#miguel x reader

[sweetimpurity]

“I think I’ll keep you” Ch. 3 flashback

for @twwcs my sweet 💖 this brought me back from not having drawn all summer long so thank you 🙏 Reblogs and comments appreciated!

any other scenes I should draw?? ✍️

[glaciertea]

Whoops.

A drabble appeared in my head because why the heck not. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Nothing too fancy, just 246 words under the cut. Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader, you know how it goes.

CW: 18+, fingering, overstimulation, not beta read

Have fun~

“Miguel, when can I stop?” You whined out, your fingernails digging into his suit.

“When I'm finished with these reports, nena.” Miguel casually swiped through his device, reading today's work from the other spiders. “Besides, cariño, this is what you wanted.”

For the past fifteen minutes, you were riding Miguel's fingers non-stop. You felt a strong urge in your stomach and didn't want to impose on him, but that pit grew and grew until you couldn't take it anymore. You practically pleaded with him to help out with your problem, that he wouldn't even have to stop what he was doing, and that you could take care of everything.

So now here you are, your body turned away from him, sitting on his thigh with his index and pointer buried deep in you. Your juices were leaking onto the fabric, and your sweat dripped down.

“How much longer?” A gasp escaped when he curled his fingers to get that right spot.

“Hm. I thought I was done, but three more reports came in. Guess you'll have to keep going, nena.” He nonchalantly said and continued to read. 

Your walls clung around him when another orgasm found its way out. You started to slow down when Miguel wiggled his fingers and grunted.

“I said three more reports. Keep going.”

You sobbed out as you started back up. This was the best, and worst, request you could've asked for. 

And you'll happily do it again and again.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @slushycoookie

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.5)

★ Word Count: 3.9k

★ Content: Miguel is so smitten, it's serious. You two also go on a few more dates. The topic of the nature of your relationship comes up. Dana appears...again...

★ A/N: Hey, hey sorry this chapter took so long to come out. And is short! But I wanted to make sure I put this out before I start Kinktober. So enjoy!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the date last night.

Even as he mindlessly scanned the row of paint cans, looking at his phone for the exact color his mother wanted. Eggshell white and Bahama blue. Yet, he was seeing none of those colors.

It didn't help that his mind kept lingering on you. Reminding himself about how pretty you looked last night. Your beautiful body hugging that dress. How soft you were when you kissed, taking in your full lips to sear it into his memory. It took Miguel almost a hour to convince himself to remove the trace of lipstick from his lips when he settled down last night.

He missed you. He wanted to see you again.

It was clear you did too when you sent him a voice message this morning, saying those words after the usual good morning. Your voice low as if you just woke up, but still sounding just as beautiful.

Miguel needed to focus. His mother wouldn't tolerate him messing around in the store, especially since the exact colors he was looking for were in front of his face the whole time.

He couldn't help but be grateful to his mother for giving him something to do. Otherwise, Miguel would be lying in bed thinking about you all day. He needed you to occupy his space day and night. Be close to you. Touch you.

It gets so bad he wonders what it would be like if you helped him shop.

Would you be able to tell the difference between the paint colors his mom wanted? Would you start looking at colors yourself to prepare for your house? Miguel would be on board to help you, making sure you don’t carry anything heavy. He didn’t want your nails to break. He’s sure you’d wear something on the verge of cute and comfortable during the shopping trip. And he’d try not to stare while he was picking out paintbrushes.

Miguel had to do another date with you soon, or else he’d do something drastic.

He dropped off the materials his mother needed, not wanting to be there longer than he had to. Miguel didn’t want to get into the reason why she was fixing up the house. He caulked it up as her wanting not to mourn for her abusive husband.

Conchata checked off the list as Miguel brought the items inside the house. He wasn’t listening when his phone vibrated. He wondered if it was you. He hoped it was you.

“What's going on with you?”

He freezes when placing the paint cans by the wall in the house.

“What? Nothing.”

“I could've sworn I saw you walk faster.”

“No, I didn't.” Miguel glances at all the materials, paint, caulk to patch up the walls, some roller brushes, etc. Enough to start the home improvement process. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.”

His eyes land on the tarp on the floor, “You’re not planning to do all of this by yourself, right?”

“I’m not. I hired some people to do it for me. All I have to do is push them around.”

Miguel tries not to shake his head when she holds up swatches along the wall. “Call me if you need anything else.”

He gave her a gentle kiss against her head before taking his leave. When he did so, he checked his phone and felt disappointed when it was just a notification reminding him of the time he went to the museum with Dana. The picture showed both of them at a high-end event, with neutral smiles and dressed up.

When he dated Dana, there was a vast difference between you and her.

Although the incident with her wasn't fresh in his mind anymore, he still remembered what it was like being with her. When they were engaged, everything was relaxed and quiet despite them taking the next steps in their lives.

You were the opposite.

Not chaotic, but ecstatic about the newfound relationship status.

You'd send him messages while Miguel was at work, telling him to have a good day with a swarm of emojis. You'd send him more voice messages, which're filled with various topics. About your own day, what you saw while browsing social media, and he'd listen. You reciprocated too when inviting him to talk about his interests and his day.

Dana hardly did any of that. She'd settle on a good morning before not getting into much detail about her day. Almost bored about the topic. Her eyes were on the verge of disinterest whenever Miguel had a chance to talk about himself.

Then there were the dates.

Dana was more fond of high-end luxuries like five-star restaurants, museums, and theaters. The more expensive, the better. Miguel didn’t have problems with it; he was known to indulge in those pleasantries from time to time. But with you, it was the opposite.

The two of you went to the mall.

You insisted that hanging out for a few hours and window shop would be fun. Miguel figured you'd want to go into one of the luxury stores to browse. Only for you to hardly go into any of them.

He watches you point at a cute handbag on display or dazzling shoes that would fit with your aesthetic at the club. So imagine his surprise when you walk away to look at something else instead of buying it.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do…” Your eyes skim across more pretty shoes, “But I don't need them.”

“You want them though.” You shrug, and he steps into your line of sight. “I can buy them for you.”

“No, don't do that. I'm good.”

You try to get out of the shoe aisle, but Miguel blocks your path. “I want to. I'm your boyfriend. I want to give you nice things.”

“Did you not see the price tag?” You return to the shoes and pick them up, the price of almost two hundred dollars. “I've rarely bought shoes for that price.”

“I got it.” Miguel takes the shoes, but you hold them close to your chest.

“Hold up. If you buy something for me, I'll buy something for you.”

“I don't need anything.” He tries to take your shoes again, but you turn away.

“You don't have to need anything. But if there's something you want, I'll get it.”

“No, really I'm good-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer, baby.”

