a-stupidgoofball-world

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

protective ( miguel o'hara )

miguel o'hara x spider!reader slight use of y/n

warnings - description of injuries, sprinkle of angst and fluff

summary - when he's just a bit overprotective word count - 2,554

The rooftop felt like a battleground, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The city below buzzed with life, oblivious to the emotional storm playing out between you and Miguel O'Hara. The cool night air held a hint of electricity, mirroring the sparks flying in the argument that unfolded.

Miguel's stern gaze met yours, his expression a mixture of frustration and genuine concern. Your own eyes, filled with determination and a touch of defiance, locked onto his. It started with a simple disagreement, a clash of ideologies, but beneath the surface, there were layers of unspoken emotions, each word carrying the weight of a shared history and a growing connection.

"You can't keep doing this, Miguel," your voice cut through the night air, and you could feel the emotions bubbling within you, a mix of frustration and a longing for understanding. "I can handle myself, you know."

Miguel's jaw tightened, a silent plea in his eyes. "This is dangerous, and I can't just stand by and watch you get hurt. You don't understand the risks involved."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and you scoffed, a spark of defiance igniting within you. "I understand the risks perfectly well. I've been doing this long before you decided to swing into my universe. I don't need you to play the overprotective hero."

The rooftop seemed to shrink as the argument intensified. Every word exchanged was a volley in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. Miguel's frustration, born from genuine care, clashed with your need for independence. The emotional undercurrents simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

"I'm not doing this to annoy you, Y/N. I care about you, and I can't help but worry," Miguel admitted, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration giving way to vulnerability.

Your eyes narrowed, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. "I get it, Miguel. But I can't have someone constantly watching over me, controlling every move I make. I need space, room to breathe."

The words hung between you like a challenge, a declaration of independence that clashed with Miguel's innate desire to protect. The rooftop felt like a battleground for more than just words; it was a clash of emotions, a struggle to find common ground.

Before he could respond, you turned on your heel, the air around you shimmering with the manifestation of a portal. The decision to leave was made in a moment of defiance, a desperate attempt to break free from the emotional turmoil. You leaped into the portal, the echoes of your argument still ringing in the air.

Your dimension’s New York City sprawled below, a dazzling labyrinth of lights as you swung effortlessly between buildings. The malevolent laughter of the Sinister Six reverberated through the night, signaling the beginning of a battle that would test the limits of your spider-hero abilities.

Rhino, a behemoth of brute force encased in impenetrable armor, charged through the streets with reckless abandon. The sheer impact of his charge sent shockwaves through the ground, creating a seismic battlefield. Attempting to evade his path, you executed a nimble somersault, but the miscalculation led to a direct collision. The impact rattled your bones, the shock absorbed by the advanced technology of your suit, but the aftermath left you with a persistent ache, a testament to the sheer force of Rhino's charge.

Electro, crackling with volatile energy, cast an eerie glow across the city. Bolts of lightning crackled through the air, and despite your acrobatic dodges, one found its mark. The searing jolt surged through your nervous system, momentarily paralyzing your muscles. Each twitch of your limbs felt like a struggle against the lingering effects of Electro's electrifying onslaught. The air was charged with the scent of ozone as you pressed on, determination overshadowing the lingering discomfort.

Green Goblin's aerial acrobatics brought chaos to the skies. Pumpkin bombs detonated in vibrant bursts, creating chaotic shockwaves. Attempting to evade the explosions, you found yourself caught in the concussive force of one. The impact sent you spiraling through the air, resulting in a harsh collision with a building. The blunt force trauma reverberated through your shoulder, a sharp pain flaring up as you grappled with the dizziness from the impact.

The mechanical precision of Doctor Octopus's tentacles presented a relentless challenge. With each strike, your reflexes were put to the test. A miscalculated evasion resulted in a laceration across your side as one of the metallic appendages slashed through your suit. Blood welled from the wound, staining the fabric and adding an additional layer of urgency to the battle. The pain, both sharp and throbbing, became a constant reminder of the ongoing struggle.

Vulture's aerial assaults were a relentless dance in the night sky. His talons sliced through the air with deadly accuracy, and despite your nimble evasions, a glancing blow left a series of shallow but stinging cuts across your forearm. The pain served as a stark reminder of the ever-present danger, and the persistent ache only fueled your determination to prevail.

The symphony of chaos reached its crescendo as the Sinister Six's coordinated attacks intensified. Rhino's charges became more unpredictable, Electro's lightning strikes more relentless, and Green Goblin's aerial bombardment more calculated. Doctor Octopus's tentacles lashed out with increased ferocity, and Vulture's talons sought vulnerable points with a newfound precision.

Despite the relentless onslaught, you pressed on with a resilience born from the responsibility of being a hero. Your suit, adorned with tears and scorch marks, bore witness to the intense battle. Each injury sustained became a testament to the unyielding spirit that defined a spider-hero. As you swung through the cityscape, dodging attacks and countering with acrobatic finesse, the adrenaline-fueled dance continued.

In the midst of the chaos, LYLA's voice echoed through your earpiece, "Y/N, emergency transport initiated."

A blinding light enveloped you, and the sounds of battle faded. The world spun, and for a moment, all you could see were flashes of E-928's Nueva York. The pain lingered, a constant reminder of the intense battle you had just endured.

The dimly lit room in Miguel's apartment felt like a sanctuary, a brief respite from the chaos. The pain from the injuries sustained in the fight throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that lingered.

Barely conscious, you found yourself on the living room floor, the room spinning. The portal's residual energy still crackled in the air as you struggled to sit up. Miguel's urgent voice cut through the haze, a distant echo that seemed to reach you from a world away.

"Y/N? What happened?"

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a hoarse whisper. Miguel rushed to your side, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up. The injuries from the battle were evident, but beneath the physical pain, there was a rawness, an emotional vulnerability that lingered in the air.

The rooftop argument, the Sinister Six's onslaught, and the whirlwind transition between universes all converged in this moment. The unspoken emotions that had fueled your movements in the fight were now laid bare, a complex tapestry woven with threads of frustration, longing, and a shared history.

The dimly lit room in Miguel's apartment offered a brief respite from the chaos. As Miguel tended to your injuries, the room filled with a quiet intensity. The sounds of the city outside seemed distant, as if the world had paused to give you both a moment to navigate the complexities of your connection.

Miguel worked diligently, his hands moving with a careful precision. The soft glow of the apartment's lights highlighted the concern etched into his features. The rawness of the emotional exchange on the rooftop lingered, creating a charged atmosphere that neither of you could easily dispel.

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. You watched Miguel's focused expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and understanding. It was a tender moment, a tableau of vulnerability that marked a turning point in your relationship.

"I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand," Miguel finally spoke, breaking the quiet. "I just worry about you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me."

You met his gaze, recognizing the sincerity in his eyes. "I know you worry, Miguel. But I need you to trust me. I can't have someone always trying to protect me. I need room to be my own hero."

Miguel nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and regret. "I'll try to give you that space. I just... I can't bear the thought of losing you."

His admission pulled at your heartstrings, and you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere, Miguel. We'll figure this out."

As the night wore on, the apartment became a sanctuary where both physical and emotional wounds were tended to. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, an unspoken agreement to leave the intensity of the rooftop argument behind.

The dim light of the apartment cast a warm glow, creating an intimate setting that seemed to encourage the unfolding of unspoken emotions. The city outside continued its rhythmic hum, a backdrop to the nuanced dance of emotions within the room.

Miguel fetched a first aid kit, and you shared stories from your respective universes, finding solace in the familiarity of each other's experiences. The wounds on your shoulder and side were carefully cleaned and bandaged, the physical act of healing mirroring the emotional mending taking place.

