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♡♡𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 ♡♡

🪻nanami kento x fem wife!reader

🪻words: 1.4k

🪻synopsis: kento reluctantly joins your nail routines by getting a little heart for you on his thumb, a tradition that only grows along with the family you create together. (based on the above pic from pinterest as the inspo for this idea)

🪻cw: x scarred post shibuya kento (always).💕 fluff, kento being such a loving father and husband, pregnancy.

🪻a/n: happy late father's day. i love kento eternally. 🌧️ 🌷sparkle dividers: @/anitalenia. swan pearl dividers by @/fairytopea. pics from pinterest.

Rainy Sunday afternoons call for self care.

While the raindrops rambled their cacophonic percussion on the windows of the farmhouse, your living room slowly transformed into a nail salon.

Bottles of nail polish surrounded you in a chaotic half moon fashion since you couldn't be bothered to organize by color in light of your last minute decision to paint your nails, just like the rain that loved to drizzle out of nowhere.

A double protective layer of paper towels laid over the old oak of your coffee table with the remaining roll half unraveled on the other side, the grocery store bag with the receipt at your feet, and low sound of your favorite tunes playing on your phone next to you as you painted the first stroke of lavender, the chemical fruity smell of acetone quite fragrant but you ignore it as you dilligently work.

It is a curious thing, watching you in your element like this, Kento thinks with his novel slightly strategically lowered to peer at you from over the top. The polish odor would have normally put him off but his intrigue and love for you kept him where he was.

He watches you paint each one with precision, his crows feet crinkling as you became more shaky when you had to switch to your less dominant hand, silently marveling at your routine that recalls him back to watching his mother do similar things as a young boy.

"Want me to do yours?" You catch him watching and smile as you softly blow on the freshly coated paint, a mischievous look in your eyes.

Kento shakes his head with a hum. "No thank you, sweetheart. I don't think bright colors would look good on me."

"Sure they would! I have a whole selection you can choose from." You gesture to your mini library of colors. "How about a soft blue?"

"I couldn't ask you to waste your products on me, love, but that's very thoughtful of you."

"Please? I actually really want to now. I could give you a hand massage and do your cuticles."

Kento raises a brow as now it's apparent that it's less about what he wants and more about indulging you. "Do you really want to?"

"Yes I do! I want to practice and you can tell me if I'm any good at it."

"If you insist."

He's sitting across from you now, his good eye trained on you as you massage his hands with moisturizer.

"Good?"

"Mhm." He tries to hold back a smile as you knead his hands like dough.

"Ken, relax, you're so tense."

*He lets his hands flop in your grasp*

"Thank you."

You skim your thumbs over his palms spreading the product, smoothing it into his skin, taking care over the textured exterior of his left hand and paying special attention to the delicate map of scars, his wedding ring in a tulip dish next to your forearm for safe keeping.

"You're quite good at this." He murmurs, low over the tirade of trickling raindrops just outside and the cozy hush of the room.

"You think so, my love?"

"I do. You're very thorough. I might not be opposed to doing this again, as a matter of fact."

"Awh, wait, really?"

"Really."

"So...does that mean you'll let me paint them?"

He chuckles and sighs. If he gave you an inch, best believe you're taking a mile.

"You really want to, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes! Here, look. What if I put just a little heart on your thumb, right here?" You gently wiggle his left thumb in between your fingers. "And if you don't like it, I swear I'll take it off."

He smiles, a gentle exhale flowing through his chest. "I suppose I can live with that."

He watches as your tongue barely pokes out of the corner of your mouth as you dip the end of a bobby pin into a bit of the lavender, carefully dotting a heart right into the bottom corner of his thumb.

"So innovative." He murmurs.

"All done." You take your hand in his like puzzle pieces, a white heart painted on your thumb whose matching lavender counterpart found its way onto his.

"Now we match." You grin as though you've trapped him, which he all but confirms as he slides his wedding ring back on his finger.

"Yes we do, love."

"Lunch?"

"You read my mind."

----

One of your neighbors at the seaside farmer's market can't help but notice the lavender heart on Kento's thumb as he counts up the freshly grown potatoes and stows them in a bag.

"Looks like you got a little something." The older man points.

Kento pauses in curiosity, following the man's gaze to the heart on his thumb.

"For my wife." He states simply, with a shrug.

The old man thinks it's odd, but he's been married for 30 years. He gets it.

"Take care of her, now."

"I will, sir, thank you."

-----

Painting your nails is more of a chore now but it's one you don't have to worry about for just one more month, even longer if you simply asked of him.

Kento catches a stripe of paint near your toe that ran outside the corner, as your swollen feet laid in his lap while you sipped your homemade lemonade in a glass, making sure they all look perfect before he secures the lid.

"Thanks, sweetheart." You reach for him and he helps you sit up a little, adjusting the pillows underneath your hips, compression socks laid out on the floor for you once your toes completely dry.

"You're very welcome." He hums, taking his freshly done hand in yours, a pink heart in the corner of his thumb this time.

"You think she'll like them?"

"She'll adore them, darling." Kento answers, giving your calves a squeeze as his attention momentarily flickers to the SpongeBob reruns on the TV.

"Should we ask?"

A flicker of a smile stains his lips as he brings a hand to your belly, waiting patiently until you feel a faint kick, "Yes."

"I love her so much already."

"She loves you too, sweetheart."

----

A pair of small chubby hands waits patiently for her turn on a rainy afternoon similar to the ones you shared before when it was just you and Kento under this old roof.

"'Kay, Noodle, what color are we thinkin?" You ask your baby girl as she sits in your lap. "Oh no, those ones are for mommy. This kind is safe for you." You wiggle the tiny bottles of gentle colors in front of her face, until she reaches for a pretty deep blue.

"This one?" You ask. "You know, that's daddy's favorite, too."

You shake the bottle and put the squishy foamy separators between her little toes and fingers. "Should we ask for some help from our assistant?"

You daughter gives you a cheeky grin and happily allows Kento to scoop her into his lap as she grabs at his chin. "Hold, still, angel."

When her manicure and pedicure is finally complete, just slightly smudged from all the wiggles, you wonder if you're missing just one more thing.

"I think Noodle wants a heart on your thumb too, Ken."

He smiles, "Then who am I to say no?"

----

The old man at the farmer's market notices two blue hearts, one on each of Kento's thumbs now, and he smiles as he recognizes the woman and the new little princess who must be responsible playing patty cake while Kento bags up his potatoes.

"Much obliged, Kento. Bless you three."

"Thank you, sir. We'll see you next time."

----

As time grows, the nail salon does too.

Now, Kento wears four little hearts in total on his hands for each blessing he created with you, and the one on his left thumb is eternally reserved for you.

You smile bittersweetly as your belly swelled for the final time in the summer as you watch all three of your little girls and Kento run around the yard, the butterfly pavers in the garden coated in freshly showered rain, popsicles in the freezer, and chalk on the pavement, savoring these moments the thief of time allows you while your babies are still young and Kento would still wear hearts on his thumbs.

Kento loves you from where he stands as he catches his breath while you watch from the porch, in the absence of words, the look he's preserved for you carries all the tenderness without ever saying: you're the rain to his sun, before he joins the girls for another round of kick the can.

A little thump reminds you that four hearts will turn into five on Kento's fingers as the budding garden of your home blooms by one more. The final constellation of the stars that line your soul.

And the love does, too.

[countereblogs]

hii I love ur work <3

how do you think Jayce would be like with a chubbier partner, who’s so soft and cuddly Jayce can’t keep his hands off 🤭

fuck it, jayce with different body types

(i feel like when someone says curvy, chubby, etc. they often intertwine them and they’re not the same and it can kinda ruin the experience for people…bc chubby could mean mid size to someone and that’s not the same as plus size yk? so as your resident jayce girl im setting the record straight with a few versions plus insecure/confident readers bc anyone can be insecure/confident at any size)

18+ below the cut, not proofread (chubby, plus size, curvy, insecure, and confident readers), sorry if the format is ass...i've never done anything like this in one post

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jayce with chubby reader

a chubby partner is jayce's favorite thing ever. with you, he'd inherently thing of home, of sweetness. that fondess would always be apparent, him finding ways to sneakily grab at you even when it wasn't necessarily appropriate.

when you were together, that sliver of decorum would go away in an instant. his instinct would be to hug you, to envelop you in his own skin and lazily fuck into you. it would be so loving yet erratic, the way he'd make sure he was grasping at every bit of you he could...hands constantly moving to satiate the feeling of your soft skin on his.

he'd always be nestled into your neck, smoothing his fingertips over your arms until they rested on his neck. his kiss at your shoulder, making sure to hit over every crease and fold...loving the way you were entirely his.

jayce with curvy reader

jayce would undoubtedly be the most fascinated with the way your hips and waist aligned, or rather, the lack thereof. he'd never seen anything like it...proportions so drastic that it defied every bit of science that lingered in his mind. he could tell through your clothes, and it made him weak...already hard at the thought of getting to be inside you again.

his favorite position would absolutely be from the back, examining the way your sides dipped and swelled into each other like a perfect crest. he wouldn't be able to help the way his hands trailed up and down your body...eventually rubbing into the skin of your ass until it was bruised. you wouldn't mind, but instead encouraged it. you'd love the feeling of adoration it left you with...even if he was mindlessly pounding into you without realizing you were completely raw and falling apart.

jayce with plus size reader

he'd always be looking at you. jayce is consistently restraining himself from taking you where you stand...filled with an inexplicable adoration. he'd be so grateful, that you existed and that your body was a physical manifestation of the way he felt about you. you were a sight he revelled in. the way your thighs touched, the rounding of your calves, how the worked in tandem with your hips.

he'd always be grasping at your legs when he fucked you, so perplexed at how something could turn him on so much. you'd whine at the slight dig of his nails, but return the feeling with your own into his back. he'd slip in and out of you, using your plush thighs for leverage and moaning every time he hit deep inside of you. he'd kiss your fingertips, slowly making his way down your arms and toward your face. he'd always be kissing your cheeks, obsessed with the heat emanating from them as he fucked you...the ghost of breath hitting his ear at an irregular pace. he was obsessed with all of you, the way your body complemented his so well.

jayce with insecure reader

despite it being a hard time for you, your insecure moments are often jayce's favorite. you're strong, independent, resilient...so you wouldn't always need reassurance from him. but when you did, he'd offer it without question. jayce would take the opportunity to have the sweetest and most intimate moments with you, pressing into you slowly and with such intention that you'd almost forget why this started.

he'd be whispering in your ear, reassuring you that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but inside you...that the sounds you were making for him were almost as beautiful as you were...almost. the two of you had your fair share of variation when together, but this slow, this deliberate, was reserved for when he needed you to feel loved. it wasn't just about the sex, but that he made you feel comfortable enough during. he knew this was hard, and he was willing to be there every step of the way.

jayce with confident reader

he wouldn't admit it, but you knew that jayce preferred to let you take control. when you were feeling confident, he was able to relinquish the tough exterior he always had to have, letting you take exactly what you needed from him without a second thought.

you'd pick a spot, probably one you and jayce hadn't tried yet...and you'd ride him for what felt like hours to him. he'd never complain, in fact, he begged for more. when you would almost tire, he'd plead with you to keep going. the compliments that dripped from his tongue, the whines from deep in his stomach, the way his muscles flexed in reaction to you...you had your motivation. he'd kiss the parts of your body he had access to, leaving marks all over your skin. now reddened, he'd smirk at his work, quite pleased with himself.

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𝕴’𝖒 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 (Punk bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara x Popstar!Reader)

Cursing, nfsw actions implied, nudity (?),implied voyeurism, (playful) mentions of panty sniffing, some fluff, some sass, this is very self indulgent, , readers a brat, minors DNI

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: Yay reupload Cuz I love these two :3 I added like an extra little bit at the end of I wanted to Hehe, enjoy 😊

Masterlist

—

“Thank you Neuva York!”

Cheers filled the arena as you waved to the crowd one last time, blowing kisses while soaking in the attention. Adrenaline still filling your veins as you walked backstage, hands shaking slightly from the fact you’d had been dancing and singing for the last past two hours.

The second your head set was off and handed back to one of the sound techs, your second and third shadow had decided to join you right away, the latter of which already had his hand on the small of your back as you began walking to your dressing room. Your own hand immediately going to push it off.

“Ugh, you know I don’t like it when you grab at me after a concert.” You immediately groaned, the sweet pop girl act dropping the second you stepped off stage.

“Touching you is a part of my job, Princess.” Unfazed by your attitude, his hand immediately returns to its spot on your back. You were sure if your manager wasn’t right next to you, Miguel’s tone would be very different saying that sentence.

“You would get a job where all you get to do is touch pretty girls-“

“Alright, alright both of you, stop.” Your manager finally interpreted your bickering, lifting his nose up from his phone to glare at the both of you. Resulting in you just rolling your eyes at him when his gaze turned to meet yours. “Can you please behave yourself until we get to the tour bus sweetheart?”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, pushing Miguel’s hand away from your back once again. “Did you make sure to get the bus ready or am I going to have to wait in my dressing room?”

“We’re almost done, but I suggest you shower in your room before we leave. We have limited water and the one on the bus is smaller.” Your manager responded as he looked back down at his phone. “It’ll be another half hour or so.”

“Guess I’ll shower then.” You sighed before parting ways, you and Miguel turning a corner to head back to your room.

“‘Touching you is a part of my job, princess.’ God do you not think before speaking or do you just enjoy making things sound dirty.” You mocked the second the door was closed and locked behind you both. Making Miguel let out a scoff as he leaned against it, eyes following you as you paced around to grab your toiletries.

“You're the only person who thinks that Princess.” He responded, raising his hands up in defense.

“Sure.” Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you stepped into the bathroom attached to the dressing room, setting your items on the marble counter before turning the water on.

—

“Guess what I heard (Y/N)’s bodyguard say to her after she gave me her mic while she was leaving?” A young twenty-something sound girl whispered to one of her stagehand friends.

“Omg what?”

“She told him, and I shit you not: ‘touching you is a part of my job princess’.” She revealed in a whisper shout as her and her friend continued to shut down and pack up their equipment. Making her friend gasp in surprise.

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“They’re totally fucking.”

“You guys are reading too much into it.” A third, male stagehand joined in on the conversation. “They probably just joke around like that.”

“I don’t believe that.” The second girl shook her head at the male’s claim. “Did you see the way he was looking at her last night during rehearsal? He looked like he wanted to pounce her.”

“He looked like he was irritated, he always looks like that around her.” He retorted at the explanation, “I have no idea why she’s a sweetheart.”

“Didn’t seem like one when she was talking to him or her manager.” The first girl piped in.

“She’s probably stressed and tired, I would be too if I had to sing and dance for two hours straight.” The male defended as the three finished up, and began making their way to the break room. “I’d be so overwhelmed-“

“Wait shush.” The second girl quickly interrupted him as they turned down where your dressing room was, and despite the walls being nowhere near paper thin, the muffled sound of their voices would surely leak through.

They had almost fully passed by the door when they heard a thud, followed by a groan, making the three stagehands stop in their tracks.

“Do you think one of them got hurt?” The male asked in a low whisper as the three glanced at each other, but none had a chance to answer before they heard-

“Just get this dress off of me already!”

“Hold still princess, you're so impatient.”

“No fucking way…” One of the girls whispered in disbelief, her ears turning pink at the implication of the words they had heard.

“Your hands are too big!”

“Stop squirming, you're only making this harder for yourself.”

“Wait wait, don't pull on my hair like that.”

“Sorry princess, it’s not my fault.”

The two girls had to cover their mouths to stop themselves from gasping, meanwhile all their male friend/coworker could do was stare at the door as his brain blue screened. Not even noticing when your manager came around the corner, about to enter your dressing room but stopped when he noticed the door was locked.

“Miguel!”

“Don’t whine like that sweetheart. Someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Don’t forget, you three signed NDAs.” He whispered the reminder with an unphased look, as he turned to the three young adults, pointing at the threm before shooing them away.