Miguel sucks his teeth before agreeing with your proposal. You squeal, more excited to continue your trek around the mall, your new goal being to buy him something he wants.

Dana hardly offered to buy him anything the whole time they were together. She did go out of her away to buy him things, mainly chains or designer watches, but that's for his birthday or Christmas. Not during a random day of the week.

You pointed out multiple stores that fits Miguel’s aesthetic. He decided to go into one that had button down shirts he liked to wear for work. As he browsed through the shirt racks, eyes were on him. Yours were following his movements, ready to grab a shirt that caught his eye.

“How's this?” Miguel holds up a powder blue shirt and you inspect it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's get it!”

He can finally relax when satisfying you with his choice, but you notice the tag. “Wait, it's only thirty bucks.”

Miguel also glances at it, “Oh, is that too much? I can get something else-”

“Miguel.” You give him a look, “First off, don't insult me like that again. Secondly, you just spent two hundred dollars on me, which is not the same.”

“Oh.” He looks at the shirt and then back at you. “So, I can get a few more?”

“Yeah, you can.”

Miguel puts more effort into his search. He gets a few more shirts, but the total is still less than what he spent on you. You don't say anything as he thanks you with a bright smile.

Taking a quick break by eating at the food court, Miguel's phone vibrates from Gabriel's message. Without completely looking at it yet, his eyes roll at knowing what the message was going to say, asking the daily question of when he was going to meet you. Sure, it's been two months since he started dating you, but he didn't want to rush you.

Miguel tried to hide his disdain by so much as you were feeding him macaroons. His lips grazing your fingers while taking a bite. Your thumb wiping off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Your eyes connecting and you shoot him a wink, the action shooting down to his lower body. He gets a strong urge to pull you back to the car so he can kiss you all over.

He groans when the phone vibrates against the table again.

“Is there a fire somewhere?”

“The fire being my brother. He keeps texting me about wanting to meet you. I keep telling him it depends on when you want to.”

You take a sip from your Boba tea before outstretching your hand. “Gimme.”

As Miguel places his phone in your palm, you casually press video call.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm saying hi to your brother.” You hold up the phone, making sure you were decent for the camera. When the call connects, you flash the biggest smile on the planet. “Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi? Uh, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

You purse your lips, “He’s munching on some macaroons. Say hi, Miguel.” You briefly turn the phone to Miguel, making him wave before turning the phone back to you.

“Oh. My. God. You're who my brother is dating? Do you know how many times I've been asking to meet you?”

Too many times.

“A lot. It's okay though I've been wanting to meet you too. You're the main one blowing up his phone.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it-Hey, babe!” Gabriel shouts through the phone, making you and Miguel snort. “Come here real quick and meet Miguel’s girl!”

You're laughing when Kasey approaches the phone, waving hello to her.

“Whoa, you're the woman who's dating Miguel? Damn, you're hot.”

Gabriel held his hands up. “My girlfriend said it, not me.”

“Okay, that's enough out of you two.” Miguel reaches for the phone, but is stopped by Gabriel's protest.

“No, wait not until Xina sees her! I know she's not busy. She just told me she was binging that zombie show.”

“Ooh is it the one where if you die, you come back as a zombie?” You ask and Gabriel snaps.

“Yes! That's the one.”

“I lost interest after season four.” Kasey inputs.

“I liked that season!” You add in, “In my opinion, it goes downhill after season eight.”

To Miguel’s surprise, Xina picks up, seeing a bunch of faces on the screen.

“Didn’t I tell you not to bother me because I'm vegging out on my couch?”

“Stop vegging out and meet Miguel’s girlfriend.”

You wave once more, “Hi! It's very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, likewise.” Xina sits up, angling herself to not subject you to her binging phase.

“I'm sorry they sprung this on you. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It's fine. Maybe this will get Gabri to shut up for a while.”

“It won't.” Gabriel interjected, “Because I'm not able to touch you yet. Give you one of my famous hugs.”

“You don't want that.” Miguel whispered over to you.

“Huh? What did he say?”

“Nothing!” You change the conversation: "I want to meet you guys too. It would be best if you all came to the club. Enjoy yourselves.”

Xina raises an eyebrow, “You'd invite us to your job?”

“Yeah. There's good drinks, food…”

“And half-naked dancers.”

“Well, that too.”

Xina lets out an unsure hum, and Miguel slots himself back into the conversation.

“Okay, we have to go now.”

“Aww no.” Gabriel pouts.

“Send me your number!” Kasey shouts. "We have to put you in the group chat!”

“Okay.” You say goodbye to them all before hanging up and giving him back his phone. “They seem nice.”

“They act worse than this.”

“But they love you. That’s always nice to have.”

Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile when you slip your fingers through his across the table, creating small circles on the back of his hand.

The anxiety he never knew he had lessened after you took the initiative to meet his family. And he wasn’t worried about the face-to-face meeting after the positive reception you received from everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

“She seems nice.” Xina said through the phone call.

Miguel nods as if she can see him, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel after dropping you off, “She is. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Me too…” He notices her trailing off, and anxiety starts pooling in his stomach.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Not that serious.”

“Well, I’m suspecting it as the way you trailed off.”

Xina hums and he hears movement on the other line. “I’m just wondering, how is your relationship going to work?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and your dancer. You two are dating now. And you blow a lot of money when you go over there.”

“It’s not a lot of money.” Miguel mumbles, “Well, we’re acting like everything is normal. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

When Miguel steps foot in the club, he tries to act like his usual self. A customer who wasn’t dating one of the dancers. It was for the best since you didn’t want anyone to find out. Especially Jess.

“I get that, but you know your relationship can be seen as…odd.”

“Odd? What do you mean by that?”

Xina remains silent. How convenient when he’s at a stop light, hanging on to every word she said to him so far. His hands getting clammy against the wheel.

“Miguel, you have a fairly decent, well, almost powerful position at a huge company. And you’re dating someone who shakes their ass at a popular nightclub. You also give them a lot of money in exchange for what, a private dance? Please tell me you’re catching on to what I’m saying.”

He almost crashed into a car at the realization. After swerving into the right lane and reassuring Xina, who panicked, Miguel pulled over to gather his thoughts. He didn’t pick up on the slight power imbalance you two had when you started dating. Miguel thought it was harmless.

“I-I’m not taking advantage of her or using her. Does it look that way? Oh god, it does look that way.”

“It can also appear that she’s using you or taking advantage with you. Because of your money. I brought this up with you before. When you told me Dana was buying a bunch of expensive stuff when you got that head geneticist job-”

“I told you Dana isn’t like that. And neither is she.” During your first meeting, you weren’t adamant on taking more of his money. Sure, he knows about you wanting to save up for a house, and part of his money is being contributed to said house. Miguel didn’t think like that.