In the quiet lull between conversations, Miguel's gaze lingered on you. There was a depth to his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the uncharted territory your relationship had entered. It was a delicate dance, an exploration of emotions that left both of you vulnerable yet strangely connected.

The city outside gradually transitioned from the vibrant lights of night to the muted hues of predawn. The air in the apartment shifted, carrying with it the promise of a new day and the potential for a transformed understanding between you and Miguel.

As dawn approached, Miguel stood and stretched, a yawn escaping him. "You should get some rest," he suggested, a genuine concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, realizing the toll the night had taken on your body. The events, from the rooftop argument to the intense battle against the Sinister Six, had left you physically and emotionally drained. The makeshift bed Miguel arranged on the couch offered a welcome respite.

As you settled into a restless sleep, the events of the night played out in fragmented dreams. Images of swinging between buildings, the Sinister Six's menacing laughter, and Miguel's concerned gaze blended together, creating a surreal dreamscape.

In the quiet of the apartment, Miguel remained vigilant. He couldn't shake the worry that lingered, the weight of the responsibility he felt for your safety. Restlessly, he paced the room, glancing at the sleeping form on the couch with a mix of concern and something deeper, an unspoken acknowledgment of the emotions that lingered between you.

The sun began to cast its warm glow through the apartment's windows, signaling the arrival of a new day. The city outside came alive with the sounds of waking life. Miguel took a moment to watch the sunrise, the hues of orange and pink painting the sky.

As you stirred from your sleep, Miguel turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked, genuine concern etched on his face.

You stretched, wincing slightly from the residual soreness. "Better, considering the night I've had. Thanks for taking care of me, Miguel."

His gaze softened, and he sat beside you. "Always," he replied, a simple word laden with unspoken promises.

The morning unfolded with a quiet ease. Miguel prepared a simple breakfast, and you shared a meal that felt oddly intimate, a continuation of the uncharted emotional territory you both found yourselves navigating.

As the day progressed, the initial awkwardness between you and Miguel began to dissipate. The rooftop argument, the intense battle, and the subsequent healing had forged a deeper connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of friendship.

Miguel took you on a tour of the mirrored universe's Nueva York, pointing out landmarks and sharing anecdotes. The city, bathed in the morning light, felt like a canvas ready to be explored. The unspoken tensions of the previous night slowly gave way to a newfound camaraderie, a blend of shared experiences and a mutual respect for each other's strengths and vulnerabilities.

In the afternoon, you found yourselves on another rooftop, the cityscape sprawling below. The air was charged with a different energy, one that spoke of second chances and the resilience of connections that refused to be easily severed.

"I'm sorry for being overbearing," Miguel admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I just... I can't help but worry about you. It's a part of who I am."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I appreciate your concern, Miguel. I know it comes from a good place. But we need to find a balance, a middle ground where I can be my own hero, and you can still be there for me."

He met your gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. The city sprawled beneath, a living, breathing entity that seemed to reflect the evolving dynamics of your relationship.

As the day turned to evening, you and Miguel found yourselves back in the apartment. The unspoken tension from the previous night had been replaced with a sense of ease. Miguel, ever the attentive host, prepared a simple dinner, and you shared a meal that felt more like a celebration of newfound understanding.

The evening unfolded with laughter and shared stories. The weight of unspoken emotions had lifted, leaving behind a sense of acceptance and a willingness to embrace the complexities of your connection. Miguel's overprotective tendencies were still there, but tempered with a newfound awareness of your need for independence.

As night fell, Miguel accompanied you to the portal that would take you back to your universe. Nueva York glittered below, a testament to the resilience of both the city and the connections forged within it.

"I'll see you around, Miguel," you said, a soft smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, his gaze lingering. "Take care, Y/N. And remember, I'm here if you need me."

With a final wave, you stepped through the portal, leaving behind E-928 and the complexities of the night that had brought you to Miguel's doorstep. The familiar sights of your own universe greeted you, and you swung through the city with a newfound sense of balance.

Back in Miguel's apartment, he stood alone, watching the portal close. The echoes of your laughter and the shared moments lingered in the air. The uncharted territory of emotions had been navigated, and the connection between you and Miguel, though complex, remained unbroken.

The city outside continued its rhythmic hum, a backdrop to the ever-unfolding stories of heroes and the bonds that tied them together. In the quiet of his apartment, Miguel O'Hara, the Spider-Man of the mirrored universe, knew that some connections were too strong to be easily untangled, and that the threads of friendship and something more would continue to weave their way through the tapestry of his life.

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

lots of little guys this time

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

I am still so feral for this man. Oh Lordy 😮‍💨

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

Art by Shuploc

Pairing: knight! Miguel x princess!reader

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, no use of y/n

Summary: You were the princess of your kingdom, and Miguel was a knight. What first started off with innocent glances and little gifts turned into something more. However, with the roles you to play in society, your love for each other has an expiration.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I have been thinking about making this into a series or something based on this fic. Let me know if anyone is interested in that. Thank you to the anon who requested this! You guys have really been helping me write. I am still working on my other requests. Sorry if I have been slow in writing. It's that time of year when it's just so busy. If you would like to be tagged in any of my fics let me know. Or, you can simply turn on your notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. Also, this hasn't been edited so apologies for any grammatical errors.

Check out my masterlist for more of my stuff

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At first, it was innocent glances. Peeking through lashes before looking away shyly, hiding behind your fan as to not meet his gaze. However, it proved to be a challenge when you had caught his interest. 

Soon enough, you started receiving little gifts. It never was addressed to whom it was from, but you knew they were from him. 

The gifts and stolen glances continued for weeks until one day, the knight decided to approach you. 

You never had him so close to you before, and while you knew he was rather tall, you didn’t know he was that tall! The way he towered over you sort of intimidated you, however, your uneasiness faltered when he gave you a gentle smile and bowed to you. 

You gave him a gentle smile back, however, not uttering a word to him. He didn’t mind, though. He still took the time to glance your way.

Encounters such as these became more common, and it had gotten to the point where Miguel would actually escort you to places. Wherever it was you wanted to go. You always asked for him, if he was available, and when he was, he would always say yes. 

He would always stay two paces behind you, even if he had to walk slower. While you didn’t talk to each other much, he would still greet you, calling you ‘princesa’. You didn’t know why, but you always felt butterflies in your stomach whenever you heard him speak. His voice was so smooth, like butter, a bit husky at times, but still a voice that you would love to listen to every single day. 

It would be a couple weeks later that you both began to hold conversation. It would be during one of your afternoon walks around the castle gardens. Miguel began the conversation, talking about the flowers as you both passed by them, and tell you how they reminded him of his late mother. You also learned that day that his younger brother was currently in training to become a full fledged knight. You could hear the pride in his voice. 

A couple months had then passed. Winter had arrived. And that was the first time he stole a kiss from you from behind a tree trunk.  While it wasn’t the first kiss you’ve had, it was the first time you felt sparks. The first time you felt something. Something igniting inside of you. You knew you weren’t going to be able to shake him off of you.

And, that wasn’t a good thing. 

Still, neither of you could help yourselves. You both had grown closer, shared secrets, told each other stories of one another. Miguel had not only become someone whom you snuck glances and kisses with, he had become your friend. 

And, you wish you could become something more. 

“There is something on your mind princesa. What is it that is troubling you?” Miguel asked as the two of you strolled through the kingdom. As always, he kept two paces behind you. 

You simply shook your head, shaking away the thoughts that plagued your mind. Glancing over at him, you gave Miguel a warm smile. 

“It’s nothing. Really,” you assured him. 

