#across the spiderverse Drabble

[konigenblobbity]

Drabble: Hobie Finds Out He Likes Being Choked

Hobie Brown x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, riding, mutual orgasm, p in v, tits, mention of bondage, choking ofc

A/n: Kindaaa similar to the Hobie with a Leash one but I wanted to post something :p Still on vacation at the moment

—

Hobie has always been in love with watching you ride him, whether he ordered you to and guided you through it, or you wanted to take charge and became more dominant.

In this case you wanted to be more dominant, riding Hobie with your hands braced on his shoulders to help you while his hands were tied to the headboard. His eyes never left you once, not even daring to blink at fear of missing the sight in front of him.

The way your head was tilted back meaning he could only imagine the way your eyes were rolling back and how your lips were probably parted slightly to allow your moans to flow past effortlessly. He wouldn’t complain though, more than happy to watching your tits bounce instead, or how his cock disappeared repeatedly into your cunt.

Just like all the other times you ride him, he can hear your shaky breathing, see how your back arches, how your movements become more inconsistent, how you begin to grind more to make up for your soreness… all tell tale signs you were close.

Since his hands were tied back he couldn’t help much, deciding to grind his hips up slightly to help you in your efforts. Through soft moans he began to shower you with encouragement, wanting to help you fall over that edge.

“I can tell you’re close love. Don’t stop, I wanna feel you shake on top of me” he’d say, his own voice shaky. “Even with your thighs sore you don’t stop~ It feels too good doesn’t it? How my cock presses against your walls just how you like it” the whole time his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

You didn’t respond, only able to moan out softly and occasionally tremble from the pleasure. “Cmon love, tell me how I can help” you’d just whine at those words, why he thought you could answer him lost on you. “What should I do hm?” He repeated, waiting for a response. It was so sweet how he was trying to help but your tongue was numb.

You didn’t even try to respond, focusing only on the movement of your hips, the way his cock pressed against your g-stop over and over, how when your hips met his- “Cmon love, tell me.” He’d say again and your brows furrow.

Unable to speak and his questions dragging your attention away from what you desperately chased. What you desperately needed. Much to your dismay, Hobie goes to speak again “Should I-“

Without thought you did something you’ve never done before, something he definitely didn’t expect.

Suddenly your hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, silencing him instantly with your grasp. You tilted your head forward again and met his eyes with a half-lidded yet somehow pointed look. “Shhh. H-Hobie, just shush” you mumbled. It was both demanding and pleading.

He was frozen, but as he felt your fingers gently pressed against the sides of his neck he nodded… completely speechless. You’ve been dominant before, but never like this. It unnerved him how much he liked it. He could feel how the pressure from your hands against his neck sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock.

You felt how Hobie throbbed inside you, the head of his cock managing to abuse the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Practically throwing you off the edge of ecstasy.

He watched how your head fell back again, your walls clenched down tight around him. He could feel how your hands gripped his throat tighter when you came. Their grasp not suffocating but restricting enough to have him taking deep inhales. He was falling apart beneath you.

The feeling enough to thrown him over the edge abruptly. His head fell back onto the bed and his hands gripped at the belt holding his wrists to the headboard. “F-fuck… yes, god thats-“ a low groan breaks apart his words, unable to finish his statement.

You continued to grind your hips, no longer bouncing up and down. His hips did the same, both of you riding out your highs. Your head still thrown back and moaning again softly at the warm feeling of Hobie cumming deep inside you while you continued to drain him with your pulsing walls.

Once you both recovered from your post-orgasmic haze your bodies naturally relaxed. Your hands loosening around his neck and he whimpers softly at the feeling. You tilt your head to look down at him and then finally registered what you did.

The red marks on his neck weren’t very dark or apparent, but you could clearly see where your nails dug into the skin of his neck. “S-shit Hobie! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize” you say, letting go of his neck entirely, gently cupping his cheek with one hand to tilt his head to the side for a better look at his neck.

He watched your movements and expression of concern with amusement; half-lidded eyes and a lazy smirk on his lips. “Can you untie me?” He asks softly and you immediately reach your hands up. “Y-yeah of course! I-I really am sorry, I feel awful Hobie, I should’ve been more careful” you begin to ramble.

The second his hands are untied, you place your hands on his chest and go to move off of him but his hands immediately grip your hips like a vice “Don’t move. And don’t you dare apologize love…” his voice slightly raspy but still the low baritone it usually was. You look back up into his eyes, not seeing any pain or regret in them.

“I loved it…” you blushed at his words, there wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm or teasing in them. In your shock you only manage to stutter out a soft “r-really?”. When he nods, you can’t help but bite your bottom lip.

You’d be lying if you said you hated doing it to him. He placed a hand on top of one of yours, pulling it up to his lips before placing a tender kiss on your palm.

“Feeling these soft hands against my throat… fuck love the things you do to me” he groans out and moves your hand back down to his throat. You sit in silence, completely taken aback by this discovery. Hobie smirks at your state of shock and decides to use it against you.

“You’re so cute when you get all flustered…” he mumbles teasingly. His other hand reaches up and gently grabs your throat, pulling your face down closer to his own. You didn’t even fight back, at his bold action you instinctively gripped his throat with your hand.