“Okay, fine. You know her more than me. I still think it’s best to clear up any confusion by having a conversation. So you two are on the same page.”

Xina was right. Having a conversation would help you two in the long run, especially when your relationship starts to get serious.

He tried to call you when he got home, but you didn’t pick up. You were probably still too busy at the club. That was for the best since the conversation was better to have face-to-face.

The next time, Miguel’s stomach twisted when he sat down in the private room.

You greeted him with a wave, closing the door behind you. The click from your heels matched the pounding in his head. He rubbed the sweat from his palms against his pants, holding in the urge to throw up. As you picked up the remote to decide a song, he grabbed your hand.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Let me pick a song first-”

“No, no song.”

You squint, “What do you mean ‘no song’? What’s wrong?”

“Am I taking advantage of you?” Miguel blurted out. He didn’t give you a chance to speak as he continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize my position would make our relationship odd. And I’m realizing that I’ve still been paying you a bunch of money since we started dating and I know you’re trying to buy a house, but I don’t want anyone to suspect you’re using me to help you buy one, which I know is not your intention-”

You silence him with a kiss. He accepts, his shoulders relaxing when he tastes your mango-scented lip gloss. You look directly into his deep eyes when you pull an inch away.

“Calm down.”

“Okay.”

You toss the remote to the side. “You’re not taking advantage of me and I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“But I give you almost a thousand every week.”

“You do, but I didn’t ask you to do that. That’s all you.”

“Because I want to support you. Now, I realize that throwing money for you to give me dances isn’t the best look. And we’re dating so…”

“I don’t care.” You say, hand on your hip. “Our positions don’t matter. I like you. You like me. What’s the problem?”

“I’m giving you money every time I come here.”

“So stop coming here if you have a problem with it.”

“I…”

He can’t. Seeing you in your element is one of the highlights of his week. What else was he supposed to do if he didn’t see you as much with your job? Miguel loves the dates he goes on with you, but he also enjoys watching you dance.

“I’m sorry.” You run your hand through his hair. Miguel leans into your touch, soothing the impending vomit in his throat. “I don’t want you to stop coming, but I don’t know what to do if you’re struggling like this. You know how Jess is about people not spending money in here.”

Miguel lights up.

“Can I speak to Jess?”

Your face twists with confusion, “Why?”

“I have an idea.”

Jess was in her office, in the back of The Weave, right near the locker rooms for the dancers. When you knocked, the door opened to Kaine, another of Jess’s security. Miguel always thought he was more intimidating due to the scar on his face and the buzz cut. He pays both of you no mind when he brushes aside you two.

“Jess? Your favorite customer wants to speak to you.”

“Which one?” Jess peers up from her computer, lighting up when Miguel comes into view, “Oh, Mr. Science Guy! What you need?” Miguel glances over at you and you give him the ok sign, leaving to return to the floor. “You finally gonna tell me that you’re dating one of my dancers?”

His eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You and Silk be giving cute glances at each other every five minutes. And don’t forget the private rooms have cameras.”

Miguel cleared his throat, not expecting to get hit what that. Now, he wasn’t sure if the idea he came up with was going to work.

“I really like her.”

“And that’s fine. As long as y’all don’t fuck in the club, I don’t care what you two do.” He nods at her words. “I will say this though. If you hurt my girl and you decide to show your sorry ass in the club, I will ban you for life and kick you to the curb.”

He gulped, fixing the collar on his shirt. “I understand.”

“Good.” Jess's tough demeanor returns to relaxed. "Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Miguel pulls out a grand and places it on the table. “Is it okay if I pay you this amount weekly? This is the same amount I give to Silk when I come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Jess inspects the money, letting the bills fly across her thumb. “What’s the deal?”

“I want to keep coming here, but I don’t feel comfortable handing money directly to Silk since we are…an item. I still want to support your business and the dancers so, would that be enough?”

“Did you two fuck yet?”

“Huh? N-No! No, we didn’t…”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you weren’t pussy whipped.” She places the money to the side, “That’s fine, but what do you get out of this?”

Miguel plays with the ends of his shirt, “I still want those forty-five minutes with her.”

“…that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Jess stares at him, inspecting his frame. The silence between them lingers as the pulsing beat from the club bangs against the walls. Miguel’s palms start to coat with sweat again, and he casually rubs them against his pants.

“Okay. You got a deal.”

He shifts with his feet. “O-Oh okay. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” She shakes his hand as if this was the start of a profitable business deal.

Now, everything was perfect.

You two have stabilized the foundation of your relationship. Miguel just arranged plans for his family, excluding his mother to meet you at The Weave for an official meet and greet. And he was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Banquet with him.

A brief doubt occurred that maybe it was too soon since the relationship was new. You could always say no. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.

He wishes you could see the smile on his face when you text him saying yes. Your messages are filled with excited GIFs and reaction pictures.

“You're very happy today.” Dana interrupts and Miguel quickly puts his phone away.

“I-It's a good day today. Got a decent amount of work done…”

“Because Tyler stopped messing with you. I told him to lay off on you since you do so much.”

Miguel was too busy being happy about his relationship to realize that Tyler hasn’t bothered him lately.

“Really?”

Her nod and smug face said it all. “Even after everything, I'm still looking after you.”

“Thanks…” He moved over, letting her pour enough coffee into her mug. While passing her the usual cream and sugars, their hands brushed together. Miguel's muscles tensed while Dana giggled at the sudden contact.

“You excited about the banquet? Sure, it's about a month away, but…”

“I am. Even though it's work-related, it'd be nice to get away for the weekend.”

Dana nods, taking a sip of her coffee while Miguel pours himself another cup.

“Are you going to be okay?” His brows furrow at her question. “I mean, we usually go together every year since you started working here. I know it's going to be a change.”

Miguel holds back a grin, “Yeah, yeah I'll be okay.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

@slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel @moonlight00sthings

@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie

@ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[drefear]

Written in Blood

Summary: you're just a girl from the village, a place that worships an infamous vampire for his immortality, and one night a year, he hosts a big party in his castle. You finally got an invite, and unlike everyone else, you're less than excited.

TW: blood, drinking, unwanted advances, sex, p in v, loss of virginity, blood drinking.

Glasses of champagne clinked as you straightened your shoulders, nervous and gulping heavily. The music would have lulled you and made you relax in any other scenario, but you were in the vampire castle tonight and the idea of not knowing who could try to drink your blood was making you anxious. Ballgowns swished and swayed, but you stayed glued to the wall, a flower unmoving among a field of breezy flora. All the girls in the village were so excited to be invited, the one night a year that the Lord of the Vampires invited any humans into his mansion, and you were finally of age to be invited. Everyone in the village that was of age received an invitation personally signed with his name and theirs, and when you went to the market for your family a month ago, you saw all of the girls fawning over the extravagant letter with their names in calligraphy and signed in heavy, black ink. You only felt your stomach become filled with rocks, seeing your name in his handwriting and thinking that your blood would be next. 

