sunflowersteveslibrary

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

um so getting fucked by logan in public place...i mean getting fucked by logan-

(please know the way i'm salivating over this man is downright sinful.)

author's note || babes,,, i feel u. this man is in my dreams 24/7. i lov u for requesting this <3

summary || basically, you defend Logan and he quite literally goes feral.

warnings || fluff, some angst, anti-mutant rhetoric, SMUT [minors dni], P in V sex, praise kink, public-sex, desperation

Logan was used to being alone. It was second nature for him to blend into a crowd and survey the bustling fullness of the night. Usually, he hightailed to the back of the bar, his eyes studying carefully while he nursed the beer in his hand. 

When Logan met you, though, some things changed a bit. Instead of being at the back of the bar, he usually sat right next to you. While he wasn’t much for PDA and often abstained from it, he still let the hardness of his thigh rest against yours. It was such a simple touch, but you knew how much Logan needed to breathe in your presence. It soothed him. 

Tonight was like any other Friday night. You both wanted to go to the bar for a little bit of fun before another mission killed the atmosphere. Logan usually has a beer in his hand and his other subtly resting against your back. His eyes would bore into yours as he watched you talk about your day. It was always something he looked forward to. The ways that your eyes would sparkle underneath the illuminating bar lights. 

The bar was packed tonight, though. Bodies were practically on top of one another—playing pool, dancing to the stereo, or attempting to chat up someone to take home. Your idea to go to the bar had not just been your own. You could hear Logan’s heartbeat race as someone kept bumping into him—despite the very menacing aura rolling off of him. 

So, in response, you were currently nursing a whiskey all by your lonesome. It wasn’t that you were lonesome, it was much of the opposite. Logan had stepped out of the bar for a quick smoke, wanting to calm the nerves that pricked his skin. Logan needed a breather. He never wanted to leave you by yourself—although he knew you were completely fine. He just didn’t want to. You smiled at him with one of those breathtaking ones that caught his breath. 

“Go. I’ll still be here.” You whispered. God, he loved you. It was so evident, yet the years of having a broken heart shattered his ideas of loving someone again. The pain was etched across his chest, back, organs—everything. Add the number of people surrounding him, caging him in had reached an overwhelming capacity. So, he stepped out toward the back and dragged his cigar across his lips. He let the nicotine softly quiet the aches in his chest. 

You sipped the bitter taste of Jim Beam, your body almost shuddering at the hot feeling of liquor going down your throat. You felt the buzz already—not having much of anything to eat despite Logan asking if you had eaten. He handed you a granola bar in the car. He already knew the answer to his question. During a heated discussion with Scott, you had completely forgotten to eat some lunch. 

Logan was as caring as always—rubbing a hand across your wrist to ask if you had anything to eat today. However, your thoughts of him were screeched to a halt from a presence coming straight toward you. 

“Where’d the big guy go?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at the sensation of a tall silhouette behind you. You didn’t respond, though. You and Logan were used to the comments—usually, fans wanting pictures with the well-known X-men. Those you didn’t mind. Men like these, though? The ones that taunt you for your differences, the ones that make your skin itch.

“C’mon. That mutant scum isn’t here anymore. No need to act so tough.” 

You huffed out of your nose in disgust. There was a sizzle underneath your chest that made you want to scream in anger. You held your ground, though, knowing that it wouldn’t help very much. You knew men like these. Any use of your powers could end up with a call to the police and another article about how “violent” mutants are.

Although, not budging made the stranger even more pissed than he was. “You’re too pretty to be with a beast like him. Didn’t you hear, anyway?” This man just wouldn’t stop fucking talking. “The Wolverine hurts anything he touches. He’s a fuck up. A low life. A fucking animal—” 

Now that comment is what made you turn your head. You had heard enough before you slammed your glass on the bar counter. The man beside you jumped in surprise. A scowl on your lips, nostrils flared. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Logan’s eyebrows twitched as he heard the snarl in your voice. He burnt out the cigar on his skin—slightly wincing at the sizzle of his skin. Worry surged through his chest at the mere idea of your discomfort. A primal need to protect the thing he loves was fogging his brain. The leather of his jacket was straining against the bulge of his muscles as he sauntered back through the bar. His shoulders were taunted back, surveying the bar as everyone’s head turned to you and some guy. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. You had bunched the collar of the man, lifting him off the floor. Your eyes were wild with anger, your teeth clenched tightly as you spoke to the stranger. “If you ever talk about the Wolverine like that again, I’m going to cut off your head and feed it to your fucking wife—” The boom of your voice echoed through the bar. It was so silent that a pin could drop. 

You could handle comment after comment thrown at you. That, you knew quite well. However, you knew how Logan actually felt about the comments. They called him an animal. A beast. They forced him into something he was always scared of. Himself. You knew him differently. He was Logan. He would make you a cup of coffee every morning, adding a sprinkle extra of cinnamon that he knew you loved. He left fuzzy blankets in his room after the first time you spent the night with him. You commented how itchy his sheets were and ever since, he silently wraps you up in one with an arm attached to your waist. He would place a protective arm in front of you during missions—always assessing the danger to make sure that you would never get hurt. He was so much more than anything they portrayed him as. He was human and everyone—including the team—sometimes forgets that. 

“Darlin’—” You felt your shoulder visibly relax as his large hand enveloped your soft skin. “They’re not worth it.” 

Your heart was beating fast against your ears. You did everything in your power to not throw the man across the room. Your teeth snarled at him—the guy visibly winces, expecting the worst. You slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his collar. 

“Fucking mutants.” He spits before backing up as far away from the two of you as possible. You turn to move again and the guy gets startled and jumps in fear. Logan squeezes your shoulder to try and ground you once again.

He sees you visibly relax, some regret etched into your features. He knew that you didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t help it. He knew that feeling quite well—when it came to you, he was the same. 

“Let's go home.” 

Logan was silent as the two of you walked out of the bar. You cringed at the pure stillness of the night. You didn’t mean to do more than you should have. It was just an instinct, especially as the vexation flowed through your veins. 

You stop in your tracks for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something which prompted his steps to a halt, as well. “Logan, I’m—” He never let you finish. He grabs your shoulders and shoves you against the brick wall of the bar. You let out a gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours. 

His heart is beating fast, echoing against his ears. For once in his life, someone had protected him. Someone had stood up and defended him. Sure, Charles has done that many times, but not from an act of pure love. Charles believed in him. You loved him. 

He has this feeling in his chest. He wantonly has an itch to devour you. He wants to lick the sides of your body and ravish in the pure essence of you. He’d never had this feeling before—this animalistic, pure affection was pounding against his chest. 

“You just couldn’t help it, huh, princess?” He grunted against your ear. His hands caged you in, one resting beside your head and the other deliciously attached to your hip. His teeth nipped at the skin below your ear. “You just wanted to defend your old man, hmm?” He hummed. 

The hand on your hip lowered to your thigh and squeezed the plush flesh. You were wearing a pretty dress tonight, one that you knew he would rip off later. You just weren’t expecting it now. “I just—” He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that, Lo.” 

You let out a whine as he growled against your ear. He was insatiable—unhinged. Something was brewing beneath his stomach that he had never felt before. “Oh, pretty girl. You wanted to protect me?” His lips were at the shell of his ear. You nodded. You almost felt shy now, a direct contrast from earlier. 

Your leg moved to wrap around his own, curling right around his hip. He smirked at the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, I know, baby. God, you’re just so fucking good to me.” You were both losing your patience from the pliant kissing and stumbling of limbs. You both were desperate and wanting of one another. 

His lips lowered down your neck. The hand that was caged against the side of your head was now pressed up against your breast. You whined, “They can’t—” You gasped as he squeezed the plush flesh. “They can’t say those things. Made me—” He smiles, lips curling into a little smirk. He moves his arm down to your aching cunt. “Made me see red, Lo.” 

Your hips buck into his hand, the wall scratching against your shoulders as you’re shoved more into the brick. “Yeah? Wanted to hurt him, baby?”

He groaned into your ear at the thought of blood covering your hands from destroying the man trying to insult him. It only fueled more of his fire. He couldn’t take it anymore—mouth still sticking to yours in a gruesome dance across your lips. The saliva spread to his beard, messy and filthy. 

“Wanted—ah—wanted to see him pay.” His hand fully dipped between your panties, bunching up your dress as he lifted you up against the wall. It happened swiftly, yet your mind burned with want and need.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” He teased your slick entrance, making your legs instinctively pull him closer. “Logan, please.” 

He could smell the way you were leaking for him, spreading the slick around with his fingers. He let out a growl and swiftly unbuckled his belt. He couldn’t wait any longer and neither could you. 

“Can’t wait to fill you. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He moves your panties with his thumb and swiftly glides in his wide girth. You moan in unison, but you swallow his own and yours with a long kiss on his lips. Your tongues swirl together and you could’ve sworn he pulled you even further. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. He moaned at the stretch of your cunt wrapped around him. “Feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna—fuck—gonna make you mine.”

Your head hits the back of the wall and you start to feel fuzzy in the head. “Lo–” You whine. “Love you.” You whisper into the night air. Something hits Logan in the chest and he can’t help but snap his hips into you even further. 

It makes you see stars, but all Logan can think about is how much he loves you. His chest was burning with something different—something more primal than he had ever felt. It made him want to drool, place his head against you, and live there forever. 

“Love you too, baby.” He grunts. He wanted to do this properly—to be a gentleman. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make sweet love to you, and then tell you those three little words. It completely went out the window when you defended him—when you stood up for him like no one else has. You completely had his back and he couldn’t help but let the happiness burst through his veins. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, baby?”

He makes you turn your head towards him to look him in the eye. You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for Logan. “Need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“You love me. I know you love me.” He groans and pumps his cock straight onto your cervix. It makes you squeal at the sensation and he feels the slick run down to his balls. The cold night air made goosebumps on your skin, though, your mind not even noticing. 

“Fuck, I love the way you sound. Don’t be shy, baby.” You fully moan, more than likely the sound echoing across the bar parking lot. “That’s it.” You both were beginning to feel dizzy with love and lust. He couldn’t stop staring into your eyes. He was too immersed in them and he never wanted to look away from them again. 

“Fuck, Logan!” 

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” The coil finally snapped as you unleashed the precipice of your orgasm. Your body shuttered against him, all while he was singing praises in your ear. You clench around him so hard that in one thrust, he’s filling you up to the brim. He slowly pumps his salty cum into you, your body convulsing with pure ecstasy. 

You start to giggle in his arms about the whole night. Logan couldn’t help but smile too. You were just too contagious. 

“Let’s go home, Lo.”

He couldn’t help but smile brightly at the thought. He couldn’t suppress the pure joy like he normally could.

“Yeah, okay.” He whispers.

You were home to him. 

He never had to do anything alone anymore. He certainly didn’t have to deal with the demons attached to his hurt heart.

He finally had you.

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

kinktober day 005 — thigh riding

pairing || joel miller x afab!f!reader

summary || you and joel liked to play games. how long can you last without him touching you?

author's note || wow so, I’m back! I know I dipped after one kinktober fic, but I was honestly forcing myself. I finally have the motivation and excitement for writing again <3

warnings || fluff, some soft!joel, SMUT, praise kink, thigh riding, dom x sub, [18+ only]

FREE PALESTINE - info, info, info

kinktober masterlist

“Are you going to behave?”

It was such a simple question. It was one that Joel had asked quite often—especially to you.

There was something in the way that he said those five words. His eyebrows were always furrowed, and a frown was etched across his features. His gruff, rumble of a voice would send shivers down your spine. Your nails would dig into his flannel jacket—just so you would be able to stay calm.

It was always a game that you so dangerously played. Who breaks first?

You had been teasing him quite literally all night. You teased him before communal dinner by swaying your hips a bit extra while walking down stairs. You teased him during the dinner when your hand gracefully placed itself on top of his thigh. You slowly inched your way forward toward the thing you had been so desperately wanting.

