still so not over him. sorry to my cousin's friends who apparently read some of my stuff, i am not normal about this old man

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

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