He could tell you were lying, however, he didn’t dare question you. 

As the seasons changed and time went by and the two of you continued to grow and change, so did your feelings for each other. 

No longer were they stolen kisses or innocent strolls through the kingdom, but, there were also more intimate moments as well. 

Whether at the horses’ stable, somewhere hidden in the gardens, or even in your private chambers, you two shared intimate moments.

Your relationship had to be kept secret, of course. Miguel was simply a knight- while a very high ranking one, his duty was to protect the kingdom and the crown. And you were the kingdom’s princess, and the one who will eventually be wearing the crown Miguel had sworn to protect. 

“I hear that your father will be hosting a ball within the coming months,” Miguel commented as the two of you laid naked in his bed, limbs tangled together. 

You simply let out a hum, not really wanting to think about it. Your father was hosting a ball in an attempt to get all of the eligible princes and the like to meet you. You knew the time would eventually come, in which you would have to look for a husband to marry. You were to become queen of your kingdom, and you were to have a crowned prince and bear heirs. 

However, you didn’t want to marry any one of those men who will be attending that ball. You wanted to be with Miguel. 

Miguel turned to look at you, his hand gently gripping your chin so you’d turn to meet his gaze. 

“There is something on your mind, princesa. I wish you would let me in.”

Letting out a sigh, you nodded your head. “Y-yes. Yes there is. I just. It’s about the ball. It’s my father’s attempt to find someone for me to marry.”

You glanced over at him, trying to read his expression. Miguel was good at hiding his feelings and keeping a stoic expression. He was a trained knight, after all. And one of the best. 

“Of course. It is time for you to start thinking about marriage. It is your duty as princess to not only become ruler to our kingdom, but to have a crowned prince at your side and have heirs.”

You frowned at his words. You knew that. But, you didn’t want to. 

“And..what will happen..to us?” You then questioned.

 You didn’t want to end what you had with Miguel. He had not only become a good friend, but an amazing lover.

 And, you had fallen in love with him. But, you didn’t know whether to tell him or not. Of course, it was best if you didn’t. It would only end up breaking you even more if you admitted your feelings to him. Besides, you were sure Miguel didn’t feel the same way, right? You were the princess. Any man would’ve been lucky to have gotten with you. At least, that’s what you assumed. 

You were not aware that Miguel had indeed developed feelings for you, and that he was determined to keep them hidden from you. There was no need for the unnecessary heartbreak. However, watching you leave him was going to be heartbreaking enough as it is. It was best for him to take this love that he had for you and take it to the grave with him. You would forget him in due time. Miguel would most likely perish in war, and you would live the rest of your days ruling a kingdom and raising your heirs alongside your husband. 

“I don’t know..”Miguel finally answered after a moment of silence clouded the room. 

“We would most likely simply go back to how things were before.”

“But, I don’t want that,” you stated, sitting up slightly, covering your bosom with his covers. 

“It isn’t about what you want, princesa. It’s about what your duty as princess and future queen holds. There was never meant to be anything between us. You and I must both be aware of that. We can keep whatever we have going on for only so long. After that…I will go back to being a mere presence that is ordered to protect you.”

You looked down at his hand that rested beside you, grabbing it. It was so much larger than yours. The skin was rough; a sign of wear from training and battle. It’s one of the things you loved about him. His battle scars decorated his body, and you don’t know why but, you loved feeling every curve of them. 

“At the end of the day..none of this would’ve worked out. You and I both know that. Princesa, look at me,” Miguel sat up now, taking both of you hands in his. 

“We can never work out. You and I are from different backgrounds. Different social classes. You are of royalty. And I am a simple commoner. Our worlds were never meant to clash.” 

“But, they did,” you whispered, looking up at him. You could feel a lump in your throat. You didn’t want to say goodbye to this. To Miguel. To your love for him. 

“We can’t just pretend nothing ever happened, Miguel. I know you may not…feel the same way about me as I feel about you, but, I can’t just let this go,” you swallowed. 

“You will forget about me, princesa. You will. Your mind will be filled with other things as well as your time and your bed,” he told you, giving your hands a gentle squeeze before lifting them to his lips and kissing between the knuckles. 

“I will always be dutifully loyal to you. I will never be far from your side. And-“ he paused for a moment, averting his gaze from you. 

“My heart will belong to you, princesa. Even after we both move on, it will belong to you. Our time together will be something I keep and cherish until my very last breath,” he whispered, looking back to you. 

You stared at him for a moment, feeling your eyes glossing over. You didn’t want to let him go. You couldn’t. 

“So will mine!” You then blurted out. 

“My heart. My love. My everything! Every bit of me will always belong to you.”

Miguel shook his head, “No, princesa. You need to move on. You can’t be clouded by things that will be of disservice to you. Do you understand me?”

You shook your head in return as you got out of the bed, out of his warmth. 

“How can you just tell me to forget about you? Do you think this was all just for fun?” 

You knew he was right. You were well aware that they could never be. No matter how much she wanted it. She had to move on. Heck, she should’ve never even accepted his advances in the first place. 

“Of course not!” 

“Then why do you think that I can forget you just like that? Miguel. You pursued me. You sent me gifts.”

“I know. And that was a grave mistake on my part. I was not thinking. I was young and naive, then. Had I actually given it thought…I would’ve never done it,” he frowned, shaking his head. 

“So, this was all a mistake to you?” You glared at him.

“Of course not. I cherish all the times we spent together. This wasn’t all just for fun. It wasn’t because I was simply bored or I wanted to because I felt the need to waste your time. What I felt for you..what I feel for you..is real. This-” he motioned to the both of you, “-this is real to me. My feelings for you are genuine. They are real. And that is why I must let you go, mi princesa. Because, if I keep this up for much longer I don’t know if I will be able to handle the heartache.” 

You couldn’t help but to let the tears that filled your eyes spill over. You have known this man for a couple of years now. You had shared secrets, told stories of one another, shared dreams and shared each other’s beds. 

Miguel whispered your name, reaching out to you, yet you moved away from him. He couldn’t help but to frown, feeling his heart sink at you rejecting him. 

“Perhaps you are right. We should end things now..right now that I am able,” your lower lip quivered. 

You loved this man. You were in love with him. Truly. Madly. It just wasn’t fair. 

“Perhaps you are correct,” Miguel simply whispered. 

So, this was it, then. This was the end of it all. Miguel was truly a wonderful experience. You had learned so much from him. He had grown to be someone who you could trust, and you will continue to trust until the very end. 

You began gathering your clothes and proceeded to get dressed, with Miguel doing the same. 

“Shall I escort you home?” Miguel offered. 

You simply shook your head before remembering the time of day it was. It would be unwise to not have an escort. 

“Actually..yes. Please,” you nodded, getting the last bit of clothing on before waiting for him. 

The walk back to the castle was quiet. Too quiet. It was rather eerie, and you did not like it at all. There was no hand holding, no flirty glances, nothing. Just the sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone path. 

You wanted to burst into tears. How could life be so cruel? Your life was meant to be like in the fairytales where you get to marry who you love and happily ever after! You were the princess in those stories. 

And yet, no one knew the truth. The children who listened to the stories. The adults who would tell it to their children. The cruel truth that fairytales weren’t real.

Once you reached the castle, Miguel’s steps went into a halt. This was where he would drop you off. It was too risky for him to enter inside with you at this time of night. 

You didn’t want to say goodbye. Who knew if you would ever see him again. Well, of course you would but, not in the same light. He would no longer be your Miguel. He would simply be a knight whose duty is to protect the crown. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered to you, reaching over to grab your hand, however, stopping just as his fingers brushed yours. 