You snapped back into the present when you watched the townspeople dance and laugh, eating their fill and making conversation like you all weren’t inside of the abode of the monster who murdered tens of your every year. The pins in your hair made your skull ache, but your mother was determined to make you look like a porcelain doll. She sent you in a large dress that was almost as puffy as a pastry, but you insisted on black. You wouldn’t wear one of those frilly pink or blue gowns that you saw in the windows of boutiques, you wanted something that matched the dreadful feeling in your chest. You wanted everyone to know how you felt. 

Vampires and humans mingled, but you stayed to yourself and refused to dance with everyone who asked so far. Glancing upwards towards the massive crystal chandelier in the center of the room, surrounded by smaller ones, you noticed a balcony where someone stood in all black as well, watching the party from above. Your arms folded over your chest and you thought how no one else here was dressed in all black as well, not a single person except you and this stranger. His eyes caught yours and your gasp fell in your throat, choking out as a cough. 

His bright red eyes stared into yours, you could see it all the way from the corner of the ballroom where you stood, and you instinctively took a step backwards. You blinked a few times and he was gone from where he stood, now making you look around frantically and gasp once more. 

Your name made you jump until you recognized a boy you grew up with in your school. His hand was outstretched to yours and his smile was bright as he wore an all blue suit with navy embellishments. You chewed the inside of your cheek and pinched at the meat of your hand as you calmly shook your head and curtsied, but he stepped closer. 

“I’ve seen you standing here all night, come have one try around the dancefloor with me and then you can retreat back into your shell.” He encouraged, but those red eyes were stuck to the back of your eyelids and you shook your head once more. He wasn’t leaving and you furrowed your brow in frustration. Truth be told, you just wanted to leave and now you were being haunted by both that terrifying gaze and this insolent boy you knew. “It’d be a shame if that dress went to waste, you should show it off. I know how much your mother worked on it, she was in the tailor buying fabric every week for the last month.” He joked and you politely smiled. “And we should get acquainted, since your father and mine have discussed an arrangement of marriage.” He answered and you fell silent, shock coursing through your veins. “You didn’t know? Well, we both have competing businesses and it seems that our parents think combining our businesses would be beneficial.” His answer made you feel hollow until the band stopped and a gasp fell over the crowd. 

Turning your head, you saw the man dressed in all black standing at the center of the french doors that led to the ballroom, at the top of a staircase. He looked like royalty, which is also how he was treated among your town and surrounding towns that worshiped him for his immortality. No matter how many he killed with his bloodthirst, everyone still prayed to be like him, but not you. You just wanted to live in peace and support yourself, alone and secluded, but now you were either about to be tethered to this dog of a human or die from being sucked dry by a vampire. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, all of those here.” He said in a booming voice, his words tinged with an accent of some sort that you didn't recognize. “Welcome to my home. Eat, drink, dance, have a good time, and don’t forget to indulge in your wildest, darkest fantasies. Being here is rare, and you should live like you may die tomorrow.” His words left you feeling eerie and squeamish, while everyone else cheered for his ideas. You just stared at the ground before you looked up and saw him staring at you once more. With widened eyes, you couldn’t look away. 

“I’d like to have my first dance in over a hundred years.” He spoke and began descending down the stairs as you back up, his eyes never leaving yours and as he moved inward on the crowd of people and vampires, everyone looked around to see who he was looking at. All eyes finally fell on you and you moved backward once more, bumping into a table of food and staying frozen there as he came closer. “It’s not every year that two people are dressed to match without ever meeting, don’t you think?” He said as he moved to stand in front of you, only a foot of space separating you both now. His hand reached out to ask for a dance and you felt like you may pass out from holding your breath, but he just smiled. “You can refuse if you’d like to not dance. But I’d love to make you feel a bit more welcome in my home, and a dance may be nice.” You looked between his face and his hand before realizing that he could take the soul out of your body with one bite, and you agreed. Stepping forward, you curtsied and he bowed before the musicians resumed playing their delicate music and you both moved around the center of an empty dance floor. You looked out to everyone as you danced in tandem, your bodies moving in sync to the orchestra. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He whispered into your ear, making your body tense for a moment and stepping on his foot, which then made him smile. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re so nervous about.” 

He interrupted the conversation as he took you into his arms and hauled you higher than him into the air, a nice trick to the viewers that made everyone watching clap and cheer. His smile was dazzling and you tried not to get too distracted by his entertaining ways. 

“And the other vampires here?” You whispered and he looked around at the other cold faces, empty and hollow in the cheeks as he smirked. “Well, I can’t control others, but I’m sure that after I killed a vampire a few decades ago for drinking from another without their consent, that they’d hesitate before doing it once more in my presence.” He concluded and you were thoughtful now, reviewing each of his words like you were studying the sentence. 

“You only feed on people who agree…?” 

“Yes, of course.” He answered and he spun you into a twirl, dipping you before his face was suddenly mere inches from yours. The song ended and he smiled as he pulled you upwards once more. As you both stared at each other, the crowd became wild with enthusiasm and hollered in your beautiful dance. You looked down from the overwhelming feeling of a million eyes on you and he looked around before speaking again. “Will you let me take you somewhere private where you can take a break?” 

Without a second thought, you agreed and he pulled your hand to drag you through the crowd. 

You both exited those french doors as many people filled the dance floor once more and you looked at them before rushing forward to get away from all of the excitement. He led you to another staircase and to the doors on the left of it at the top. Once you were both inside, you recognized the rich red fabrics and four-poster bed as his master bedroom. 

His bedroom!!!

Your mind began to panic. Alone, with a vampire in his bedroom. A million and one things could happen and none of them ended with your life in your hands anymore. 

“Your blood is running quite high, but I hope you know that I won’t touch you.” He spoke in a deep voice once more, and you turned to see him. 

His face was angular, jaw sharp and cheeks carved to be perfectly symmetrical as you followed his broad nose to his piercing red eyes, a trait no other vampire had. He was so big compared to any other person, standing a foot taller than you and back wide enough to shield you from the entirety of the outside world. If he wanted you, whether it be your blood or your virtue, there was nothing you could do to stop him. The realization made your throat tight and your body shiver in fear, but his words echoed once more and you tried to relax. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of champagne.” You nodded and sat on the soft, velvet chaise near his bed. He handed you the crystal glass and sat across from you, with a wine glass filled with a thick, red liquid you all but gagged at. He smirked at your reaction and took a sip. 