Sure, you were the one teasing, but had he seen himself? He looked so handsome with his dark flannel shirt and navy jeans. The cuffs of his sleeves were folded up, nice and neat—which didn’t help the ache in your heart as you stared at his veiny forearms.

So, you didn’t say a word to him. You couldn’t.

His eyebrow gently lifted, as if to say “I’m not repeating myself.” The action alone made you swallow thickly.

“Yes.” You barely whisper. All he did was stare at you with his bright, brown hues—and yet he melted you right into a puddle.

He has you on the couch, gently splayed on his lap. Your chest was facing his own with your legs on either side of him and it was becoming increasingly harder to avoid his intense gaze. His breaths were slow and deep, but you could tell that there was something tingling coursing through his veins.

“You sure?” He gruffed out. “‘Cause by the way you’re actin’ right now, I’m not so sure I believe it.”

You knew you had thirty minutes until Ellie, Maria, and Tommy came over for the weekly game night. You knew that if you acted anything out of line, you were going to get it when they left. There was a part of you that grew excited from the chance of pissing off your sweet partner—it made you giddy.

Joel had other plans, though. Normally, when you were misbehaving like this—he would make you wait until the unbearable possible second and then you would snap. Tonight was different.

Joel wanted to give you exactly what you wanted. He didn’t want to play that game anymore—it was predictable.

“I’m sure, Joel.” Half of the sentence that spews out of your mouth was jumbled from the way that his hands settled down to your hips and squeezed.

He huffed, not believing a single word. He knew you—knew that no matter how much of Joel you seem to obtain, it never fulfills you enough. You’re always ready for him.

He was just so thick. The way his arms bulged out of his sleeves and his chest pushing against the buttons of his flannel. His thighs—god, his thighs—strung right against the thick jean material. How could anyone resist that?

“It’s okay, sweet thing. I know you just need a little somethin’.” You become confused and almost deranged when one of his hands leave your waist and start to casually unbuckle his belt.

“Joel—” You couldn’t even finish the question that was perched on top of your tongue. Your mouth clamped shut as he shuffled his jeans down his legs.

“Jus’ sit pretty, would you?” He almost rolls his eyes. After being so long with one another, one would think you would have gotten used to Joel caring for you. Old habits die hard.

“Let me take care of you, hmm?” He asked, the hum vibrating against his chest. No matter what, Joel always made sure to get a verbal response. The action alone made your heart skip a beat.

He maneuvers you over so he can skillfully take off your shorts and underwear. His breath hitches at the sight of your hairy mound and the slick peaking through your folds.

“Oh baby,” he coos once more, “bet you been aching like this all day.”

He moved your hips forward, creating the friction right against your clit. You gasped at the newfound feeling, pleasure sparking against your spine. “So fuckin’ pretty, sweet girl.”

You whimpered at the praise. The way his dark eyes stared straight into you, not letting himself miss a single moment churned something deep within your chest.

“J-Joel—” It sounded so pitiful when the sound left your lips. Joel couldn’t help but coo. His hand briefly left your hip

Joel starts to breathe heavily, his boxers feeling even more tight around his cock. “Good girl. Look at ya.” He huffed out.

Your hips rocked back and forth on his thigh, slick dripping from your core and onto his unclothed thigh. You moaned, head lulling to the side at the pure pleasure coursing through you.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

You whimpered at his praises. Your hand wanted to desperately reach out and drag his lips onto yours, but you refrained. Just like he asked. Sit there and look pretty.

“Doin’ such a good job for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, head tilted down to watch the way you drag your puffy clit against his meaty thigh. “Look at you, pretty girl. Fuck—”

He could feel the way his cock throbbed against his boxers. He almost could smell the way your slick rubbed against his skin. He let out a moan when he heard a beg from your lips.

“Please, Joel—please.”

You were drenched in wanton. Your eyes were glassy with each roll of your hips across his bulging thigh. “That’s my good girl. Just needed me so bad, yeah?”

You nodded, whining when he pressed his thumb against your clit. “So bad, Joel. I need—I need—”

“Sh, I know, pretty. I’ve got you.”

His thumb pressed deeper onto your sensitive nub. Just the pressure alone, and the pure agonizing pleasure was just enough to send you over.

Your chest arches into him as you say his name over and over. Your legs start to shake and give out, but Joel still rocks your hips back and forth. The pleasure spins through your core and to your head, sending you feeling fuzzy and euphoric.

He presses sweet kisses to your cheeks, whispering praises against your skin. “Let go, baby, yeah that’s it. So good for me. You did so good. I know you wanted that so bad. Such a good girl.”

Finally, your body goes slack against his broad chest. He lets out a chuckle at how spent you look. He knew that going on patrol would leave you a babbling mess.

You practically purred into him. You pressed your cheek against his chest and inhaled his deep woody scent. His arm wrapped around your form and pulled you in deeper. He let out a content sigh before kissing the tip of your nose.

You never get tired of nights like this.

halloween header by @saradika 🖤

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

Lately, the thought has been spinning in my head that there is a reader who will be much taller than our beloved Miguel ??? damn it, I just imagine the reader towering over Miguel and saying "god, are all the spiders here really that small or is it me Just that big? Hehe" I'm in love with the idea

i cannot relate bc I’m five foot zero inches BUT I hope you enjoy

warnings || none, tall reader, fluff, grumpy miguel, gn!reader, not edited

masterlist

If Miguel heard another one of your jokes, he’s pretty sure he is going to punch the computer—again. It seemed as if your favorite past time, which could be anything that didn’t involve him, was making fun of your height difference to Miguel.

It all started when Hobie and Peter made one singular comment. Personally, you hadn’t noticed that much of a difference. You weren’t extremely taller than him—maybe just an inch or two.

“Ay. Pete, look.” Hobie nudges Peter with his arm. Peter raises his eyebrows and then turns to where Hobie’s eyes are set.

You stood tall, watching intently to whatever words are spilling out of Miguel’s mouth. But for Miguel, his eyes were tilted upwards. He had to look up to get an actual good look at you.

“Holy f—” Peter cringes. “Sorry, Mayday. Don’t tell your mother.”

Hobie wickedly grinned. “Yeah, mate. This is a revelation.”

Miguel was serious, and brooding, as he always had been. You, on the other hand, were a much lighter spirit. Still, though, you towered over him and it was so pleasant to see.

“I’ve got to tell Miles about this.” Peter says, excitedly.

Hobie smirked and nudged his friend again. “I love anarchy.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows and May babbles out the words—trying to imitate Hobie. “Wait, what—”

“Miguel! Shorty! Little short stuff, yeah.” Miguel whips his head over to Hobie. “I think you’re gonna have to talk a bit louder to them.”

Miguel sighed, eyes flickering from Hobie to you. “I don’t have time for this—”

You couldn’t help but blurt it all out. “It’s because you’re shorter than me.”

Miguel’s eyes widened but they stayed right on you. A mere bystander would say that he’s angry, but you could tell he was flustered.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” He places his thumb and index finger onto his nose. “Just get back to work.”

You pause your antics and give Miguel a small smile. Your hand reaches out to smooth over the holographic suit on his shoulders. “I’m only teasing, you know.”

He lets out a sigh, but he’s still nodding his head. “Yeah, I know.”

If he was being honest, he had always loved the height difference. He had loved how you could envelope his wide shoulders and place sweet forehead kisses on top of his head. He loved the way your eyes locked with his as his heart thumped rapidly across his chest.

You smiled at him—fully. You could tell that there was a blanket of warmth that settled over him. For a minute, you thought you were actually getting to him.

Miguel stands up to grab a file from a cabinet. It was the old way of doing things—an old method for storing precious items. Some of the spider people needed the older methods.

Miguel stands on his tippy toes. The file that he needed had conveniently been placed on the very top shelf of the cabinet. It was just his luck.

“Sorry, just—Miguel, do you need me to get that?”

He turns toward you and stares. He stares for so long as he watches you bite your lip. You were stifling your laughter at the whole scene before you.

His eyes squint, and your laughter comes to a halt. You clear your throat, “let me get it for you, Miggy.”

God, how can he not just melt at that? He watches as your tall stature easily grabs the file that seemed so difficult for him. There was the smallest hint of a smile on his face. He truly loved to watch you doing your own.

“You are so fucking lucky that I love you, cariño.” He mumbles incoherent curses as he sits down in his office chair.

You gently place the file into his hands. Lyla swirls beside him, echoing the same laughter that bubbles from your throat. “I’m with a bunch of idiots—goddamn idiots.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

hello again!!

i loved the blurb of the last req i sent in so you’re getting my new idea >:)

ok so miguel and reader are married and he notices that during missions she fiddles with her engagement and wedding rings under her suit and he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world 🥹

i’m just the softest for miggy i can’t

have a great day/night and DRINK MORE WATER!!

ugh I love this sm. ty for your patience!! I have so many requests for miggy it’s insane and I love it. So, I kinda got carried away and I made them fiancee’s but I hope you enjoy it 💗

pairing || miguel o’hara x f!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, fiancé!miguel

masterlist

Miguel is an intuitive person. He could observe someone from afar and understand their weaknesses, triumphs, and fears. He has always been quite the observer.

For you, though, he knew everything. Your favorite food, your favorite movie, how your energy levels plummeted after a lot of stimulation, the way you got nervous around new people—everything.

He might not admit it to anyone, but he knows. He understands that this level of love—this care for another person—ran deep in his bones. His heart always thumped across his chest from your mere presence. No matter how much he resists the complacency of personal attachments, he can never resist you.

He might be grumpy. He might yell and get angry. He might roll his eyes and huff out his breath, but Miguel loves so deeply that it punctures his chest and creates a chasm of adoration for you.

Miguel was obsessed with the silhouette of you alone, never mind the way his stomach swirls with contentment and love when your hands glide smoothly across his chest. Never mind the way his heart stops every time you send him an endearing smile.

Miguel is hopelessly and helplessly in love with you, and as an observer, Miguel saw the little things.

He observed the way you would fiddle with his fingers underneath the table when you were nervous.

He observed when you would tap a finger on his bicep, completely subconsciously as you told him about your day.

He observed how you pressed deep kisses onto the scars that scattered across his chest and abdomen.

God, how he loved it. He never said a word, though.

His lips would quirk in the faintest of smiles as his body felt hot from the interactions. His hand would splay themselves on your thigh because he knew that you would need something to fumble with. He would lean his shoulder into you so your fingers could tap away absentmindedly.

Miguel knew your idiosyncrasies very well—and it was a mission in his head to file each of them into his mind so he could keep them for eternity.

This one, though, was new.

Miguel had proposed to you a week ago—a week exactly from today. It wasn’t your typical proposal where everyone in the background claps and congratulates you.

Miguel had taken you to your favorite spot. In Nueva York, there’s an old district that was a historic area full of old buildings. He took you to the top of the Chrysler building—that one being your favorite from the older days.

He didn’t prepare a big speech. He wasn’t sure he could without the swirling emotions of how much you truly meant to him. So, instead, he makes it simple.

“Te amo.”

Your eyes widened substantially at the indication of those words. Your mouth opened, jaw dropped almost to the floor. Tears started to collect on your eyelids, but you refused to let them fall.

“Miguel—” Your voice chokes in on itself as he showed you the ring. He looks at you, eyes wide with hope. You rarely saw that expression flash across his face. “Yes. Te amo también, Miguel.”

Without any words, he slipped the ring on your finger, and the two of you sat in silence. His body pressed up against yours, and he contently sighed.

Ever since he slipped that pretty ring onto your finger, you would feel it. You would twist the silvery metal. You’d swirl and fiddle with the accessory.

Sometimes, when you really needed comfort, you would place your lips onto the solid ring. When Miguel wasn’t around, you knew that he was always going to be there. He was always with you—even when he wasn’t.