“Fuck… just like that” When he groans lowly you blush, “What? Didn’t think I was boring did you?” He mocked and you chuckled at his teasing and then lightly shook your head adding “Not at all…”

“Good” he leans up and kisses your lips softly. Unable to contain your smile as he did. He gives your throat a quick squeeze and he can hear how your breath hitches “Guess we have one more thing in common now...”

-

Small note: being vanilla or not liking this type of stuff doesn’t make you boring. Whatever gets your rocks off ;)

[n1ght0f-nyx]

giving him a fast and rough handjob that lasts what feels like several hours, he lays on the bed, his thighs squirming and clenching as you bully his sticky cock, he has cum a bazillion times, cum pooling at his thighs and stomach "oh god.. please mommy..i need more...d-d-dont stop!!" he begs and pleads, and you cant help but grin "don't worry babyboy...i wasn't planning on it~"

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[spid3rslvt]

Miguel, who spoons you from behind, letting you calmly play with his hands. He doesn’t move or comment on it, only a small smile apparent on his face as he feels you caressing the tips of his fingers down to his palm. He might be quiet, but it’s clear he doesn’t mind your actions as he triggers his claws for you to look at.

[liseytopia]

i know the spider-verse hype is over but hear me out ..

another visit at your boyfriend's apartment meant another cleaning day for you and him, which obviously resulted in a helpless, whining hobie on the bed.

"babe, it's not even that hard. you just have to throw some shirts in a washing machine and press a few buttons," you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at hobie from the doorway of his bedroom after you'd designated him a small task to start. he was lying face down on his bed, groaning.

without lifting his head from the mattress adorned with misplaced and rumpled blankets and pillows, he replied, "still don' wanna."

hobie was never one for keeping his place clean. he was great at nearly everything else—he had surprisingly good hygiene, a charming personality and a pretty face, but cleaning.. wasn't his specialty. he wasn't trying to live like a slump, but sometimes he couldn't help it. fighting crime and dismantling systems of oppression didn't leave a whole lot of time or energy for something as minimal as cleaning a room—or at least, according to his protests.

you sighed, swiveling around to his in-unit mini laundry room, picking up a laundry basket, and walking back into hobie's bedroom. you began throwing various clothes lying about the room into the basket.

apparently he heard you cleaning up after him, and finally rotated his head off the bed, studying you picking up his clothes. "you don't have to do all 'tis," he murmured as you slowly deconstructed the pile of clothing.

"yeah, but you won't, so i will," you replied firmly, not making eye contact.

"awww, c'mon, love.. you don't gotta be like that," he drawled, rolling off the edge of the bed and standing up toward you. he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, the tall boy's head on top of yours. your stomach fluttered at the contact, his arms acting as a restraint to keep you from moving. it was obvious he had some sort of plan with this.

you whined in defeat, "hobie.."

"hm? what's that?" you heard him hum against your head, trying to act innocent. the rumble of his deep voice was sending vibrations throughout your body. "'m just tryna help."

"shut up, no you aren't," you grumbled, though your attempts at sounding annoyed only failed when you accidentally let a giggle slip out.

hobie hummed again. "see, i knew ya loved me," he smiled as he dragged you a couple feet back down to his bed. you collapsed on top of him on the mattress, the laundry basket and pile of clothes both long forgotten on floor.

you wrapped your arms up around his neck once he sat up, scooting back against the wall with you in his lap. he leaned forward to kiss you, his large hands holding you in place by your waist. you returned the kiss gently and slowly, resting your head down on his shoulder when you were finished.

"i take it we ain't cleanin' today?" he questioned, a smile persistent on his lips as he gazed down at your body lazily attached to his.

you shook your head in response, your eyes closed and your face still buried in his neck. that was all the indication he needed to know you were convinced. hobie would live in that messy apartment for as long as he could.

⊹₊⟡⋆

[kissesbyliz]

miguel o'hara with a gf who crochets

your head is lazily perched upon the wide expanse of miguel's lap, the quiet hum of some nature documentary dull in your ears. your hands are occupied with your usual: a 5 millimeter hook in one and the other steady in tensioning your yarn. your project, currently consisting of a single floppy chain, hangs passively in front of your face.

above you, the love of your life attempts to engage himself in said documentary. it's one that miguel isn't particularly interested in. being the nerd that he is (though he'll never admit it), his tastes lie more in genetics and chemistry. but he knows that it makes you happy, which is why he can't seem to find it within himself to even ask if he can change the channel.

he's able to endure the sporadic squaks of birds and the chittering of monkeys long enough, before his eyes inevitably drag down to your form.

"and what are you making today, cariño?" miguel asks conversationally, hand idly stroking up and down your forearm. he knows you don't like it when he distracts you from crocheting, but he's convinced that if he sees one more insect fly into the mouth of a venus fly trap, he may actually die of boredom.

thankfully, you don't seem to mind. "a tote bag!" you answer with a smile, hands momentarily pausing their actions in favor of showing him the few rows you've created. what's displayed before him is a thin rectangle of yarn, about a foot in length. "look, do you think it's wide enough?"

miguel takes it into his hands for closer inspection. if he's being honest, he's not sure what he's looking at, but he's grateful that you value his opinion anyway.