He was nice to look at, but he was also the most deadly creature in all the world and you refused to let that slip your memory no matter how many gentle caresses you felt in that dance or how nice of a smile he gleamed. He was a monster. 

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” 

“No.” You answered honestly, and stared at the champagne in your hands. 

“Why are you here then?” 

“Because I thought you may take offense to me refusing your invitation and come to kill me.” He roared in laughter at your idea and his shoulder shook with hilarity, but you frowned deeper. 

“That town has surely cooked up many stories of my ways, hmm?” He looked back towards you and sighed, swishing around the glass. “I haven’t killed anyone unwillingly in three hundred years, and I’ve only lived for three hundred and fifty.”He clarified, “Does that make you feel better?” 

You nodded, before sipping your champagne once more and leaning back against the chaise. 

“Why black?” He asked and you could see his eyes narrow. 

You were silent for a moment, wording how you might answer before speaking to him. “I don’t like colors, especially bright ones. I like things that are easy to look at, and bright colors make me want to squint. Black is… soothing, like a rainy day or the night sky.” You answered him with truth and sincerity, and he nodded. 

“You aren’t like those eager ones down there, in their ruffle pink dresses that look like fairytales, you live in the real world, with all of its disappointments and hardship.” He watched you as he spoke and you did the same, staring back with a curt, single nod. He sipped his glass again and you felt your dinner lurch in your stomach before you pushed it back. “It’s cow blood.” He announced and you stopped for a second. 

“It… is?”

“Yes. Human blood can be… dirty. I prefer to make sure the person is not unclean, morally and healthwise. Usually, when someone offers to be my meal, they come and stay with me for a month. I feed them lavishly all healthy, delicious foods, help them be properly rested and live a balanced life before even tasting their blood, and often it’s still not enough. Then, when I am done feeding, I simply have another vampire turn them immortal and they leave.” He shrugged and you were so lost. 

“Where did those horror stories about you come from?” You asked and he became still, thinning deeply as upset etched into his face. “You don’t need to tell me-” 

“When I was first turned into a vampire, I was the first of my kind. My strength and abilities matched nothing of this world… So, I became hungry… for vengeance and power. I tore through many cities, entire countries, like a man from Hell, but many times I cried about the lives I cost the world. I then found a way to turn others immortal, like myself, and the first time I watched them go through the same insane blood thirst I did, but I trained them to control it and only drink to live. Food is still delicious, sleep is less but still nice, and life would be the same for everyone, even if they needed slightly different necessities. No human would be harmed for their mere pleasure, or I would find them and kill them myself.” The way he seemed, so serious about it, made you shiver with the vision in your mind of him ripping a head off of a body. 

“Is that how you kill a vampire? Removing their head?” 

“Isn’t that how you’d kill anything?” He smirked and you blushed at your own blunder, thinking maybe you’d drank too much champagne and putting the glass down on the ornate little table in between you both. His smile made you stare for a moment before you looked around at the room. “Am I too brazen to say that I want your eyes back on mine?” He asked and you snapped your gaze back to his, startled by his forwardness. 

“I am just a bit surprised.” 

“I’ve learned in my… few hundred years, that being direct is the best way to achieve a goal and get what you desire.” He answered and you paused, processing his words before taking his advice and being direct as well. 

“And you desire my gaze?” You asked and he seemed to become more intense in his stare. 

“Mi amor, I’ve been craving your gaze since you stepped into my home.” He admitted and you held back your gasp as you bit your lip to hold back any embarrassing reaction you may have had. “I knew you’d be my weakness the second I saw you, a black dahlia in a sea of sunflowers and roses.” His metaphor made your heart race and you watched as he stood up and circled your chaise, like a shark around a boat. “You are breathtaking, and yet blind to every admirer's attention, so I had to make myself known… and try my best to make you mine, at least for a night.” His words set fire to your skin and made your mind hazy from the smoke, your mouth suddenly dry. He stood in front of you and kneeled down before reaching for your hand, which you gave to him and he leaned closer. He smelled of spices and rust, and you were entranced. 

“I never thought I’d see the Lord of all Vampires kneeling for me.” You whispered as his face moved closer and closer until his breath fanned across your cheeks and warmed your lips. 

“You are the only creature I’ve seen that deserved my worship.” His words felt like a secret that you guarded with your heart, something you wished you could scream from the top of his towers and brandish on your body for everyone to read. “May I?” He asked and you answered by closing the distance. His lips were plush and p[lump, like cold water against the warm sand, and they stole your breath with how experienced they seemed to be. As the seconds went by, you moved in a rhythm, ignorant to anything around either of you and he moved to bend over you and cup your face, now above you on the chaise and licking delicately at your lips, which made you quiver in new ways. 

As the heat between you two rose, so did the escalation of your embrace. His arms quickly wrapped around you and he moved to lay next to you as he pulled at the ties of the corset on your dress, the sleeve slipping as he frustratedly pulled the strings, before finally ripping the corset in half and leaving your topless. You pulled away, shocked, and covered your breasts before he drank you in for a moment. His brash action made you both nervous of his incredible strength, and excited that those same hands wanted to pleasure you. It was like you were a flimsy doll in his care, and he wanted to cherise you despite how fragile you were and how easily he could tear you limb from limb. He dragged a finger over the hands covering yourself before he gently pulled them away, which you willingly obliged, and he instantly pressed his forehead to your skin, breathing in your scent before wrapping his pink lips around your nipple and sucking experimentally. You jerked in response and gasped, shaking a little from the pleasure. 

His eyes watched you as you moaned and you felt something sharp nibble into your skin before you saw his fangs poking through a bit. This made everything even more enjoyable, the bits of danger he exuded. As you moved to sit in his lap, he kept licking andsucking at your chest until dark bruises littered your skin in a cacophony of maps. As you let him continue his claim over your bodice, his hand tugged at the uncomfortable material that made up your skirt and you pushed his chest away as he looked at you with confusion. You stood before the chair and carefully removed the skirt of your gown, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin. As he watched you shimmy it off, his red gaze stared at the blossom of your hips from your waist and his entire being seemed like a man starved. You made no movement for a moment until his eyes found yours once more and you felt the pull of his stare. 

His hands gripped your waist as you moved back to him and he lifted you on top of him like you weighed nothing, before pulling his own clothing off in a sequence of rushed motions. As cloth and expensive fabric littered the floor, you both sat with nothing on for a second before smashing your lips into each other. The depth of his kiss was sharp and dizzying as you tried to grip reality, but his body could swallow you whole and your shadow with it. 