And just like now, as your listening to Peter B.’s words, you’re twisting the ring around your finger. Miguel watched from afar, without coming towards you, as you subconsciously press your lips to the band.

Miguel couldn’t suppress the smile that curled on his lips as he watched you. His heart beat loudly against his ears—mission no longer on his brain.

Your concerned eyes eventually found him, and you melted. He could immediately see the anxiety dissipate from your shoulders from his presence. It made his stomach swirl with love.

Then, a voice appears next to his ear. “You guys are so cute. I’m gonna cry.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Lyla.”

“When you have your wedding, I’m gonna be front row, okay? It has to be that way because—”

“Lyla.” He growls. “Shut up.” He wouldn’t admit it in the whole damn world, but there was still a smile on his face.

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

can you write about carmy & readers first time after getting engaged 🥹

omg omg omg fiancé carmy just does it for me ok? and ik for a fact that the man wouldn’t wait once you got home. also I couldn’t find a picture of the ring I wanted so just pretend.

warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, soft sex, riding, mention of oral sex, 18+ only

masterlist

You looked down at the small diamond ring that was garnished with two rubies on a sparkling gold band.

You were smiling so brightly that your cheeks started to desperately ache. The stones glistened, and you felt in awe as your chest fluttered with adoration. 

Your admiration for the ring had stopped as Carmen’s voice rang through your ears. “Are you sure you like it?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and head down, looking at the delicious food he had made. His left leg was bouncing up and down as the thoughts piled one over the other. 

Carmen had asked you that same question about four to five times now. He asked you once after you said yes, two in the car ride, and one while walking up the stairs of your apartment complex.

Despite your reassurance—sometimes too much in a daze of staring at your hand to realize he had even asked you a question—Carmen still couldn’t quite get it into his head that you said yes. 

It was as if his head was still in a jumbled mess—still sweating and knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. His heart couldn’t stop thumping against his chest, and anxiety-filled thoughts rushed over another. The nagging feeling that he doesn’t deserve this and that he doesn’t deserve you had taken over his brain.

His entire speech happened in such a blur with his stuttering sentences and shaky voice. He watched as your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you shouted, “Yes!” It took him a moment to realize your response—his eyes slowly blinking with his mouth parted open to then at lightning speed getting up off of the ground and crashing you into a hug. It just all felt so real. 

You stand up from your end of the table and walk over to him, taking the spoon that he’s frantically tapping in his hand out from his reach. “Baby,” You coo, pressing your palm against his cheek.

It was the most obvious thing in the world to you. You couldn’t stop staring at it since he put it on your ring finger, but you knew that he just needed a little encouragement to swat those thoughts away. “What’s going on?”

Carmen had proposed. Richie had called you saying there was an emergency at The Bear. Of course, he failed to mention that everyone was okay. You rushed to the restaurant in a frenzy, grabbing the bare minimum and speeding down the highway roads.

When you arrived, you practically jumped out of the car and ran inside. Your brain had thought of the worst possible outcomes—a burned-down restaurant and hurt people. It was sending you into a spiral. 

But then, your heart stopped at the view in front of you. This time, the thumping of your heart was pure elation (minus the mental note to yell at Richie later). The entire restaurant had been closed, and a small candle-lit table had been set up—rose petals trailing across the concrete floors. 

Carmen and Richie were arguing but they didn’t see you quite yet. “You didn’t even fucking tell her anything?” Carmen huffed.

Richie just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “No, you fuckin’ bitch. I just said there was an emergency.”

Carmen’s hands exploded around him, an unlit cigarette between his middle and index finger. “Are you fucking serious right now, cousin? She’s probably freaking the fuck out—an emergency? Fuck—” Richie just rolled his eyes and shrugged, but then his eyes locked with yours and a huge smile spread across his lips. The rest went in a blur, and before you know it, Carmen got down on one knee. 

“I-I just—I don’t know. I wanna make sure that I’m doing this right.” His eyes finally look into your own. Your heart just about stops at the sadness that’s swimming through them. 

“Carmy, baby,” You moved his chair back, wooden legs sliding against the hardwood floor. You climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of him. You pressed a hand to his chest, and you gently rubbed your thumb against his soft, white t-shirt. 

His hands rest on your hips, and they squeeze the soft, plushy flesh. He let out a content sigh, some of the anxiety already dissipating from his thoughts.

He wants everything perfect, just for you. The irony of it all is that you do think everything’s perfect. Everything is always perfect with him.

“Let me see, bebita.” Tina couldn’t stop smiling, taking a glance over at you staring at your ring. You were waiting for Carmen to finish talking with Natalie before leaving the restaurant. Tina had found you, staring happily at your finger. 

She cursed under her breath, eyes widening.“Ay, coño—” She continued to watch the small diamonds sparkle underneath the kitchen lights.

Then, she smiled. She looked at you, and she had the biggest smile on her face. You make Carmen so happy, and he knows he makes you happy.

She was truly excited for her friends. “You know, this was Mikey’s ring. It was their grandmother’s or some shit, but—” She pauses, smiling right at you. “It was definitely his.”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape. “What?”

“You’re perfect.” You say, looking into his ocean eyes. “You’re doing everything right.”

He searches for something. He searches for anything. Any doubt, guilt, lying—literally anything. He continues to stare at your beautiful face, looking from the plump of your cheeks to the curve of your lips. 

His eyes look back up to yours. Nothing. He found nothing but pure love and adoration between your irises. He choked out a sound. It was garbled and whimpering. It made your heart clench. 

“Carmen—” Before you could even react, his lips devoured yours. You gasped against him before melting completely, hands going into his messy hair. His hands scaled your body in a passionate frenzy, desperation hitting his gut to pull you even closer to him. 

You moaned against him as his tongue pushed through your lips and into your mouth, swirling and tangling with one another. His hand went to cup your cheek; it was so gentle and sweet—the action made affection swirl in your chest. 

He parts from you, only for a moment. “Please. I need—I need to be inside you.” Another breath-stealing kiss, lips molding against yours. “You’re so—you’re so perfect, baby. N-need you.” He pants out. 

“Fuck, Carmy.” Your hands move to fumble with his belt. He continues to kiss you, lips smearing against your jaw and chin. Jittery, your hands bumble around and finally find the button to his pants. You shuffle them down his thighs, letting out a moan at the sight of a bulge in his boxers. 

“Carmy—” You whine. His fingertips graze your shoulder and lift the spaghetti strap of your dress. “Please.” You feel dazed and desperate. You feel a burning sensation sprout from your chest, and it ignites across your entire being. 

He helps you out of your dress, and his hands fumble with the back of your bra. Meanwhile, you’re also fumbling with getting his boxers off. The position of sitting in the chair had made this much more difficult. “Baby, fuck.”

“Need you, Carmy.” You whine. It caused him to smirk down at you. Eventually, the two of you get all of your clothes off, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You were still straddling his thighs—kisses so sweet and passionate that they tingled against your lips. 

His cock was hard, leaking with some pre-cum, and it made you shudder. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you with hazy eyes. You position him to your entrance and slowly sink into him.

You both moan against one another, breathing in each other’s presence. Carmen’s head rolls against your shoulder, biting down at the clench of your walls. You start to ride him—hips rolling against his own. 

“Gonna—fuck—gonna make you my wife.” He breathes out. He watches the way you slick smears against his thighs and the way he disappears into your tight cunt. You loudly moaned against him at the affirmation of his—making you even wetter than before. 

“Wanna—wanna be your wife, Carmy.” You whispered against his soft skin. His lips lower to the perky bud of your nipple and swirled his tongue around the sensitive area. “Want—fuck me—want you to be my husband.”

You could feel his cock twitch at your words. His lips revert their way to where he really wants them—your lips. You whimpered at the feeling of him pushing you further.

The hand on your back was rough from calluses. The new position made you whine and cry, Carmen whispering sweet, sweet praises. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. My–my fuckin’ girl. Look at you, so-so good. Gonna make you my wife. My fucking wife.”

His words are what send you over the edge—the sweet praises and confirmations of his love became too much. “C’mon, pretty girl. Let go for me. Be a good girl and let go.”

With a loud moan, your walls spasm around his cock and gush all over him. You’re screaming his name like a prayer that won’t leave your lips. Your legs shake, unwilling to move any longer. He’s whispering to you again and again, but this time you weren’t listening. 

He was on the verge of an orgasm too, but there was a bigger, more primal need for him to do first. He watched as you slowly slid out of him and he started to press gentle kisses across your shoulder and neck.

He watches your eyes slowly come back to him, and he waits. “I love you, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“I love you too, lovebug.” You say, a lazy smile curling your lips. You look down to see his hard cock against your thigh. You open your mouth to say something—wanting to take care of him, but he stops you with a shake of his head. 

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna eat you out. I need to taste you. I-I—” He stutters through his words, and the desperation settles on his chest. He needs to taste you on his tongue. He needs to hear the sweet sounds that escape your mouth as he eats his favorite meal. 

“Carmen. Fuck, yes.” 

The first night of being Fiancée’s with one another was going to be a very long night. 

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

Ithe reader’s got THICK thick thighs and he keeps playing w them

Either way,

He loves..

squeezing, pinching them, nipping at them anywhere n anytime he can

laying between your thighs, he’d place his head between your boobs

getting his head between ur thighs , tightening the grip on his head while eating u out

When sitting on his face you’re afraid you’d suffocate him with you thighs “Then I would die a happy man”

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, SMUT, thigh biting, miguel has a thigh kink, thigh fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), dom x sub, [18+ ONLY]

masterlist

Miguel knew he was obsessed—that much was completely clear as day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down to your thighs as they jiggled with each step. He couldn't help when his hands tightened around them, unable to fully wrap his large hand around the plush skin. 

It drove him fucking insane. 

“Cariño,” His voice was quiet in concentration, “y’need to stop moving.” 

You squirmed in his lap, legs perched up across his thighs. While you were watching TV, Miguel had a book in one hand, eyes scanning the page. However, for the past ten minutes, Miguel had been kneading into your thighs. He would squeeze them, feel them, and occasionally pinch them. 

His reading glasses slightly slid down his curved nose. His head was turned to you, ruby eyes intense with just the smallest of smirks across his lips. It was so distracting—he and his hands flushed up against your legs.

“Can’t read with you moving all around like that.” He says coolly. His voice was deep and gruff, the eye contact never wavering. You could feel yourself squirm again. Your body felt increasingly hot as his eyes gravitated towards his lap. He watched you move your thighs once more, and he subconsciously licked his lips. 

His large hand sunk deep into the molding flesh, creating the indents of his fingers into your skin. “Miggy—” 

He slapped his book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table. You let out a gasp as he moved so fast you hardly knew what was happening. Miguel had maneuvered himself so your thighs were slung over his shoulder, and he was crouched down so his chest met the couch. 

“Too fucking distracting.” He growls. His hands go to re-grip your thighs once more, spreading them apart. “Your fucking thighs—”

He cuts his own self off as he starts to kiss your thighs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he craved them—how much he thought about them completely enveloping his face. 

He loved when he could kiss them and put his fangs in them. He loved to see the indent of the way his teeth punctured your skin. 

He could feel his cock jump at the sight of them on display for him. He could picture the sweet memory of last night when he had his slick cock in between your thighs and fucked up into them. 

“Fuck, Miguel—” Your hands reach to his hair and pull. He lets out a groan, tongue swirling around your supple skin. 

He unsheathed his fangs and grazed them over the meat of your thighs. He watched as you gasped, head falling back. His hands continued to mold around the flesh, and he groaned, hips bucking into the couch. 

“So fucking thick,” he murmurs. “So fucking good to me, cariño.” 

He goes to kiss your mound, covered by panties and a pair of shorts. You whimpered, watching his glossy lust-filled eyes gaze at the skin before him. 

He lets out one of his claws, hand in the middle of the air, before ripping your shorts in half. “Miguel!” You scold. Another pair of pants and underwear were destroyed. Again. 