"i don't know. how big do you want it?" he asks, releasing the piece so you can also take a look.

"um, normal sized maybe? but i don't wanna get up to reference another bag." you whine, stretching the piece out and turning it every which way to see if you're satisfied with it.

he laughs. "want me to get one of yours?" a hand grasps your hip to keep you steady as he begins sliding out from underneath you.

your head jerks up in protest, arm coming out to stop him. "no! stay here, i'll just eyeball it." you pout, eyeing your creation with scrutiny. your head shifts, pressing deeper into his thighs as if to convince him to not move again.

miguel sighs exasperatedly. evidently, you've chosen to wallow in the hell that you've created for yourself. as your hands eventually resume crocheting your piece, he takes a moment to appreciate every delicate motion of your fingers. even after inspecting you work for all the months you've been together, it's still hard for him to wrap his head around how each stitch is made.

once, after an impulsive inquiry from him, miguel's tried his own hand at the craft. under your enthusiastic guidance, he found himself able to understand how to make a chain, and not much else beyond that. his patience soon ran out after you tried to explain the concept of skipping chains to him.

"why make chains if i'm just going to skip over them?" he had asked you frustratedly, beginning to feel his hand cramp up with the unfamiliar motions.

you laughed at that, evidently amused by his struggling, and miguel thinks its one of the most lovely sounds he's ever heard. he glanced up to meet your glee filled face, and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"you're staring," you sing quietly, returning his gaze with a cheeky grin. he rolls his eyes, hand coming up to pinch your cheek in mock annoyance.

"it's hard not to." he says, his words too sweet for the tight (not tight, you're just being dramatic) squeeze he has on your cheek. he hears you whine at the touch, and he can't help but smile fondly.

how'd he get so lucky?

[pinksugarscrub]

Love Language

Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Just imagine Hobie who’s love language seems to be actions/gifts and a r with words of affirmation?

Word count: 182

Warning(s): none

~

Pet names aren’t really something Hobie thinks of on a daily basis. The most common endearment he’ll use is love and he feels that’s enough to fully convey how he feels about you. Even that took a bit of time.

It’s not like Hobie doesn’t absolutely adore you. It’s just that he’s always lived by the idea that actions speak louder than words. Though now that your relationship is blossoming he’s finding it hard not to feel overwhelmed.

Yeah he knew you were a bit of a chatterbox but how many more times are you going to shower him in kisses while telling him he’s the epitome of gorgeous? His heart can’t take much more!

“Lovie-” Hobie mumbles. Cheeks hot as he feels your lips press again and again to his cheek.

“Yeah?” You answer innocently. Moving your face away to admire him with that soft look you can never seem to hide. Miles is apparently always on the verge of hurling everytime he sees you. Honestly, you think he’s just jealous.

“Hold on- have I ever told you how pretty you look?”

Hobie groans as his face grows darker.

[amourrs]

so there’s this absolutely filthy thought that’s stuck in my head of miguel with standing missionary… oh to be fucked in the air like a doll… what can i say i love my men big n strong.

thanks for your request lovey!! — one where you and your boyfriend have a quickie in a public bathroom (established relationship, smut 18+, 0.8k)

Your back is pressed to the wall, hands scraping for purchase against it and coming up empty as your legs squeeze firmly around your boyfriend’s thighs. This is kind of disgusting, you think fleetingly, your head turning towards the closed toilet half a foot to your right. You quickly decide not to care about hygiene, though, not with six feet and nine inches of muscle and sex appeal hard and willing in front of you.

“Cariño,” Miguel pants into your mouth, hands coming up to circle your waist. You’re forced to turn back to him as your eyes begin to flutter closed. “Nuh uh- eyes open, honey. Gotta keep your attention on me or I’m gonna get jealous of a toilet and we can’t give Morales that kind of ammunition against me, not when he caught me stroking that cat last week.”

Your eyes snap open at once. “That cat has a name, Miguel, and it’s Monty—” A gasp cuts you off and it takes you a second to realise that it came from your own throat. Miguel’s hips snap into yours a second time as a smug smile saunters across his lips, twisting them into a condescending expression.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t give a fuck what the cat was called, sweetheart. How could I when I have you right here? Fuck, you’re dripping for me, angel, gonna feel so good when you cum around my cock,” he groans, hands sliding down to cup your thighs as he massages them in his grip. Heat rises to your face and you promptly bury yourself in his neck, peppering kisses to the junction where it meets his jawline as he chuckles at you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, corazón. Actin’ like this wasn’t your idea in the first place,” Miguel teases, his voice cracking slightly as his cock drags against your velvety walls and you let out a broken moan.

“Shut up,” you whine, head still firmly planted against your boyfriend’s hot skin. “Didn’t— fuck— ask, did I?”