He pulled you into his arms and stood to carrying you over to his bed and as you fell gently into the soft, rich feeling of his blankets, the glow of candles lit up the muscles lining his body, He was like a statute, sculpted and formed with definition between ever different curvature in his skin. From his neck, to his shoulders, to his chest and abdomen, it was all as if kissed by Aphriodite herself and blessed to be man’s greatest temptation. 

Or in this case, your greatest temptation. How damned your soul would be if you gave your virtue to a man sworn to go to Hell, who has feasted on the flesh and blood of mankind, and oh, how much you didn’t care. 

As your eyes trailed around his body, he chuckled and grasped your ankles, before tugging you closer. “Are you sure about this? You look as if you’re a kitten in a Lion’s Den.” He spoke playfully and you returned the favor by covering yourself slightly and shrugging a shoulder. 

“If I did, I think you may be disappointed, as you seem quite…” your eyes trailed down between his legs and he followed your gaze, then looking back at you as you smiled, “enthused.” 

“I’m more than enthused. I haven’t even felt you inside yet, and I’m ready to give my soul to ravish you for eternity.” He concluded before he mounted the bed and hovered over you. “But I will ask again… Are you sure? Vampires can tend to become thirsty while in the throes of passion.” 

“Are you saying that you might bite me?” You asked as you placed your hands on his shoulders, massaging the muscle there, which made you even more excited. 

“Yes.” 

“Will it kill me?” 

“No, of course not.” He shook his head, as if laughing at a joke, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you were to die because of me.” he spoke softly and you nodded. 

“Then do as you please with me, as long as you do not stop once you start.” You answered and he let out a tense breath of relief as he grabbed your hips harshly and pulled your bodies closer. As he pulled your chest to his, you felt him begin to enter you and the stretch of him inside you made you gasp. The feeling burned a bit and as he moved, you tried to catch your breath. He stilled a bit and scanned your face with concern as you bit your lip, but he stopped completely when he realized you were in pain. 

“Are you alright?” He asked gently and pecked your forehead as you nodded. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” You asked and he smiled before kissing a line down your neck. 

“Haven’t you ever…” He trailed off before you both stared into each other’s eyes, a quiet understanding settling as he learned a bit more. “You haven’t.” 

“No, I haven't.” You whispered and he looked down at your hand before bringing your wrist to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m honored to be the first.” He spoke softly and stared deeply into your eyes, “Tell me when to move, alright?” 

“I’m ok, you- you can move.” You nervously agreed and he began to move deeper inside of you, finding the spot that made you shake in pleasure and pressing into them more. You gasped, shocked by how great the feeling was and he smirked at the sudden surprise you wore on your face. 

“Careful. I may want to be the first and last.” His seductive tone made you shiver, the feeling of his muscles around you exhilarating, enclosing you to the bed. His face was so close to yours, and the way he slowly moved against you, on you, with you, made the world feel so small. His groans brought you closer, and the rhythm of his thrusts made you feel yourself about to tumble off of the brink of ecstasy. Your mind spun as everything in your body tensed, shaking and letting out a loud scream as you writhed under him. As you yelled, he quickly sank his fangs into your throat, and the sting of the punctures made you roll her eyes. You hissed through your teeth as he drank, the piercing pain in your veins making your toes curl happily while he drank you in, literally. 

You both groaned and shifted as he closed his eyes and thrusted into you harshly, pulling his fangs from your throat and pushing into you one last time before he clenched his teeth and finished deep inside of you. 

The heaviness of your panting makes Miguel smile as he barely looks as if he’s moved at all. 

“Did you like that?” He kisses your cheek, warm lips pressing into your slick skin and making your eyes close comfortably. 

“Yes… did you?” 

“Of course, I can’t imagine any man who wouldn’t enjoy being with you. I’d like to keep going… everyday.” His voice became gentle and calm as he then said your name. You nodded and held the back of his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. The world blurred a bit as you began to drift into a sound sleep. 

As you woke up, the sun blazed into the room, creating dark shadows against the brightness of the daylight. Miguel walked into the room and breezed past the widows with no fear of the sunlight at all, puzzling you. 

“I thought vampires couldn’t be in the sun.” 

“Vampires don’t like the sun, but that’s because our eyesight is much better than humans. We're perfectly fine in the sun, and we prefer to be in the dark because too much light causes headaches for everyone, vampire or human.” He answered and smiled once more, reminding you about your epic adventure last night with the Lord of the Vampires. 

“Come back to bed…” You begged and he complied, holding your hand as he climbed onto the rich fabrics and laid his head on your stomach. 

“I’d like you to live here with me, and be mine…” 

“Be yours?” 

“Yes. Mate with me, become my partner.” He explained and you were silent. “Not ready to commit?”

“Not sure if I’m enough. I’m just another person from the village.” You slumped your shoulders slightly as you thought more about how wrong he was. He was a historic creature, deadly and legendary, and you were just another townsperson. 

“Mi vida, you are the one I’ve been waiting for, for three hundred and fifty years.” His whispers made you relax your body and snuggle more into his body as he moved to meet your eyes, laying side by side now. “You don’t realize how special you really are, and one day, you will.” His red gaze made you sink into his embrace, his words hugging you like a tight blanket as the sun kissed his tan face and made your heart flutter. His hand brushed the hair from your cheeks and the tickle of his skin against you made everything feel calm and ok… 

After years of feeling out of place, you finally felt at peace in his arms and everything suddenly made sense.

[beautysamour]

miguel accidentally overstimulating himself not realizing that his breeding kink kicked in 🤲🧎‍♀️

overstimulation with miguel o’hara ❤︎

— a/n: oh my

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: some vulgar language, mentions of having kids during sex

“Mi—Miguel,” you gasp out, wrapping your arms around his neck as he fucks you into the mattress, “‘s—‘s too much? Ah—are you oh—okay?”

You shudder in unison as he pumps another load of his cum into your drenched pussy.

“I’m fi—fine,” he stutters as his dick twitches. It hurts—he’s sensitive—but it’s not enough. He hasn’t given you enough.

A broken mewl escapes you as your head hits the headboard, Miguel tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from slipping off his cock as his hips stutter through his thrusts.

His visions blurs as you clench around his dick—he was surprised he was still able to move.

He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

You’re both covered in sweat, and cum, and saliva. You feel hot, the silk bedsheets Miguel bought does nothing to cool you down, and your head is spinning. Your heart pounds in your chest as your body tenses—you were about to cum again, and your pussy wanted to cry.

“Miguel,” you whimper, “‘m close, Miguel, ‘m close,” you whine. His dick deliciously rubs against your walls as he sticks his thumb into your mouth—your head hits the headboard.

“I know mami—me too.” Your head hits the headboard again, “Gotta fill you up again, don’t you want that? Gonna make you feel good, I promise mami, I promise.”