—

“Be careful, don’t rip it.” You bit on your lips as your eyes wandered to the ceiling, one of your now bare feet impatiently tapped away on the fluffy dressing room carpet.

“This is the fourth time since the tour started that your zipper has broken, I think it’s time you either switch to your other outfit or you get a new wardrobe department.” Miguel mumbled as he continued to tugged on the malfunctioning zipper with furrowed brows, yet to no avail.

“I love this dress though, my back up one is ugly.” You whined, head tilting backwards making your hair fall back from your shoulders. Making Miguel immediately brush it back to rest on your shoulder so it didn’t get caught on the zipper again. “Can’t you just go get Lyla?” You asked in irritation, knowing your stylist and head of wardrobe would have had you out of this dress five minutes ago.

“Most of the staff had left on the other bus already.” He told you, dropping his hand to stretch his fingers out a bit. “We’ve got twenty minutes.”

“Well they can’t leave without me.” You reminded him harshly, turning to face him, grabbing at the bottom of the dress as you began pulling it up from your thighs. “Fuck it…I’m just gonna pull it off, I don’t care if Lyla gets mad.”

“You didn’t have to turn around, if you just want an excuse to strip in front of me just say so princess.” Miguel teased with a smirk, eyes shamelessly roaming your now semi naked body from behind his sunglasses, eyes immediately falling to your small heart tattoo on your hip that was peaking out from your panties. Knowing if he ever saw someone look at you the way he was right now, he’d make sure they’d never see ever again.

“Stop being a perv and help me pull this over my head.” You bit back.

“You gonna ask me to join you in the shower too?” He joked teasing, but did as told. Fixing the dress once it was off your body to pack as you took off your bra and panties, dropping them to the floor as you rushed into the restroom.

“You wished.” You scoffed, immediately stepping into the shower. “Don’t spend too much time sniffing my panties while you finish packing my shit!”

—

After the rushed shower, you both finally made your way to the second tour bus a little bit after midnight, luckily the paparazzi had already left believing you were on the first bus. Giving you the privilege of wearing your pjs and your crocs to the bus rather than something more photo acceptable.

Exhaustion has finally begun to settle in as you wrapped your pink fuzzy blanket around yourself to prevent the cold Neuva York air from nipping at your skin too much, but despite your blankets best efforts, you still shook slightly as you crossed the mostly empty parking lot. Tired eyes grew heavier with each passing second.

“Hey.” Miguel mumbled as he noticed your eyes closing for a few seconds too long for his liking, nudging you slightly with his elbow before removing his hand from his jacket pocket to wrap it around your shaking shoulders. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, we’re almost there.”

You just let out a hum as you rested your head on his side, closing your eyes as you let him lead you to the bus.

“I’m not gonna carry you, so don’t stop walking.” He lied, his own voice a bit rougher than normal.

“You always say that.” You mumbled, voice meek compared to its usual feisty tone you always gave him.

“I know.” He agreed, pausing in front of the bus steps to help you up, standing behind you in case you misstepped. Greeting the driver and your manager with a nod as he trailed behind you. Dropping your duffle bag on the bus’s little couch, before turning to you. “I’m going to go change, go to your bunk bed and go to sleep.”

“No, ” You immediately shook your head, wrapping your blanket tighter around your figure. “I wanna cuddle.” You mumbled, big tired eyes looking up at Miguel almost expectantly. Making the bodyguard let out a sigh, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Princess you know we can’t fit on the beds together.” He lowered his voice to a soft whisper as he leaned in a bit closer. “And I’m not going to sleep on the couch, my back will hurt in the morning.” He explained gently, as if explaining to a crying child, and by the whine that left your throat, it surely left like it too.

“Please. Just tonight.” You begged, and if it weren’t for the fact your exhausted state making you so much of an actual sweetheart to him compared to your usual attitude, he would have said no.

“Okay, okay fine.” He sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face, heart swelling when your pout turned into a smile . “Let me get changed first, okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, going to sit on the couch as you waited, thankful it only took him a few seconds. Returning in a pair of grey sweats and a black tank top.

“You owe me a back rub in the morning.” He muttered, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you into his chest as you spread your blanket over yourselves.

“You two are going to get me in a hell of a media circus one day…” Your manager mumbled under his breath as soon as he was sure you both were asleep. Not missing the way you inched a bit closer to lay on Miguel’s chest better, or the way Miguel’s hand twitched to hold your waist a bit more snug.

[countereblogs]

HEY LOVER.

starring: bestfriend!miguel o’hara x bestfriend female reader summary: your man can’t do it like he can

content warnings: 18+ MDNI, cheating on your boyfriend (he deserves it tbh), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (use a condom pls), cowgirl and lotus position, breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, praise, he talks you through it

you’re all a real man can need and ever ask for 

On his back, spread out across his mattress, and staring at the blades of his ceiling fan, Miguel O’Hara knows he is royally screwed. 

He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a crush, much less one this intense. You’re the first in years and for the past few months, you’ve been destroying him completely. 

He doesn’t know up from down and he can’t tell his left from his right—all thanks to you. How it even happened, he doesn’t know but ever since he set his sights on you, everyone else became invisible. 

There’s only two things stopping Miguel from making a move. One, you’re his best friend. Two, you’re in a relationship already.

but I don’t wanna violate your relationship so I lay back in the cut with a crush that’s a trip

You’ve been friends since college when the two of you ended up in the same study group. Fate brought you together and he knows only the grace of God allowed you to tolerate him for so long. 

He’s always loved how outspoken you are. You and Miguel used to go tit for tat debating about everything from class readings, to theorems, to homework answers.

Despite all the back and forth, you shared a mutual respect for one another that survived graduation and blossomed into a real friendship when you both entered the adult world. 

Years have passed and the both of you are still joined at the hip. You know everything that makes Miguel tick (saying made up words like “irregardless”) and he knows just what to do to make you smile (usually involves bringing you food). The inside jokes between you could fill a stadium. 

He can’t lose that. It would kill him. 

still, he can’t stop me from having daydreams

But Miguel can’t get you out of his mind. Every time he’s with you he thinks about what it would be like if you were his girl. How he would hold you, kiss you, please you, make you happy, and make you feel loved. 

He wishes he could go back to before he decided he wants to be with you. That was easier. That was before Brian came along and made him realize his feelings for you. Though, by then, it was already too late.

Brian. Fucking Brian.

The scowl etched in his brows is deep, bordering on permanent if he doesn’t start thinking happier thoughts soon.

The thing is, Miguel doesn’t actually care about your romantic relationship. He just pretends to because you’re his best friend. Truthfully, your boyfriend could die today and he’d be on cloud nine.

Brian. Fucking. Brian.

He really needs to stop frowning but he can’t. Brian has you and he doesn’t. What is there to smile about?

He won’t say he hates him because “hate” implies that he cares somewhat about him—even if in a negative way. Miguel doesn’t care about Brian. Honest. He cares about how Brian treats you. So far, the reviews aren’t the best.

Any time you’ve brought up your boyfriend within the past six months it’s in relation to how much of a dickhead he’s being at the moment.

There was the time you argued over where to have dinner for your birthday. You wanted Italian and he wanted sushi and also to go 50/50.

One time you fought about him putting very little effort into your Valentine’s Day plans. He made last minute reservations at a cheap restaurant with terrible ratings and you got food poisoning.

Recently, there was a heated discussion over how much time you spent with Miguel. 

Miguel found that one particularly intriguing. Was Brian threatened by him? Good. He should be. He would never treat you the way Brian does because he would treat you a billion times better.

Bottom line: there are a million reasons to leave your boyfriend and Miguel could name them all. You’re just too nice to leave him. You want to see the good in everyone. 

To Miguel, you’re everything a man could need, more importantly, you’re everything that he wants. That idiot you’re dating doesn’t appreciate what an amazing, stunning, witty, hilarious, supportive, caring, and perfect girlfriend he has. That’s the part that drives him insane.

A sigh that crescendos into a guttural groan escapes him. He may be more than royally screwed at this rate. 

Maybe this is more than a crush.

The more Miguel thinks about it, the more he knows that he has to tell you. Friendship be damned. He can’t stand by another day and watch you be with Brian knowing that he can treat you much better. If it doesn’t work out, you can still work as friends he’s sure. Either way, he won’t let you go. 

I gotta take you from your man, that’s my mission

There’s a knock at his apartment door. He isn’t expecting anyone and he knows it’s not the mailman because they already dropped off his coupons and bills.

When he answers the door, he’s shocked to see you standing there wearing a scowl that mirrored his only moments ago. 

It’s like a cosmic confirmation that this is his chance. He can’t send his thanks to heaven with you right in front of him so he settles for a megawatt smile instead. 

“Hey.” Miguel greets you. He wants to gauge where you’re at before revealing his hand. The confession sits at the tip of his tongue. He’s eager.

“Can I come in?” You don’t even really greet him back and that’s his second clue that something is off. 

“Yeah, of course.” He moves to the side. 

You slide past him and make yourself comfortable on his couch. 

“Thought you were busy today.” Miguel mentions, still trying to play it cool. He joins you on the couch after locking the door.

“I thought I was going to be busy too.” You shrug. Your attitude is seeping from your pores.

He could tell you were a bit upset when he answered the door but now Miguel can see it’s deeper than that. There’s a grey cloud thundering over your head that makes him glad he held off on his confession for now. 

It doesn’t take a genius to pinpoint the culprit. 

“Brian did something?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. You confirm anyway, completely fired up.

“Oh Brian did something, alright. He forgot our six-month anniversary!” You toss your hands up in the air looking at Miguel like can you believe this?!

Unfortunately, he can. Immediately, Miguel sees red. 

How could he do that to you? Is he stupid? 

“He is stupid!” You agree which makes Miguel realize he said that out loud. 

“And he’s such a dick!” 

He is! Miguel thinks. 

He’s careful not to say it out loud this time. Miguel isn’t sure if he should chime in or keep quiet while you’re in this volatile state. He chooses the latter while you continue.

“I don’t even know why I put up with him!” You’re up pacing in front of his coffee table now.

Miguel doesn’t know either.

“I do so much for him!” You really do. Too much if you asked Miguel. 

“I try to be a good girlfriend and I know I’m not perfect but I don’t think I’d forget something as important as this. I guess that’s because it’s only important to me. It’s like he doesn’t even care about me. Sometimes I feel like I’m in this relationship by myself..” 

Your steps have slowed as you process everything. Defeated, you plop back onto the couch beside Miguel. 

“Go ahead, say it.” You gesture your hand at him. 

“Say what?” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh come off it, Mig, you were never his biggest fan. I know you didn’t really like Brian or think he was good enough for me. Just say ‘I told you so’ already. I can take it.” 

Miguel didn’t know he was being that obvious with his dislike but regardless he’d never make you feel worse like that. Seeing you this downtrodden hardly feels like a victory. 

I would hold you in my arms and ease your fears

“Come here.” He commands with his arms opened up. You can’t resist his embrace even when you’re not upset so of course you scoot closer and lay on top of him. His arms wrap around you and his lips press softly to your temple. You feel yourself finally relax after being mad all day.

“I’d never do that, okay?” He murmurs softly into your hair. “Not about this. I’m sorry that happened, hermosa. You deserve so much better than him. One day you’ll find someone who is.” 

Miguel just hopes that when the time comes, you’ll let it be him. 

The conviction in his tone makes you lift your head up from his chest to look into his eyes. You can tell that he means all of it.

“Yeah?”

“Are you kidding?” His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Absolutely. You deserve someone who makes you happy. Someone who considers you and your feelings and goes out of their way to make you feel important. You’re an amazing woman… You deserve someone who can appreciate that.” 

His last statement is a loaded one neither of you want to touch. It sits between you like a motion activated bomb. This pregnant pause is bordering on awkward but you can’t stop gawking at him and he damn sure isn’t going to look away from you. Finally, you speak.

“..It sounds like I deserve someone like you.”

Miguel is quick. “No, you deserve me.” 

It doesn’t come as a suggestion. This is the confession he’s been sitting on for six months. The elephant he’s lugged in and out of every room with you like its personal caretaker. The hardest part for him is hardly over. 

“Mig… do you have… feelings for me?” 

hey lover, hey lover, this is more than a crush 

“I have a lot more than feelings for you.” He could say the L word but he doesn’t want to send you running for the hills. It’s exactly what he means though.

You can read between the lines well enough. All you’re wondering is how long had this fine print been there and how are you just now seeing it? 

“How long have you…”

“Too long.” Miguel huffs out a laugh but you know nothing is really funny right now. “Too damn long. I would’ve said something sooner but you were in a relationship… You looked happy.. I didn’t want to mess that up.” 

“I wish you would’ve.” You confess. 

Miguel’s mind must be playing tricks on him. He probably fell asleep when he was laying on his bed thinking about you earlier. That’s what this is, he thinks. There’s no way you said what you just said. 

“What?” He says stupidly. 

“I said,” You sit up straight and throw your legs over him to straddle his waist. “I wish you would’ve. You would’ve saved me a lot of time and a little bit of heartbreak.” 

His head is spinning. He told you and you didn’t turn him away. Better yet, he can feel the weight of you holding his hips down because you’re on top of him telling him you feel the same. Wait. Do you feel the same? 

“You have feelings.. for me?” Miguel asks from below you. 

This big idiot, you think to yourself. If he didn’t get it in college of course he doesn’t get it now.

You lean down, pressing your chest to his and he groans softly. “I feel like I wanna kiss you. How about that?” 

“Ok.” His hand holds the side of your chin and guides you to him. Your lips meet his it’s a soft kiss, you two are just getting to know each other intimately, and it’s sweet. 

I kissed you softly and you yearned for more 

His other hand finds your waist and urges you to grind on his erection. The bulge is rock hard even through all the layers of clothes but the friction is delicious against your aching clit. Your hips rock faster against him as your mouth falls open to spill a beautiful moan from the back of your throat. Miguel takes this opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth where he swirls it around and against yours. 

Both of his hands grip your waist now. He helps you rub against him even when he pulls away to ask, “So is that a yes?” 

“God,” You groan, breathless and nearing the edge, “For someone so smart you really act so dumb.” 

Miguel’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth watching you use him like this to get off. “Need to— mm, need to hear you say it, nena. Please.”

“Yes, Miguel,” You mewl. That lazy grin appears on his face when he peers up at you. “Fuck. I have feelings for you.”

You’re so wet that you’re starting to glide against the seat of your panties but you can’t stop. Your movements are frenzied. You’re bouncing erratically on top of him with your hands on his throat not even caring if he can breathe. Miguel doesn’t care either he just wants to watch you come apart.

“Look at you, preciosa, you’re so close. Mmhm, so close I can see it on your face." Your hands around his throat have his voice so gravelly and thick with lust. It drives you crazy. Your release is building rapidly, quicker than you can keep up with. Miguel notices this right along with your movements getting sloppier.

"Don't stop baby," He chokes out. 

"I won't." You promise with a whine. "Mig, I'm close." 

"Yeah? Keep rubbing that pretty pussy on me like a good girl. I wanna see you cum so fucking bad.” 

You want to please him, do everything he says, be a good girl for him. So you obey with a whimper. "Oh my god, Miggy. You feel so good." You completely fall apart on top of him, eyes fluttered closed, mouth wide open letting those pretty little moans escape you. He can't get enough but he holds back until he can get inside you.

"Así, baby, that's it. Back and forth, just like that. Tan perfecto, chula. My good girl. So perfect for me." Your hips have a mind of their own, still rocking against his bulge while your ride it out until they slow to a stop. 

"C'mere." Miguel sits upright and grabs your chin to bring you into a searing kiss. This one is much different from the first. It's filthier. He's hungrier. You can barely keep your head up. Both of you moan into each other's mouths. His hands are everywhere on you. He sucks your tongue into his mouth with a delicious groan. You had no idea he was like this.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do something like that." Miguel pants into the crook of your neck.

"I think I may have some idea." You chuckle breathlessly.

"Let's get you out of these leggings so I can paint a better picture for you." He slyly starts tugging the waistband. You hardly put up a fight and raise up so he can pull them down your legs along with your panties. 