Something about the pettiness of your statement is far harder to take seriously when Miguel has your legs shaking around him and so he decides to let it slide, opting to laugh at you rather than torturing you further. “Okay, okay, mi— shit, squeezin’ me so tight. You close, honey? Gonna cum for me? God, please cum for me, you look so pretty when you do—” It’s not long before the huge man’s babbling has your head tilting back to hit the wall of the stall as your cunt clenches around him, your orgasm washing over you as Miguel’s thumb comes up to brush against your clit. You jolt slightly at the stimulation, whining at the slight pain that’s beginning to creep in as Miguel’s thrusts speed up. He’s pounding into you with no reprieve now, arm up above you as he clutches at the top of the stall’s wall to steady himself. “I know, mi vida, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so close, I swear— fuck— taking me so well, cariño, I’m gonna— shit”, he swears, pulling out at the last moment so that he can paint your thigh with his release. It’s so hot when his head slides back to moan as he cums and you have to resist the urge to bite him, instead deciding to whine as you turn on shaky legs to sit on top of the closed lid of the toilet. Miguel turns to you a second later, pulling toilet roll out of the dispenser to his left as he leans over and begins to clean himself off of the soft skin of your thigh, leaving a sweet kiss behind on the spot as he does so.

“So,” he starts as soon as you’re both fully dressed again, your breath finally beginning to return to your lungs. He’s bending down to retie your shoelace for you as he squares his shoulders and looks up into your eyes, an expression of pure, unadulterated (and rather sappy) love evident on his face. “I have a really important question to ask you, and it’s been on my mind for so long—”

You roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “Miguel O’Hara, I swear to God. If you dare propose to me in a public bathroom—”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in mock surprise and he rises to his feet. “Propose? To you? In a bathroom?! Mi vida, what are you on about? Clearly I was about to ask if you wanted falafel or sushi for dinner,” he rebukes, barely holding in a peal of laughter as it shakes his broadened shoulders.

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. Obviously I want sushi.”

Miguel grins at your irritated expression before leaning down to smear an affectionate kiss across your forehead. “Sushi it is then, cariño.”

[miguelsslvt]

professor!miguel o'hara drabble

currently thinking about PROFESSOR! miguel o'hara giving you an A on your physics exam, but an F in biology. what was the paper about? sex education, of course.

miguel couldn't deny his lust for you. you prancing around in skirts way too small for you, wearing that lipstick shadd that made his pants just too tight for his liking. fuck, the thimgs he'd do to you behind closed doors.

you were top in your class, smartest in your year. miguel likes women who knew their shit. so, when you came to him after class, tears swelling in your eyes as you explained how you didn't understand why you got an F, who was he to decline your offer of getting some 'extra credit'?

Just like that sweetheart.. ah god, are you sure you didn't purposefully failed that exam? you seem to know your stuff in that subject- ay!' miguel growned, helping your hair out of your face as he fucked your throat. the noises were obscene, so sloppy. just how he liked it. your mind was hazed in lust, you felt almost blackout from the pleasure we he pounded his way into that sweet spot in your cunt. and his words, god his words, they were adding onto the heat in your stomach.

'god.. so pretty reina.. you like it when i go so deep inside you yeah? right there?' he whispered deeply to your neck, as your back arched more into him as you held onto the desk for dear life (the exact same desk you sat on to study for your stupid biology test).

he came after you, wanting your pleasure more then anything. as you started seeing stars, that's when iguel stopped holding back. he knew it was alot, but in the hazy cock-drunk mind of yours, you could barely feel.

as he pulled out, taking the condom off and throwing it into the trash, he placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you held onto the desk, trying hard to stop your legs from shaking.

god, you're so happy you purposely failed that exam.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[spiderman2-99]

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration. When the dead return home, the day is filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

They’ve been extinct since 2095, actually. How hadn’t he known? That should've been something he'd figured out sooner, right? But no, he finds out a week before the day itself while he’s trying to make Gabriella’s ofrenda.

What does his beloved baby girl, who he would’ve given the world a thousand times over, get instead? Paper flowers.

Paper flowers instead of real ones, possessions that represented her instead of properly being hers, a half-done altar that was done in a manic, grief-fueled haze.

It’s paltry. Miguel knows it is. But it’s all he can give, and by God, he hates it. He tried to make it up in home-made pan de muerto and fresh fruit and her favorite dinners, in the carefully arranged papel picado garlands, in finding actual copal to burn… but it’s not enough. It could never be enough.

It’s been a long time since he’d last made an ofrenda, actually. He fell out of the tradition sometime when he was in college, when he was young and unburdened and selfish and so, so stupid, and had convinced himself he had much more important things to do with his time than honor traditions.

Sometimes, he wants to reach out to that little twerp and beat him senseless.

No, he wants to laugh, or scream, or pull his hair out. It’s a sick joke; a cruel jab at his expense, that he only started giving a shit about his own cultural holidays again after Gabi died, when he could no longer share the homemade food with her, help her learn about the significance.

It feels so wrong, being unable to share this with his daughter. Having the altar be dedicated to her, instead of her helping him set it up; teaching her how to make the banners and arrange flowers and bake bread, entertaining whatever thousands of questions she’d have about the holiday and her great-great-whoever’s they’d be celebrating. What would she have thought of the chicken and chile rellenos? Of the Calaveritas? The toys he left out?

