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th0ti-th0ts · 2 years ago

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just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

#hobie x reader #Miguel x reader #hobie brown x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv x reader #atsv imagine #lmao this was fun to write #I was a little iffy about making hobie too flirt tho so I tried to tone it down hoduhodushfd

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th0ti-th0ts · 2 years ago

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give me this

miguel o’hara x reader tw: breeding kink, cockwarming while bantering, 18+ readers only 1.2k words summary: miguel, with his insatiable need for control, was struggling with another urge--the insatiable need to stuff you with his cock, sprung from a mix of stress and frustration with his job.

a/n: wow this was legit supposed to be a drabble but my horny brain got the best of me

hips flush against yours, miguel lets out an earth-shattering groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his cock spurts hotly inside of you, his seed seeping into you until you’re overflowing with him, until it’s dripping out onto the sheets below. miguel grunts out a mierda, his cock stubbornly dragging against your walls, attempting to fuck his spend even deeper, to make good of the load he’s given you.

don’t waste it, he’d told you once, in the throes of things, breathless and flushed-faced. after telling you of his deepest desire to have you stuffed full of his seed. to have you bursting to the brim with his essence, to secure all chances that it had taken root. and he’s making good on his promise now, rocking his hips against yours intently, drawing out every last inch of his explosive orgasm, his arms quaking with the sheer amount of effort it takes to hold himself up in the face of sheer mind-blowing pleasure.

and while miguel was often the type to take you hard and fast, against any surface that he had enough time to--the bedroom, the kitchen, against the bathroom counter, in his control room--in the rare moments where he had time to--it was even rarer that he had enough time to drag things out. to savor every last moan and whine from your lips, to revel in the clench of your walls around him. lyla had been instructed to stay away for the next few hours, and he’d (reluctantly) handed the reins over to jess, who had suggested he needed a break after one too many snappish comments, after one too many consoles he had broken in his misdirected anger. and miguel, with his insatiable need for control, was struggling with another urge--the insatiable need to stuff you with his cock, sprung from a mix of stress and frustration with his job.

the muscles in his ass clench as he pumps the few last spurts into you, grinding his hips a bit, noting with a sort of proud hedonism the squelch of his cock against your slick walls. finally with the last spurt, miguel collapses against you with a grunt. he’s careful not to press all his weight against you, but he can’t deny it--he’s winded. he draws ragged breaths, panting harshly. despite the fact that you two had gone slower this time, had dragged things out, that he hadn’t fucked the living daylights out of you as soon as he could, it was intense.

“--gehl.”

he presses a kiss to the sweaty nape of your neck, his eyes slipping shut. god, the way he could just sink into you here, forget for a second the job waiting for him back at base.

you always had this effect on him. that’s what made you a liability.

a liability, but one he would gladly indulge in over and over again.

“miguel.”

he grunts once he realizes you’ve been calling him. “yes, amor?” his voice is hoarse, no doubt a result of the various groans and grunts you pull from him in the last hour. he rolls onto his side, careful to not let his cock slip out of you. nonetheless, the shift in position has some of his spend dribbling out onto your thigh. you pull a face, one that he catches.

“what is it?”

you squirm, your tone petulant. “it’s sticky. you came so much, miguel.”

miguel stiffens, the retort on his tongue before he can think twice. “it’s never been a problem befo--” he stops himself, before sighing, relaxing his shoulders. it’s a bad habit of his, to use venom to hide his wounds.

“perdóname, amor.” he presses his nose against your head, inhaling deeply. your presence grounding him. “i’ll clean you up later, okay?”

“miguel...” you reach for him, cupping his chin. you eye the deep crease in his brow with barely concealed amusement. “i’m just joking, babe. i don’t mind.”

he gives you a half-hearted hmmph, full of attitude despite its brevity. accompanied by his signature eye-roll.

“… thought so. you’ve never complained before,” he grumbles.

“you’ve never cum this much before,” you point out.

he makes a sound in the back of his throat, his mouth pulled into a grimace, before he sighs and glances away. at the sound of you calling his name again (and once more when he doesn’t respond), he snaps irritably, “¿qué quieres?”

“aww, don’t be mad, miguel. i just like teasing you is all,” you say soothingly, pressing your chin against his chest to glance up at his scowling face. “you’re cute when you worry. especially over me.”

“yeah, yeah, and you definitely give me so much to worry about.” he says, rolling his eyes. but his words are blunt with no bite. when you nuzzle into his chest, his gaze softens as he rests his chin atop your head. you find yourself drifting off to the steady thrum of miguel’s heart in his chest, matching your own. that is, until your arm under him begins to go numb, and you attempt to wriggle away from him.

his arms tighten around your waist instinctively. you briefly hear him huff, to which you give him a curious look.

“you don’t want me to...”

he nudges his hips against yours, and despite the state of his softened cock, the sheer girth of him is still enough to fill you. you gasp.

"...no,” he says, rolling his hips once more. “not yet.”

you clench around him, and miguel inhales sharply, a hand slipping from your waist to grasp at your thigh. he’s careful not to dig his claws into you, wary as he is of hurting you, but the sheer size of his hand, nearly wrapping entirely around your thigh, is a reminder of just how much he holds himself back.

“don’t move,” he says gruffly. “it’s sensitive.”

you squirm again. his cock twitches to life inside you, blood pumping to his spent appendage as his claws dig into your thigh now. a warning of what’s to come, of the thin strand of control that could snap any second.

he exhales sharply. “i’m serious, mi amor. not unless you want another go.”

you pout, wiggling around to better adjust to your positioning. on the surface, miguel hardly seems like the kind of man who would be a cuddle hogger, but in the few times you’ve together, you’ve learned just how opportunistic he can be--demanding every bit of your attention, every dip and curve of your body.

he strokes your thigh, pressing his lips against the crown of your head.

“…sorry it’s uncomfortable.” the words are murmured against your skin, a strangely hesitant lilt undertaking miguel’s voice. “i’ll clean you up later. for now though… give me this, please.”

he says it almost as if it’s a favor, a request he’s asking of you. little did miguel know there was little you wouldn’t do for him, much less tangled in his arms, the heat of his body diffusing through the thin material of his suit, his cock nestled snugly inside you.

“of course, querido. you don’t even need to ask”

and that’s how the both of you end up dozing off, with the gentle rocking of his hips against yours, the feel of his lips against your skin, and the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palms.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv x reader #atsv smut #not sfw #th0ti writes

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