"Can you lay back for me, pretty girl?" He can tell you love all these pet names so he keeps using them. “Need to taste you.”

kissin’ on your thighs under moonlight

You lay back with a pillow under your back to prop you up and your head settled on the arm rest. Miguel dives between your legs to plant wet kisses all up and down your inner thighs. You sigh in complete bliss while threading your fingers in his wavy locks. Your legs drape over his shoulders and his thick arms encircle your thighs, the palms of his hand ensure your legs can’t close without his say so.

searching your body with my tongue, girl, all night

"Estás tan mojada, nena. I'm starting to think you might like me or something." Miguel jokes. There's a comeback ready to go on the tip of your tongue but it dies in your throat the moment he places a wet smack of a kiss on your clit. 

"Ohhh.." Is all you can say. His tongue parts your lips in a deep swipe at your core. Over and over again he repeats. Sometimes he stops to suckle your clit into his mouth. He loves the way you taste, way better than he ever imagined. You grip the strands of his hair tighter and bring his face closer to your pussy which elicits a groan from him.

"You like using me to cum, don't you?" You nod helplessly. That isn't good enough for him though. "Be a good girl, use your words." 

Emboldened, you stroke his cheek and reply, "Yes, Miguel I like using you like a little fucktoy." 

His smile is a wicked curve. He always did love it when you two went back and forth with each other. "There she is."

"Mhm. Now spit on it and make a mess for me, cariño." You order him sweetly. You’re so wet that you don’t really need it but he complies. His warm saliva lands right on your clit and the impact makes you mewl.

Miguel wants it on every inch of your cunt, his tongue spreads and laves it all over you mixing with your slickness. The taste, god just the taste of you makes him drool even more. He’s fucked his fist more than a few times to this exact thought before. Each time has led to a mess between his thighs, on his fingers and on his chest. 

You hold his head to you with both hands bucking upwards into his mouth. So needy and desperate, Miguel thinks. He loves to see you so into it.

“That’s my good girl, mm.” He kisses your pussy between licking and sucking. “So needy.. fucking my face like this so you can cum all over my mouth.” 

“Yesss.” You cry softly. That’s exactly what you want. “Hold your tongue out.” 

Every command from you is a direct call to action for Miguel so he obeys. You grind against it and he moves his head with you, lapping like a dog at a water bowl. He pants like one too from holding his mouth open for you. 

Your thighs tighten around his head, one hand goes to your breast to squeeze and the other stays in his hair to guide him. His wet tongue is stiff against your clit and just barely slips into you when he reaches your opening. Those shallow thrusts and swirls against you have you seeing stars.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m—” Your sentence is cut off by a gasp and then the loudest moan you’ve made all night. Miguel clamps his lips around you and sucks hard. Your orgasm is searing. Tears prick the corner of your eyes. You don’t stop flopping until Miguel’s lips let go of your bundle of nerves. 

He gazes up at you from between your legs, eyes meeting your fucked out expression. 

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that baby?" Miguel presses kisses all over your thighs and lower stomach then finally on your lips. You cradle his head in your hands. His tongue swirls into your mouth giving you a taste of yourself.

“Think you can give me one more?” 

Your bottom lip wobbles. “I need you insi—”

Just then, your phone rings. It’s Brian. Everything you and Miguel have done in the past twenty minutes comes back to you in a flash.

Miguel can tell just by your reaction who’s calling. “Answer it.”

“No! I don’t want to talk to him right now!” Your phone is still vibrating in your hand. 

“Why not?” Miguel grins. He knows damn well why not.

“Because we— I can’t just— No!” You toss your phone to the opposite end of the couch. It stops ringing once it lands on the cushion. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t tell me you’re having regrets?” 

“No! Never I just didn’t expect him to call. It feels like he knows what we did.”

“Let’s tell him what we did.” Miguel runs his hand along your side, peeking under the fabric of your shirt. You shudder. His breath fans across your neck as he whispers “Leave out the guess work.”

You’re putty in his hands, pliant and eager. “Miguel—”

Your phone rings again. You try to reach it but it’s in Miguel’s hand before you can get to it. His finger hovers over the green answer button. 

“You want me inside you?” He asks, holding you by the throat. 

“Please..” You plead, eyes looking up at him through your lashes. 

“End it. Because I have no intention to share you.” He places the phone in your hand. You answer just before the last ring. 

“H-Hello?” Shit. You already sound guilty. 

“Speaker.” Miguel mouths. You press it so that both of you can hear.

“Be honest with me, are you at Miguel’s place right now?” That makes you snap. Not even a hello in response. Not a Happy Anniversary. Just inquiries of your whereabouts. 

“I.. cannot believe you right now, Brian.” You’re frowning hard but Miguel’s scowl has you beat. 

“We talked about this, babe, I don’t like you being around him so much.. I don’t trust him.” Miguel scoffs. He has every reason not to given what you two have done today but that’s not the point

You are irate and vengeful now. Hell hath no fury quite like yours. 

“Fine! Yes I’m at Miguel’s, Brian! Do you wanna know why I’m at Miguel’s? Because you forgot our fucking anniversary! All day I waited for you to say or do something to even acknowledge it but you didn’t so yes! Yes I went to his place in hopes that he would cheer me up! And he did!” You chuckle mirthlessly. 

“He let me fuck his face, Brian. I guess you can say that cheered me up a little but I’m still a little hurt from what you did to me.” 

“I’m sorry, baby, please don’t do this. I love you.. God, I’ll make it up to you I swear. Just let me make it right, please. I’m so fucking sorry.” Brian pleads. He actually does sound a little sorry. That’s too bad. Maybe it would’ve worked in the past but you’re over it now.

“Oh, I bet you are.” Your lips form a pout even though he can’t see you. 

“It’s a little too late for that because,” You look to Miguel who’s watching you with lust-heavy, half-lidded eyes. “Now he’s gonna let me ride him. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Mhm.” Miguel confirms. His arms wrap around you and he lifts you off the couch. “Gonna make it all better, nena.” 

“See?” You tell Brian. “He’s gonna make it all better. Don’t worry about me anymore, we’re done.” You hang up not even caring to hear his response and drop your phone on the couch. 

“Take me to your bed.” 

“Sí, señora.” Miguel is practically floating up the steps as he carries you. This couldn’t have gone any better. You want him and he wants you and nothing else is in the way of you being together.

He places you down on his bed and reaches for the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head. The sight of your tits makes him groan. You’re going to be the death of him. 

“Your turn, Mig, shirt off.” You don’t have to tell him twice. His t-shirt gets lifted above his head and discarded to the corner of the room. Your eyes rake over his chest unabashedly. It feels good to shamelessly stare at him the way you used to try not to. Dammit he looks good. 

“Shorts too.” Your voice is a little shakier this time. A fresh helping of arousal pumps through you now that has you crossing your thighs. 

He goes for the waistband about to tug them down when your hand catches his. “Wait! Let me..” Miguel raises his hands amused. You hook your fingers into his shorts and slide them down. 

His fully erect length springs up against his stomach. He’s already leaking from earlier when you bounced on it through his athletic shorts. 

“My, what a big cock you have.” You gasp dramatically. 

He decides to play along. “The better to fuck you with, querida.” It makes you giggle. You lean back into the pillows and he follows you like a predator. He slides behind you so that your back is to his chest and his head rests in the crook of your neck.

“What big hands you have.” You spread your legs wide allowing his hands to run along your inner thighs. 

“The better to stuff this greedy little pussy with.” He pats your center with a flat hand. Your head falls back against his shoulder when his fingers begin to draw lazy circles, spreading your wetness all over your clit and puffy lips. 

“I need them inside of me, Miggy.” Your eyes plead better than your mouth. He can see that you’re desperate to be filled.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Miguel sucks his ring and middle fingers into his mouth and slowly plunges them into you until they reach the hilt. All without breaking eye contact. 

“Mm.” Your face scrunches up a little in discomfort, his fingers are so much bigger than yours that it feels like three maybe four.

“Mírame.” He kisses the furrow in your brow. You open your eyes again to find his reddish-brown ones admiring you. “Just like that. You’re doing so good f’me, baby.” 

“I’m so full.” You whimper up at him. The stretch is so tight but so good that your eyes start to glaze over.

“Ya sé,” He kisses your plush lips. “That’s what you wanted, right? This dripping pussy. You just want it stuffed full until you can’t think anymore, hm? Is that why you pulled my fingers right in?” Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out. 

“Answer me.” Miguel chuckles lightly. He knows you can’t. He can feel you growing wetter by the second, his fingers start to glide easier against your spongy walls. “Tell me how good it feels, bebé.”

He nips at your neck for not answering fast enough. “So good,” you choke out, “It’s so good, Mig.” You clutch the back of his neck and watch his fingers go in and out. Faster and faster.

“You hear how you sound around my fingers? They’re drenched, baby. Listen.” The loud squelching noise it makes upon every re-entry makes you sheepish.

“Ahh! I’m close, baby!” 

“De veras?” Miguel tuts and pulls his fingers out. “Can’t have that, baby.”

“Miguel.” You whine. Frustrated isn’t even the word.

“Next time you cum, it’s going to be around my cock not my fingers. That’s what you really want anyway. C’mon, bring your leg over.” Miguel lays down and pulls you on top of him to straddle. 

“I’ve thought about this a million times.” He grabs his dick and tugs up and down in languid strokes. “Now I get to make it real.” 

You can see him leaking precum from his tip. You wonder how it will all fit. You can’t wait for him to try.

“No condom?” You ask breathlessly. It's not an issue for you, you're just shocked. 

“I’ll pull out baby, I promise. Lift up for me.”

Your hips lift just enough for you to grab him at the base, line his tip with your entrance and slowly sink down. “Fuck, inch by inch, baby, you can take it. I know you can.” Miguel coaxes you further down until you bottom out. 

“Ohh..” You both moan loudly at the feeling of him all the way inside you.

“That’s it baby, good fucking girl.” Miguel praises. His hands rub up and down the sides of your body while you get used to the stretch. You can feel every vein and every twitch of his cock inside of you. “Tell me when to move.” 

“Slow.” You tell him. “It’s been a while.” 

His hands hold your hips steady while you lift up slowly to the tip and back down to his base. “Dios.” He groans almost winded already. You repeat the action a little faster loving the way it sounds when he stuffs you full. 

“Your pussy feels like heaven around me, bebé. Just like I knew it would. I love watching you bounce on me.”

All you can do is moan at his filthy words. You love it when he talks to you like this. You bounce up and down a little faster with the help of his hands on your hips. You can feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix with each thrust. 

“Don’t get quiet on me, nena, tell me how it feels.”

“So deep, Miggy.” Your head is thrown back from all the pleasure building up inside but you can hardly articulate any of it. 

“Ay, pobrecita is that all you can say?” His poor baby, so cock drunk that she can barely hold her head up.

“You see how good it feels to be mine? Aren’t you so glad you belong to me now?” Miguel pistons his hips up into you throwing you off your rhythm. You fall forward onto his chest while he continues to fuck you. 

“Nobody else gets to have you. You’re my angel,” The sound of his thighs slapping against yours gets louder and harsher while he whispers to you. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

“I won’t.” You promise meekly. 

“Good. I would lose my mind.” He shifts into an upright position and brings you with him. “Wrap your legs around me.” 

You follow his orders, resettling onto his lap. The new position hits a spot deep inside you that has you curling your toes behind his back. “I’m close, Miguel. Let me cum please.” 

“Do it, hermosa, I wanna feel you cum around my cock so bad.” Miguel encourages, rolling your hips against him.

That feeling that’s been building up in the pit of your stomach washes over you completely, making you gush around him. You bite his shoulder to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs as your orgasm shudders through you. Your pretty gasps for air fill his ear. 

He holds you close while you ride it out, making sure your hips keep a steady rhythm for him. The sound of him entering you is so much louder now with your extra wetness.

"Keep going for me, amor, I’m almost there. M’gonna put a baby in you so everyone knows who you belong to." 

"Shit, Miguel." You clench tighter around him at the idea. He picks up on it of course.

"You like that? M’gonna cum so deep inside you and I want you to take all of it. Tell me you want it."

"I want it, baby." You grab his chin and look into his eyes. "Please. I want you to fill me up so, so, so bad. I need it."

"Oh fuck, oh fuck." Miguel's thrusts get sloppier as he grunts harshly. "Only you get to have my cum, nena. It's yours, fuck, it's yours." 

You feel him shoot off thick ropes of cum deep inside your pussy. His chest heaves as he catches his breath but his hold of you remains. It's tighter even, like he's afraid to let you go. 

His lips kiss the top of your head. "Mine."

"Yours." You reply. 

we experienced pleasure unparalleled into an ocean of love, we both fell

reblogs appreciated <3

[countereblogs]

boyfriend!miguel o’hara headcanon

minors DNI!

you’ve always said that if anyone ever wanted to poison Miguel, all they’d have to do is slip whatever it is into your drink.

that’s because he always has to have the first sip of whatever you’re having. always.

If it’s wine, his lips are pressed to the rim of the glass and taking a sip before you ever get the chance to reach for the stem.

If it’s something with a straw, Miguel makes sure his tongue is on it before yours just so he can lean back and watch your pretty lips wrap around where his mouth had just been.

It started off innocently enough. He’d feign interest in whatever you were drinking with your meal. He’d usually claim he never had it before—“Nunca en mi vida, amor.”— or that he just wanted to try it—“Just a little taste, nena. Please?”— and then you’d cave.

The first time it happened, you two had just started dating. Miguel took you out to this 50s style diner you were obsessed with and after two greasy burgers and two orders of even greasier fries, he ordered two milkshakes for you both. Vanilla for him and cookies n’ cream for you.

Though once they arrived, Miguel realized his eyes may have been bigger than his stomach. He took one sip of his vanilla milkshake and knew he had no room for the rest. So he offered it to you who had no problem putting all that food away.

“You sure?” You asked tentatively.

“I can’t eat another bite, nena.” He chuckled with a pat on his stomach.

You were so giddy about a second milkshake that you didn’t even correct him since you technically don’t bite milkshakes.

You finished yours and started on his, not even bothering to transfer your straw to his glass. You just drank straight from Miguel’s straw, not thinking anything of it.

It was like a jolt of electricity to his entire nervous system.

He sat up with a renewed interest in the placement of your lips, his mind conjuring up all sorts of filthy things involving the sight in front of him.

It drove him crazy to see you drink after him. Like a tongue kiss without even kissing. It was almost primal and it made him think of… other fluids he could share with you.

Suddenly, Miguel shifted in his seat, adjusting himself after your one little gesture.

Oblivious to the change in his demeanor, you giggled softly. “It’s really good, you’re missing out.”

“Next time.” Miguel promised in a far away voice. It sounded like he was off in another world and he may as well have been.

“You suuuure you don’t want a sip? I’m almost finished.” You pouted. Sweet treats are only fun to you if both of you have one.

You’re so sweet to him. It makes him all warm and gooey inside like a fresh baked cookie that you consider him and his feelings like this.

He cocked his head at you, still looking through you not at you, deep in thought. “On second thought… Yeah. I’ll have another sip.”

You squealed happily, releasing the straw from your mouth.

Miguel leaned over the table, lowered his head to the glass, and took a long sip of the milkshake. Eyes locked on you the entire time.

“Good, right?” You prompted quietly. The intense eye contact had you a little shy.

He pulled away and licked his lips. “Mm. The best.”

Miguel slid the glass closer to you and sat back in the booth. “But you can have the rest.”

You took your little victory in stride and finished the milkshake.

Miguel’s eyes never left your mouth and his own held a satisfied smirk as he watched you down the rest.

this is a reupload! thanks for reading it again 🩷

[countereblogs]

⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀miguel jealous of jeff the land shark⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀blurb⠀﹚

miguel can’t believe the anomaly in front of him.

a little shark with… legs.

jeff the land shark, according to the records lyla provided. accidentally stumbled upon another universe while venturing around an alleyway searching for food.

the little creature was quite amusing to him. tiny arms and legs, cute black beady eyes, and a big old mouth that takes most of his face. the shark simply stares up at him with those beady eyes, a bright smile on his face with his tongue sticking out happily.