Hijo de puta. A parent isn’t supposed to outlive their child.

It’s a pathetic altar too, as far as he’s concerned. Miguel hadn't done this in so long that he'd nearly forgotten how to; having to go on the internet just to remember the guidelines. Even then, there were so many conflicting answers that it left him confused and flying blind the whole damn time.

Did he do enough as a father to honor her? Did the ofrenda do her memory justice? Did he do anything right? Is there enough salt to purify her body? Enough water and food to provide for her long journey? Was the copal actually supposed to be incense, or did it have a different meaning? Are the purple candles placed correctly? Would the tissue paper marigolds, devoid of scent and life, be enough to guide her safely back home?

These worries swarm like vultures to a carcass, picking at and tormenting him to the point where he can barely stand to look at the stupid, thrown-together thing any longer. He should know how to do this— today is much more than just a holiday; Día de Muerto and all of its rich traditions should be a part of who he is, steeped in his identity, his culture. It should be more familiar than breathing.

But now it just makes him ache, seeing how he couldn’t even properly commemorate his own little girl.

In a brief moment of clarity, Miguel realizes he really just should’ve just taken more time to research and plan it out better. If only it weren’t for the constant high-stakes responsibilities, the needs of far too many all on his shoulders, the people, people, people.

Not like he didn’t try; Halloween and all day yesterday, Miguel had been rushing uncharacteristically through work, trying to get caught up enough to take time off. But of course, God had it out for him and practically half the damn Society wanted to barge into his office to badger him about something. He ended up with a shock-ton of random gifts and baked goods on his desk that he’d unceremoniously pawned off to Peter B. (save for a bottle of Don Julio, but the other man didn’t need to know that), enough sanguine well-wishes to last him a lifetime, and hypertension.

And the time and effort he scraped up still wasn’t enough to get it done right. It could never be good enough. He could never be good enough.

Miguel can’t stop second-guessing himself, can’t stop that all too familiar spiral of guilt and self-loathing that rots away at his insides like necrosis. He’s a scientist and an engineer, for shocksake— logic and reason should override his emotions, should stop them from clouding him at all. But all he can do is sit there, staring at the sorry excuse for an ofrenda with a lump in his throat and a throbbing headache that won’t go away.

Today couldn’t have gone any worse.

His joints pop viciously as he gets up from the floor just to prove him wrong. Cristo en el cielo.

The only bright side to this whole thing is that… well, no one is here. No one to see his embarrassment, his failure; no one to question him, or ask him how he’s feeling, or try to give a hug, or any more goddamn food. It’s just him and his ever-spiraling thoughts and the grief that threatens to consume him whole.

Carefully, with a trembling hand, he lights the copal, then the candles, the golden glow dancing around his otherwise dark apartment. It… almost makes it look better. Less like a broken down man’s sorry attempt at repentance and more like a proper ofrenda.

Almost.

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration, filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

[arachnoia]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Miguel touching himself as we talk to him over the phone? We can be aware of it or completely oblivious idc

GAH DAYUM ANON 🫣 ofc ofc ty! requests are open!

tags- just nsfw from this point, drabble !

—— Usually at 10 p.m in the evening, Miguel O’Hara wouldn’t be asleep but instead overlooking different universes. He just stays up in general, with complaints about wanting him to go to sleep. Even having a girlfriend wouldn’t stop him from staying up, in more ways than just “checking the universe”…

Like listening to you rant about other people you had a problem with at your job in your own universe.

“…And so like this one guy was telling me that my shots were blurry? Which wasn’t.”

“Uh huh.”

“And she was tellin’ our boss that I pushed her?! Oh my god you’d hate her.”

“Mhm.”

He smiled a bit. Again, usually he wouldn’t be listening to a person talk more than 3 minutes if it didn’t have to do with the multiverse. Until he began dating you which was a whole other story for another day.

“Are you even listening?!”

He widened his eyes at your outburst. Of course he was listening! He would listen to your heaven-sent voice every day.

“Yes. Of course I am, hermosa?”

He heard your breath steep for a minute before you let out a groan and a thud, “Oh fuck— Sorry I just knocked something over.”

He didn’t know why but felt blood rush down there. That noise you made sounded so melodic, so euphonious. Your voice alone makes him feel some type of way.

But that.

That was different.

He looked down to the tent in the lower part of his suit. It was pathetic, he knows. But it has to be taken care of. He bit his lip and stretched his arm to turn himself on mute.

And at a press of a button, he began stroking his exposed dick. He couldn’t help but feel like something is missing. That being your presence. Not just on telephone.

A smile played out on his lips as he imagined yours. Your beautiful pink lips talking. Your lips licking at a lollipop. Your lips around his cock as its stuffed down your throat.

Everything about you was ethereal to him. He looked at his hand jerking off his dick and moaned quietly.

He just wanted it to badly to be your hand doing that. Your hand struggling to grab onto his dick fully.

“Fuck, Y/N…Shit—”

Or for you to complain about how much he’s filling you up, complaining about how fucking big he is. All the things that would stroke his ego as well as the thought of your tight pussy around his dick, clenching around him.