“Mig—“ he pushes his thumb down on your tongue.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good, mami,” he starts to babble, “Gonna feel so good.”

Somehow every movement he made was even more intense, you could feel every vein, every twitch, every—everything. He became more precise, every thrust ended with him hitting your g—spot, you were never sure if that was going to be the moment you came.

“Miguel—,” you babble, sucking his thumb. “‘m gonna cum, right there Miguel, I’m gonna—“

His thrusts became erratic, the feeling of your warm pussy engrains itself in his memory.

He’d definitely be going back to this memory.

“Wait for me mami, I’m almost there too,” he grabs one of your hands, bringing it close to his mouth, and he presses his lips against your wrist. “Gonna make you a mother, yeah?”

You bite his thumb.

He presses a hand against your stomach as the bed creaks, “Make me a father?”

His hips stutter as you moan around his thumb.

You avoid eye contact as he leans over you, the pure devotion in his eyes makes you feel tingles in your stomach—and make you feel even more of that in your pussy.

“Look at me when you come mami, pl—please. Need you too.”

You didn’t expect it to happen that quickly when you looked at him.

Miguel looks down at you with lust blown eyes, his hair drops down from his face, and his mouth hangs open—the hand holding your wrist shaking. He slowly thrusts into you as he came inside you—your own cum mixed with his leaking around his dick.

His chest goes up and down as he heavily breathes—fuck was he beautiful as always.

He dips his head pressing a quick sloppy kiss onto your lips, “You’re leaking.”

You laugh, “It’s your fault.”

You expect him to laugh, to take it as a joke and then pick you up to go take a relaxing bath and cuddle for the rest of night—but he doesn’t.

“Oh,” he purrs, “Well, I should fix my mistake, shouldn’t I?”

He drops your wrist and focuses on your left boob, he pinches your nipple—you moan softly.

You wince in unison when he starts to move his hips again, his free hand trailing down to your waist from your stomach, “Ha—have to make sure none of my cum goes to waste, right mami? Can’t risk you not getting pregnant.”

Tears weld in his eyes, your pussy hurts as you pulse around him. He lets out a weak breath, “You want me to cum in you again, right?”

Your head hits the headboard once more as he thrusts get stronger.

It hurts, you’re too sensitive, and you’re positive he is too—yet he’s right. You do want that, you want him.

With a broken, hoarse voice, you say “Yes.”

[miggyyyyohara]

AY PAPI- I MEAN DADDY please- i mEAN SIR!

Follow this artist on Instagram @ narutoss.ramen 🫶🏻🤌🏻

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

Part 2: coming soon....

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[bunnisari]

“Say please”

Miguel said as he pounded his cock deeply into you. His eyes are fixated on your boobs that bounce up and down. He’s hitting your cervix so deeply, you can’t take it. Your arms gripped at the sheets, begging for mercy.

“Miggy I can’t take it!”

“t-too much!”

He only shook his head at you. “Say please baby” He challenges as he pound into you harder. He watches as all thoughts evaporate from your pretty little head. Your mouth is open agape and you can’t even bring yourself to moan. The feeling is just so good. Miguel is so big and stretches you out, his cock creating a visible bulge.

He knows you can’t say please if you wanted to. He’s purposely fucking the words right out of you.

“Awww,can’t say please baby? I guess I can’t stop and give you a break”

[inkdrinkerworld]

idk if it’s weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel 😭😭

omg omg😭😭

you're laying in bed unable to fall asleep when it happens. your hand just creeps up his shirt.

miguel doesn't think much of it, you like the skin in skin contact- so does he.

it's when your hand hovers just under his pectorals that he turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

he's still working, hair tired back with one of your scrunchies and his tablet looks tiny in his massive hand. he'd been trying to hypothesise a re-calibration to his nano-bots all day.

"what do you want?" he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.

your eyes are barely even open, your face turned to face his bicep. "can't sleep," you murmur, planting your hand on his chest and squeezing.

"oye," he bats at your hand when you do it a second time. you groan when his hand removes yours from under his shirt.

"miguel," you whine, drawing the syllables of his name out long.

"amor," he mocks your exact tone. "why're you grabbing my chest?" he drops your hand and cups your face, guiding your tired eyes to rest on his face.

"'cos it's comforting," your words sludge together but miguel makes you out just fine. he cracks a smile, you narrow your barely open eyes; "it is. helps me sleep."

"yeah?" he teases, and you nod. your hand slinks back up his shirt and rests on his chest, for the most part it's just an added heat to miguel's chest. "if you don't fall asleep any faster i'm calling bullshit."

you let out a tired giggle and slobber a kiss to his bicep; miguel waits five minutes and in no time he feels your breathing change- deeper now as you fall asleep.

he can't believe it.

[beautysamour]

squirt training with miguel! mommy pleaseee i’m begging on my knees 🤲🏻🧎‍♀️

squirt training with miguel o’hara ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

— a/n: ❤︎.

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: vulgar language. reader goes into sub space

“Relax, hermosa, you can’t do it if you’re not relaxed.”

You squeeze his fingers—his hand being too big as a whole—once, twice, as you try to stabilize your breathing. You can barely keep your eyes open, you were too overwhelmed, too aware of the little movements, too overstimulated.

Your thighs shake as Miguel spreads them further apart, “Let’s do this one more time.”

It was a blatant lie, he said the same thing an hour ago, or maybe it was two? Three? You don’t remember, your memory was too hazy due to constant pleasure Miguel kept giving you.

Could you blame him though? He’s only trying to help his poor girl.

You squeezed your eyes shut as Miguel dragged one of his long fingers down the middle of your cunt, your pussy clenches onto nothing by default. “Relax,” Miguel purrs.

You think it’s unfair— no, unrealistic for you to be able to relax. Not with your puffy pussy going through the same routine over and over, cumming so aggressively and then getting pet softly, getting the princess treatment until Miguel hits that spot and prods at it hoping that he’ll get drenched in your fluids—but is only met with cum leaking around his fingers.

“‘m trying,” you murmur as tears start to well in your eyes. You want to so badly, to make him happy, to squirt for him and it makes you so sad that all you can do is pitifully cum around his fingers.

Miguel hums and tilts your chin up, “Look at me. Don’t look away, got it?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started to rub circles against the folds of your pussy—and opened just as quickly when Miguel lightly hit your chin with his index finger, “I said don’t look away cariño, closing your eyes is looking away.”

A whimper leaves your mouth as Miguel leaned over you, mouth immediately finding that sensitive spot behind your ear and sucks as a finger smoothly slides itself into your cunt.

“Am I understood, hermosa?”

You jolt as Miguel enters another long finger into your cunt. Usually even one of his fingers can fill up all the space in your tight pussy, but not tonight.