“you gotta admit he’s adorable.” lyla magically pops by his shoulder, in awe of the little shark.

well… the little guy is kinda cute, miguel thought.

jeff sniffs around, getting a sense of this strange place until his tail starts wagging. miguel’s eyebrows furrowed at that, a bit skeptical. suddenly, he runs and jumps around miguel’s office.

“¡ay coño, no!” miguel curses and tries to catch him but ultimately fails since jeff is a literal bouncing ball.

“nom! nom! nom!” jeff exclaims excitedly, jumping around.

“this is amazing.” lyla chuckles, recording the incident with her phone. “just wait until she sees him.”

that causes miguel to stop in his tracks. oh he knows exactly who lyla is referring to. you, his loving wife who loves cute animals, would go batshit crazy if you ever saw jeff.

“don’t let her in here—”

“too late.” lyla winks with a smirk then disappears as you enter the office with a loving smile that always melts his heart.

“hola, osito. how are you— OH MY GOD!”

well, shit.

your screaming startle jeff a little but ultimately smiles when he sees you, tail wagging more excitingly.

miguel sighs, holding out a cautious hand. “mi amor, espera—”

“EEEEE!” you squeal excitingly, rushing past your husband and straight towards the cute baby shark on the desk with your arms wide open and jeff happily jumps into them.

your husband, on the other hand, stands there with a dumbfounded expression as you spin around in glee with jeff in your arms. totally not feeling abandoned by his wife. this is probably the happiest miguel has ever seen you. although the sight is heartwarming, he can’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. he spoke too damn soon.

“oh my god!” you squeal happily, squeezing the baby shark in your arms. “you’re the cutest fucking thing ever!”

“nom! nom!” jeff smiles at you.

“what’s your name?”

“his name is jeff.” miguel cuts in, still lowkey kinda bothered that you’re still haven’t looked at him this entire time. he can’t ignore the achy feeling in his chest the longer he stares.

you can’t help but snort because that reminds you of an iconic phrase from a comedy movie you like.

“hi jeff, you’re mine now.”

the baby shark nods, smiling. “mrrr!”

“you’re not taking him.” miguel approaches, hands on his hips.

now you finally look at him but with a lowkey pissed off look he instantly recognizes. “of course i’m taking him, bye.”

“you can’t take him! he’s an anomaly!” he tries to reason with you as you’re already walking away with the baby shark. “he’ll start glitching the moment you walk out of here.”

“well then give him a watch.”

“no.”

“pretty please.”

oh for fuck’s sake.

ultimately, miguel does give jeff a watch. mainly so he doesn’t piss you off. also because of those gorgeous beady eyes of yours that he can never resist and make his knees weak.

although he’s skilled in masking his true feelings, miguel still can’t deny that achy feeling in his heart as he watches you walk away with jeff in your arms, cooing and smiling at the tiny guy. for the first time, his wife completely ignored him. no hug, no kiss. a tiny shark creature got all of that attention, not him.

at first, he thought it was temporary. you’d spend time with jeff, get to know him and gush about him since he is adorable after all, then he’ll be sent back to his correct universe and you will return to your husband who desperately misses you.

oh the dumbass was so wrong.

due to your pleads and despite his complaints, you continue hanging out with jeff and miguel is not super thrilled about it. before, you used to visit HQ to see your husband. now, you’ve come see that damn shark and spend the entire day with him. hang out in miguel’s office, wonder around the society, eating together in the cafeteria. it pissed miguel off a lot. this little shark is getting all the attention from his wife and not himself. of course miguel denied it and pretend he doesn’t care, that you simply just adore the little guy and there was nothing much to it.

but it never stops! even at home you babble about how adorable jeff is, talk about the things you do together, and wish he would live at home with you. oh miguel is a big grumpy bug, pouting when you aren’t looking because deep down he is jealous. is he jealous of a baby shark? yes. will he ever admit it to you? no, absolutely not. but after denying it for a while, miguel admits to himself. how could he not? the amount of time you spend with jeff only left a little for miguel. he misses how much you babbled about him just like the way you are with jeff now. he misses having your attention, now being replace by a damn shark.

a baby shark stole his wife.

what a fucking joke.

but the truth is, he misses you.

now here he is, staring at the multiple screens with a scowl like usual. the clicking of heels reaches his ears and he instantly knows it’s you. instead of turning around and greeting you with a loving smile, miguel continues looking and swiping through the screens.

“hi, osito.” you greet him sweetly, approaching his side and giving his arm a gentle loving squeeze.

he only lets out a low hum, not meeting your gaze which makes your brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

“what’s up?”

“nada.” his flat tone confuses you more.

gently tugging him by the bicep, you try to make him face you but miguel remains firmly in place.

“miguel, what’s wrong?”

“nada, just busy.” he shrugs off your hand, making your heart ache a little. “why don’t you go find your pet? bet he misses you.”

he’s referring to jeff. also, the jealousy in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. you let out a soft, sad sigh. you know you’ve been spending much time with jeff recently. honestly, you can’t help it because he’s just an adorable little guy. but you’re aware of these actions having consequences on your relationship. you’ve notice the sadness in miguel’s eyes when you venture off with jeff. it’s a little stab to the heart to hurt him like that. jeff may be adorable but you love miguel more than anything or anyone, he’s the love of your life. you can’t blame him for feeling jealous and upset. lately, you been dialing back time with jeff so you’d be with miguel but he’s been putting some distance between you as well. it hurt and only motivates you more to fix this little problem.

“precioso, mírame pro favor.”

damnit, you plead so sweetly like that makes his knees weak.

finally, miguel turns to look at you and his eyes widen seeing your sorrowful ones. practically making him feel guilty for acting so cold, distant, and basically an asshole towards you. he’s about to spill out apologies but you beat him first.

“i know i’ve been spending so much time with jeff and i’m sorry for making you feel ignored. i did get carried away and didn’t realize i was hurting you until later on, i’m sorry.”

fuck, he feels extra guilty. your sorrowful tone and eyes makes his chest ache. he appreciates your apology and already forgave you in a heartbeat yet miguel still feels like the bad guy here.

“i’m sorry too, mi reina.” he raises a hand to cup your cheek, heart fluttering when you lean into his touch. “for being an asshole, distancing myself. that hurt more than anything.”

you offer a sad smile. “just know i’ll always love you and you can always tell me how you’re feeling. okay?”

miguel nods, appreciating your caring words. “siempre, tu tambien amor.” bending down, he captures your lips with his in a soft kiss which you happily reciprocate.

“nom! nom!”

the cute familiar sound makes you and miguel turn to find jeff sitting on the desk smiling at you both. the sight melts your heart, including miguel’s now that he isn’t bothered by his presence.

“my baby~” leaving miguel’s hold, you approach jeff with open arms and he happily jumps into them.

for once, miguel smiles at heartwarming sight. seeing you so happy and caring with the baby shark warms his heart. you never mentioned about babies before but you definitely have motherly instincts towards jeff, caring for him as if he’s your baby. sure, it’s quite amusing caring for a literal shark yet jeff is adorable. besides spidercat, spider-plushie, and mayday, jeff is definitely one of the cutest things miguel has ever seen.

turning to face miguel, you find him smiling which warms your heart. with a smile, you walk back to your husband with jeff in your arms. the little shark smiles at miguel.

“mrrr!” he suddenly jumps into miguel’s arms, who is caught off guard for a moment but quickly catches him.

“awww he likes you.” you smile.

“well… i can’t really blame you, he is cute.” miguel admits, meekly smiling at the baby shark in his arms who smiles at him.

“mrrr!” jeff pokes his broad chest.

miguel’s brows furrowed for a sec. “what?”

the baby shark continues poking his chest.

“he wants a suit.”

“seriously?” miguel’s brows rise in surprise and amusement. “alright, we can make him one.”

jeff shakes his head and pokes his chest again. “mrrr.”

“ohhh he wants your suit!”

“my suit?” miguel looks at him and he nods happily. “por dios.”

eventually, miguel gifts jeff with a mini version of his suit. the two stand side by side, both clad in red and dark blue. jeff beams and twirls in his new suit excitingly. a mini version of the iconic spiderman 2099. the adorable sight melts your heart completely.

“aww my precious babies!” you snap a pic of them.

miguel rolls his eyes but smiles, cheeks flushed.

had to welcome the newest member to the society properly.

jeff also became his unofficial adoptive son thanks to your a thousand pleads (lets pretend jeff isn’t kate and gwen’s pet in this). back at your shared apartment, there is a whole cabinet dedicated to all of jeff’s favorite snacks and drinks. a tiny water bowl with his name on it near the kitchen island. in one corner of the living room, there is a little (dog) bed for him where jeff takes occasional naps. your home is conditioned to jeff’s needs whenever he visits and miguel isn’t against it, rather happy to see the little shark in his home and making his wife happy.

one day miguel found you and jeff in the kitchen making dinner. the baby shark helps you with grabbing whatever spices, vegetables, or utensils you need. it’s a usual routine for you two and miguel loves walking in to find you both.

“hi, osito. dinner is ready.” you greet your husband with a kiss.

miguel kisses back, leaving a hand on your hip. “gracias mi amor.”

“it was jeff’s idea to make tamales tonight.”

“mrrr!” jeff exclaims happily from the counter, smiling.

“great choice, jeff.” miguel smiles at him.

the baby shark smiles then jumps onto miguel’s arm, who catches him with one arm while the other is wrapped around your waist.

another night miguel comes home late from a tough mission, expecting you to be awake like usual because most times you wait for him despite his pleads for you to sleep, he calls out your name but no answer which leaves him confused a little. entering your shared bedroom, miguel is about to call your name again until he finds you and jeff asleep, cuddling in bed. jeff is snuggled against you and your arms are wrapped around him as you both doze off. the sight melts miguel’s heart. his precious wife peacefully sleeping with the baby shark in her arms.

“preciosa…” miguel whispers as he leans over and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead then covers you and jeff with the sheets, quietly shutting the door to not disturb your slumber.

miguel loves his little family.

⠀⠀✸⠀⠀note.⠀⠀the suit idea is inspired by this cute artwork! btw this is a repost. if you saw this last week, no you didn’t lol.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[countereblogs]

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who you aren’t dating anymore despite being college sweethearts, but is still around for the baby, since he’s little Gabriella is his whole world and deserves having both you and him as parents despite your relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend no longer existing.

Baby daddy!Miguel who you do custody swaps with every week so you both get time with your daughter, giving each other updates on what the other missed, her next soccer game, which homework assignments she needs help with, her next doctors appointments, which friends birthday party is coming up and how Gabri still need to go pick up a gift for them.

Baby daddy!Miguel who always gets overalls excited during one of Gabriella’s soccer games, always cursing the ref in Spanish when he red cards your daughter, and you’ve noticed that she makes the same faces as her father when she’s frustrated by the other team. You both always save each other's seats depending on who gets there first, and who has Gabriella that week. Gabriella always begs for you three to go out “just for pizza” after the game to celebrate, that ends up just turning into a whole family outing day, where you end up going to the mall or la pulga (flea market) afterwards.

Baby daddy!Miguel who says he doesn’t care if you start seeing anyone else as long as you make sure that Gabri is your number one priority.

Baby Daddy! Miguel who has Gabriella this week, making a comment about how you seemed to oddly be rushing custody swap this week to Gabriella while she colors in the kitchen, a random episode El chavo playing in the background that she was watching beforehand when she casually drops the bomb that you had a date tonight.

—

“What was up with your mom today? Was she running late to watch the new episode of a show or something.” Miguel joked as he checked on the black beans he was making, glancing over to his 10 year old.

“She said he was gonna go hang out with someone.” She answered, going to switch from purple to blue as she looked at her half finished unicorn.

“Oh yeah? Who? That one friend from her work, what’s her name? Jamie?”

“Her name is Jenny.” His daughter deadpan, she got the sassy from you. “And no, she said some… guy that she met from work.” She added nonchalantly, almost causing Miguel to drop the las he was holding onto the title floor of his kitchen.

“A guy!”

—

My first reupload Woop Woop!!

Word count: 400

[countereblogs]

❈ — 𝒜𝓃 𝐸𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒟𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

❧ Chapter One | Parasite & Host

Pairing — Medical Student! Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Synopsis — When Joseph Rodriguez gets a full-time position in his internship, he asks his best friend, Miguel O'Hara, to babysit his baby sister. After insisting on paying him back the favor and being under the impression that he would care for a toddler, he agrees. But the moment he sees you, a twenty-two-year-old burnt-out college student, he begs Joseph to take his word back, but the damage has been done. He's now stuck with you and an additional one hundred eighty pounds.

Content Warning / Tags — Rocky start, Miguel is a germaphobe, reader has no form of understanding boundaries, introduction to many characters

Author's Notes— The positive feedback for this series is breaking my heart 🥺 thank you for your positive comments. I am going to cry and vomit. It means so much to me to read your comments and reposts. Here is the first half of Chapter One!

The retro bowling alley is rowdy, even for a Monday night. The sound of crashing bowling pins fills the space, varying from different bowling alleyways. The exclamations were not left behind. Exclaims of celebration differ from person to person. But one exclaim stands out— a groan of frustration.

The young man scowls at the screen with gritted teeth and drunkenly flips at the monitor. “I was so close!” He babbles, looking at the broken streak of strikes he had missed beforehand. “I almost made a perfect srtike record!” He stumbles back to his seat and reclines back on the uncomfortable sofas like he owned the place.

“It’s not that deep, man. It was better than last time. You were… somewhat close.” A rich, mellow voice reaches the young man’s ears as he reaches for a swig of his beer bottle.

“I’m talking about the principle…” He mumbles into the small opening of the bottle and swigs. “What principle?” He scoffs. He stops his words when he internalizes the words he wishes he could take back. The man is about to go on a tangent.

“The “Beat my own record” Principle, Migs. You don’t get it.” The young man slurs out before taking a nacho from the platter and plopping it into his mouth. “It shows the dedication and effort I was willing to put in for this simple goal. You may think that it is stupid, but it isn’t! You don’t get it, and it shows, Mister, “I can diagnose what you have,” guy!”

Miguel rolls his eyes high enough that if he pushes a bit more, he can see the inside of his eyelid. “Whatever, Joseph, you’re too wasted to converse.” The young man, Joseph, elbowed at Miguel’s shoulder with a nudge, enough for Miguel to feel a small bruise blossoming from the blunt sensation and shrug it off. Silence fills the space as they sit with the bottle in their hands, with Joseph getting a familiar glint in his dark eyes.

“How are things with Roe?” he manages to mumble a comprehensible sentence for once that night. “Tempest? She’s doing great. She’s about to get out of nursing school. She might work in the best NICU unit down in Brooklyn.” Joseph dismisses Miguel’s words with a flick of the wrist, a gesture that he knew all too well from his mother. “No, nothing like that,” He sits on the stiff couch and reclines on Miguel. “Like, are you two a thing, an item, a pair?”

Miguel raises his brows to the ceiling, almost to the point that he might as well leave them there on the dark popcorn texture from above.

“What? Oh, no… I mean… I don’t know, man. She’s been giving me mixed signals.” he places the glass bottle down and reclines. “She says it’s not serious, but then says that I have to meet her family, which sounds crazy as she doesn’t have any direct family in Brooklyn, let alone in Nueva York. Her family lives in Nueva Jersey, which means it’s only her and her dumb cat, Binx.”

Joseph hums and ponders for a moment. His lips purse into a thin line before he scratches at his stubble. “I don’t know, man, it seems like she’s reading your signs pretty well—you just suck at delivering them.” the tone he delivers is passive-aggressive, but the tone screams common sense. Common sense that he lacked thereof. “I know how to read the signals.” Miguel grits through his teeth.

“You? Please.” Joseph sneers and kicks his feet up on an empty spot on the table. “Remember when Dana, that chick in high school, had a crush on you in senior year, and you made it your job to avoid that poor girl like the plague.” The recollection is enough to raise heat into his ears and cheeks. The poor girl always looked at him with doe eyes, but he only did one thing he was good at: running away from his conflicts instead of confronting them.