He doesn’t waste time, ignoring your scolding. He dips his tongue into your folds and growls at the wetness that sticks to your walls. “Taste—” He licks up to your clit and swirls the swollen bud. “So fucking—” His fingers press deeper into your thighs. “Good.” He gasps. 

Your thighs instinctively get tighter around his head, and he could practically feel his eyes roll in the back of his head. His head backs up as far as possible—wild eyes looking aflame. 

“Baby?” You say, concerned. He looked at you for a bit longer. Your eyes were hazy, your face looking completely fucked out. You had been squirming in his lap for some time, and he relished in the feeling of your body becoming hotter and hotter.

His eyes flashed. “Do it again.” He demands. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do what?” You were being genuine—not the innocent bratty nature that he was so used to. 

“Put your thighs around my head. Again.” He growled out the last part of the sentence. His cock twitched again at the sight of your thighs wrapped around him. 

Your hand subconsciously lightly tugs on his hair. “B-but, Miguel.” Your eyes flicker away from him. “I’ll crush you.”

He takes a good look at you once more. He then chuckles under his breath before kneading your thighs again. 

“Good. I want you to.” He pressed his lips back onto your slick and pushed a tongue between your folds. “I want you to crush my fucking head, cariño.”

He taps your thigh in an inpatient manner, the other hand teasing your entrance with a finger. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

He pleasantly hums. “Now sit back and wrap your thighs around me. Be my good girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

can you write about carmy getting his first blowjob????

the way I crave this man is insane 😩 of course I can, hun

pairing || carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, reader has manicured nails, SMUT, blowjob, mention of eating out, praise kink, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

masterlist

It was way past closing time at the restaurant. All of the other employees had left, finishing their duties, while Richie was furiously cleaning the floors. His arm felt like it was about to fall off as he scrubbed the dirty tile.

Carmen, on the other hand, was chopping vegetables. His hand moved fast across the cutting board, making thumping sounds as the knife sliced each carrot.

Richie scoffed. “Do you seriously need to do this right now, cousin?”

Carmen didn’t even blink. He just continued to chop up the remaining vegetables, with all of his focus on cooking. After putting the carrots into the pot, he starts to finely dice a red onion.

“Yes, cousin. I just—I just need to perfect this recipe, and then we’re good.” 

Richie rolled his eyes but still scrubbed. “You’re such a jagoff.”

Carmen had a habit of trying to perfect every single recipe thrown his way. When he tasted the soup earlier, his nose scrunched up. Something about it just felt off—and it was driving him insane. It tasted too salty and too acidic. He needed to figure out how to make it better.

He turned to the boiling pot of chicken stock and gently placed the onion slices into the stew. “Yo, cousin. I got it. Go home.” He didn’t even wait for an answer as he expertly sliced into a tomato.

Richie stood up from the ground. “Sure. Just don’t make your girl wait too long.”

For the first time in their conversation, Carmen looked over at him. There was even a small smile on his lips. “Never. Not to her.”

Richie half-smiled. “Alright, you fuckin’ sap. I’m leaving.” On the inside, Richie was beaming. He couldn’t get over how happy you make Carmen—hell, how happy you make the whole kitchen. Your presence was entirely needed in a place like this.

He knocked twice on the office door and announced his leave to you. You opened the door with a wide grin and bid him goodnight. “Don’t forget to tell Eva about the tickets!” You called out as Richie walked out the door.

Richie was practically glowing at the mention of his daughter. “Thank you for finding amazing seats, by the way, sweetheart! You’re a fucking lifesaver!” With that, Richie was out of sight as the door closed on him.

Carmen’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice. His head swiveled around to see you already staring at him. Your body leaned over the office door frame—pretty manicured nails sparkling against the contrasted white of the walls.

“Hi, baby.” He says. 

“Hi, Carm.” You say back, smiling. 

He puts the sharp knife down and wipes his hand on the towel that was over his shoulder. You walk over to him in the kitchen, and he relishes the proximity of your presence. Your fingers trace the outline of his bicep, and a shiver crawls up his spine. Your hand settles onto his shoulder, and you give a small squeeze.

Your relationship was fairly new. It would officially be three months tomorrow, to be exact. It had gone by pretty fast if he was being honest, but it just felt so good being with you. Despite the newly founded relationship, Carmen couldn’t get over how much you truly mean to him.

You were everything from the late Sunday mornings of snuggling under the sheets to the crazy late nights of telling stories out in the front house of the restaurant. To make matters worse, you got along so well with all of the staff at The Bear. You calmed him down when everything seemed to be directly opposing him. You were always there to press a finger to his chin and a kiss on his cheek. He swore his heart palpitated against his chest every time he thought about you.

“Can I taste?”

He nodded, grabbing a small spoon and dipping it into the soup. His hand hovered under the bottom so it wouldn’t spill. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You did as he said and let your jaw slack open. He places the spoon into your mouth, and you let the delicious, salty soup slide down your throat.

You moan against the spoon. “Holy fuck, Carm.” His eyes never left your face in an attempt to understand your reaction. “That was the best thing I have ever tasted.”

He finally smiles. He felt like he was glowing. “You say that every time I ask you to try something.”

You slid your hand down his chest, feeling the imprint of the chain that rests under his uniform. “And I mean it every fucking time.” His heart buzzed against his chest. His mind felt hazy. He wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed the soft, plush flesh. His bright eyes were so intense—so full of affection—that it was starting to make you feel hot.

“You wanna taste it too?” You asked innocently.

He nodded and reached for another clean spoon. You smiled wide at the idea of him getting a sparkling clean spoon. He was quickly derailed by the way your lips crashed onto his. He let out a surprised groan, his eyes fluttering close.

You moved in sync until you pushed your tongue into his mouth and tasted the sweet essence of him. He tasted the chicken and onions from the delectable, tasty soup. It was much better than what he had tasted earlier. “Fuck—” He murmured in between the deep kisses. You bubbled out a laugh, but his hand stayed firm on your waist. He didn't want to end the way he felt when your lips graced his own.

You pull apart after the desperation of air becomes too much. You almost laugh again at the sight of his swollen lips and pretty pink cheeks. “See? Taste’s good, doesn’t it?”

A small smirk caressed his lips, but the flustered look was still there. “It tastes very good, sweet girl.”

The nickname prickled goosebumps onto your arms. He has called you that since your third date, but it never ceases to make your heart flutter. He knows it too.

You both start to gravitate toward each other once more. This time the kiss was more intense, with more teeth clashing and attempting to bruise each other’s lips.

“Carmy.” You whine. He growled into you in response and pressed another searing kiss onto your mouth. His hands grip your waist even tighter as if to pull you in even more. A moan slipped from the back of your throat.

Your hands move to the plains of his chest before pushing the two of you apart. His eyebrows furrow as you completely pull away from his embrace. Did he hurt you? It was all he could think. He didn’t want to fuck this up. No, he can’t fuck this up.

“Baby?” He whispers, sounding uncertain.

You don’t say a thing as you sink your knees to the ground, causing Carmen to gasp. His eyes were wide as his stare intensified. “F-Fuck.” His mouth bobs open and closed, trying to find some other words, but all he does is whisper your name.

Your hands moved up and down his thighs. The fabric of his chef uniform was soft against your palms. “Can I take care of you, Carmy?”

Oh, fuck. Your voice sounded so sweet—so thick and kind against his ears. He could feel his cock throb at the anticipation of your touch.

You wait for his answer, still gently rubbing his thighs back and forth. He felt like he was on fire. Nerves crash over him, though. His heart starts to speed up at the anxiety that prickles his skin. He had never done this before.

It wasn’t that the opportunity didn’t arise because it did. You asked many times if he wanted a blowjob, but all he wanted was to lick into your folds again. It was like his mind was drunk off of the sweet, tangy nectar, and he wasn't about to let go. He needed you more and more. He discovered he was much more of a giver.

Normally, he takes his sweet time with you. The first time he had ever tasted anyone was you. He always asks—that desperation in his voice. “Can I taste you? Please? F-Fuck, I see you dripping. Oh—Please?” Once he got confirmation, he would spread your legs and dip his tongue into your sweet folds. He could eat you out for hours—and he has.

He would groan against you as his tongue pushed through your folds. You tasted tangy and sour—so sweet to his taste buds, making his hands grip an indent into your flesh. The whimpers and whines that you let out are music to his ears, and he wishes the sounds were burned onto his soul. His eyes would always be latched onto yours, refusing to break the intense contact. He could fucking live in your pussy.

He couldn’t say no to you, though, could he? His cock was about ready to start leaking pre-cum. Your eyes looked so dilated and large with lust that he couldn't resist. 

“F-fuck, okay. Yeah, baby. J-just—” He breaks out into a moan from your eager hands. They pushed down his pants, pooling around his ankles almost in an instant.

“Wait-wait—”

You stop immediately and let go of his thighs. Some concern is etched across your face, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I just—I just want you to know that I’ve never done this before. I don’t—” He gulps. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You almost let out a gasp. It was his first blowjob that you were going to give him, and he was worried about you. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's huffing out a breath. He just didn't want you to feel like you have to do something like this.

“Oh, Carmy, baby, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long, but you kind of get distracted.” There was that implication that he knew about so well. A blush kissed the tip of his ears.

“You sure, baby? I’m not-I’m not forcing you?”

You wanted to know who hurt this man. His anxiety about making you feel comfortable was always through the roof. You grabbed his clenched hand and opened his palm. You pressed a sweet kiss. “No, baby. You’re not forcing me.”

He visibly relaxes his shoulders. “Okay.” He breathes out. “Okay.”

You avert your attention back to his thighs—and what’s between them. He could practically see your mouth water at the bulge that protruded out from his boxers. Carmen had always been big. No one had ever told him that before, in the late kind-of drunken night stands that he had. When you first had sex at his apartment and could really take a peek at his weeping cock, your eyes widened drastically.

You knew he was big, but goddamn, he is big.

“Can I, handsome?”

You looked up at him with a cute smile. The nickname caused his heart to stutter—his cheeks deepening the shade of red. "Yeah, baby." He says. Then he whispers, “Please.”

You dragged his boxers down his thighs, and they pooled right on top of his slacks. His cock sprung up from the force—already more than half hard and aching. His eyes can’t seem to stare at anything else but you. You looked so eager—so excited—to have his dick right in front of your face. It made his stomach flip. 

Your hand curls around the base, and he sucks in a breath. Your fingers just barely wrapped around the entirety of his length. Your manicured nails dug slightly into the large vein on the side—it made him choke on his own spit. 

“So fuckin’ big, Carmy.” You whined. You started to pump, it was a small motion, but it still made him moan. It sounded so desperate, making your ears ring. You couldn’t wait any longer, mouth watering at the sight of pre-cum already sprouting from his tip. 

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he shivered. “F-Fuck, baby—” He moans. He could feel his whole body throbbing—aching at the way you made him feel. 

You swirl your tongue around the ruddy tip and continue to tease him, wrapping your lips around the sensitive area. His hand immediately goes to the back of your head, unable to help himself. “Oh, fuck, holy shit—your fucking mouth, shit—”

His knees wobbled, the other hand steadying himself on the kitchen counter. “Y’taste so good, Carmy.” Your words were slurred with lust, making his own eyes dilate. His heart palpitated at you loving this—the insecurities from earlier disappearing like water down a drain. 

You start to take him even further. Your lips slowly ease down his cock, and one of your hands, still wrapped around the shaft, gave a squeeze. He choked on nothing and watched how you hollow your cheeks. You’re only halfway, but he swears he is seeing stars. “Feels so good, baby—so fucking good.” He squeezes his hand. 

Pride blooms within you, as well as the praises from him making you clench around nothing. You wanted to start touching yourself, but the intense desperation to keep a hand on his cock was greater. You choked a little as his hips unconsciously gave a small thrust. It made him let out a loud moan. 

He’s not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s spewing out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Fucking—shit—can you take all of it, sweet girl? Hmm?” 