“Mami…fuck…” he let out a stifled moan and kept pumping.

God, how he would love to have you leaving soft kisses around his dick. He bit his lip and threw his head back as he kept pumping until he let out his load on his thighs, frowning once he was done.

What a fucking waste.

He let out a deep sigh and rubbed at his temple, “Fuck, Y/N…The shit you do to me.”

“Uh huh…”

His eyes widened in panic as he saw his phone screen and realized that he wasn’t on mute.

There was a bit of silence before you spoke again, a dark and elusive tone dripping from your lips.

“So…Miguel.”

“I-”

“Save it for next time, baby. Maybe then, you won’t have to use your hand next time I see you.”

God, you were going to be the end of him.

[stardustlin]

Miguel and his shy wife softly making out? Fluffy?

oh my god yes 😩

miguel o’hara x shy! wife! reader

as miguel and his you, his shy wife find yourselves alone, your lips delicately meet in a tender kiss. your bodies pressed together, the intimacy between you grows with each passing moment. miguel wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, his hands gently exploring your curves, as if memorizing every inch of your body.

your kisses deepen, becoming more passionate as your desire for each other intensifies. miguel’s tongue glides along his your lips, seeking entrance, and you willingly grant him access. your tongues dance in a slow and sensual rhythm, exploring and teasing.

miguel's hands roam further, cupping your face in his palms before trailing down to caress the curves of your body again. his touch is gentle, reverent, as if wanting to appreciate every part of you. you continue to kiss, your bodies gravitating closer, losing yourselves in the intoxicating sensation.

the air around you is filled with soft gasps and the sound of your lips meeting. your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him even closer as you share this intimate moment. your bodies sway with an unspoken desire, the world around you fading away as you get lost in each other's embrace.

as you break your kiss, your eyes meet, the love and longing evident in their gaze. miguel softly brushes a strand of hair behind his your ear, his voice filled with adoration. "eres tan hermosa, mi amor…i cherish these moments with you. te amo," he whispers, his words a testament to their deep connection.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @emiemiemiii @astro1bloom @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit @meeom

[yumeaoka-chan]

Accusations! False accusations!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider Punk x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: fluff, confused Hobie, offended Hobie, loser! Hobie, lovesick hobie, confused Miles, confused R (everyone's confused, but it's okay), title from that Rick Ross meme, R is AFAB, no physical description of R, cursing, sparse use of y/n (just once)

Summary: Hobie learns he has a whole reputation that he doesn't even recall gaining. 

A/N: A little drabble based off the ask that 😅 anon sent to @the-kr8tor . Loser! Hobie is my new religion😇💕💕

Furrowing his eyebrows and moving his cup from his lips, Hobie gazes at the younger Spider with growing concern. He scratches behind his ear, fingers fiddling with his piercings. He'd heard that wrong, right? Surely he had, because there was no way Miles had really come over for advice on girls. When the younger had asked to come over to his dimension yesterday, he'd thought that he just wanted to hang out. Maybe jam to some music while they ordered a pizza or something. Not… this.

“Stop looking at me like I'm crazy”, Miles huffs as he leans back against his chair, frowning at the confused look on the elder's face. ”I came to you for advice because you're the only one of us who's been around.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ ‘bout? Been ‘round where?” The younger chuckles and shakes his head, as if Hobie has just told him some funny joke.

“Bro, stop playin’. I already know everything.” Hobie blinks at him, eyebrow raised in question. Or confusion. Definitely confusion. Miles narrows his eyes and waves his hand in the air.

“Come on, man. You know what I mean.” Hobie just stares at him, clearly waiting for an explanation. He has not the faintest idea about what the younger Spider is talking about.

“You know! How you've messed around with every type of girl before you settled down with Y/N! You've been around, man, so you must know how to get a girl's attention.”

“...HUH?!” Hobie's jaw drops open in shock of Miles' words, eyebrows raised so high that they practically reach his hairline. Because, why would the younger think that of him? Hobie just gapes at him in astonishment, little noises of disbelief leaving his lips as he tries to come to terms with the conception of him that Miles has in his head.

“Um… You alright, man? Hello…?”, Miles mumbles as he waves a hand across the punk's stunned face. Shaking his head, Hobie places his hands on his chest as though he'd been offended.

“W-Why would you think that?! Who told you that”, he questions, voice cracking and growing a bit higher in pitch with how flabbergasted he was. Miles blinks at the man before letting out an awkward chuckle, raising up a hand in a placating manner.

“What's with the surprised look? Everyone at the Society says you used to be a player.”

“I was not! ‘M very much a mess! I have no game!” And it's the truth. Hobie has always been unsuccessful in romance ever since he first discovered that he could have romantic feelings for others, way back in secondary school when he was a year eight. Any time he did harbor feelings for someone, he'd always become a stuttering mess who could only talk to his crush in the form of song lyrics. Not even good songs, at that. It's safe to say that he was the weird kid that absolutely nobody wanted to have him have a crush on them. As if him having a crush meant he was giving them cooties. Kids could be so mean.