“She wasn’t even my type, and it would be weird if I dated her after she cheated on my brother.” Miguel shrugs his answer. “True, but you could have let her down easily instead of actively avoiding her. It’s a bit of a dick move, even for me.”

“Says the one who said no to weird Ashley after she wanted to go to the prom with them.”

“Fuck off.”

---

The night is a sobering wake-up call, especially with the fact now that the weight of one hundred and eighty pounds is against Miguel’s body. The heat from Joseph’s body felt like a preheating oven in a pizzeria, warming anything up in its area. “Joseph, I’m not your bed, Jesus Christ.” He shrugged his intoxicated friend off but felt him faceplant into his shoulder instead, letting his drunken friend rest on him. “No, stay still. You’re comfortable like this, even if you’re built like a boulder.” Miguel shudders in disgust as he shrugs him off again and allows him to rest his head on the dirty window of the subway.

The rumbles of the track filled the space as the few passengers on board kept to themselves, glued to their devices, reading whatever was on their screens to pass the time. Sure, there would be a subway crazy at this hour, but it was quiet, even on a weekday.

“Miguel~” The gurgled slur snapped Miguel out of his dazed state as Joseph patted his shoulder with a heavy palm. “I forgot to mention.” His tone shifted, like something in his mind sobered in him immediately. “I got an internship down in Seattle with a Neurosurgeon.” Miguel raises a brow and nods slowly. “Congrats.” He scoots away from his sobering friend slowly but is stopped when a favor weighs the conversation drastically. It seemed the realization sunk in too much as his sobriety shined in his eyes— he remembered something in that pea brain.

“And I need you to do me a favor. I need you to take care of my baby sister…” And there it is…

Miguel freezes. A baby sister? He has never mentioned her existence or any of his family. Sure, he mentioned that his father had an affair in the past but a there’s a half sister?

“Please, that’s all I ask.” Joseph swallows dryly and clings onto Miguel’s bicep for support. His trimmed fingernails dug crescent designs on his tan skin. “I know I don’t mention my personal life this often, and you probably don’t care that much, but please.” He then swallows dryly, clears his throat and then weakly sniffles. “I can’t take her to Seattle as she still is in school, and I can’t risk that.” The sniffles soon morph into ugly, drunken sobs as his friend reaches for the sleeve of his shirt and uses the fabric as a handkerchief. He blows his nose out obnoxiously loud, drawing the attention from passengers nearby.

“Dude, quit it! You’re too drunk.”

“Please!” He blurts out his drunken words, enough to attract the attention of the other passengers. “Please do this for me, and I won’t ask for any more favors!”

The dry, yet strong smell of beer and margaritas wafted back at Miguel as Joseph tugged his sleeves once more, drying away his snot and tears.

The hysterical sobbing should have been considered a crime, especially with how comically loud he was as a drunken man in the godforsaken hours of the night. Instead, he sucked in the shame. “I promise, please!”

Miguel grimaces, seeing the clear snot on his polyester sweater, enough to physically recoil at the sight, but he keeps quiet, keeping it to himself. But the drunken, drowning sobs make it ridiculously impossible to ignore. His eyes wander around the subway cabin, feeling the judging eyes of the other passengers. At the same time, some overlook the show Joseph put up, seeing this as if it were another typical day in Nueva York.

With sobering shame and embarrassment, along with the rising color of red like the devil, the weight of taking on the responsibility overwhelmed him. “Alright!!” Miguel caves, his voice filling the subway. I’ll take care of her!”

Joseph gives him a lopsided grin that is barely comprehensible to read, but the subtle sign of bliss is enough to know. “Thank you, Migs. No wonder Roe loves you.”

---

“I can’t allow that now, Roe. Joseph is always dropping stuff at the last minute. I can’t take care of his baby sister!” Miguel spits out as he reclines back on Tempest’s couch, holding a leaf-shaped cushion in his arms. It had been days old since he accepted the favor, but the temptation to take it back is steering his moral compass.

She hums a soft, melodic tone of understanding before a soft pop comes from her direction. “I think you can,” Her tone is always warm like honey, enough to endure the sugary substance easily if stuck in the brain. And damn, it got him good. “You need to soften up on those broad shoulders.” She fights a smile and bites the bottom of her lip while working on the tin can in her grasp.

“C’mon, Binx.” She beckons, waving the tin container out. Miguel grimaces at the sight of a confident, white fluffy tail. The white feather like duster tail swayed about, showing his purposeful stride across the apartment. But the trills of the feline only confirmed it, expressing comfort in the tiny space. The feline steps into the dining area with a stride, but the felines immediately seize its trills, sensing Miguel’s presence. “Binky, dinner time.” Tempest places the mushed-up meal into the clean ceramic cat bowl and places it down on the floor with a gentle tap. She squatted down with ease as Binky strode across the floor, keeping his head turned towards Miguel’s direction before nibbling on his mushed-up meal of chicken and gravy.

Miguel darts his eyes away from Tempest and onto her clean load of laundry. “I don’t need to soften up, and I think I’m doing fine.” Miguel scoffs, continuing the conversation as he eyed the grippy socks waiting to be paired up with their identical twin. “Really?” She chuckles, making her way to the couch next to Miguel. “Last week, you scared one of the patients you cared for.” Her hands work quickly with the colorful array of socks.

Miguel sneers, letting go of the decorative pillow. “I don’t need to “soften up,” Roe. The patient demanded another doctor because they didn’t want a Mexican doctor.” She snorts a laugh, her nose crinkling at the mere bullshit in his claim. “Migs, you know it’s somewhat common that patients unfortunately ask for different doctors, and it’s not your fault.” She places the last pair of socks into her laundry bin before placing a firm hand on his forearm. The pad of her thumb is enough to calm the storms in his blood, even with his anger.

“You have to be more,” She pauses and licks her teeth. “Más amable.”

A smile tugs her lips before pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her. “Look at that, you’re learning.” He gushes, pulling her close. “You’re getting there.” He gently moves her braids to the side and away from her face. “I’m still pretty bad.” Her tone softens. Her acrylics gently trace the veins in his arms, but she continues when her fingers trace the black ink on his bicep, her finger following the ribbon-like design on his tan skin. She grasps the tense muscle and adjusts herself on his lap. “Damn right, you are,” Miguel whispers.

His heart was racing and pumping at his ribcage. “Miguel!” Her exclaim is silenced as he pulls her onto her couch, gently resting her head on the decorative pillow. The tension between their racing hearts ghosts each other, blocked by undisguisable nerves racking up one another. His lips gently ghost her cupid’s bow, itching to land on her lips. A greedy wish from within, but the retrain of rational thoughts held back. She closes her eyes, her lashes resting against her skin, occasionally fluttering like a butterfly wing.

He stops, anxiety gurgles into his stomach, enough to empty his stomach, but he bites his tongue. He inhales a shaky breath, gently pulling her close.

A yowl fills the space as Binky jumps onto the couch and nuzzles his way in between Tempest and Miguel. He lets her go and moves away from the hissing feline. “Binky!” Tempest scolds, gently taking the Maine coon off the couch. She gently eases off of him, her warmth moving away from him, leaving him longing for the familiarity—the feline trills before hissing and showing his little canines at the man before him. “I swear…” She huffs and grabs the feline. “You are going to the kettle.” She demands, feeling the marine coon purr against her chest.

Miguel props himself up from the couch, adjusting himself. “Cockblocker.” He paused his hushed words and covered his face in mere frustration.

The stir in his gut is restless. The familiar uncertain sensation returns to the back of his mind. It enveloped his brain like a parasite, nibbling away at his sobering psyche. It nibbled at the comprehensible side of him, enough to make him starve the logical side of things. But he ignores the hunger in his gut, his attention back to the present time. His stomach always got butterflies whenever she smiled or how she could make anyone smile with a simple quip. His chest tightens, a small bubble of air trapped in his esophagus — a sensation he got from drinking too much cocktails.

He clears the tight airway with a forced cough, his eyes back on her. Her smile grounds him, reminding him of the warmth coursing through his veins. Even in her most comfortable state, she was the sunrise of his life, her warmth always inviting him back in. But her words remind him again why he came over, to begin with. But her walk from the feline’s kettle back to the living room sobered her back to the situation they were speaking of.

She gently pulls at the hem of her shirt, her pink manicured nails moving under her oversized shirt, hiding away. She plops herself back onto the couch, inches away from him, a contrary from where they were before. She tucks a braid behind her ear, the charms that decorated her braids clink against one another. She exhales a sigh, resting her hands on her lap and away from her shirt, running her palms on her thighs. Silence fills the space as she moves her laundry bin onto the coffee table and reclines back. With a quaint smile, she breaks the silence.

“It can’t be that bad. It will only be a kid staying over with you for two semesters. What can go wrong?”

---

Having to mop his penthouse was not part of his plans for Sunday evening. Especially when the mere idea of a kid staying with him drove him mad. The constant questions, the demand for attention, and the unruly notion of them getting sick out of nowhere. He grimaces, carrying the dirty mop water into his bathroom and flushing the dirty water. He shivers at having to clean sticky surfaces and new loads of laundry almost daily instead of weekly. He groans as he disregards the bucket and goes into the corner of the bathroom.

He rubs his face with one hand and looks at himself in the reflection. The sunken features of his eyes greet him; waking up at five in the morning, doing nothing but deep cleaning, drove him up the wall. But he didn’t want this younger sibling of Joseph to yap about how filthy Miguel is, especially to Tempest.

His five o’clock shadow peeked at him as his dry hands massaged the prickly area.

He groans, but the sound of the doorbell buzzing snaps him back to his senses. Time for the most extended two semesters of his entire life…

His large strides take him to the front door sooner than he wanted, but he nods to himself, exhaling a heavy sigh. When he opened the door, he was expecting many things but wasn’t expecting you.

A messenger bag is filled with textbooks and journals, while a suitcase stands beside you. Your eyes stay on your phone's screen as you swipe the screen without looking up at Miguel. “Are you O’Hara?” It is the question that escapes your lips. Miguel freezes, his eyes tracing you from head to toe.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

“My moron brother, Joseph, told me here to stay here with you while he’s gone doing his nerd thing.”

[countereblogs]

⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀freaky with nerd!miguel in the bus⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀18+⠀﹚

college field trips are interesting.

a simple field trip for one of your classes. sure, it was nice to go somewhere and be out of your dorm but what you really liked was riding the bus with your cute nerdy boyfriend miguel.

poor thing can barely fit in the seat since they are a bit cramped and the man is literally made of pure muscle and is 6’9. you feel bad for him but try to cheer him up throughout the ride. babble about whatever gossip you have while playing with his big ass hands, tracing your fingers among his calloused palms, knowing it was giving him goosebumps. play with his hair, fingers twirling a soft brown curl. wear his thick black rimmed glasses sometimes and mimic him by acting nerdy, making him roll his eyes from embarrassment. take a few cute selfies, make goofy faces that will forever be saved on your phone and possibly a new lockscreen. cuddle with him, his strong muscular arms wrapped around you as your head lays on his broad chest, relishing your time together.

the field trip was pretty quick honestly. you and miguel are surprised to be the first ones done and to come back. the bus is entirely empty, including the driver. with his hand in yours, you lure miguel to the back of the bus and sit in furthest seat.

“that was so quick. were we too fast?” you ask with furrowed brows, resting your legs in his lap.

“no, people are too slow.” one of his hands caress your calf, sending shivers down your spine. his touch always ignites your body. you can’t help it, his hands are just so… big and veiny.

“or maybe my boyfriend is way too smart and was able to get through everything quick.” you tease by slightly tugging on the collar of his shirt. god, you love him in black.

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes as he feels slight heat in his cheeks. “cállete…” your praising never fails to have an effect on him, sends a shiver down his spine. a pleasant shiver.

a smug smirk graces your lips as your fingers lightly trace his jawline. “mi miguelito… so smart… and strong… qué guapo…”

you can’t help but salivate over your handsome nerdy boyfriend. how fucking sexy he looks in that tight black shirt. the outlines of his muscles are so prominent. so damn tight it’s almost a compression shirt. how the sleeves make his biceps bulge so deliciously that you wanna bite and squeeze them. those fucking gray sweatpants miguel knows you love because you can see the imprint of his dick. the motherfucker knew what he was doing by wearing them today for this field trip. miguel knows it drives you crazy. not to mention a little sneak peek of his happy trail.

yep, you’re ovulating.

the throbbing of your clit and the fucking pool in your panties are evidence. like mentioned before, you can’t help it that your boyfriend is the most handsome man ever. the heat radiating inside you was killing you because all you want is to pounce on him and make him take you right then and there.

miguel, on the other hand, is practically the same. that nickname you call him makes him weak. especially in that sweet, seductive voice that makes his cock twitch shamelessly in his sweats. despite being a fucking giant, he crumbles onto his knees for you.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable and you couldn’t take it anymore. you need him, you need him so fucking bad. so, fuck it. you swiftly straddle yourself in his lap, cup his cheeks, and smash your lips on his. miguel lets out a muffed groan of surprise but ultimately goes under your spell and reciprocates. those calloused hands instinctively grabbing your waist as his lips meet yours in a desperate kiss. hands roaming each other’s bodies. your fingers digging into those soft chocolate locks, earning a heavenly groan from him. you can feel his erection pressed against your clothed pussy and instinctively grind on it, earning another groan.

“w-wait- we shouldn’t-” miguel mutters in between kisses, brows furrowed. “s-someone could walk in.”

“we finished super early.” you kiss his worries away. “besides, people are too slow.” you recite his own words with a smirk.

miguel groans at that. he is worried someone could walk in on you both. the last thing he wants is getting caught for having sex in the back of the bus but seeing how needy you are for him makes him throw all that shit out the window. he can never resist you.

the makeout session grows more intensely hot. both your cores throbbing with want and desperation.

“i need you, miguel…”

his cock twitches at your neediness. “joder…”

you’re the death of him.

luckily and shockingly, miguel carried a condom in his pocket and you yank it out from it. the motherfucker was carrying it this whole time? oh the sneaky little shit. don’t worry, he’s about to lose all his brain cells in a second. miguel tears it open while your hands eagerly wip out his cock from the confinements of his sweats and slip on the condom over his thick length as his hands lifts the hem of your skirt and slide your panties to the side.

a shared moan mingles in the air as you slowly sink down his cock. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always gets you. once you bottom out and have a few moments of adjustment, you start bouncing on him. unable to resist the desperation any longer. ovulation was really bad this time.

a symphony of moans fall from you lips as miguel’s cock pounds into your tight gushing pussy. the bulbous tip repeatedly kissing your cervix so perfectly. you can feel him in your womb. the little bulge in your belly was enough proof. his large hands guide your hips up and down his thick length as you grip onto his bulky shoulders for dear life and tip your head back.

“oh miguel~”

“i know, bebita…” he moans when you clench around him, causing his head to throw back and tighten his grip on your hips.

each clench of your tight pussy and those pretty sounds of yours drive miguel fucking crazy. pounding into that sweet tightness like there’s no tomorrow just hear more of those cute sounds, knowing he is the cause of them. it makes his mind go haywire.

the bus is filled with nasty ass sounds. skin slapping, the gushing of your wet pussy getting pounded by miguel’s cock, your pretty moans and his heavenly groans.

miguel’s cock continues plowing into you as you lean back against the seat behind you. gripping onto the edge and arching your spine, offering your tits to his hungry gaze. letting out a moan when miguel’s hands leave your hips to grope your tits through your top. playing and squeezing the squishy mounds in his calloused palms as he pounds into your tight heat.

“s-so fucking tight.”

“miguel~ ah, ah, right there~” your back aches when his tip hits that sweet spot inside so perfectly.

bringing down one hand from your tit, he places it on your lower abdomen. feeling the tiny bump through your clothes as his cock pumps into you before lightly pressing down on it, earning a gasp from you which makes him chuckle.