He licks his lips. “Can you t-take my whole cock in your mouth?” He lets out a huff of air as you moan around his cock. “Be–be my good girl, yeah?”

The only confirmation you can give is the way your eyes gloss over. Tears threaten to poke out from your eyes, and the sight makes Carmen let out a curse. You slowly, yet again, take more of him in your mouth. 

“F-fuck,” he drags out. “Good girl—good fuckin’ girl. That’s it.” His knees wobble again, but he stays steady. Pure bliss sprouts in his stomach as he can feel the hot, searing pleasure from your wet mouth. 

You were able to fully take him—nose brushing up against the hair on his pubic bone. He groans and whimpers at the sight of you breathing deeply with his cock shoved down your throat. “Shit–shit–fuck, baby. That’s my pretty girl. Look–look at you choking on my cock. Holy shit—” He whined out. 

Warmth spreads through your chest at the adoration and lust that flows through his eyes. He can’t stop staring at the way you are just barely able to take him whole. His eyes widened even more as he watched you shove your hand down your shorts. 

“Oh, baby—” he says in a coo. “Look so good like that, huh? Fuckin’ touching yourself.” You could feel the way his cock twitches in his mouth. God, where was this coming from? He thought. Something about how your eyes sprung with more tears and you desperately humping your hand for some release was making him insane. 

He thrusts in and out of you, fucking up into your throat. You gagged around the girth of his cock and garbled out a cry. He moaned and whined at the feeling of your throat constricting against his cock and listened to the wet sounds of it all.

“Gonna–gonna cum, baby.” He swore that he saw your eyes sparkle—as if you wanted it all down your throat. He could feel that familiar swirl of an organism puncturing his chest. He panted as he watched the way his cock disappeared into your throat—it was a fucking sight. 

His eyes suddenly turn nervous. “Can-can I cum down your throat? Please?” He sees the way you nod with your mouth full, but he sees it. He sees the raw want and needs that fills your eyes. Yeah, you wanted his cum. You needed his cum. 

“Shitshitshit—” He stammers, thrusting into you two, three times. He groans out, low and guttural, as his seed spills into the back of your throat. He moans out your name in between shaken breaths from the ropes flowing through your mouth—salty and sour. He continues to pump into you, and you swallow every single drop—the added friction of your throat making him whimper. 

His hips still, but his cock stays inside of your mouth, twitching in pleasure. You hum around the base and watch as his body almost writhes. He looks down at you with the most content and relaxed smile you had seen.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of him; the pop noise was small. You started to press sweet kisses to his thighs, his hand going back to rest on your head. “Feel good, bear?”

His eyes were shining. “Felt so good, baby. Y’did so well.” Now his words were slurred with lust. He just couldn’t help but let his whole world revolve around you for a moment. 

You gently put on his boxers and do the same to his chef slacks. He offers you his hand, and he helps you pull yourself up. You wince at the sting in your knees, but in a way, it felt good. 

He immediately takes you into an embrace, not uttering a word. You gladly let him and rest your arms over his shoulder. He grabs your waist tightly and lets his head fall on your shoulder. He breathes in deeply, letting the scent that he knows so well flow into his nose.

He was completely and utterly relaxed—it was a sensation he didn’t feel all that often. You press a gentle kiss to his hair and then to his temple. The two of you just stood like that for some time, saying nothing and enjoying one’s company. 

Both of your attention to each other had ceased as the pot that was on the stove had boiled over. A lot of the soup had crashed onto the burning stove. "Fuck!"

Carmen immediately turned the stove off and let out a relieved sigh that nothing had burned. It would just be a bitch to clean up. You hand him a clean washcloth with a slightly guilty look on your face. He took the cloth from you with an annoyed (it was minorly annoyed) glare before wiping down the area.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Carm." You say, watching his arms flex. "I don't regret a thing."

He rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you." The cursing was lighthearted because he knew it too. He didn't regret anything either. In fact, he encouraged something like this again, maybe just without being in the middle of cooking.

He tried the soup again with the dirty spoon—he had a suspicion that it was going to be thrown out anyway. "Shit—Fuck—it's overcooked."

You laughed, one hand resting on your chest. He glared again. "Hey, you can't—seriously, we burned the soup. It's shit."

He still might not admit it, but you could see the way his eyes were still glossed over from the earth-shattering orgasm. He could even feel his cock jump from the way that he watched you bite your lip.

You pressed a finger onto his chin, thumb resting on his jaw. "It'll be okay, Carm." You squeezed his jaw. "You can make some more tomorrow. I’ll help."

Finally, he smiled. Yeah, tomorrow, he thought. His eyes still looked glossy, and his loopy smile was bright. "Let's clean up and go home.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

you’re an addiction || m.o.

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!afab!reader

summary || Everyone always thought Miguel was quiet and calculating, but you know him so much more differently.

author's notes || im so slutty for this man it's insane and I needed him to be soft

warnings || fluff, kinda emotionally constipated miguel, SMUT, praise kink, soft!dom, cockwarming, vaginal sex, unprotected sex [18+ only]

masterlist

“Baby,” Miguel’s eyes flickered from the screen of the computer to the wooded desk. He was trying real hard to concentrate—eyebrows furrowed and large frame standing tall.

“You need to sit still.” He said it so soft. He meant it to sound a bit more demanding, but how could he? You were sitting so good for him. 

Miguel wasn’t known for being a talker. Not really.

At the HQ, he barely uttered a word unless it was necessary. He had grown to like the quiet, empty space of silence. It seemed calming to him. It harnessed a full collection of him and his thoughts as they unraveled.

Until you. 

You were the one exception to the rule of silent Miguel. You were the light that speckled onto his stubborn, grieving heart. You were the cause and reason for every single curl of his lips as he watched you perform a mundane task.

He just couldn’t help himself around you. You dug up underneath his heart and made him want to spill every detail of his thoughts to you. He could never say no to you, either. It felt impossible to him when you bash your eyelashes prettily, and his heart palpitates against his chest. He is absolutely done for the minute you whisper his name softly in his ear.

Like, now. Miguel was supposed to be working on important briefing materials for a new mission. He was gathering evidence and needed to present it to the team in a couple of days.

You padded across the living room floors and sauntered your way into Miguel’s study. It was late. Impossibly late. You had woken up to an empty bed. Your hand had patted the mattress to find your husband, but he was nowhere to be found. You could never sleep without him, and if he was being honest, neither could he. 

“Miggy?” You called out. Your eyes flitted over Miguel, his broad frame hunching over the hologram computer. A pout had sprouted onto your lips because you figured he was nowhere near done.

“Hmm?” He says. His head didn’t even move from the work in front of him.

He could hear you make your way over to him, though. His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. 

Sometimes, he cherished nights like these. You would wake up in the middle of the night to find Miguel sitting in his study. You would wrap your arms around him, koala-like, and fall asleep on his lap. He would always smile as your mind dreamed of him—he knew from the small whispers of his name as sleep took over in full. 

“Can’t sleep without you.” You murmur.

He finally tears his eyes away to look at you. His heart thumped hard against his chest for what felt like the millionth time. Your pajamas hung loose onto your form as you rubbed one of your exhausted eyes.

He scooted the office chair back and tapped his thigh. “C’mere. I’ll be done soon, baby.”

You walked into his presence but didn’t sit just yet. “Promise?”

He breaks into a smile. “Promise.”

You climbed on top of his large thighs. You were straddling his waist and immediately enveloping him in a hug. Your cheeks were pressed up against his chest. If only you could see his smile now—practically beaming.

He scoots the chair back. He breathes in deeply to appreciate the feeling of your warmth radiating off onto him. You close your eyes, and he continues to do his work. His fingers pressed up against the holographic keyboard. He moved other components of the mission to the other—his eyes darting in concentration. 

You yawned against his chest and subconsciously pressed your cheek further into him. You thought about him.

You thought about the way his smile lights up when you walk into the room. You thought about the day he made pozole when you were sick. You thought about the way his body completely wrapped around yours with his broad frame. You thought about the way he held you in bed during the pretty, bright sunrise. You thought about how his hands groped the soft flesh of your thighs. You thought about the times he has left you dizzy from the kisses and bites to your neck. You thought about the way his cock left a burn from—

Now you got squirmy. So much so that, that was how he gave the initial scolding to keep you still. Even though it was soft, you knew when you needed to quit. Although, you couldn’t help it. Not when your mind eventually wandered off to the way his cock pounded into you this morning.

“I’m sorry, Miggy,” you lightly pouted. Your eyes were closed, and you were concentrating on Miguel’s heartbeat. You needed a distraction from thinking about how his cock always filled you up so fucking well.

His eyebrow lifted as he saw the split-second of mischief in your eyes before you closed them, but he still gave you the benefit of the doubt. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. Don’t be sorry.” Your fingers tightened around his shoulder. “I just need you to stay still, okay?”

You nodded, but you could feel the wetness leak onto your panties. With how thin your shorts were, your slick would eventually leak onto his thigh. You squeezed your eyes even tighter, but your attempt in keeping calm had already failed. 

You bit your lip as you watched the way his arms flexed from having to move around the hologram. Your pussy was fucking throbbing at this point, thinking about MiguelMiguelMiguel—

Then, he abruptly stopped. Your head lifted up from his chest in confusion, but he never said a word. He just raised you with one hand, and the other pulled down his sweatpants.

His cock sprang free, and he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes become slightly larger. The way his cock practically pulsated in his grip, always left you speechless. There was pre-cum that spilled against his tip, and you could see the vein that ran across the side of his shaft. It made your mouth water to no fucking end.

He gently sat you back down onto his lap. Your hands immediately went to caress the girth of his cock, but he snatches your hands in his.

He clicks his tongue. “You wanna be a good girl?”

Your mouth falls open, but you nod. “I do.” He looks unconvinced. So, you whine. “Please.”

There it is. He can’t help but smirk. “Since you can’t sit still, I’ll give you my cock.” His eyes locked with yours, and you looked almost excited. “But no moving, okay? Gotta be good for me.”

You’d take him in any which way and in any form. You wanted to smile in delight, but you knew the raise of his eyebrow would be an indication not to challenge him. Instead, you enthusiastically nod.

Satisfied, Miguel maneuvers your pajama shorts and underwear to the side with one of his talons—the fabric ripping slightly from the pure sharpness. 

His mouth drops open at the way your pussy glistens for him. “Oh, poor baby.” His finger teases your opening, causing you to gasp. “You just needed my cock, didn’t you?”

You wanted to cry out. You nodded, the desperation to feel him inside of you was becoming unbearable. “I need you, Miguel.” Your heart beat so loud across your chest that it was even hard to hear yourself. Everything felt hot and heavy—the air feeling thick.

Ever so slowly, he starts to let you sink down into his cock. You both moan from the euphoric sensations of being one with one another. “Fuckin’ tight.” He whispers, closing his eyes. "Eres mia."

He can feel the way you restrict around him, and he has to stop himself from thrusting up into you. All he needs is five more minutes, and then he would be completely done with work. He could be all yours for the rest of the night.

You whimper, “f-fill me up so good, miggy.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah? Am fuckin’ made for you, querida.”

He lets out a groan as your walls clenched around him from the statement alone. You could feel your juices start to leak down onto his balls. Soon, it would be his thighs.

He stares at the hologram once more, attempting to continue his work. Your head leans back against his chest once again. This time, though, you were filled to the brim. His cock stretched you just enough to let you see stars.

He was big. The fat tip of his cock was hitting your cervix as you barely bottomed out. The thought was starting to make you accidentally roll your hips.

Miguel bites his tongue as a moan threatens to escape. He tries to keep his composure because he knows that if he gives you one look, he's done for. He’ll give you exactly what you want because Miguel O’Hara can’t say no to you. You have him wrapped around your pretty finger.

“Bein’ so good, baby. Just a little longer.” If you weren’t already cock drunk and fantasying about how his cock makes you feel, you would have noticed the slur in his words.