You weren’t sure whether to trust his words or not. But, when he took a step back and bowed to you, that’s when you knew. 

It was over. 

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tags: @migueloharastruelove , @camzzn

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, but there will be eventual smut, Pining, and teasing. For now- Fluff and Miguel struggles with grumpiness and realizing his touched started, but he's just over worked. Alternating POVs

Summary: People say many things about you're co-worker, and sure he's not the most social but you won't give up being friends with him! Little do you know Miguel is juggling so much in his life, and getting used to you is proving to be more difficult than he thought.

A/N: I am so excited to be finally be making this series! The Alternating pov's is different than what I normal do, but I think it works best for this story! This is heavily influenced by the song Be Sweet by Japanese Breakfast. Unsure how many chapters this will be, so look out for updates! if you would like to be tagged please comment to let me know!

Word count: 3,447

“Y/n, I need you to organize the samples and make sure that all the documents are in order before the meeting.” 

Giving a slight huff you stop your work, turning on your heels to face your coworker.

“Okay, but what's the magic word?” you playfully tease with the slightest hint of condensation. 

Turning his head you see the unenthused glare in his eyes despite them being shaded behind the round tinted glass. You're still not fully convinced he needs those things inside, some kind of light sensitivity he's explained once but you suspect he might just like the cool guy aesthetic it gives him. Though you wouldn’t blame him if that was truly the case, it does look kinda cool. 

Face scrunched in that way you have gotten used to seeing over these past few months since working here at Alchemax. Chiseled jaw clenched shut, his full lips pressed in that iconic frown, thick brown hair styled back to try and tame the unruly waves, and tall bulky figure that you used to be intimidated by, (okay, sometimes you still are) but you have slowly adjusted to your co-worker: Miguel O’Hara. 

He stared at you for a beat before turning back to his work without another word, his oh-so-subtle way of telling you to shut it and do as you're told. “Alright alright, I’ll get it done. Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

One thing you have learned about working with Miguel is he may not always speak with words so if you want to create an effective work area with him you have got to be good at reading his expressions. Working with a guy like Miguel had its challenges, for one his mood: he's not exactly the easiest to get along with, and people call him cold or cocky depending on the day.  

Then there was how busy he kept himself, always working on something, typing on screens, working with experiments, or tapping away at that clunky watch of his. Even on the days he’s not around due to him ‘working from home’ you can tell just by his face that he hadn’t given himself time to rest. What on earth could keep a man so busy? Well…you had an idea or two… 

Despite his grumpy demeanor you were determined to become friends with Miguel. It didn’t matter what others would tell you about him or how much he distanced himself, you saw the subtle glances, the repressing of smiles, the slight cracks in the shell, You two would become buddies you were sure of it. Maybe he just needed someone to show him the effort, to be sweet to him, then maybe he could lighten up and bring his walls down.  

Pulling out all the stops nothing was going to stop your attempts, you were always nice (even on days where that was particularly hard) Helping with things he didn’t ask of you, organizing and cleaning up behind him. Coffee was always a winner, you knew exactly how he liked it too, you kept making different attempts then stopped on the one where he wasn’t making a face while he took his first sip. -Success! 

Then there was the friendly encouragement, pats on the shoulder, and high fives. Sure he seemed hesitant to them at first but he slowly became used to them, baby steps. 

Every passing day was closer and closer to your friendship blossoming!

Magic word…was she serious? Why should he say please? It's her job to listen to what he tells her and do what he says considering he’s worked here longer. Miguel keeps typing away at his computer, lamenting in his mind how his co-worker was quite the character. 

Miguel couldn’t deny that having a co-worker who was tasked to help him in all his research did help him out more than he would ever admit. Having to juggle the secret identity of Spider-Man, being the leader of the spider society protecting the multiverse, and having to keep his role as head geneticist in Alchemax. Everything could get taxing very quickly on him. Layla was a great AI assistant but she was limited, so having an actual person tagging along to help him with work was bearable, though…you were a bit exuberant and that was taking some getting used to. 

The jokes, the odd habits, your clumsiness, the smart remarks you mumbled under your breath, your overwhelming friendliness. All this he could begrudgingly handle, but the thing that was still overwhelming him was the touching! Sometimes it wasn’t even touching at all you would just be so close.

First noticing it when you would stand so close that he would accidentally bump into you, if he was looking at a sample you were leaning over him to watch. You had no spatial awareness, running into him, running into things! The first month of you working here you broke so many things by running into them he thought they would run out of beakers.

Then the friendly gestures started happening. Miguel was used to people keeping their distance, meeting his gruffness, but you…oh no…you must have seen it has some challenge! The encouraging words, patting of his shoulder, spontaneous high fives, squeezing past him in tight areas, adjusting his coat for him, dusting off crumbs from his chest! Your Friendly proximity made him tense, it was…new and different, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Though it could be worse, you could be a completely useless idiot. To Miguel’s surprise you did have a brain in that head of yours, so the trade-off for actual decent help was some playfulness from you he would just deal. It’s not like he wasn’t used to playful coworkers, the spider society made sure of that. Still, you were different…and that blossoming tingling your touch would leave on him…it was…annoying.  

Miguel's eyes move over to you as he watches you begin the task of organizing the samples and getting everything prepared for the meeting. Begrudgingly he was tasked with having to explain the recent studies and developments the two of you had made. The meeting was honestly bullshit, he hated having to report to the chairman, but they liked to keep a thumb on Miguel, making sure he was still their best brain. In fact, you had offered to take over and run over the presentation for Miguel but they denied that, had to be him…bastards 

For a moment you turn your head and look towards Miguel meeting his eyes, you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, that friendliness still shining through. With an annoyed huff, he turns away getting back to his work. Still adjusting…

The two of you worked diligently for a couple of hours, in silence of course, there was no time to get distracted with chatting when so much needed to be done. Rubbing his hands over his face he could feel a wave of extortion taking over him. Sleep was something he wasn’t getting regularly, there was just never enough time in the day so sacrifices must be made. 

Eyes growing heavy and vision slightly blurring he feels himself slipping, but he can’t, he won't. Then a shrill alarm begins to blare from Miguel's wrist snapping him back awake. Miguel is quick to place his hand over his watch and sneak out of the lab unnoticed, lucky for him you were too concentrated on your work to notice his absence. Checking the message on his watch, it is a local emergency, something he can handle in fifteen minutes tops. With a quick few cracks of his neck, he's leaving to save the city again. 

Stretching feeling accomplished in yourself getting everything prepped single-handedly. Roaming your eyes around the lab you note the lack of bulk in the room. Huh, no Miguel? He must have done one of his disappearing acts again, probably just going to lunch without you. Invite yourself to lunch with him one time and now he doesn't even tell you when he's going. Matters on that guy, oh well, you might as well go get something before the meeting anyway. Coming to a stopping point you gather your things for a nice quick bite in the cafeteria. 

“I can’t see how you can work with him.” Ah, so much for a nice quick bite…

Sitting there trying to enjoy your lunch it’s the usual suspects who come to sit next to you, talking more at you and around you rather than to you. You can’t help but think that this annoying tinge you feel is what Miguel felt when he was ambushed by you. Though you couldn’t have been as annoying as these people. Complainy and gossipy types are not the best combos with your meal. 

Their subjects range from many topics like complaining about work, to failed experiments, personal problems, idol gossip, then it lands to the one directly aimed at you…Miguel. As soon as the question is asked you're looking up from your food to see all eyes on you. Chewing quickly and swallowing to ask your question. 

“I’m sorry what?” 

Sophia groans, “O’Hara, how can you work with him?” 

“Uh, well he does his thing, I do mine?” 