“there, bebita?~” a smirk forms on his lips as he moves his hand in small circles, chuckling at the way your body squirms and the cute whines falling from your lips. “so sensitive- fuck-”

his attention returns to your jiggling tits and leans forward to bury his face in your cleavage. instinctively, your fingers dig into those soft brown locks while moaning at the overwhelming pleasure miguel is providing with his cock and mouth. his lips leaving wet kisses on your soft skin before sliding his tongue among the round surface of your breasts. groaning when you tighten your grip on his hair. that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen develops and approaches quickly with each thrust of his cock. with a few more pumps and flicks to your clit, you both finally come. you gushing around him and miguel spurting his thick seed into the condom. a little disappointed he didn’t come inside you like you wanted but protection comes first.

with his hands, miguel guides you back to lay on his chest as you both recover from your highs. heavy breathing echoing in the small portion of the bus. his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms as comfort. softly humming at the sensation. after recovering from mind-blowing bus sex, miguel carefully lifts you off his softened cock and removes the used the condom.

“throw it out.”

miguel looks at you with wide confused eyes. “outside? estas loca? people are gonna see it!”

“would you rather let them see it in here?” you arch a brow.

his expression falls flat, grumbling before lowering down the window and tossing the gross ass used rubber outside.

“if people see it, it’s your fault.” he scowls.

you shrug nonchalantly while adjusting his glasses that were about to fall off his handsome face. “oh well.”

thankfully, the rest of the class returns. peter and mj, your closest friends and another couple, join you and miguel in the back sitting in the seat across from you guys. although you and miguel had some recovery time, they notice your still slightly flustered faces.

“you guys okay?” peter asks concerningly.

“yep, just hot from the bright ass sun.” you lie but play it off effortlessly. it was actually hot though.

“oh yeah. literally the worst day to go on a field trip. why the hell would they do that?” peter starts complaining and mj joins in, indulging in their own conversation.

while on the ride back to campus, you and miguel are cuddling in silence until he decides to speak.

“you were ovulating, weren’t you?” he whispers.

you let out a snort. “yep, couldn’t help it, especially with your handsome nerdy ass but i always want you.”

he scoffs, holding you tighter. “loca.”

“honestly, we could’ve made a baby if we didn’t use a condom.”

“oh por dios- can we get our degrees first?”

even though he fucked your brains out, mainly his own, you love making him shy with your unhinged demeanor.

just love your cute nerdy boyfriend.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[countereblogs]

I can’t wait to read the rest on ao3 omggg

❈ — 𝒜𝓃 𝐸𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒟𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

FUTURE CHAPTERS WILL BE POSTED ON AO3

pairing — Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader

primary diagnosis — When Joseph Rodriguez gets a full-time position in his internship, he asks his best friend, Miguel O’Hara, to babysit his baby sister. After insisting on paying him back the favor and being under the impression that he would care for a toddler, he agrees. But the moment he sees you, a twenty-two burnt-out college student, he begs Joseph to take his word back, but the damage has been done. He’s now stuck with you.

side effects — smut (lmao), thigh fucking, no p-in-v contact, groping, dom/sub dynamic (miguel is a bit of a confident sub and reader is a confused dom)

doctor’s note — hi everyone… I have been gone for a moment. I had to disappear for a moment as life got a little too serious school wise but everything is okay now! this is a series that I have been working on for a while. but here y’all go! I am excited for Beyond the Spiderverse to come back in a few years. Other than that, enjoy a sneak peek of this long fic I’ve been working on.

🩺 not proofread! 🩺

The weight of the day drags him by the cajones—the voice of complaints follows him from the subway to his penthouse. The various tones and complaints fill his ego, repeating and replaying nonstop.

They were the voices of the past, cutting into his mind and thrashing him around nonstop—a turmoil of what should have been done and what could have been done. Instead, what was done was picked at his consciousness. The turmoil dragged him back home. The mere glances of bright neon lights paced past him, not enough to pull him away from the imposter within him. He didn't even realize it, but he was already at the entrance of his home, ready to be enveloped away from the harsh sights and realities.

The silence is welcoming, lulling his body to rest, to shrug off the weight of his shoulders. He steps in, seeing a mere light on in his bedroom. A heavy exhale escapes, already knowing what awaits him in his bed.

You.

Kicking off his sneakers and slowly stripping off his scrubs, he leaves the filthy scrubs behind in the hallway, not bothering to put them in their proper place. He drags his feet into his room and immediately crashes onto the soft mattress and weighted blankets, barely shaking you awake from your deep slumber. The smell of sterilization clung to him, but he couldn't care less. He was back in bed, with you on your designated side.

“Sorry, I got home late. I had a meeting with the other residents.” His hand rubs the flare of your hip lovingly, his thumb tracing small designs against the undershirt you slept in. “I’ll have tomorrow off…” He whispers, rubbing your hip and letting go afterward. Your body tossed and turned from the contact, the undershirt shifting against your body and the mattress you rested in.

Black lacy thongs. They were right in front of him, the bands clinging onto your waist—the whale tail emphasizing the heart shape of your rear. He shouldn't have, but the sight was right before him, like appetizers on a platter, waiting to be eaten. In this situation, it was waiting for him to touch, caress, and grab his attention. It suffocated him like a vice. He bites his tongue, feeling his needy behavior sink into his skin, pulling him closer. He tosses the blanket over you instead.

He groans into pillow, the sound vibrating towards you. “What?” You groan, shifting your body to face him instead of the wall. “You sound like a lawnmower.”

He fights back a smile against the fabric of his pillow and turns to face you instead. You weren’t asleep. “The way you’re laying on this bed is criminal. You look like roadkill.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

You roll your eyes and embrace the pillow close to your chest. “The way I sleep is human, the way you do it, it’s criminal.”

“Have you worked twelve hours on your feet while on call during your lunch break?” You open your mouth but shut your mouth as fast instead. “That’s what I thought, bug.”

You feign a smile and place a gentle hand on the back of his neck, massaging the tender muscle.

“Bet you saved so many lives today.”

He fights back his smile but fails. “Not really, just had to do my usual rounds.”

“Still saving.” You bite back and allow your hand to travel down south, the tips of your fingers tracing the taut, tense muscle and indents against his body.

He face plants onto the pillow, showing no protest to the gentle traces and pokes. You scoot closer, making it a task now to proximate yourself to his body warmth. Sterilization burns your nose but the warmth from his body trumped any concern. You inch closer and push down on his muscle, raking the pads of your fingers down his back, stopping at the band of his boxers. “Bug, don’t start.” He mumbles with his eyes closed.

“I’m not starting shit. I’m ending your night.”

His hand gently grasps the column of your throat, guiding you to his lips. The soft contact is suffocating, his lips taking your words away with every kiss, ending it with a long one, his hand letting your throat go, his hand now tangling into your hair. “You’re starting shit and you’re going to end it.” He whispers his words against your lips, bulleting his point. He lays flat on his back slowly, pulling you onto him with ease. “End it, then. End my night.”

It was a foreign feeling of straddling down on him, your lacy underwear and his boxers being the only barrier from his skin. “Go on.” He pats your thigh gently, seeing the bewildered expression across your face. “Fine.” You huff, easing yourself off of that area and onto his thigh instead.

He peeks up as you slowly ease yourself down onto his thigh, the gusset of your underwear barely hiding anything. For once, you found yourself facing a challenge, unsure of your next move. He gently bounces you on his thigh, gaining your momentum against his thigh. The gently, yet rocky momentum made your hands fly onto his abdomen, anchoring onto him for support. “Go on.” He whispers, his hand moving from your thigh to your hips, gently easing your movements against his skin, the gusset of your underwear pushing away and exposing you more. “C’mon,” He whispers, his eyes seeing you settle down, gently rocking your hips, rubbing your sticky mess onto his skin, leaving a glistening patch behind before getting dragged across his skin. “You’re doing so well, there you go…” He whispers, his grip loosening.

“Go on, end it.”

[countereblogs]

𝒎𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝑬𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒈𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕

𔒌 miguel o'hara x fem wife!reader

𔒌 synopsis: you & your husband miguel celebrate Easter & family shenanigans ensue. part of my mom & dad are fighting series. words: 3.3k

𔒌 cw: minors dni just in case, fluff, you have kids together, protective dad miguel, established relationship, no physical description of your kids, nudity at the end but nothing suggestive, mostly just fluff

𔒌 a/n: i know easter is over but here you go, miguel nation! 🐰dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The light from your kitchen cascades across your living room, giving life to everything it touches, from the little birds in the trees outside, to the merry excitement inside, sustained by the delectable smell of honey glaze wafting from the ham roasting in the oven and the hearty smell of Belgian waffles with homemade strawberry syrup and freshly brewed coffee.

Easter was well underway in the home of the O'Haras.

"Hiii, babyyy!" You coo to your five month old daughter, Rosie, who has a big gummy smile for you between her pink pacifier, kicks her chubby legs as she watches her mommy plate the deviled eggs from her bouncer.

Miguel's most tender gazes for you are those he gives you whenever you're not looking, just like the one he's giving you right now as he watches you from across the room, not minding the tornado of destruction in your living room from your kids with all their brand new toys, fueled by the chocolate tsunami running rampant in their veins.

"Hey kids! Look who's here!"

MJ calls from the entryway with Mayday in her carrier, bringing her over to play with baby Rosie next to her bouncer.

Peter B. clumsily straightens the head of the Easter Bunny costume that got a little lopsided from when he was putting it on in the driveway, almost falling over on top of MJ when he wasn't paying attention to where he was going.

"EASTER BUNNY, EASTER BUNNY!"

Your seven-year-old Marcus and three-year-old Anthony lose their minds as they nearly trip over each other and scream to be the first to sit on the Easter Bunny's lap.

"Actually, the oldest goes first." Miguel reminds them sternly and they pout and grumble while Gabi merrily skips to the front and takes a seat.

"Hey Easter Bunny! I know you're not the real Easter Bunny." Gabi says as a matter-of-fact, folding her arms.

"What- *cough* I mean- what makes you say that, little girl?" Peter B. tries his best to disguise his voice as MJ facepalms. (You would think he'd be better at acting by now, what with having a double life as Spider-Man and all)

"What do you mean, aren't you just Peter-"

You shoot a look at Gabi that says, "So help me. Don't ruin this for your little brothers."

"Oop." Gabi covers her mouth and looks at her Papa for reassurance.

Miguel clears his throat and gives her a stern look,

"Listen to your mom."

He side-eyes Marcus and Anthony who are looking a little confused.

"Uh, I mean. Peter...Cottontail!" Gabi beams as she quickly thinks on her feet, saving the day.

Once your back is turned, Miguel gives a secret thumbs up to Gabi.

"Good job."

Inside his heart swelled with pride. His little girl inherited the bullshit detector from her old man. She was too smart of a cookie for all that fairytale nonsense.

Gabi tells the Easter Bunny all she wants for Easter is straight A's, and to win her soccer championship.

"I'll see what I can do, little lady." Peter answers from behind the sweaty Easter Bunny helmet, and she gives a squeak of joy as she moves out of the way for Marcus.

"Do you have a pen?" Marcus asks the Easter Bunny as soon as he sits down on Peter's lap.

You just smile and shake your head from the kitchen as Marcus gives Peter the laundry list of items he wants for Easter: including a new bicycle, the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars Lego set, a new garage for all his monster trucks, and world peace.

"Okay! Last but certainly not least!"

Anthony waddles cautiously towards the Easter Bunny, a little intimidated by the stranger in his living room.

"Ant, it's the Easter Bunny. Remember you went to the mall with Abuelita and saw him there too?" Miguel helps plop Anthony in the Easter Bunny's lap.

"AWWWH, so cute! Okayyyy...big smile!" MJ walks in front with a camera to take a picture.

"Oye, look at Tía Parker, Ant." Miguel snaps his fingers as he tries to get Anthony's attention, pulling a goofy face as he stands behind MJ.

Anthony lasts about three seconds before he ugly cries and all the photos MJ snaps on her camera show him fighting for his life to get away from the Easter Bunny.

"Alright kids, Easter Bunny's gotta go to the gas station. He has a few more stops to make." Peter announces from inside the costume before the head almost gets knocked off from walking into Miguel.

"Go out the back door, dumbass." Miguel hisses as he quickly fixes the lopsided Easter Bunny costume before Marcus notices.

"My bad." Peter wobbles his way out, getting his tail stuck in the door before MJ comes to rescue him once again.

"Mm, honey! We need to get a move on if we want to start on time." You hang up your apron, doing your best to round up baby Rosie who's getting applesauce everywhere but her mouth.

"Tío Peter!!! You just missed him!" Marcus tells Peter who comes hobbling back in with sweaty hair and disheveled clothes.

"Oh, bummer, what a shame..." Peter B. pretends to act disappointed, swearing under his breath when Mayday comes up to him holding the rental costume receipt in her chubby fist.

"Kids! Chop chop, let's go!!" You shout over the commotion when Anthony and Marcus are starting up their rough housing again.

"Your mom's right. Hey!!! Knock it off. " Miguel glares as Anthony lobs a Lego truck at Marcus's head, picking him up and shuffling him into a single file line next to his siblings before they shuffle out the door in a cyclone of chaos with their Easter baskets.

---

"Babe. You know these kids are...Gabi's age at most? They're not spider-kids." You look on with disapproval at Miguel as you watch him hide the eggs in the most outrageous spots known to man: inside a storm drain, inside George Stacey's mailbox, and on top of the park pavilion roof where an adult, much less a kid could reach.

"I'm just making it a healthy competition." Miguel answers, brushing his hands together in triumph. "A little challenge never killed anybody."

"I swear to God, O'Hara." You tap your foot as Miguel wears a shit eating grin as he walks up and stands in front of you. "500 eggs, Miguel. I counted all of them. If less than 500 eggs get found today, you are responsible for every last one that didn't get found because you made it the goddamn Odyssey instead of an Easter egg hunt for elementary schoolers." You drive your point home with little pokes of your finger into his chest which barely phase him.

Miguel smirks off your concerns, his thumb playfully tickling the point of your chin as you give him an adorable glare. "Alright fine, deal."

He looks both ways to make sure you were alone before he takes your face in his hand and lightly squeezes your cheeks like a guppy, stealing a kiss from your lips. "But you'll be eating those words, Mrs. O'Hara."

"Hmph, we'll see."You answer, trying to ignore the way that kiss warmed your cheeks and the colony of butterflies that erupted in your belly despite having over five years of this together.

----

Soon, the neighborhood park is a buzzing hub of Easter excitement as families and children pour in for the first ever neighborhood egg hunt, hosted by yours truly.

You stand proudly next to your husband, looking like the First Lady on his arm with your pale pink gingham Easter dress and friendly waves and smiles for everyone who arrives.

Miguel is obviously a bit uncomfortable in the limelight, but manages polite nods and firm handshakes that his limited social battery would allow, looking equally as dapper next to you in his baby blue Ralph Lauren polo and khakis.

"Who was the dumbass that invited them?" Miguel grumbles when Kron Stone, his wife, and his two shithead sons make an appearance. Kron barely looks in your direction, giving a little smile to you out of feigned politeness but then reverting back to that loathable expression on his face with a stiff nod towards Miguel.

"You did, babe." You whisper through your teeth. "You asked him at work when you were in a good mood."

"...Oh." Miguel falls quiet again as he slowly remembers. This is what he gets for being a decent human being. Damn his good mood that got him into situations he'd regret like always.

But, he sees Conchata and your mother arrive with all four O'Hara kids: Gabi and Rosie in their matching lavender dresses with frilly bows, Marcus grumbling as he fiddles with his tie, and Anthony wearing a big goldfish smile with his little bowtie, Easter baskets at the ready.

Miguel's little constellations, his reason for doing it all thanks to the woman next to him. His heart ascends a little lighter in his chest and he decides he won't let Kron have any more power over this holiday than they already did, giving your hand a squeeze before he goes to join them.

-----

"Ahem, um, welcome, everyone, to the first ever annual O'Hara Neighborhood Easter Egg Hunt." Miguel pauses as everyone erupted into applause.

"Oh my Goddd can we start already?" Marcus says almost a little too loud.