His voice was deep and relaxed—the gruffness scratched against his throat. His words seemed fluid and almost combined into one. All he could think about was how wet you were—some of the slick was starting to drop onto your conjoined thighs. He could feel just how desperate you were, and your soft whimpers weren't helping. It was starting to make his head feel fuzzy. 

You nodded against him, but you weren’t listening. “Yes, Miguel.” It was just a habit for you. You wanted to be his good girl, and you are. You really, really are.

Your body jolts as his hand smacks the desk in front of him. It turns off the hologram, and you’re left with your mouth opening in shock.

“Fuck this.” He yells impatiently. “I can fucking feel how wet you are, querida. It’s driving me—driving me fucking insane.” His eyes lowered to see the expression on your face. It almost made him whimper.

Your gaze was fucked. You looked completely fucked out from the haze in your eyes and the way your lip wobbled. You looked like an absolute mess, and it was tearing Miguel up.

He could feel the wanton need to bury his cock even further inside of you—which wasn’t even possible at this point. An aching need to take care of you took over his thoughts and pushed against his chest. He needed you.

“Miguel.” You whimpered. It was as if that was the only thing your brain could come up with—him. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

He coos, “I’ve got you, baby. Fuck work. Those pieces of shit can wait.” His hands move to your waist and squeeze. “You’ve been such a good girl, baby. S-so fucking good for me.”

You yell out his name when he thrusts up into you. You could feel the way his cock pierced through every single part of you. “Miguel—f-fuck—”

His hands tightened around your waist before helping you grind against him. You could barely move, not with your mind reeling from the pleasures that send tingles down your spine.

"So fuckin' good for me, baby. You did so well." Miguel grits his teeth at the way his cock twitched inside of you, in and out of your wet pussy. "Jus' can't get enough of this pussy." 

You whined and whimpered—just as he continued to have you grind and thrust against him. “Please, Miguel. Please—” You were already so close. The tortuous waiting game that he played as his cock stretched you thin was starting to take its toll.

He could feel the way your walls spasmed against him—the way you tightened even more. He moaned against you. “Y-you can let go, pretty girl. You’ve been so fuckin good—”

One of his hands leaves your waist. His thumb pressed up against your swollen clit and swirled around your sticky wetness—the substance had pooled around the two of you so much that it made such a mess.

“F-fuck. Let go, baby. Give it to me. Fuckin’ give it to me.”

You scream out his name as his cock pounds into you again and again. Your cunt impossibly tightens around him, and your orgasm comes quickly as gush all over his aching cock.

The sweet sounds you made had sent him over the edge. He lets everything go right behind you and spills his thick, hot cum deep inside. “F-fuck, querida—fuck.” He wants to say your name over and over until it’s the only thing that can form on his tongue.

You collapsed against him with deep, tired breaths. Your eyelids wanted to slip closed and let the soft pillows of sleep take you whole.

Miguel smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your hair line then another to your cheek.

“Looks like it’s time for bed, hmm?” His finger swipes gently against your cheek. “Let’s get you all cleaned up first.”

You sighed against him, completely and utterly content. A wide smile was on your face. “Okay, Miggy.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

Could you write about Carmen getting your name tatted on his chest ? 🫶

yes I can, babes 😌

warnings || tattoos, absolutely pure fluff, making out, mentions or anxiety, not edited

masterlist

Carmen let out a deep breath, nerves prickling his skin, as he started to open the door of your apartment. His fingers from his other hand nervously tapped against the side of his thigh, all due to the anxiety that settled into his bones.

What if you hated it? What if you found it disgusting? Would you hate him?

The endless questions and unknown reactions flooded his head. It started to make him dizzy as he padded off into the living room.

“Baby?” He called out. His voice had a edge to it that made him want to cringe.

“In here, lovebug.” Instantly, he could feel his shoulders relax. The soft, caressing sound of your voice had silenced almost all of those trepidatious thoughts. Almost.

He barely moved an inch from where he stood. He knew your voice echoed from the bedroom, but his body refused to move. As always, his flight or fight response wanted to hone in on flight.

He took another deep breath. “Carmy?” You say. It was so soft and sweet that it melted his insides. Concern was evident by his lack of appearance and response.

This is so stupid. He was so stupid.

His mouth clamped shut. It was as if his body couldn’t quite catch up to his brain—which was racing a mile per minute. His finger continued to tap the side of his thigh.

You found yourself walking out into the living room, eyebrows furrowed. “Carmy baby, what’s the matter?”

You gently caress his jaw and it takes everything inside of him not to reach out. He wants to sit lovingly on the couch with your body on top of his, all while you watch some show.

More than half of the time he’s not even paying attention. His mind is either concocting a new recipe or thinking about how good your weight feels on top of him. His thoughts are all food or you.

“I have s-something to show you.” He curses inwardly at the stuttering of his voice. He hated how nervous he was for this.

It’s just you. Miraculously and amazing you.

Your eyebrows are furrowed once more, but your soft touch never wavers. He forces himself to take a big breath, eyes avoiding your stare.

He slowly takes off his white t-shirt. His hands shake as he pulls it over his head. His gold chain thumps against his chest and your eyes lowered. Then they lower again.

You let out a gasp. It was loud and shocking as it echoed against the apartment walls. “Oh, Carmy.” You whisper.

He sucks in a breath—anxiety toppling over as he spills his feelings. “W-well, uh, I know I said I was getting that arm piece. Like-like we talked about, you know? But then I-I started thinking and all I ever really wanted was you. So-so, yeah.” His hand was furiously pushing through his curls through the entire speech.

Your eyes are just glued to his chest. He gulps, hating the complete silence. However, you were just in awe.

Right on the center of where his heart is supposed to be was your initials in black ink. Your initials. The tattoo outlined in red from the irritated skin.

“Do you like it?” He says. He thought it was going to seem confident but the waver of his vocal cords say otherwise.

You finally look up into his eyes. You could’ve sworn you could stare at it for years. You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds against your ears—his too. Having to wait for your response was torturous.

Instead of words, your body flings itself onto his. Your mouth slides over his and molds together as one. Your hands find themselves into his hair and pull. It was as if there was some switch that went off in your head. All you wanted, needed, and cared for right now was Carmen.

He pours out a moan when his tongue pushes between your lips and collides with yours. He could taste the leftover peppermint soufflé that you had after lunch. God, you tasted like fucking heaven.

You pull away before getting ahead of yourself. Carmen needed to go back to the restaurant for the night rush, but you wanted to pounce on him right then and there—give him kisses for a life time.

He laughs, which causing a chuckle to bubble from your own chest too.

“I fucking love it, Carmy.” You huff out. You were quite breathless from the kiss.

His eyes sparkle as his hands squeeze your waist. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes looking glossed over. You were drunk on him—on Carmy.

“Yeah, lovebug. I might have to get one for myself. A C.B. just for you.”

He finally smiles, bright and toothy. His heart beats faster than ever, but now, it’s for a different reason.

“Sounds perfect, baby. Just perfect.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

hiii I want to know what a drunk reader x Miguel O’Hara would look like, like I just see him taking care of reader while they’re obviously drunk 🤭

ugh he’d be so caring I just know it, I love this grumpy man fr

warnings || alcohol, reader is drunk, pure fluff, protective miguel, f!reader, not edited

masterlist

Miguel sat on the couch in the living room, knee bouncing up and down as he waited. He checked the clock in the corner of the room. 3:35 am. Thirty-five minutes late.

He tried to not let his mind race with the possibilities but it starting to create a dull ache that rested on top of his chest.

What if someone kidnapped you? What if you were hurt? What if someone was bothering you? What if your friend got too drunk too?

He had forced himself to close his eyes. He needed to calm down. He took a very deep breath, letting his shoulder muscles fluctuate with his chest.

You told him that you were going out with a group of your friends, as one of them has gotten engaged recently. You wanted to celebrate over drinks, cocktails, and dancing. His eyes widened at the elegant dress that slid over each curve of your body—you had him utterly stunned. He smiled wide, then pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek and wishing you much fun. You told him that your friends would drop you off at 3:00.

Well, it’s 3:37, now.

His eyes flickered to the headlights that protrude light through the large living room window. He recognizes the blue Sudan that one of your friends has. He could feel the pressure of your whereabouts lift from his shoulders.

He lets out a huff, “Dios mío.”

His ears perked up at the sound of your giggles from outside of the door. He stands up, fast, and practically launched himself to the front door. He just needed to see if you were okay.

When he finally opens the door, your friend—the one that has your arm wrapped around her shoulder for support—greets him. “Hey, Miguel.”

His eyes run up and down on your form in an attempt to detect anything that could be wrong. Luckily, he found none. He could tell you were drunk, though. Your lips were pursed, your eyes were dazzling under the moon, and your clothes had shifted to the side. The sight made him internally smile.

“Hi.” He says, voice naturally gruff. “Thank you for giving her a ride.”

She smiles, looking at you before turning her attention back to Miguel. “I made her drink some water on the way home, but she’s still pretty out of it.”

He nods and takes a step closer. “Thank you. Drive home safe.” Your friend nods back and lets him take over. He isn’t even halfway out the door of your shared home before you notice him.

“Miggy? Baby?” You quietly whined. Once you fully recognized who was in front of you, your hands reached out immediately. You were grabby—but swaying and stumbling your way over to him.

“I’m right here, querida. I’m right here.” He soothes. You finally land in his chest and you seemed attached to him like a koala. You would refuse to let go if someone asked.

“Mhmf.” You say, most likely it was supposed to be his name but the sound got muffled against his wide chest.

His heart thumps across his chest at an alarming rate from the pure, sparkling smile that spreads across your cheeks. All he could think about was that he was the cause—him.

He gently lifts you up into his arms. You seem to snuggle into him even closer. “Let’s get you inside, yeah? Es hora de acostarse.” You sweetly mumble against him as a response.

As he carries you through the living room, your drunken eyes took note of the half-eaten tamales and the empty glass of lemon water that sat on the counter.

He sits you down on the counter with your legs tangling above the cabinets. You giddily smiled as his stature found a home between your legs. “Hi, Miggy,” You slur.

His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. “Hi, pretty thing.” He picks up the fork and hovers his hand underneath. “You need to eat a little, okay?”

You pout, head swaying just a bit. “Can I get a kiss first?”

He swore that his heart palpitated. It spiked rapidly at the way you blinked up at him with your lips deepening the pout.

“Of course you can, mi corazón.”

He leans in and presses a sweet peck onto your glossy lips. You start to lean back, but not before he gives you another gentle kiss. You squealed in glee. He just couldn’t help himself when you were this adorable.

Once you part, you open your mouth wide. He spoon feeds you small bites of the food and watches you chew each time. There was something about taking care of you that felt so therapeutic to him. Maybe it just reminded him how much he truly loves you.

“Such a good girl.” Your body tingles at the whispers of praise that Miguel sends your way. You can’t help but give him a toothy smile.

“Ready for bed?” You nod, happily, and lift up your arms. His towering shoulders and super-strength arms lift you up into his arms once more.

You could feel your eyes start to droop from the delicious food. The water was sobering you up a little too. “‘M sleepy.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I know, sweet thing. It’ll just be a minute.”

He gently sets you down on the bed. His eyes rake over you as he takes in the way you stumbled less out of his arms. He nods at himself, a needed confirmation that you’re okay and he’s taken good care of you.

He pads off into the closest, causing you to whine. He smiles at your neediness to be around him when you weren’t sober. All you needed was his body to curl around yours while you went into a deep slumber.

He places your pajamas next to you on the bed. You contently watch as he sinks his knees to the ground. He very carefully takes the high heels you wore off of your feet. He then gets up, and places them back on the pretty shelving you made for all of your heels.

Once he comes back into the bedroom, he has to stifle a laugh. You had hiked up half of your dress and were trapped under the confusing layers. You had wanted to help, but got stuck. “Couldn’t have waited for me?” He teases.