Julius chimes in “Isn’t he a total dick to you though?”

Cassidy is now giving her input to the topic, “Oh I can only imagine what you go through on the daily.” 

“Well ac-” trying to interject, you can’t even get a word in till you're being cut off by one of them.

“Yeah! Like I bet he is always bossing you around.”

“And probably insulting you in some way,” 

“One time he called my team brainless idiots because we messed up one small thing” -it was not a small thing, that took you and him an all-nighter to fix…

“That was-” you try again only to be cut off once more.

“Oh, and he is always being rude!” 

“God, how can you work with that monster!” 

With that last comment you had it, the noise wasn’t meant to be as forceful as it came out but they kept cutting you off and then bad-talking your research partner, you were fed up. Slamming your hands on the table with a hash slap, effectively silencing them, you rise from your seat grabbing your tray in the process. 

“If you have issues with him you should speak to him like he’s a person. He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance... I've lost my appetite, excuse me…” 

With that, your lunch break was over. 

“Spider-Man!” 

“You saved us!” 

“He’s a hero!”

“But…he’s kinda a jerk…”

“Didn’t he punch an old lady before?”

“I thought she punched him?” 

Uhhgg…would anyone ever get that story right? Miguel is prying the last bus hostage off him as they cling tightly to him. The vulture from his dimension was up to his usual antics but he made quick work of him and was now cleaning up the shocking mess. Having to save the people from the bus was no big deal, it was the pushy reporters, camera lights flickering in his face and the clingy person keeping themselves pressed to him that was the pain to deal with. Taking deep breaths he’s trying to keep his cool, but he can feel himself threatening to boil over. 

How come he can’t just ever save people and leave? Why was there always this extra crap to deal with? Finally getting the person off and seeing that all of what he could do was done he's trying to get out of there, but people can be so pushy…

Questions, Comments, Flashing lights, Praise, Criticism…he couldn’t help but snap, 

“Get out of my way! Leave me alone! And for shock's sake, try to learn to protect yourselves!”  

The crowd was shocked by this sudden outburst, but this should have come as no surprise from the grouchy hero. Spider-Mans in other dimensions were always known for being friendly, witty, funny, and nice to all they saved, Miguel didn’t exactly follow this blueprint. Miguel didn’t exactly mean to sound rude, just being a hero gets exhausting and patience was something he needed to work on. 

Miguel hears the gasp and murmurs amongst themselves about how he’s a dick, a jerk, arrogant, blah, blah…

Rolling his eyes, hidden underneath his mask he couldn't help but think of how irrational these people could be, say one thing the public wasn’t fond of and they are at your throat. It’s all of a sudden no longer how he just saved a busload of people, or saved the city by defeating a villain; No, now it’s about how rude he was. 

“Jerk!” 

“Boo!” 

“I hate you Spider-man!” -great…this just makes everything so much better with this thankless job. 

Swing off before the police come to further irritate him. As he swings back to Alchemax he’s wrapped up in his thoughts. This hero thing was not easy…everything he did wasn’t right, not what people wanted…he was always messing up in some way…nothing was ever good enough, he had to stretch himself thinner and thinner, keeping everything together. The pressure is immense…

Getting back to Alchemax, he changes and tries to resume back to his work, the fight had successfully woken him up but now he’s starving. Eating like sleep has also become a thing he has had to cut for the sake of time, but something quick should be fine before he gets back to work.

Stopping by the cafeteria Miguel immediately spots you sat by Sophia, Julius, and Cassidy, not good company for you to keep. Well honestly anyone, they might catch their stupid. Making sure to be as unnoticed as possible last thing he needs is you trying to wave him over to your table. Coffee with a bagel is all he needs to grab so he can make his escape back to the lab. Grabbing a coffee that thankfully wasn't made by you, his sensitive ears can’t help but catch what's being said at your table. No surprise it’s about him. 

Listening in he is catching fragments of the conversation sipping his coffee trying his best to ignore the meaningless conversation, till a remark of him makes him pause at the threshold of the entryway. 

 “How can you work with that monster!”

Monster…huh…is that how people see him? Mutated, sure, grouchy, and tempestuous maybe, But a monster. A ping in his chest makes his hands tighten around the cup. Talons threatens to poke through but he resists. If they want to see him as a monster then so be it…he doesn't care…

Suddenly, a slam, followed by your familiar voice catches him by surprise,

“He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance”

“Not some monster…” Your words can’t be helped from echoing through his head. You sound so angry, you never sound angry. Looking over he sees your face furrowed in a glare. He didn’t think your face knew how to do that. Watching as you walk away in a haste away from the table he's leaving to his usual eating spot hidden away from others. 

Taking his shades off in the empty break room he dims the lights down as he sinks into one of the chairs. Finally getting even a moment of a break, even taking time to peacefully relax he finds he is unable to. Even sitting leaning back he still feels teased, irritated, stressed. Trying to shut his mind for even a moment, a second of a break he finds it to be an impossible task. But as he sits, his usual stresses fade to be replaced by your words. Miguel could have cared less about what those idiots had to say about him. The surprising thing was that you were defending him…not that he needed it… but it was…kind of you…

Taking a bite out of the bland bagel he groans to himself, annoyed. 

It's almost time for the meeting and you're pacing outside the doors with everything ready to go, except you haven’t seen Miguel anywhere. Running behind is a thing you are not used to from him, he’s usually so timely but you haven’t seen him at all since he left for what you thought was lunch. Did he get caught up doing something else?

 Minutes tick by and you're growing more anxious by the second. Would he just not show up? It’s a possibility, but he would be putting both your asses on the line, though he didn’t have to worry much about that, they wouldn’t fire their best brain, but…you're a bit more expendable.

Before you can continue thinking about your ass being on the chopping block Miguel is rounding the corner adjusting his coat and walking in a casual strut. Looking at him as he approaches you notice his appearance looks a bit different. That shirt does seem a bit wrinkled and his tie is completely messed up from earlier. What has he been doing? Mid-day workout? Did he have an accident in the lab and have to go change? But the clothes are the same, just wrinkled.

Or was he doing something else… Thinking for a moment over what you could be doing that would cause messed up clothes an image of a sweaty grunting Miguel pops into your brain. Pushing down the thought with an internal slap to yourself you decide to greet him as friendly as possible. 

“You're running behind Miguel” -okay you can’t help but tease him a bit. Friends rass each other all the time. 

“Yeah, got…caught up in something…” he speaks hesitantly, suspicious…

Miguel gets ready to go inside but you quickly grab him by the shoulder to get his attention “Hold on there, you can’t go in there looking like that” 

Turning to face you, he looks at you confused then looks down at himself, “What? I look fine.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and point to his chest where his tie is haphazardly knotted together in a rushed fashion.

“Your tie” Before he can protest your hands are already getting to work losing his tie gently, “Let me help you” 

With the silk tie undone hanging down his chest, you're moving your hands to raise his collar. As you concentrate on the task your eyes are fixed on his neck you observe that as your fingers slightly brush over his warm skin his body teases slightly. Straightening his neck, you know he’s about to say something.  

“Why are you nice to me? I know what others say about me, so how come? Are you trying to pity me?” His voice is stern and this isn’t what you were expecting out of him right now. Did he hear you earlier? 

The slight laugh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. Moving your hands you cross the two ends to tie in a classic Windsor knot. “Leave it to you to think someone being nice to you is just a ruse to pity you. I just want to be nice to you.” 

Remaining silent you continue to loop and twist the tie, your knuckles blushing over him, you swear you see his skin pickle up for a moment with a slight shiver. Finishing up, you tighten it to his neck and carefully fold his collar back down, keeping your eyes on your work at hand, you watch as his Adam's apple slightly bobs as you adjust it properly. 