"Callaté." (Shut up) Gabi elbows him and Miguel shoots both of them a look that says, "Behave."

"My wife and I appreciate you all for coming out this Easter Sunday. Now for the rules..." Miguel takes out his reading glasses as he struggles to read his chicken scratch handwriting from the piece of notebook paper he kept in his breast pocket.

"No running. No fighting. No pushing and shoving. Participants must stay in their age categories." He looks over at Marcus who pouts, as his plans to sneak into the 10 year olds category got foiled all at once.

"Parents. This is a kids' Easter egg hunt. That means no helping." He side-eyes Peter B. who looks confused.

"What'd I do?"

"I think that's about it." Miguel hums as he stows his speech back in his pocket. "We will let the 0-3 category go first. Let the hunt begin."

----

The park is overtaken by a swarm of chubby babies and toddlers. You cheer on Anthony, holding his basket as he plops in as many Easter eggs as his small hands can find.

Miguel is watching baby Rosie who's just learning how to crawl, laying on her belly in the grass with her big bow in her hair, looking shell shocked.

"Oye, Rosie! Princesa! ¿Qué es esto?(What's this) He gasps as he points out a large pink egg sitting just an arms length away in the grass, but she starts crawling towards a rock instead.

"Rosie! Aquí!" (Here!)Miguel snaps his fingers and Rosie coos as she smacks the rock with one of her chubby hands, seemingly set on her brand new treasure.

"No, the egg! Rosie! Ay Dios mío..." (Oh my God) Miguel sighs as another little baby runs off with the pink egg, leaving him with an empty basket, and a happy Rosie with her brand new rock.

----

Marcus also fares well when it's his turn. You smile as all your babies(with the exception of Rosie) come back with full baskets, while Miguel is doing silent calculations of the sugar content in his head as Marcus and Anthony show off their collection of chocolate eggs and jelly beans.

"Maybe we should've gone with my suggestion and stuffed them with trail mix." Miguel folds his arms as you wave him off.

"Miguel, it's Easter, for fuck sakes. Nobody wants trail mix except for you." You mutter, smiling as Miguel knows he's doomed when Anthony discovers a Kinder chocolate egg.

----

When it's Gabi's turn to hunt, there's a rambunctious group of boys pushing others to get in front, led by Kron's sons as the ring leaders.

Gabi goes off on her own towards a less busy area next to some trees, finding a jackpot of eggs scattered in a little clearing, when suddenly, the voice of Kron Jr. snaps behind her.

"O'Hara!"

Gabi whips around, her big brown eyes going wide at the gang of boys that surrounded her.

"This area right here is ours." Kron Jr. sneers.

Gabi shoots him an angry look, crossing her arms. "I don't see your name on it."

Across the way, Miguel is supervising, looking over the scene of eager Easter egg hunters to make sure everyone is following the rules.

"Mayday! The candy goes in your mouth, silly." Peter B. shakes his head as he walks towards little Mayday who's looking clueless with a half unwrapped Reese's egg in her hand, before it tumbles in the dirt.

"Oop! 10 second rule." Peter winks as he pops the chocolate in his mouth and Miguel pulls a face of disgust.

Suddenly, Miguel catches a glimpse of Gabi out of the corner of his eye, apparently being cornered by a pack of Chihuahuas. (Kron Jr. and his band of cronies. Like father, like son)

Oh shock, no.

Miguel speedwalks towards Gabi's rescue.

---

"My dad owns this park. So therefore it's our territory." Kron Jr. scowls.

Gabi doesn't back down, furrowing her brow. "What is this, Lion King? You don't own everything the light touches!"

Kron Jr. is about to say something else but a 6'9 shadow appears behind where Gabi is standing. He freezes, his mouth agape before he slowly backs away, his minions following suit.

"I..."

Gabi raises an eyebrow at the sudden cowardice. "I what?"

"I...I...let's go." Kron Jr. spins around and walks away quickly, his little gang of hooligans high tailing behind towards safety, muttering to themselves.

"Dude what's wrong with you? "

"Are you kidding me her dad is big AF I'm not trying to die..."

Gabi stands there puzzled for a long moment, shrugging and smiling as she collects her pile of loot. Miguel watches from the shadows a short distance away, releasing his jaw and feeling a huge surge of pride wash over him. He knew his little girl could stand on her own two feet but he'd always be just a holler away whenever she needed him.

The rest of the hunt goes well with virtually no issues.

"Geez, wonder why everybody's so quiet this year. Usually the kids are more crazy." Gabi wonders to herself as the other kids part out of her way as she collects her eggs like the Red Sea, not wanting to catch the fade of her protective papa who followed her every move.

---

"Gabi, my love!! Bravo!" You and Gabi's siblings have a big smile and cheers for her when she wanders back, triumphant with a basket so full she had to transfer some to her dress pockets.

"Tonight we eat like kings!" Gabi beams as Marcus and Anthony marvel at how she was able to fit that many.

You look over at Miguel suspiciously when he walks in behind her. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"

Miguel's eyes widen and he clears his throat. "Course not."

"You did it again, didn't you?" You shake your head with a sigh as Conchata and your mother come to round up the grandbabies, walking back to your home down the street as the egg hunt wraps up.

"Hmm, what do you mean, mí vida?" Miguel plays clueless, sandalwood scent wrapping you up in the arm he puts around your shoulders as you stay behind the rest of the family, talking in low voices.

"You were lurking again." You shake your head but wrap your arm around his waist all the same, letting your head rest a little more against his chest.

"I wasn't lurking." Miguel scoffs, putting a hand in his pocket as he shoots Kron Sr. and Jr. another look as they scowl at him on their way out, Kron Jr.'s basket noticeably less full.

"Serves him right though, the little shit."

"Miguel!" You bump his hip. "Can we have world peace on Easter for once?"

"We'll see." Miguel hums. "But we're definitely not inviting them next year."

You sigh, knowing you won't get through to him. But, as you two walk into the house, seeing all of your kids sitting in a circle, already playing candy trade wars with all their Easter goodies, you figure you'll let it slide this time.

"I appreciate you looking out for our kids." You murmur, leaning into his side, giving his waist a squeeze.

Miguel nods, a smile tugging at his lips as he too takes in the sight of your little angels on Easter, so proud of all of them, getting along and trading candy.

"You know I always will."

"MARCUS! There's four Ghirardelli bunnies so I get two, and you get two!"

"MOMMY! Sissy's being greedy again!!"

It was lovely while it lasted, anyway.

----

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of laughs, tears, and giggles wrapped in a big bow of Easter dinner: ham, cheesy potatoes, deviled eggs, and of course chocolate.

In the evening, when the sugar rush crashed all four of your babies and the rest of the world went to sleep, you and Miguel laid next to each other in a loving heap.

He looks at you, trying and failing to successfully ward off the warmness that swells inside him from head to toe like liquid sunlight at the wisps of hair that tickled your forehead with every soft flutter of your sleep-kissed lashes, knowing if he makes a comment about it you'll stubbornly insist that, "You're not tired, just resting your eyes."

He admires the contrast of the cream linen sheets and how they pool around the glow of your soft body in the subdued light, the weight of all the tender years you spent learning, loving, and growing older together slowly processing in his mind.

"Guess you'll just have to get your present in the morning..." He mutters, grinning to himself as he gently fastens a dainty charm bracelet around your wrist on the pillow next to your head.

Winking jewels of topaz, pearl, emerald, and peridot glitter and refract in their varying shades, casting iridescent shadows in shimmery rainbows over your relaxed brow, one birthstone for each of your babies, their brilliance only barely overshadowed by the symbol of Miguel's unceasing devotion that occupied your ring finger.

Your could render him speechless on a normal day, but in moments like this where you lay in his arms, blissful with sleep and naked, your beauty threatens to never return that shuddered breath to his lungs as though you robbed every last star in the sky of all their sparkle.

Miguel can't suppress a quiet chuckle as he gazes at the diamond letter "M" that dangled in the middle with a little studded opal in the corner for his, selfishly knowing he couldn't resist adding himself to the collection.

He'll make sure to add yours, in due time. That stone will be the biggest and therefore requires lots of planning, consulting your mother and your besties, and of course, all the funds necessary to make it happen.

He'd give it to you after all, a diamond worthy of you.

You gleamed amidst a sea of cosmos in a multiverse that seemed to insist that Miguel O'Hara would never be a happy man. But you proved them wrong in this one.

He can barely wait for the smile you'll bless him with in the morning when you open your eyelids to the sunlight that pours through the windowsill and to his warm kisses he'll plant like flowers along your neck.

He leans down to kiss you one more time before the steady hush of your heartbeat leaves him peacefully snoring at your side.

-----

@ultravioletrayz @opaloharas @arsenicjuice had to tag my Miguel wifeys 💞🫶🏽 thank you for reading!

[countereblogs]

IT’S GETTING STICKY !! 𝒻𝓉. 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒶 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

summary: living in an alternate universe where the A/B/O dynamic contributes to societal norms, you ask your werewolf boss to help you through your heat. it can't cause any more problems, right?

tags: afab! reader, slow-burn??, knotting, praising, ruts and heat, possessive and clingy behavior, slick, soft sex, mentions of claws and elongated canines, and biting is mentioned.

author’s note: this fic is primarily for me as this was supposed to be posted for kinktober, but got help back as I had to research this 😭 and this is a super late birthday present for myself ngl—

The cycles of heats and ruts were meticulously scheduled, a system that you, had come to know. Each month, the 17th stood out boldly, encircled in an obnoxious pink heart drawn with a highlighter and accentuated by a pink pen. The vivid hue clashed dramatically with the monochrome palette of his stark office, where the muted greys and blacks formed a backdrop as dreary as the paperwork piled high on his desk.

This method of marking is brilliant in its simplicity—nontraceable, yet striking enough to be easily noticed past Miguel’s paperwork. It was a system that worked, a colorful beacon.

But the aroma, no, the stench—it’s hard to drown out.

Let alone ignore.

It was a sweet aroma he adores. That sweet, enticing smell always stirred his stomach. It was enough to make anyone throw up from the smell. But the smell became a familiarity for Miguel. The smell always plagued him, no matter what he uses to remove the smell.

The smell was similar like you: Sticky and stubborn to get rid of.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

The sickening sound of the bed springs rocking under the additional weight broke the apartment's typical silence. “C’mon, let me slide it in…” He growls against the shell of your ear, his elongated canine nipping at a tiny bit of skin. His hardening cock nudged and nudged, pleading for a form of entry. His words feign harm. He croons meaningless words, slowly rubbing his veiny length against your soft, puffy lips. “It’s not gonna fit” are the only words escaping your lips. The only words. “I’ll make it fit.” He hisses, a throb at the base of his cock, waiting for him to release the knot at his balls.

He looms over you like a shadow, his lips moving from the shell of your ear to your cupid’s bow. A yearn of softness. A plead of physical contact that didn’t involve lust or ruts. You reach up, attempting to sew his lips against yours and to keep him there.

He exhales a heavy groan, his breath sweeping a lost strand of hair away from your face. “Please,” his eyes narrow. The dim lights of your room emphasize the color crimson in his iris. Red mixes with your hazelnut color, a combination of lava and graphite.

“You can do it.” He rasps before gently guiding the head of his tip to your fluttering entrance. His bulbous tip gently moved up and down your slit. A soft groan escapes the back of his throat, the sensation of your walls engulfing him and suffocating him. Even with the diamond shimmer of slick, the rut in his gut nearly suffocated his cock. It was as if a barbed wire was around his shaft, squeezing and probing for release. His hand grasp at his length, squeezing at it before pushing the mushroom-y tip inside. He uses his free hand to grab at your rear, eyeing at the exotic sight of your greedy walls taking him and gripping onto him like a vice.

“I can’t…!” A strained stretch overwhelmed you as his breathing fanned your skin, cooling down the warm and sweat forming at your brow. “Atta girl,” He groans, his hands grasping onto your hips. His fingernails dive into your skin, dribbles of blood seeping out the swell of your skin and rolling down your skin. The noise from the back of his throat escapes as his elongated fangs bared out and made contact between your shoulder and neck. The piercing bite punctures tiny indent holes, some of the bites molding into the skin while three of them seep blood.

“Look at you. You’re taking me so well.” The thrusts were heavy, pushing and demanding before pulling out nearly all the way, leaving his tip in and slamming his length back in with ease. The shouts of his name morph into breathy moans, your hips moving with his at an agonizing slow pace, trying to keep up. He bites his tongue, holding back any snarky remarks.

But a squeeze sends him down to you as he continues with the brutal force, his hips snapping into you like a leather whip. “Do that again, it feels nice.” He croons, his hand reaching to grab your tit instead. You weakly squeeze your walls against his cock with a whine, his hand slapping your squeezed breast. “Don’t tease. Your teasing is torture, mami.” He lets go of your breast and fists at the now torn bedsheets instead. His claws sink into the ripped material, creating more rigid tears into the silky fabric. The inconsistent kegal patterns sent chills down his spine, pleading for him, squeezing him to finish. “There we go.” He paises as your weakened actions barely mirror his desperate, manic motion. You cover your lips with your hands, harsh breathing fanning the pillow case.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you, mamas.”

The overstimulation flooded chills down your spine as he sloppily thrusts his tip against your g-spot. The harsh, rapid pressure point pushed down and rubbed, nudging you to the edge of a cliff. To the cliff of an orgasm with a tumble of a slip and slide of slick. “Miguel, ‘m gonna cum.” Your voice is shushed but choked up, at the brink of finishing. His motions were blurred, your field of vision no longer on your pink bedsheets, rather, the white ceiling above you. His hand moves quick, his palms pushing down on your lower stomach. “Go ahead, untie that sensation.” His breath fans your prespired forehead, managing to cool you down temporarily. A pathetic scowl is evident on his lips, your body slowly leaning forward for a kiss, even if it’s a small, pathetic one. The slow motion caught his attention. He furrowed his brows, rumination running rampant in his head.

He brushes his lips against yours, his lips ghosting the tip of your nose. Even though the rapid, needy thrust, the undertone of a soft kiss ghosted your skin before moving down to his desired target. It said “I need you.”

You eagerly reciprocate, sewing your lips onto his, the locking kiss making your head spin. The kiss is intoxicatingly sweet, like poison, sweet as your aroma. Every kiss made him want to consume the sweet, juicy peach-like smell, intoxicating him to ravish more, to have a certain hunger for it.

He slowly pulls away, hesitant to let the kiss come to an end.

He looks down, his eyes tracing down to the two of you, watching himself disappear inside of you. Your eyes move downwards as well, enjoying the sight before you. You bite your tongue, holding back any snarky remarks. The heavy strokes come to an end, the warmth of his cum flooding your fluttering walls. The rut and knots interlinked between the two of you, the blissful high washing down onto your flushed skin.

His once rough and demanding touches transformed into soft, tender caresses that spoke of affection that contradicted his actions from before. He tenderly lifts his hand to cradle your cheek, his skin warm against yours. His thumb glides softly along your skin, applying just enough pressure to draw you closer, igniting a warmth into your skin. The gentleness of his caress contrasts sharply with the past, weaving intimacy into every moment shared. He basks in your softness, wiping away any stray tears if there were there. But really, it was just a pathetic excuse to touch your skin.

“I got you,” He whispers into your flushed skin. “I’ve always got you.”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Tag List:

@miguelhugger2099 @bluesidez @opaloharas @hyjionie @kavimoo @zaunsin @keiva1000

[countereblogs]

Could we get a Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Where they’re married, and they put the kids to bed for the night, it’s been while since they’ve been able to see each other because of work and they end trying to keep quiet since the kids are next door 😼

i literally daydream about this exact scenario 25/8

Pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

Warnings: 18+, very fluffy 'n soft sex, unprotected p in v, a bit of breeding because we all know where i stand on this, missionary, clit slapping like once

Summary: it's been far too long since miguel has gotten to enjoy his pretty little wifey's company

A/N: slowly but surely making our way through reqs from LAST YEAR 😭😭 so sorry this took so long, noni

Word Count: 1.9k

Miguel has developed a strict routine over the past month or so.