“If you have no game, then how did you bag your girlfriend?” Miles asks curiously, munching on his fries while he watches Hobie nervously fiddle with the ring on his finger. It matched the one that you wore, silver glinting in the light. Hobie scoffs and shakes his head.

“Beats me. ‘M just a sad sod who told her fun facts about her favorite singer when we first met. I guess she liked how I was sweatin’ bullets or somethin’, cause ‘ere I am.” That makes the younger of the two pause, eyebrows twisting up and eyes squinting slightly like he can't believe what he just heard. Which Hobie finds odd because it's nothing but the truth.

The day you two met, Hobie had bumped into you on the street. It wasn't his first time seeing you walk down this particular street, but it had been his first time ever accidently making you fall on your ass with your Walkman clattering onto the pavement. The cassette tape had fell out and when Hobie went to help you up and pick up your stuff, he'd seen the artist you were listening to. And, of course, with him being the music loving nerd he was, he couldn't help the facts from spilling from his trembling lips. Sweat beading at his forehead and warmth rushing to the tips of his ears at the sweet smile you'd bestowed him with. And when you slipped your number into his clammy palm, he'd swore his knees went weak. He had very much been and still was a goner when it came to you.

“So… What you're telling me is that you have absolutely zero advice for getting a girl's attention?”

“None whatsoever. Can't believe some bloke actually thought I get girls… Lovie's the only one f'me.”

The sound of the door to the houseboat opening makes him whip his head over, heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight of you. With a sigh, you place your grocery bags down on the counter before letting out a small yelp at suddenly being pulled into a tight embrace. A chuckle leaves your lips as you pat Hobie's back, warmth blossoming in your chest as he rains kisses on your face.

“I was only gone for a little bit, Hobes. Are you that happy to see me?” You hum as you lean back to peer up at him, melting at the adoration shining in his pretty brown eyes. He gives you that dopey, lopsided grin that you love so much before brushing his lips against yours in a featherlight kiss.

“Course I am. ‘M always happy to see you, lovie”, he mumbles softly against your lips, ears flushing just a bit. Always so whipped for you and only you. You smile as you lean in to kiss him again, only to break away at the sound of Miles chuckling. You raise an eyebrow at him as you peer over Hobie's shoulder, not expecting the young Spider to be here.

“Hey, Miles. How have you been?” You greet him as you pull away from your boyfriend's embrace, the punk pouting at the lack of attention. He wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I've been doing good. Just came over to talk a bit with Hobie”, the younger says as he gets up from his chair, a hint of mirth in his eyes as he looks on at how Hobie clings to you. “The rumors really were wrong, then.”

“Rumors? What rumors?” You turn your head to look at Hobie for an explanation, but he just shakes his head.

“Stupid stuff, sweetheart. Don't worry ‘bout it.” Clicking your tongue at his words, you look over to Miles. The kid shrugs and stuffs his hands in his hoodie, claiming that he has to go back home to finish up some homework. After seeing Miles off, you turn to face Hobie, his arms still wrapped around you. His eyes sparkle as he gazes down at you, like you hung the very stars or was the cause of a sunny day. Placing another sweet kiss on his lips, you smile at the feeling of him practically turning to mush against you. It wasn't like you couldn't get the full story about the rumors from your boyfriend later. For now, you were content to give him all the smooches he deserved.

[cupcakeinat0r]

<3 Valentine’s Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3

[NSFW]

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe it’s Miguel’s need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.

Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.

But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you weren’t going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.

It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first… to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.

Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes he’ll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.

In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You weren’t too worried, though. Miguel didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.

You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.

Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. It’s kinda funny; it’s you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).

You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.

You go to check on the sleeping giant. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking it’s you no doubt). Aw.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.

His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals…

It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.

You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.

Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.

You start to feel Miguel‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.

His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.

Faint ‘Ffuuuckkk’s and ‘Mmm’s were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.

You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Well,” his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, “Good morning to you too, Mamita… Mmfuck.”

He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy”, in the most sing song tone of voice.

Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, “ay, beba, so thoughtful n’ good to me…do that again...” he pleads.

“Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.

“Oh-oh fuck… si, just like that, mamita, así, goood girllll.” his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again. “Aw shit…. I’m close, mama, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princesa…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, “Open,” and you do as he asks, “diablo, mami, eres tan sucia.” You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, “Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo-“

“Oye, whoa whoa whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. “I’m not done with you yet, nena,” he mumbles against your lips.

He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere. Sientate.” He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.

You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.

“Babe, noooo wait... I haven’t shaved…”

Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.

“Mama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.” You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.

“Now, I said sientate. I’m hungry.” He says sternly.

“You sureee? You really don't have to-”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He commands. This man wasn’t playing any games. He was starving.

Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.

Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguel’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.

“So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. “Te amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. “N' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?”

His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. “Yessir.”

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.

One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.

“Prettiest pussy ever…. y todo es mio. Fuck, you’re so wet, mamita, did I do that?” He speaks mockingly.

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.

"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Miguel-"

He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.

Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his ‘Mmmph’s, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"B-baby, baby… I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you are,” smack, “wakin' me up like this… ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,” smack, “puta madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada más…” both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"

"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguel’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.

Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?” He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.