Sliding your hands to the silk tie you brush your fingers down the soft fabric straightening it while laying down flat against his chest. The feeling of his chest tightness under your fingertips and his breath seems to be slightly slow, you don’t know if he is hating this or being relaxed by it. 

Meeting his eyes, they are unshaded for you to observe their burgundy hue. His face is still stern looking but you know this one has that slight softness in his eyes, meaning his listening, he is waiting for you to speak again. 

“I want us to be friends, simple” 

Miguel's lips slightly part as if he was about to speak, but before he could the conference room doors opened with them calling Miguel in. Turning to you there is a look on his face you're not completely used to, but that will have to wait for now. Giving a quick pat to his chest you smile up at him. 

“You got this Miguel, good luck.” 

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

side forehead kisses from miguel when he's trying to send a message to the guy that's flirting with you

slow sensual kisses when miguel wants to fluster you but you're still his liddol sleepyhead burrowed in the blankets

possessive kisses and kissing you with his tongue because it makes you so hot and breathless and horny

quick peck on the nose when he gets home because he doesn't want to hug u or kiss you with his sweaty clothes on because his lovely bebita doesn't deserve a speck of dust on her

and most importantly, sloppy nibbles and long hard licks to your twitching clenching oversensitive little cunt when you're shaky from all the orgasms from him eating u out because those lips deserve some love too ❤️

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

soft s3x and grey sweats

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

warnings: smut, tooth rotting fluff, miguel wears grey sweatpants, soft and loving sex, domesticity, unprotected piv

summary: miguel ft. grey sweatpants

A gentle drizzle splatters on the windows of your bedroom, tapping its soft, irregular crystal drops onto the glass only to wake you from your blissful nap.

You had fallen asleep with your head on his chest, invaded by the warmth of his body next to yours, the fascinating feeling of being home with him. You couldn't ever dare to ask for more than that.

With a spine-bending stretch, you step out of the cosiness of the king-sized bed following the realisation of his absence. Leaping down the stairs, you seek the comfort of him being near you like a throat-gripping vice.

You hear the water running, occasionally overlapped by clattering, dishes clanking and drawers being pushed shut.

You step out into the hall of your open-concept kitchen, linen stockings preventing even the subtlest noises of your movements from reaching him through the ambiance.

Your weight on the wooden floor is merely a gust of wind as you sit yourself into the corner of the sofa in order to watch him from up close.

You hug your legs to your chest in an attempt to adapt to the temperature change of the room, your flimsy top and panties doing little in covering your middle.

He hasn't turned to you since you hopped off the stairway. Arrogance tugs at the furthest corner of your mind after having sneaked behind his hyper vigilance, completely unnoticed. You seize the opportunity to study him in the absence of his piercing gaze fixed upon you.

Your eyes linger over the expanse of his broad back, the navy blue, short-sleeved shirt creasing in thin, cascading lines over his shoulder blades as he shifts his weight to his right, bicep bulging when he stretches his hand up into a cupboard.

You're more than delighted to note the easiness with which he attains things normally out of your reach.

Not only once did you call for his help to get you something from any place higher above you, having him stand behind you when doing so, and without fail him making sure to push his groin up against your ass in the process, prompting you to bend just slightly forward onto the board or sink in front of you before the simplest request for aid turned into you, taking him against any surface around the house.

It became quite the signal after a while. Whenever he heard you, 'Miguel! Come here for a second, baby’, his cock would fatten in advance at the sound of the command.

"Should've stayed upstairs, muñeca. I was making something for you." he snaps you out of your reverie, the sleepy raspiness in his voice deliciously running late over the last syllables of his remorseful disfavour.

While still not facing you, it turns out he was well-aware of your presence.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just watch." you excuse yourself, draping your midriff over the armrest, hands supporting your head on the soft cushions as you thaw at the sight of him cooking for you.

He returns to the kitchen island, his index finger mindlessly following the instructions he was mentally revising, before his eyes find you on the couch, scanning every patch of skin you have on display, as if sizing you up for his dessert.

He allows his vision to wash over your silky smooth thighs, your waistline that moulds into the hill of the pillows, the exact same way it moulds so erotically against him when he pistons his hips into yours.

With your pleading gaze inviting, thighs squeezed together in frustration, he is unsure of what to finish next, the pancakes, or you.

Your attention drops to the chubbed, prominent curve of his stiffening cock in his sweatpants, the shade of it nearly obscenely large, evident on the grey fabric. His hand slips down his crotch, lazily palming his dick through the material. You feel the heat pooling between your thighs, yearning growing unbearable.

"I have to let it rest. I'm all yours now." he suggests smugly, and part of you suspects that he had been needing to take you since you decided to flutter your eyes shut on the bed, arms coiled around his waist.

You shamelessly keep your eyes on target as he sets the dough bowl aside, approaching you with a heaviness in his pace that you know oh so well.

His dick twitches ever so slightly in his pants, hardening until its outline becomes lewdly evident, straining upwards into his pants in all its length and girth that ruptures you unforgivingly whenever he stuffs himself inside you.

Before he can even reach the sofa, your eager hands clutch his waist, feeling the rigid muscles underneath his shirt as you start planting gentle kisses down his abdomen, having him shudder at the contact even through the cotton fibre.

Your soft breasts meet his bulge in the process, offering nothing more than a few mere brushes that only rile him up more than he had hoped.

He drops his weight next to you on the cushions as the only way to avoid the urge to pull his cock out and shove it down your throat through your pretty, plush lips. He opts to rest his head back on the pillows, legs spread wide in front of him, taking up nearly all the space next to you.

Not a single moment is wasted before you take his cheeks in your hands, fingertips grazing his rough, barely visible stubble, pressing rushed, obsessive kisses all over his face.

You slide one leg over his, seeking the pressure of his broad, firm thigh to your clothed cunt.

His own hands are quick to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, your chest flattened on his. His lips find yours through your loving pecks, deepening the kiss he caught you with, swiftly interrupted by a soft gasp of yours the second your ass meets his boner.

You teasingly lower yourself onto him gently, revelling in the feeling of the tip pressing harshly into the thin fabric of your panties.

Letting your hand travel down his firm chest, down his abdomen and over the sizable bulge in his sweatpants, you cup him through the material, applying just enough pressure to coax a groan out of his throat.

His wide thighs involuntarily flex on your sides and he twitches in your hand, a reminder of his force, his size in comparison to you, his ability to have you any time he wanted despite the position, despite your teasing.

His head leans back on the couch exposing his throat, eyes dazed out and fixed on the view of your breasts peeking from under your crop, visibly satisfied with the angle he found. Your boobs, round and soft, ever so inviting for him to knead in his large hands, he thinks.

Warm palms leave your hips to slide up your waist, disappearing under the cotton shirt, idly groping your chest.

You reel at the feeling of his rough, calloused hands on your smooth skin, touching and fondling in all the right places.

His knuckles protrude every now and then through the thin textile as he keeps massaging your breasts, feeling your pulse quicken with each deep breath you take.

Before you can even decide on your next move, you feel the blistering warmth of a splayed out hand on your back, propping you gently as he tilts you to the side, a familiar bow of such a dirty dance that has your thoughts melting out of your brain, your whole existential purpose being resumed to him alone in a matter of seconds.

He lays you down over the length of the couch with such care, such strength that has you submitting mindlessly, wrapping your frail arms around his neck. Legs up in the air, he has you just like he always does. Your blood boils through you, the ignition of nerves only he could ever cause.

He descends upon you, veiling your entire body in his, hands eagerly running over your body, playing you like an instrument that only sings for him, that only he can hold.