Wake up, shower, eat whatever leftovers the wife set out for him, go to work, come home, say hi to the kids and the wife, eat dinner with everyone, watch TV with the kids, put the kids to bed, sleep. When the events of the day were so unpredictable and chaotic, it had always soothed his overworked brain knowing that the bigger picture was simplistic. It was a life as rewarding and ordinary as he could ask for considering his profession.

But over time, the blaring omission from his schedule came to the forefront of his mind, occupying every fleeting moment of free time he came across.

He hadn't fucked the brains out of his sweet sweet wife in too long.

Miguel's hands are on the verge of trembling as he tucks your youngest child snugly into her bed, plump lips pressing a few quick pecks to her forehead, earning giddy giggles and a big smile.

"Night night, mama and papa!" She laughs, patting Miguel on the head. You laugh as you stand in the doorway, which only serves to make Miguel's heart race as he whispers good night to your daughter. He practically sprints out of the flower-decorated, pink adorned room, switching off the light and shutting the door with an urgency you can see right through.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" You prompt, bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth as you fight the urge to grin at the sight of Miguel's dangerously dilated pupils, the smallest, glassy sliver of crimson barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, his loose sweats already starting to tent as his burly digits pull you towards him.

Miguel can't help but laugh to himself, his head craning bashfully as his gaze meets yours, a giddy smirk tugging at his plump lips.

"Uh huh. In between your legs." Miguel mumbles, and you both groan and giggle at the cheesy line. But something about how immature Miguel lets himself become when it's just the two of you in the solace of your home is undeniably sweet. You'd also be lying if you tried to deny the growing wet patch in your little cotton panties as his arched nose nuzzles into your hair to hide his embarrassment.

"Well, what's stopping you?" You muse, letting Miguel slowly nudge his aching bulge against your stomach. To think after the years you've spent together, Miguel still acts like a needy, sexually frustrated teenage boy in your embrace would usually make you laugh and tease... but you're in the same boat after being neglected for weeks on end.

Miguel inhales sharply, not wanting to risk being interrupted by the kids and miss yet another opportunity to make you feel good. He's been teetering on the edge of insanity every time he's caught your lingering glances from the kitchen while you finish up dinner. You've put him through hell every time your wandering feet have "accidentally" rubbed over his crotch while you lay on the couch watching Nickelodeon with the kids before bed. And every single night, when you wander into the bedroom from the walk-in wearing the most ethereal, yet slutty little nightgown just to crash immediately when your head hits the pillows... Miguel has had to stop himself from shaking you awake and stuffing you full of him.

But now, finally, as he lets out a small groan of relief, Miguel scoops you up into his burly arms, making quick work of nudging the bedroom door open and kicking it closed behind him. He lets out a chuckle as you squeal in surprise, your laughter muffled against his chest. He slowly lowers you onto the bed, his hands trailing up your thighs before slipping themselves beneath the layers of fabric shielding your sweet little cunt.

You lift your hips to help Miguel slip your shorts and panties off in tandem. The second your body relaxes back into the mattress, Miguel's fingers dance across your folds, finding you already soaking wet and eager. He groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue darts out to trace your bottom lip, nipping gently before diving his tongue back into your mouth. His hand finds its way between your legs once more, two fingers prodding against your clit and circling around the slick bud tantalisingly slow, dragging out a string of muffled moans from the back of your throat.

The feeling of Miguel's rough fingers against your sensitive skin is driving you wild, but it isn't enough. You grip onto his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more contact, needing more of him. You've missed him so much, you want to be smothered by his weight, his scent, his affection. Him.

"Y'missed me that much, angelita? You poor thing." Miguel laughs against your lips, pulling back slightly to look you in your lust-blown eyes. His hips buck against the empty space in his sweatpants as he soaks in the image of you grinding yourself against the pads of his fingers.

Leaning down to kiss along your jaw and neck, Miguel tugs at his pants with his free hand, letting them tumble to the bedroom floor in a tangled heap. Giving your clit a few open-palmed, dragging spanks just to see you mewl, Miguel folds your knees to your chest, thighs squishing against your tits as he rubs the tip of his fat, throbbing, dribbling cock up and down your swollen folds.

Still kissing and nipping at your skin, Miguel leans down to capture your lips again, swallowing your moans and squeals as he prods his tip at your pussy. With each initially small, shallow thrust, Miguel pushes further and further inside, feeding his cock into you inch-by-inch, making you pull away from his plump lips to gasp for breath. He pants against your neck, a small groan escaping him as he revels in the feeling of your walls struggling to stretch around him. It feels so damn good to be buried to the hilt inside of you, to be filled with the warmth only your syrupy sweet pussy can give him.

Miguel pulls away from you just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark and intense as he begins to reel his hips back, your slick clinging in shining ropes to the coarse hairs decorating his pelvis. Each gradually harder thrust drives him deeper, and each moan he gets out of you only fuels his need. The way you grip onto his shoulders and arch your back is enough to make his heart race and his breath hitch in his chest. He's completely lost in the feeling of you, the way your walls clench around him with every push and pull, the way your cunt speaks to him as his tip ruts against your gooey centre.

"That's it. G-God. Love you s'much." Miguel huffs, his eyes shutting to let his body memorise every crevice of your own. His grip on your doughy hips is the only thing keeping you grounded as you try to stay quiet, the kids only a few doors down.

But your attempts are less than feeble.

You bury your face into the crook of Miguel's neck, biting at his shoulder to stifle your moans, determined not to make a sound as Miguel rams against the gummy edge of your poor cervix, filling you up completely. But it only serves to make him whimper loudly as his hips stutter, almost finishing right there and then. You gasp at the intensity of Miguel's movements, your back arching off the mattress as he pounds into you with a fiery urgency. Every sharp breath he takes only serves to make your brain foggy as you drag your nails across his back, leaving a trail of stinging red lines in your wake and earning a hearty moan from his lips.

Miguel pants heavily, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. His eyes are closed tightly, and he can feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He leans down, his breath hot against your neck. He can't hold out much longer, his hips snapping back and forth with a ferocity that has you crying out. The way you cling to him, your body jerking and twitching in perfect sync with his deep thrusts, sends a jolt of electricity straight through him.

"You're so good to me, hermosa. Gonna give you everything you want." Miguel whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek as his hands slide beneath your hips to squeeze your ass, pulling you up towards him with a groan. His cock throbs and jerks inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit in a rhythm that has you seeing stars. It's making you crave his entire being.

"I want... want another baby. Please give me another baby." You manage to squeak out, your words making Miguel's heart swell with love and pride. He nods vigorously, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Pulling away with a gasp, Miguel can feel the coil in his body twisting to a point of carnal need. A need to fuck another gorgeous child into you.

"Of- Of course, mami. As many as you want." Miguel pants, his hand snaking down to your soft stomach, rubbing loving circles into your skin with his thumb as he cranes his head to focus on the faint bulge coming and going from beneath your glistening flesh, a tribute to the way your perfect body has been moulded for his dick and his alone.

Miguel's hips snap forward again, his thick cock burying itself deep inside you with a loud groan of pleasure. Your walls clench around him, milking his shaft as he pulls almost completely out before slamming back in again, his pace increasing with each passing moment. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he loses himself to the love and heat surging from you and filling the bedroom. His breathing grows ragged, his body trembling as he feels that familiar tingle building within him, the pleasure coursing through him becoming unbearable. He pushes himself as deep as he can go, his cock throbbing against your cervix as you whimper into his shoulder. His fingers dig into your soft skin, leaving marks that he'll have to make up for later.

With a guttural groan, Miguel lets himself succumb to your warmth, hips snapping forward with enough force to make you gasp and your body jolt upwards, your walls clenching around him tightly. His body tenses, and he comes undone with hot, sticky spurts that coat your insides, filling you with every ounce of his love for you as he whimpers your name against the shell of your ear. His cum mixes with your own juices as he pulls out, your walls squeezing and milking him one last time before letting him go.

Spent and breathless, Miguel collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he nuzzles his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as you both catch your breath.

"That... that was worth the wait." You murmur with a slight giggle, already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at your eyes.

Miguel hums in quiet acknowledgement, tilting his head to press a meek kiss against the underside of your chin as his body shudders with the aftershocks of his long awaited release.

"The next few months of waiting will be even better, mi esposa."

PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT PLAP PLAP

[countereblogs]

golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing—you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

[countereblogs]

MESMERIZER TETO WEB DECOR !!

requested by anon

a matching set to this post !

please like/rb if you use/save!

[countereblogs]

your writing is always fanTASTIC!!! i’m always hooked on every word in each fic you drop, keep up the great work 🙏🙏

also, being a lil self indulgent here, is there any chance we’ll be getting a prejac jayce fic in the future

Thank you ao much! And. Guess what anon. You’re getting a premature ejaculation Jayce fic Roight Neow.

My New Year’s gift to you all :] Enjoy!

18+ MDNI. Mature content under the cut.

Penetrative sex, GN reader, compatible for both AFAB and AMAB reader. Where there’s a hole, there’s a goal.

“O-oh.” It’s not rare for Jayce’s voice to pitch up so high it goes girlish, vulnerable. The scrunch of his brows is as delectable as the soft, easy stretch of him finally sliding home.

As opposed to what one might think by the looks of him, Jayce is a comfortable size: a stubby cock with a soft upwards curve, but so leaky it could likely rival the average cunt. You’ve prepped just enough, and it’s divine, it’s satiating, how he fills you exactly as much as you need.

His sticky stomach seams to yours with a delightful cocktail of your shared sweat, his legs and arms tremble like a newborn faun’s with how he barely keeps himself from crushing you. With a pitchy whine, his head falls to your shoulder, his breath coming ragged in your ear — as though he’s just ran up a few flights of stairs, and not licked and sucked you into an easy orgasm before haphazardly bottoming out inside you.

Jayce, bless him, tries to ride it out — the warm, dizzying grip of your walls on him — but as his chubby cock jerks within your clutch, you realize he can’t. He won’t.

“Uh oh—!” His right hand scrambles down between your bodies in an uncalculated hurry, squeezing at the root of his stout dick in what you realize is a desperate attempt to choke his orgasm down. And you also realize before he does that it’s a losing game. “N-ngh, no, nono, shit…”

Jayce only squeezes at himself harder, entire forearm flexing with the Sisyphean weight of his task. You know that in moments like these, though he tries, the most he’ll manage is an unsatisfying, painful, ruined orgasm. You don’t want that for him, not tonight, now when he’s been so good.

And what can you do, but take pity? It’s what you do best, especially when it comes to him.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, and tug. Jayce obliges — his fatal flaw, always so eager to please. It will be his undoing.

“Let it happen,” you whisper into his ear encouragingly, legs wrapping around his waist to draw him in. He warbles a moan like it hurts, and his strong arms give below his weight like he’s weak.

And he is.

“S-sorry,” he mutters although given permission, before his hips slap to yours just once, to sheathe all of himself within, and he chokes on a pitiful sob.

All of him slumps on top of you and his cock, leaky as it already is, paints the inside of his condom white, spurts it full. He pulses against your insides with his orgasm, dick swollen and desperate, and he clings to you as though he might fall apart at the joints if not for your arms around him.

You can only stroke his hair through it, cooing at him like you would at a scared animal, kissing his dewy forehead in encouragement. Somehow, his spent cock still twitches at your words. You let him have as long as he needs, you hold him until his breath calms and his arms stop trembling.

It’s a long, sweet time before he lifts his forehead from against your shoulder.

“ ‘m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t mean…”

You nod. “I know, Jayce.”

“Do you want me to make it up to you? I can use my mouth on you again, or, uh,” he scans the room for inspiration, and his eyes land on the nightstand, “oh! I can fetch the dildo—“

Your palm finds his cheek, and you’re drawing him to face you. Jayce swallows nervously at the heartbeat of silence between the two of you before you speak.

“You can make it up for me by not worrying about it.” Your thumb circles lovingly at the long-healed nick on his cheekbone. “You know I love it when you enjoy yourself so much you can’t help it. It’s… such a good look on you.”

[countereblogs]

Flores Amarillas

pairing: husband!miguel o'hara x spouse!reader wc: 713 summary: You always daydreamed about receiving yellow flowers (work's title) on the start of spring. warnings: some Spanish; established relationship note: for more info regarding this work; check the ask!

[lyrics below from the song listed;]

Ella sabía que él sabía [She knew that he knew]

Que algún día pasaría [one day it would happen]

Que vendría a buscarla [That he’d come look for her]

Con sus flores amarillas [With her yellow flowers]

-♡-

You were just a kid when you were already thinking of him. You daydreamed and innocently fantasized about meeting him one day.

He had no name, nor did he have a face.

Yet, you dreamed about him and of yellow flowers.

To be specific, you dreamed of one day receiving yellow flowers from a man who you imagined would be close to a prince charming.

You’d listen to the song “Flores Amarillas” from the famous telenovela and sing it to the best of your ability, daydreaming about having that experience one day; of receiving yellow flowers as a romantic gesture from the love of your life.

Even in your teenage years, this illusion followed you. The unhealthy number of telenovelas you consumed growing up with your parents along with being a hopeless romantic didn't help. During those years, you waited, illusioned that that person would come along. With a pure golden heart, you imagined running one day into him; a man who would be waiting for you with a yellow flower, who would notice the shine in your pupils. You imagined the sun would be out, casting its gentle yellow as you finally crossed paths with that special man.

As time went on, you realized that purely daydreaming about it wouldn't automatically manifest it and you eventually let it go, even when you saw others experience what your child and teenager self yearn so much for.

-♡-

Outside, you hear the birds chirping. Earlier, you noted the blooming flowers in your garden. A gentle yellow, pollen, covers surfaces, inciting spring allergies for many, yet helping the flowers and bees.

You sit on your couch, now many years older amd established, when you rediscover the song while scrolling through your social media. Listening to it, you realize you still remember every word. It almost feels like running into an old friend who you haven't seen in a long, long, long time.

En ese bar tan desierto nos esperaba el encuentro [in that bar so deserted the meet up waited for us]

Ella llegó en limusina amarilla por supuesto [she arrived in a yellow limousine of course]

Él se acercó de repente la miro tan de frente [he approached suddenly looking at her straight ahead]

Toda una vida soñada y no pudo decir nada [an entire life dreamed of and he couldn't say anything]

The scent of his cologne reaches you first before you feel a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. It automatically brings a smile to your face, pulling you away from your thoughts. Still smiling, you look up and meet that warm gaze, warm like yellow and deep like coffee.

“Ella sabía que él sabía, que algún día pasaría [she knew he knew, one day it would happen],” Miguel sings softly with a warm smile.

“Que vendría a buscarla, con sus flores amarillas [That he’d come look for her with her yellow flowers],” you say, finishing that part of the song.

“I remember when that song was so popular,” Miguel comments, gently cupping your face.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. You want to know something, mi vida [my life]?” Miguel asks. “I forgot all about that song until today. It came up on my feed this morning and remembered I once used to imagine, as a kid, finding a beautiful and sweet individual to gift yellow flowers to.”

Chuckling, you caress Miguel’s forearms as he continues to cup your face. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Miguel answers before leaning forward. He presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your forehead, smiling at you before releasing your face. He reaches behind you to retrieve something, still smiling. “Unas flores amarillas para ti, mi amor [yellows flowers for you, my love],” Miguel murmurs, handing you a beautiful bouquet of yellow flowers. “For the most beautiful, sweetest, kindest person in the whole world.”

The sight and scent of the cheerful flowers brightens your day, but Miguel’s words brighten it even more. You accept the flowers, your heart blooming with love and appreciation for the man that you now have the privilege of calling your husband.

You chuckle softly, admiring them while feeling the love from Miguel.

"I knew one day I'd find you," you murmur, finally looking at him again. "After daydreaming of you for so long."

"Y yo por ti [and I about you]," your husband replies, his illusion of gifting flowers to the love of his life, finally accomplished.

Thank you @ashnelyi for the ask!

Thank you so much for reading!

Alondra❤️

divider credit: @enchanthings-a