“I couldn’t!” You exasperated. You move your body in an attempt to detangle yourself, but find no luck.

You can hear the snickering from your partner, and you huff. He wished he could have Lyla take a picture, but he’s not that evil.

“‘M here, querida. I’ve got you.”

He helps you out of your dress and then helps you into your pajamas. You smile at the soft, silky material. It feels like home.

He walks away into the bathroom and you can see the light illuminate into the bedroom. Just as you were about to let yourself fall into the bedroom, Miguel came back out.

He had a makeup wipe in one hand, and a toothbrush in the other. He takes the wipe and gently starts to rub it against your face. He moves aside just for a second, to place a sweet kiss to your now bare lips, before turning back and rubbing the wipe against your skin once more.

He turns, just for a second, and throws away the wipe into the trashcan. Then, he picks up your toothbrush.

“Open wide, baby.”

You do exactly as he says and he starts to brush your teeth. The two of you are in complete silence, besides the bristles that clean your teeth. You stared at the lovely man in front of you and wondered how you got so lucky. Little did you know, he thought the same thing.

“Okay, amor. We’re all done now.” He gets up from the floor and saunters off into the bathroom. You hear the rush of running water, but you pay no mind as your eyes slip closed.

You hear the flipping of the light switch and the faucet turning back off. “Miguel.” You plead out into the air. You wanted to snuggle into his chest and have his arms wrapped around your form.

“Comin’, querida.” You watch him pull the covers down and then he proceeded to crawl into the bed.

You enveloped him almost immediately and it caused him to softly chuckle. His arms wrap around you entirely and you bury yourself into him.

He softly breathes out, it was something akin to a content sigh.

“Sweet dreams, pretty thing.”

You smiled and pushed your nose into his neck. You slurred just a little. “G’night, handsome.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

if you're comfortable with it, could you pls write something smutty about carmy getting off on reader telling them that they love him during sex??? i feel like hed be so into that LOL

you are so right, anon babes. carmy would absolutely lose his mind bc this man doesn't get enough love and affection. i swear.

pairing || carmen berzatto x f!afab!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, unprotected sex, soft sex, soft dom, creampie, [18+ only]

masterlist

You shuffled your legs underneath the fluffy comforter, accidentally kicking a sleepy Carmen in the process. You press a sleep-induced kiss to the hand that's tucked into your chest as an apology. He grumbles under his breath and tightened the arm that is lazily wrapped around your side.

"Carmy baby, we gotta get up."

He grumbles again. He desperately didn't want to leave the soft solace of your warm embrace. "What time is it?"

You look over to your nightstand and see the early morning hours. You and Carmen should probably get up to start your day at the restaurant. "It's 5:30."

He groans—the gruff of sleep striking against his throat that caused the sound to rumble against his chest. "We have plenty of time." He says, snuggling his nose into your neck and pulling your closer.

He breathes in, and a smile creeps up onto his lips at the pure smell and presence of you. You softly laugh, “Sure we do, bear."

You snuggle back into him and feel the way his body radiated heat. You know for a fact that if the two of you didn't get up right now, you would be rushing in the last five minutes of needing to leave.

He smirks slightly at the way your body doesn't move an inch despite your comments about needing to be up and ready. He doesn't say anything, just taking in your sleepy form and pressing light, affectionate kisses against our neck.

You hum at the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Your hand subconsciously moves to the back of his head and plays with his soft curls.

"Carmy." You whisper.

He gently moves your hips towards him so that your back can rest against the cushioned mattress. He looks down at you with such a content and affectionate smile that it causes your own lips to curl.

He presses up against you, and the weight of him feels just right. You let out a gasp as his teeth start to bite down on your neck. He nibbles gently on the soft skin, and you let out a breathy moan.

Carmen always seemed stunned by how much of an effect that he has on you. Don’t get him wrong, though. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it.

His hand gently caresses your thigh, and he squeezes the flesh—his thick fingers creating indents. His wet tongue easily glides to soothe the bites. “Carmy baby—” You breathe out again. With each kiss and grab of your flesh, the more hazy and fuzzy your brain feels.

"Mhmm.” He licks his lips. “Good morning, pretty girl."

You laugh lightly before gently moving his head down so you can give him a soft kiss. “Good morning to you too.”

You push a hand down from his curly hair and press it against his chest. You watch as the gold chain dangles from his chest. God, he was such a sight to be seen, you thought.

His fingers nimbly fumble with the hem of your panties. You start to squirm underneath him at the anticipation of his touch. It was always hard to think cognitively—or think at all—around Carmen.

“Please.” You begged. It was soft and encompassing, which made Carmen all the more melt inside.

He gently laughed but didn’t waste a second. “I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.”

He knew that you both had limited time. However, he still takes his sweet time at pulling your panties down the thickness of your thighs and down to your ankles. It makes you squirm even more.

His thumb pushes through your slick, wet folds. He practically growls at the feeling of your desperation for him. It makes his heart skip.

“So fuckin’ wet.” His thumb glides to your clit and starts to gently rub.

You nod. “O-Only for you, Carmy. I—” Whatever you were about to say got completely erased as a jolt of pleasure rushed through you. He had pressed his thumb with just a little more pressure. His eyes turned an even darker blue.

“Carmy.” You breathe out. It was a plead. It was a beg of his name. Carmen almost choked at the sight of you desperate and squirming. You looked so good like that. He wanted to keep you here like this forever.

He shoves his boxers down to his knees. The desperation was kicking into him, as well. He could feel his heart pound against his chest, and his cock was hard—pre-cum leaking down his tip.

“Ready, baby?” He smiles and presses a sweet kiss on your cheek. It was his way of attempting to wake you up from that drunken haze of pleasure. You breathe out a huff, which slowly echos into a whine.

He pressed his lips onto your cheek once more. “Ready, Carmy baby.”

He slides his hand over to your hip and steadies himself. He slowly thrusts in between your folds. You both moan in unison at the feeling of one another.

“F-Fuck me.” He groans. He could feel the way your walls hugged around him and squeezed. Your wet pussy throbbed as he filled you up so perfectly.

“Carmy please.” You beg again. Your head is starting to dip into that familiar haze once more. Your arm goes to grip the bicep that’s holding him up.

He thrusts into you again and again—deep and slow. “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby—ah—so fuckin’ good.”

Your walls clench at the praise, and he lets out a deep moan. You always fell into a puddle from his praise. “You like that, baby? Hmm?”

He hums against your mouth and then crashes his lips onto yours. His tongue immediately envelops yours, and they swirl together—the taste of Carmen and you evident on your tongues.

He leans away to look down. He could feel himself twitch at the sight of his cock disappearing into your tight, wet hole. You whimpered and gasped—something akin to his name. He let out a curse that muffled itself into a moan.

“I love you.”

His eyes snap to look from your hips to your face. Your eyes were closed shut, and your mouth was ajar. Whimpers and cries continued to sprout out of you as his thrust falters from your affirmation.

His hand moves to firmly, yet gently, grip your jaw. “Open your eyes.”

Your hand tightens around his other forearm. “Carmy—”

“Baby, I-I’m not asking. Open y-your eyes.” He demanded. To him, it sounded desperate, and he was. He was so desperate to see that twinkle in your eyes.

Your eyes snap open, and you’re met with his intense stare. It almost makes you want to close your eyes again, but you refrain. You let out another whine at the pure love you saw in them.

“Say it again.” He lets out a groan as he feels your cunt flutter around him. “Please. Say it again.”

His hips thrust into you—hard and deep. You cry out in pleasure, and he feels your slick run down his shaft and to his balls.

“I love you.” You whisper. You couldn’t help but let the fog take over and repeat the words, over and over.

“I love you. C-Carmy—I love you. I love you.”

He strangles out a moan before whispering the words back to you. “I love you too, baby—f-fuck. I love you.”

His eyes never leave yours, and he even lowers his forehead against your own. You say the words again and again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His heart pounds so loud against his chest that he hardly hears you. His stomach twists and swirls with complete safety and affection. He loves you so much that he feels as if he might burst.

He growls out a moan, and he pumps into you, again and again. Before he even realizes it, he could feel his cock twitch. His cum leaks into you, sticky and wet as it clings to your walls. “Oh fuck, oh fuck—shit, I love you. Please—” He rasps out.

You let out a gasp, followed by his name. He continues to thrust and he can feel the way you restrict around him. He moved the hand that cradled your cheek and presses deep into your aching, puffy clit.

You yell out his name, begging at him. “That’s it, baby. C’mon. Been so fuckin’ good. Cum for me, sweet girl. I need your cum.”

It was as if his words sent you over the edge. The praise, the begging, and the softness of his voice. It was all too much as he thrusts into you once more.

“Carmy!” You scream, the sound echoing across the apartment. You feel the high rush through you, all the way down to your toes. Your cunt flutters and leaks cum all down to Carmen’s thighs, even.

He gasped at the feeling of your and his cum swirling and mixing together. He was over-stimulated from the love he felt and the pure sensations of you. “Fuck—shit.”

He slowly stilled himself but never pulls out. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and nose. You just breathe heavily against him with a wide smile on your face.

“I love you so much.” He whispers. He closes his eyes, and he breathes in deep. He smiles, though, and opens his eyes back up. Carmen wasn’t sure about his life more than half of the time, but what he did know was that you are the best thing in the entire world. You.

“I love you too, Carmy.” You press a kiss on his cheek. His neck and cheeks were bright red. “So much.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

carmen berzatto x reader

carmy comes home one night to see that you’ve made dinner. he smiles and is so warmed up by the idea but it’s so shit. like we’re talking scraping off the plate and even the dog won’t eat it, type of bad. you throw the food away, exasperated, and beg him to make grilled cheeses.

he just has the biggest smile ever, despite how many times you tell him you’ve ruined the meal. he doesn’t give a shit. all he gives a shit about is the fact that you cared.

carmy comes home the next night and expects the same routine that’s been going on for months. you try and make some food. it’s hella burnt. he makes really good food. it tastes so fucking could you could die on the spot then and there.

it makes him smile on his walk home.

but tonight was different. tonight, he found you sitting with a bunch of brushes and paint scattered all around you. he can’t quite see what you’re painting so he places his jacket on the hook by the door and walks over to you.

he has to immediately stop in his tracks though. like tires screeching on asphalt. there you were, biting your lip in concentration, and painting him.

you got the curve of his nose. you got the curly hair just perfect. you got the sharpness of his jaw. you got the expressions in his eyes. you’ve got the blue jacket he wears on his way to work. you’ve got everything.

all he could do was stare in utter awe. he looks over to your phone on the easel and he sees a picture of him. it was one that you had taken without him knowing. his eyes were crinkled and his smile was bright.

it was one of your favorites and you couldn’t get it out of your head. all you could think about was that sparkle in his eye and how he seemed so elated in this one snap shot. so, you got out all of your paints and let your hand do all the work.

and wow, carmy just stared. he’s not sure how long, but it’s long. once he gets out of his head, he just tackles you to the ground and is showering you in kisses. so. many. kisses. he doesn’t even care about dinner at this point. fuck dinner.

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

just to see you smile || m.o.

pairing || Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary || as Spider-Man, Miguel was forced to be prepared for many situations, like multi-universal travel, but losing you and Gabriella wasn't one of them.

author's note || do i only know how to make angst for this man bc damn

warnings || grief, main character death (reader), heavy angst, some fluff, potential spoilers, gabriella isn't the reader's child, miguel is anti-therapist, non-canon (sorry miguel ik)

masterlist

“I thought I might find you here,” Peter says. Mayday makes grabby hands at Miguel beside her, little chubby fingers grabbing onto his soft sweater. Peter looked down, taking note of the fresh, bright marigold flowers and the sweet, sugary bread that sat on top of the gravestone. 

Miguel’s eyes closed—breathing in and out of his nose as if to control the space around him. It was getting harder and harder, though, as time passed on. 