You sigh, taking in the scent of him, letting it invade your lungs like inhalants. The visceral musky cologne, with shades of a pine forest that had your thoughts run wild and senses sharpened.

Half lidded eyes accentuate his savagely, crimson irises and dilated pupils, the sheer sight of you under him never ceasing to rile him up bad enough to make him beg for your touch.

You squirm weakly; quickly enough he takes the hint and hooks his thumb around your panties, dragging them down your soft skin, impatience evident in his movements.

You feel the weight of his hard cock on your thigh, head going dizzy at the thought of its girth stretching you open, the thought of the pained groans that crawl out of his throat when he comes, his dick pulsating inside you.

He stills above you, eyes darting over your face, as if searching for something he had just remembered he was missing, a gaze condimented with adoration, curiosity, and a hesitancy you may only interpret as astonishment.

"No puedo creer que seas mía" (”Can't believe you're mine.”) he mutters, barely above a halted whisper, following the realisation of your rather perplexed demeanour when confronted with such antics. ”Makes me think that maybe", he pauses, "pushing through all the shit in my life made me worthy of you.”, he confesses, vulnerable and wounded.

You've caught smudges of this view of his before, only not this categorical. In a way, you find it quite the most heartwarming yet peculiar thing there is to know about him. He seeks the comfort of believing that all the suffering he endured meant something, a sacrificial lamb for him to ultimately earn the limitless love of your embrace, your affections and unwavering devotion.

It wasn’t pride that clawed at his memories of having conquered and survived when so many others didn’t in the same circumstances he faced. It was relief, the relief of a man that swam the ocean to find paradise.

And there you were, silk-smooth, gentle hands cupping his face with such infatuation he did not think possible, looking up at him like there wasn’t anything more beautiful in existence you would rather see.

His heart had inevitably melted into yours; now soldered together against all odds fate could bestow.

”I love you, Miguel. With or without your scars.”, you pull him into a reassuring, promise-sealing kiss, which he softly reciprocates, regaining his confidence and unyielding want.

His lips ghost over your jugular, relishing in the way your exhales halt in your throat, pausing in expectancy as his hot breath excites goosebumps over the satin skin of your exposed neck.

”I love you more.” he teases, lips latching onto your pulse point, lightly sucking hungry kisses down to the valley where your throat meets your shoulder.

Despite knowing how adamant you were about your own love being immeasurable, let alone any lesser than his, he took great joy in dramatically rivalling you on the matter, beclouding your fondness only to start a competition of who manages to sway the other with their words of pure worship and fidelity.

Whether there was another underlying reason for his racing I love you more’s, you do not know. Maybe a reminiscence of his mistrustful, defensive nature, reflecting its last slither of bewilderment into a seemingly innocent insistence that he, indeed, loved you more than you loved him.

How could he not? You had no knowledge of the things he had to do for his job, what it truly meant to risk everything for someone, to risk your life for another.

And he prefers it this way, to have you shielded away from the horror of finding yourself in that situation, from the heartbreak of even imagining the circumstances in which you may decide to give your life for him in all your passion, let alone pondering upon the choice and place the verdict upon your declaration of love, weighing it down in all gravity and seriousness of the pledge. In the depths of his mind, he dreads it, hearing you say, ‘I love you, I would give my life for you’, although he would do so for you without thinking twice.

He dreads knowing that his presence in your life could scar you so that you may have to die for him, that his soul alone could be stained in your blood, even only in hypothesis.

Therefore, he feels far more content thinking that you don’t quite love him as much, thinking that you, as perfect as you are, would not suffer should anything happen to him. That your attachment to him will only ever bring you nothing but joy.

And oh how he brought you joy. Pure bliss and paradisiacal rapture. Even more so when he held you so dearly against him, painting you in doting kisses, marks of which linger on your skin long after he’s departed.

His warm, broad hand sails down over the plushy mound of your breast, indulging in a layover just to squeeze lightly. To drift below; its tender, round shape fitting in the junction between his thumb and index finger; his palm seemingly continuing its travel down your waist before returning unexpectedly, massaging your soft tit after a run down and up your waist, making the butterflies in your belly grow agitatedly.

The meagre shudders of your body underneath his unpredictable and exciting touch, the silent whines that die in your throat as he kisses down the crook of your neck have his cock twitching in his pants, beads of precum gathering on the flushed tip, staining the material. You feel the unmistakable length of it poke your thigh, hard and thick.

"Eres tan buena conmigo" (”You’re so good to me.”) he breathes deeply, voice hoarse with restraint, lacing his words with a poised thread that wraps around your neck, earning him a fractured moan. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Grabbing onto his massive shoulders for support, delighted with the way his muscles ripple under your soft hands as he continues his attack on your most sensitive spots he knows so well, you press your leg tentatively into his hard-on, an unspoken, considerate request for him to cease the teasing and chase his own pleasure.

“I want you”, you whisper breathily, finding your voice on the last word, accentuating the singularity of your need, the force with which you crave him, only him. “I love you, Miguel, I wanna make you happy.” you declare desperately, planting another suffocating kiss on his slightly agape lips, having him gasp softly into your mouth, a killer whale surfacing above the waterline for a superficial breath before diving back into the depths of the ocean.

He kisses you with such ardour, savouring the addictive taste of your delicate lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth like you hadn’t seen each other for months, like one of those desperate days in which he has his way with you right after he returns from a bone-chilling mission throughout the multiverse.

After ending the kiss with an unnecessarily harsh smooch, he draws back, making you giggle through unrelenting panting. He scans your face, absorbing the image of you, in your most defenceless self, so full of what can only be adoration for him.

He takes in your half-lidded, love-struck eyes, the look he thinks not even the bestest of painters of the world could capture on canvas. The look he thinks would be perverted in blasphemy should it be, even in attempt, recreated on any portrait, any sculpture, any photograph.

He follows the line of your jaw that cascades sharply into the crook of your neck, the only safe place for him to lay his head at night, the place he reveres to place the sweetest of kisses upon, having you either laugh or melt in his arms.

His vision then lands on your sore lips, exhaling the very air he breathes, uttering the same words that echoed in his head out in the field; ‘I love you, truly, entirely and through my whole being. With my body, heart and soul, oh, I love you.’

He dips his head down your waist in reverence, leaving gentle pecks down the line of your stomach. In any other instance, you would giddily chuckle at his ministrations, a chuckle that would soon turn into a hearty burst of laughter, as he knew just the spots to touch and tickle and make you reel in retaliation when play-fighting on a particularly lazy Sunday evening.

However, now, there was no impulse to laugh. You watch him closely as he reaches the crease of your pelvic bone, looking up to meet your gaze.

You feel your face heat up at the sight of him, a strong hand wrapped around your thigh, the other holding your middle.

Satisfied with the moans he successfully drove out of you, breaths getting heavy at the thought of how wet you have to be by now, he sits up on his knees to hurriedly haul his shirt over his head.

His dick grows harder at the familiar picture of you, laid back on the sofa, eyes glazed with drunken want and the remembrance of his feverish touch on you.

Letting your hands roam his chest and firm abdomen while he disposes of the shirt, you curl your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, carefully dragging them down his bulky thighs, eyes widening as his cock springs upwards from the grey fabric, hitting his stomach before ever-so-slightly bending to the right under its generous weight.

You let yourself fall back into the cosy corner of the couch, parting your legs with lascivious speed while watching him stroke his now glistening cock, eyes trained on yours.

A vigorous, bulging forearm anchors next to your head, the other guiding himself inside you. His mountainous shoulders block any view of the room aside from him, and you obey the impulse to run your hands over his biceps, his pecs, his jaw.