You manage a soft, tired smile, “Every day. I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back down.

“I am… but not for food.”

Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time y’all got to the kitchen<3

Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!

This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3

Happy Valentine’s season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3

Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!

P.s. n if u don’t have a Valentine’s, I’ll happily be urs 🤭 MWAH!

- Cupcake xoxo

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[spid3rslvt]

Miguel, who purrs quietly as you pepper soft kisses all over his face. So quiet, it can barely be heard. He doesn’t like to admit how his heart skips a bit with every kiss laid on his skin, or how warm his ears get with how you run your fingers through his hair. And he’s oblivious to how obvious it is to you, especially when he lays his head on your chest, your legs tangled together.

[mayearies]

where miles likes being spoiled by your kisses cw: theres like one sex joke

miles and you had just gotten back from his basketball game. wasnt his best but can you blame him? he was distracted. his girlfriend was on the bleachers watching his every move and cheering for him.

once you got to his room, he threw you some clothes as he changed out of his jersey. “woah! what’s the rush?” he wiped his face with a towel.his braids looked messy too. “nothin’. just wanna hurry up and cuddle with you.”

the last part went in one ear and out the other. you were just amazed at his upper body. it wasn’t incredibly muscular or anything, despite how strong he was. you kinda wanted to touch it. “you starin’ real hard, ma. you good?”

you didn’t respond, instead you just shifted your eyes back and forth between his face and his chest as he put on his shirt. he let out a playful laugh at your silence. “view’s that good, huh? can’t keep your eyes off me?”

“i mean, i dont really have a choice now do i?” you laughed. you swear, this boy had you giggling and kicking your feet so hard when he wasn’t here. “miss me from up there?” he kissed your cheek.

“a lil.” miles stopped kissing your face and held a pouty expression. "a little?" he questions, feeling a sense disappointment. "what am i supposed to do with just a little?"

holding a serious gaze, miles continues to kiss you. "i expected to be missed like crazy by you, amor."

holding a playful smile, you gave into his sweet kisses all around your face. “okay, maybe i missed you more than that. but you weren’t that far from me.”

miles relaxes, grinning as he kissed you more. "see, baby?" he mumbles, rubbing your cheek softly. "i told you i’m too irresistible. you know i’m right.”

most of the time, he was right. he knew you, better than you knew yourself in some ways. you both loved it. he held your hand tightly, not wanting you to leave despite how late it was. “can you show me how much you missed me?”

“how so?”

he pulled away and sucked on his teeth. eyeing the sheets then looking back at you. “hm. i don’t know, maybe some quality time together?”

and thats how you got here— stradding his lap while he leaned his head against the headboard, playing with your hair and scrolling through his phone.

the times where you two were apart were the ones he dreaded the most. he knew you didn’t like it either. but it is what it is. shit happens, but at least he could sleep knowing he would see you again.

he sighed, flipping his phone over on the blanket. he was silent for a little while before biting your shoulder softly to get your attention. “what?” he just looked at you with his normal resting face. “how much did you miss me, ma? gimme a number.”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling less tense. “like, out of ten?” miles rested his chin on your chest, looking up at you.

"yeah, out of ten," he said. milles smiled and starts to caress your back, waiting to hear your response to his question.

“hmm,” you bit your lips as you thought. miles’ fingers rubbed circles on your hips, too. “a solid 9.”

his eyes widened. "really," he asks, surprised. "you mean that?" giving you a playful tap on your nose, "because that last point is earned when I get a kiss." he likes making it obvious how much he wants you to kiss him. resting his head back on the headboard, tilting his head down toward you. “c’mon, kiss me, ma.”

you gave him a soft kiss in the cheek, making him let out a sigh and laugh simultaneously while also looking you up and down. he pouted, “that’s not what i meant, you know that. no seas cruel, mamita.”

“you’re so picky.” you saw him eyeing your lips as he said that, so you gave him exactly what he wanted. “better?”

miles gives a light squeeze to your hip. he looks down into your eyes with a sly smirk, nodding. "that's exactly what I wanted, baby," he spoke teasingly. "but I wonder if you know how to show me just a bit more love?"

placing his fingertips beneath your chin, miles slowly turns your face back toward his. looking back with a playful expression, he asked for another one. and another. aaand another. to which you would give.

you let out a light groan, while rolling your eyes playfully. “you’re picky and greedy. what a combo, miles. what a combo.”

miles smirks and rubs his thumb across your lips, making it apparent what he wants. “i mean, you wouldn't want me to be unhappy, would you? I need you to do your job and keep me satisfied."

as he speaks, miles continues to hold you with both of his hands on either side of your face. with a cheeky smile, he asks, "so are you going to be a good girlfriend or not?"

you rolled your eyes for real this time. his teasing could get annoying from time to time, but it would blow over soon. giving him another kiss, which was more long lasting to keep him quiet for a while. “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“you’re being greedy.”

“greedy? greedy for your love, yeah. that’s justified. hop off my dick if you dont like it, ma.”

“i cant in case you havent noticed!”

this could have been a fic but i was lazy abt the graphics yeahhh also this is mainly for @all444miles cause iykyk (she would be going insane)