He’s loosened it enough for you to be able to take his dick in one go.

“Hermosa,” your eyes widened, body becoming stiff as he hits that spot. “I asked you a question.”

His eyes flicker down to where your pussy and his fingers connect, the pulsing of your cunt distracting him.

He puts in a third finger as he rubs your g-spot, stars enter your vision.

“Yes,” your voice raises as he quickens the pace of his fingers, “Yes! I under—understa—nd.” You gaze into his eyes. Lust and determination is seen in his, desire and pure ecstasy is seen in yours.

“Bueno,” Miguel whispers. He buries his face into your neck, sucking a pretty little hickey for you. “Muy bueno, hermosa.”

A moan rips out your throat, you aren’t sure if it’s because of the praise—or because of how quick Miguel’ fingers are moving in your pussy.

You aren’t able to think much about it, Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, he eyes trained on your cunt as your body starts to arch off the bed. He sets a hand against your stomach, eyes still on your pussy, and pushes you back against the bed.

“Miguel,” you moan, fingers gripping into the sheet as Miguel ignores you. His pace somehow quickens and then—

A hand flies to your back, supporting your body as your body spasms and something that feels different from cum comes out your pussy. Your eyes are on Miguel’ and finally, he’s eyes are on yours—the lust somehow more prominent in his eyes.

He hums as you start to babble in his arms, his fingers still in your pussy—still moving but slower—and he adjusts your body so your sitting in his lap.

You mewl as your head flops down on one of his tits, a sadistic smirk forms on his face as he kisses the top of your head. The squelching of your wet, wet pussy fills the silence along with your soft, somewhat quiet, whimpers.

He massages your nub as your body starts to shake.

“Miguel,” you weakly call out, “Did—did I do it,” you ask looking for praise.

He presses your nub and tilts your head about with his other hand, exposing your hickey to him. He praises himself internally then presses a kiss on your hickey, “Yes, hermosa, you did,” he licks the hickey, “Knew you’d be able to.”

Your pussy flutters around his fingers, the praise going straight to it, until Miguel tilts your head again to make you look at him.

You look at him, doe eyed, as his flicks your nub and presses a kiss onto your puffy lips. You return the kiss immediately—body pressing up against him and hands caressing his abs. His tongue enters your mouth and you don’t resist him at all.

He pulls away leaving a string of saliva connected to you. His dick hardens painfully as he notes the way you look up at him.

He pulls you closer to him with a grunt and slightly quickens the pace of his fingers—your eyes widen in realization, “Do you think you can do it again for me, hermosa?”

[loveforeren]

Miguel and different sex positions pt.1 eheheh cowgirl.

Miguel absolutely love when you ride him. The feeling you moving on top on him makes him lean his head back, mouth open, and his hands on your hips.

You were on top of him as you hover yourself over his erect cock. No matter how many times you took him it always had the same feeling. That almost overbearing feeling of him stretching you out, and molding you around his cock. You slowly started to push down letting him slide inside you. You let out a gasp as his tip pushed its way into your needy cunt. You hear Miguel hiss as he grips your waist tightly.

"Shit. Just like that, Mami." Miguel said.

You continue to push down as you feel Miguel fill you up. The feeling of him stretching you out to die for. You put your hand on his chest to help you. Finally sitting all the way down on his cock you let out a moan.

"..You okay, Cariño?" He asked in a airy breath.

You nod and look up at him with teary eyes. He was so fucking big. You start to move slowly bringing yourself up and down on his dick slowly. His nails penetrate your skin and you let out a moan from the pain.

"Faster. Go faster." He said throwing his head back.

His wish was your command. You bring yourself down on his cock faster. The feeling of his shaft sliding inside of you was euphoric.

"Miguel-" You hissed out his name.

He came forward latching onto one of your sensitive buds. The other hand massaged your other breast. You clench around him tight and he lets out a groan causing a shiver to go down your back. His mouth detaches from your breast and he lets out an almost pornographic moan.

"Wanna get your pregnant.." he babbled mindlessly.

Miguel absolutely loved the feeling of your body squeezing him. He let out a grin as you throw your head back. The sight of you on top of him was almost enough to make him cum. He was ready to fill you up with every drop of his seed.

"Mami, want me to get you pregnant? Get you all nice and swollen with my kid?" He asked

"Yes! Yes, Miguel please." You moaned

You feel that knot in your stomach. That one telling you that you were about to cum. Miguel was now in control of your movements helping you move up and down on his cock.

"Miggy, I'm about to come" You choke out.

"Come f'me, Amor" He purred.

That was all it took as you came undone on Miguel's dick. The feeling of you clenching around his cock sent Miguel over the edge. He threw his head back as you milk him of every drop of sperm he had. His nails digged farther into your waist as you keep your hand on his chest. He swears you're going to be the death of him.

Moni notes ➳❥ yall I'm tryna write but I'm deadass a little sick. I've been sick for the past couple days..I have like 13 unfinished drafts. I think imma write another eren or Connie fic idk..

[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.

[stellaaarree]

wanting to see miguel’s fangs.

hands cupping the skin of his cheeks, with the smirk pulling at your plush lips he already knew what was happening, feeling equally embarrassed no matter how many times it had happened, with a coo you speak. “cmonnn, let us see those fangs,hm?” a grumble leaving his mouth as his lips part just enough to see his sharp fangs. “i’ll bite you.” he warns, an empty threat…unless you asked for it. “and paralyse me? no chance.” you snap back in a ‘matter of fact’ way.

thumbs going past his lips with a smile, sharp fangs on view as his red eyes rolled for what felt like the hundredth time. “dios mío.” he groans, voice stupidly muffled by your fingers in his mouth. “shut up you’re gonna spit on me!” you whine, tilting his head up to get a pretty view of the pearly white canines. you had always had a thing for his fangs, wether they where deep in your neck or just subtly on view in a form of intimidation.

“you’re the one with your fingers in my mouth!” he snaps back, words still obviously muffled, trying to keep the spit to a minimum. “but papi,” you smile innocently. the nickname shutting him up real quick, the heat running to his usually stone cold cheeks unavoidable.letting his fangs fully come into view as his talons extended to maximise the ‘experience’ which he only tolerated for the sake of his amor.

finally pulling your thumbs out of his mouth after humming in appreciation. you where like his sweet little dentist, always helping keep those canines as bright and shiny as possible. wiping his saliva on the side of his suit he groans with a “really?” you respond wittily of course. “well it’s yours isn’t it?”

leaning his head up he presses his lips to yours in partly spite, partly love. pulling back breathless after a couple of seconds with a sneaky. “now it’s ours.”

he always had to have the last word.