You draw in a sharp breath at the contact of his fat tip on your wet folds, rubbing into the dampness at the entrance before breaching you.

You whimper softly, trying to adjust. No matter how many times you have sex, it always takes you time to adapt to his size, to fit him inside you to the hilt.

His forehead rests against yours as he pushes further in, a gentle hand coming to collect a few unruly strands of hair from your face. It stops to cup your fiery, rosy cheek, his thumb grazing your dainty skin protectively, soothingly, before his arm docks symmetrically to the other, beside your head to balance his weight on top of you.

Your tear-welled eyes flutter shut, the dip between your brows deepening and rising into an unspoken plea for a one-second pause. He stops, knowing of your struggles despite your fervent insistences that he may always bottom out regardless of your aches.

He cannot bring himself to cause you discomfort in any way, even under the greenlight of your sincere consent.

“I know, love, I’m sorry.”, he pacifies you, and you’re overwhelmed by his attentive care, starting to rain messy, fatigued kisses over each patch of skin on his face within reach. He returns the gesture in earnest, covering your features in slow smooches.

It calms you, allowing him to push all the way inside your tight cunt, grunting into your temple as you tense around his shaft the moment his tip presses against your cervix.

A loud sigh that swiftly leaves your agape mouth tells him to proceed. His hips start gyrating languidly, his dick exits you only halfway, coated in your juices, before driving back in with a quiet squelch. You throw your head back on the pillows, legs coiled securely around his waist as he makes love to you, laying you onto a cloud of pleasure.

"Ugh, oh-," he groans, his voice deep and rugged, mirroring his own mind-numbing bliss, “you feel so good”. With his head now leaned into your chest, his heavy breaths are hot on your skin, timed with the drive of his hips into yours.

He starts going faster, yet the force of his thrusts still soft. The second he finds the puffy nub of nerves that snaps firecrackers in your lower belly, you grab at the mattress, gasping and moaning weakly. Muted whines are put out in your throat as you close your mouth to swallow a kiss your body had craved to give him.

His shoulders flex under his weight as he picks up more speed, nearing his high and finding the rhythm you know only leads to those desperate grunts that have you coming only from their sound alone.

He pushes into his thrusts, rubbing the coarse hair above the base of his cock on your clit. Your back contorts and arches in response, gifting him an even more delicious angle for the precise rolls of his hips.

You choke on a pained scream that dissolves into your limbs as you come hard, your orgasm washing over you in drumming tidal waves, crashing onto you with every drive of his fat cock into your soft, drenched cunt.

"Oh-- ugh, yeah- so good," he groans into your rose, kiss-marked neck, seemingly taken aback by the force of his own euphoria, as if he had been expecting a gentle current of ecstasy as result of his intendedly soft and gentle session of lovemaking, instead being met a fierce jolt of elation. He stills, holding a breath from erupting out of his throat into a shaky moan.

The bridge of his nose is pressed perfectly into your neck, a sculpture-worthy puzzle of two souls sewn together. His hot palm seeks the feeling of your smooth skin, landing shy of your waist, holding you against him with the firmness of a man who heeds every longing you had ever voiced, who heeds the closeness you had always coveted as you rode the rapids of your orgasm.

The pressure hammers into you in aftershocks, hauling you back down in fading flutters, pulsing into your lower belly as he tenses, pushing his hips flush against your ass with one final blow, releasing into the warmth of your cunt.

You clench faintly at the feeling of his fat cock spasming and twitching inside you, catching on to the last gust of your high.

He groans in oversensitivity, pulling out before carefully placing his broad hand in between your thighs, tenderly cupping your dripping pussy to prevent his come from staining the peppered grey couch. You flinch at the contact, not having fully recovered from the stimulation.

He leans into you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You turn to him instinctively, unable to find your voice or enough strength in your arms to do anything but gaze up at him with the face he knew so well; the euphoria-painted face you grace him with when his love overflows your body, teeming into your watery eyes.

Sitting up, he unpacks a thin, white blanket from the opposite edge of the sofa, cocooning you into the clean, fresh fabric. You hum in comfort, struggling to chase the warmth of his arms as he tucks the edges of the material underneath the contour of your body.

”Just stay here for a bit.”, he whispers into your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. “ I‘m almost done with your surprise.”

“You want me to help?” you resort to a last-chance inquiry in hopes of finding an excuse to sit beside him for longer, even in the kitchen.

He knows you’re well-intended, but decides to better value the total credit of his courteous offering.

You will most certainly keep the stakes up and stubbornly get dinner ready for him on the very next occasion you find, so he might as well echo your stubbornness and finish his task alone, meeting great satisfaction in spoiling you with the opportunity your body has given him.

“No te preocupes, (Don't worry.) I’ll manage.”

You dramatically reach for him with your extended arms as he heads towards the kitchen. He throws you a sympathetic smile before resuming his cooking, fully aware that a considerable part of him would have wanted nothing more than to rush back into your arms and spend the rest of the evening smothering you into his warm embrace, play fighting you into submitting to his self-indulgent caresses and kisses.

divider by @cafekitsune

spanish translations by @bookished 🤍(tysm!!)

50% requested by @badbitchhour (ik u wanted a wedding night but my brain short-circuited when i tried to write it, it's still coming tho!!! meanwhile made the very soft and emotional lovemaking part til i get around it and start feeling it)

a/n: don't pick on me for the extremely creative! title i wanted to make shit clear from the start. (clickbaiting)

also smut authors try not to use the same words and phrases for every sex scene without using things like 'wand' and 'shaft' (challenge impossible)

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

Obsessed with his shitty ass posture he just like me fr

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

My babygirl

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

: p o e d a m e r o n :

*nsfw

FICS— 

mistakes and sour grapes *

ONESHOTS & MINIFICS— 

*:･ﾟ✧:* early oneshot masterlist *:･ﾟ✧:*

now you know *

“He knew it was wrong. He knew he should’ve looked away, should have reminded the class that he could see each and every one of them, even though they couldn’t see each other. Hell, maybe he should have just ignored it completely, and pretended not to notice.”

burn awhile *

“An electric spark, a flame in the darkness, something inside of you was burning and now you were craving it, knew you wouldn’t feel whole without it.”

hand in hand, we’re weary eyed

“So many times did he imagine walking you to your quarters at night, stealing a kiss when you least expected it. He’d thought about how you’d taste, whether or not you’d kiss him back or if you’d smack him hard across the cheek.”

all yours

“He knew you could handle yourself, he knew you could. But that didn’t stop him from stewing in his jealousy and letting it build and build.”

blood red, baby | two

“There was something about him that made you want to give into your darker desires, and not only did you give in, but you indulged.”

eyes on me *

“But when he’d looked at you with those dark eyes and that crooked grin, when he’d sauntered up to you and simply pointed at the ground with the confidence in knowing you’d obey his orders? You wanted him to ruin you in a different way.”

bittersweet & delicate

“She’d promise him that it would keep him safe, protect him from all of the bad and bring him peace, make him feel at ease enough to rest. It always worked.”

and i cannot get you out

“He’s watching you closely and he catches the exact moment you register that he’s so far from okay, and the look in your eye makes his heart shatter. You’re terrified.”

at another place in time

“You remember what it feels like to be in love with Poe Dameron in mere seconds.”

love, i think it is

Is the sadness everlasting?

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

panel redraws with the atsv designs for miguel and lyla!!

lyla was surprisingly hard just bc the characters emote completely differently so i took ✨creative liberties✨

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

Spider-Society Zoom Calls

[a-stupidgoofball-world]

10 spidey engineers vs one (1) bug, who wins?