It had officially been three years. One-thousand nine-hundred and five days.

Miguel didn’t say a single word. He just stared at the gravestone in front of him, hoping that Peter would leave. If Mayday wasn’t here, he definitely would have left by force, if needed. 

“C’mon, I’ve told you before.” Mayday giggled and babbled at her father’s words. “You need to talk to someone about this stuff.”

He paused, gauging Miguel’s softened expression on the engraved stone. “You already know the damage you’ve done—t-to Miles.”

This time, Miguel just scoffed. He turned to Peter, and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his friend. Miguel had large bags under his eyes and a familiar pain that was etched across his face—one that Peter knew too well. “Yes, I’m sure Ezekial Sims from Earth-616 will solve all of my problems and grant all of my wishes.”

Peter just sighed and subtly rolled his eyes. They stood in silence, with the occasional babble from Mayday. Peter, though, just continued to stare at the man in front of him. 

He was broken—pieces of him scattered across the memories of you and his daughter. It was all he seemed to think about in the shining sunlight or the dark, drastic moonlight. 

 “All I need is them, Pete.”

Peter nodded in understanding. He knew. He understood that kind of deep-set pain never went away, but Peter also knew that everything eventually got better. No, it wasn’t time. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, as the saying goes. 

Miles helped Peter. Miles dug Peter out from the sinking hole that he had been placed in by life and the atrocities that continued around him. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t sulking. It wasn’t crying in the shower.

It was Miles. The goofy, talented, and crazy smart kid made Peter realize he needed to take that leap of faith. He got therapy, cleaned himself up, and he got better. Honestly, for Miguel, Peter wasn’t sure the last time he saw the brooding man laugh—let alone smile at anyone or anything. 

What Peter didn’t know was that Miguel smiled quite often.

He smiled when he looked at the glass-shattered photo of you in his bedroom. He smiled at the video of you and his daughter making a mess in the kitchen. He smiled as he daydreams about what you would do if you saw him now with every single Spider-person in all of the universes. He smiled at the video he took of you on the beach with the sand scratching against your leg and wind blowing against your dress.

So in his defense, he smiles all the time. 

“C’mon, Miguel, stop!” You laughed. It was loud and boisterous against his ears, and he wanted to cherish the sound for all of eternity. 

He held onto you even tighter, the waves crashing up against his knees. His smile is bright—just as bright as yours. “I made a promise, pumpkin. If you don’t shout the words, I’ll drop you.”

You squealed in anticipation, and your hands only seemed to latch onto his shoulders even more. “date prisa ahora.” He whispers against your ear. You only seemed to grip onto him tighter, but your smile seemed even wider.

“Okay, okay!” You breathe, shoving your head into his neck. “Humph. Humph.” 

Miguel grinned. If you saw him now, you would see a certain teasing gleam in his eyes. “What was that? I can’t hear you, pumpkin.”

You screeched again in his arms as he faked a slip of your form. He was still grinning ear to ear, and he couldn’t get enough of the laughter that bubbled up around your protests to him.

Something deep and connected possessed his entire chest. He could feel that ounce of love that blossomed beneath his heart and prodded against his stomach.

“I love you!” You shouted. Some of the fellow vacationers along the beach had turned their heads at the booming sound. Miguel laughed—the sound rumbling against his chest, and it made you bounce in his arms. 

“Was that so hard?” His arms tightened around the underside of your neck and the other holding up your legs. He slowly, yet surely, backed up from the roaring ocean and cascading waves. 

“Extremely, and I’ll never say it again,” You teased. 

Miguel gasped in defense, placing a hand on his chest. Without the support, you shrieked and grabbed onto his shoulder. “Miguel!”

He shook his head, his smile only widening as he just couldn’t help it. “And just when I thought I was gonna say it right back, pumpkin.”

Miguel opened his eyes. Peter was still there with his daughter, which prompted a gut-punching sigh to release from his lips. He shook his head, desperately wanting the memory to no longer sear against his brain. He wanted it to be real.

“Just know you’re not alone, man.”

He nods. The pain of your passing. The ache of Gabriella’s passing. It was all becoming too much. He didn’t think it would hurt anybody, let alone the two of you. 

But he did. He really, really did. 

With that, Peter takes his leave. May had most likely needed a nap by now and was going to take her home to Mary Jane. He looked back one last time, and he swore he almost missed it.

A single tear slid down Miguel’s face as his eyes stayed locked onto the two headstones. It was as if his eyes couldn’t leave—like you and Gabi would be gone if he did. 

Ultimately, he knows he’s not alone. He’s never alone—not as long as yours and Gabriella’s memories are still etched into his brain.

He’s never alone. 

Miguel rubs his eyes, the sleep that hovered around them still prominent. He looked over to the bedside table to read the clock. 4:45 am. 

He heard a crash of pots and pans in the kitchen. A smile rose onto his face at the sound of laughter in the kitchen. He quietly puts on some pants that were discarded on the floor.

He then shuffles over to the door of the bedroom, and his feet pad against the wooded hallway. He hears another crash and then a gasp. His ears perch at the sound, and his shoulders tense—his mind thinking the worst. Then, his large frame sags in relief as he hears another fit of laughter and giggles. 

He finally makes his way into the kitchen, and it was a sight to be seen. Miguel leans on the doorframe while he watches you and his daughter. You two are covered in flour and sugar—from head to toe.

“Gabi!” You laughed, wiping some of the sticky dough from your cheek. She had just smeared some across your face in an attempt to get you back for getting chocolate on her arm.

“I got you!” She yells in glee. You laugh again at her antics and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, kid. You definitely got me that time.”

Her eyes shine brightly up at you, and then they see the tall form in the corner of the kitchen. “Papa!” 

She runs over to him and crashes him into a hug. You turn around and smile at a very sleepy Miguel. You were tired too, but you also didn’t have a spider verse to run. 

“Gabi had insomnia again.” He nods in response. God, he was really tired. It was starting to become unbearable as his eyes slid close again. “Want to try a cookie?”

He decided right then and there. Fuck sleep. How the fuck could he say no to that?

Miguel blinked. He blinked once more. Before he knew it, tears cascaded down his face at the sweet memory of his family. 

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t sob. He didn’t cry out. He just stood there and let the tears drip onto the grass. 

Miguel, you’re never alone. He reminds himself.

He is never alone.

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

hello lovely!! can i request some protective!miguel who saves his love from a villain?

jo!!! my love!!! of course u can 😌 i made it so miguel loves r so much he gives up canon events HELLO I-

pairing || miguel x f!reader

warnings || injury, blood, violence, angry miguel, protective miguel, we're also pretending his venom heals, this is so much more angsty than i thought

Blood.

The thick, dripping red liquid started to stain the concrete floors of the abandoned building. Miguel smelt the coppery substance before his eyes landed on the ground, then following the source and he could feel every single muscle on his body tense.

Your abdomen.

Miguel wasn't sure when it happened. You weren't sure when it happened.

One minute you were swung to safety by Miguel as he fought Carnage, and the next your body was pushed up against the wall as an iron rod pierced your lower abdomen.

Your eyes widened in shock before your hands immediately attached to the metal. Your breath hitched as pain radiated through your body—the adrenaline that coursed through your veins didn't seem to be helping all that much.

"Miguel." You whispered. It was so quiet—too quiet. Your vision started to become hazy as the blood continued to seep into your pretty black-laced dress.

Today was a special day. It was June 28th—the day that you met Miguel.

You had been stuck in the Upper West side of the city when someone attacked your work building. You had been late that day as your alarm clock had failed to do its job that morning.

You had rushed to put on clothes and ran down to the subway lines. You knew you were fucked if you were late today. However, a giant lizard had put a stop to your plans as it scaled the skyscraper.

You just stood in shock from across the street as you clutched your bag and put a hand over your mouth.

Then, you heard a deep voice from behind. "You need to get out of here."

You could only smile fondly at the memory. Today, Miguel had surprised you into bringing you flowers after work. He was gonna take you to a special spot—his favorite restaurant.

You cried out in pain as the building rumbled from the force of Miguel's attack onto the enemy. You looked down and whimpered—the loss of blood seemingly piling around you more.

"Miguel." You whispered, hoping that you could stay awake.

~

Miguel wasn't sure exactly what had happened. All he could see was your blood. All he could smell was your blood.

It made him feel red. It made him see red.

"Voy a matarte. Te lo prometo." It was deep. A growl vibrated at the base of his throat and the whole sentence sounded like a groan. He promised.

He promised that Carnage would not see another day.

His claws swiped and dug into carnage's black goo flesh. Carnage just laughed before staring at the pure crimson of Miguel's eyes. Something clicked inside of him—something dark and brewing as the sight of your blood was played over and over in his head.

Carnage groaned in pain as Miguel continued to dig and claw his way through. Eventually he managed to slice through Kletus' skin on his abdomen, all while carnage screamed in pain of the host.

He swiped again, and again. Again and again. Rage bubbled to the surface at the picture of your eyes closed. Sadness enveloped his heart as the future attempted to flash before his eyes of a funeral dedicated to you.

Is this a canon event?

"Miguel, I-" Your sentence was cut off by a cough. Miguel's head whipped over to you and his heart palpitated by fatigued look on your face.

He wasn't sure how he had heard you. He doesn't have spider hearing like the rest of the spider-people or have spidey senses. Honestly, he didn't care.

His fist stopped mid air—paused between punches and claws. He looked at the man before him. Blood seeped through the blackened goo of Carnage. Bits of flesh clung to Miguel's suit. If he wasn't preoccupied by you, he would have realized that Miguel almost killed him.

His moved fast, desperately darting to you and pressing a hand against your cheek. "I'm here, querida. I'm here. Don't—don't fall asleep, okay? I'm right here."

He pleaded. He begged.

You gasped out a breath as Miguel's shoulders sagged in relief. You're awake. You're alive.

"Miguel. It hurts." You whimpered. Another drop of blood dripped from your wound.

"I know, baby. I know. I've got you."

In his head, though, he was panicking. The metal rod had completely gone through your back and was lodged into the wall behind you. You were stuck.

Tears pricked his eyes as his breath started to rapidly build. You were going to die. You were going to die. It all seemed to repeat over and over in his head.

He can't lose you. He can't lose another family again. Not again.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at your fading figure. His hands settled themselves onto your hips and he gently pulled you closer to him to get the rod out of your body.

Your screams echoed into the abandoned building. The rod sliced through each muscle and tissue of your abdomen as he continued to pull. "I know, please. Lo siento, lo siento—"

He rested his forehead onto yours for comfort. You screamed his name again as he seemed to pull harder. "Miguel! Please, please, please—"

"I know, cariño. P-Please—just—" Your body fell limp into his arms as he successfully pulled the rod out.

your eyes were snapped shut as the pain became too much. Your breathing was haggard and Miguel knew he didn't have much time left.

He had no time left.

He gently moved the strap of your dress. His fingers brushed against your soft skin and his mind reeled from the idea of never hearing your laughter again. Is this a canon event? He asks once more.

In a panic from his thoughts, his teeth sunk into your flesh and he let his venom flow through your veins. He let the venom heal the broken parts of your skin. He bunched up the side of your dress so he could watch as the wound started to slowly heal itself.

He looked down to see that your breathing had evened in your slumber. He made a promise to himself as he carried you back home. You would be protected. You would be unharmed. You would be safe.

Miguel will make damn sure of that for the rest of his waking life. Nothing and no one will ever do harm to you. Ever.

He tucked you neatly into bed and pressed a kiss to your hair line. "I'm never letting you go."

He held in his breath. He felt tears start to prick his water line again. "Te amo." He whispered into the dark. He felt his chest blossom with guilt, relief, and happiness all at once.

One day, he might say that to your face and watch as your eyes lighted with joy. For now, he was going to show you his earth-shattering love through bandage changes and cuddles.

Fuck the canon and fuck Carnage.

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

miguel and the reader holding hands under the table during a meeting 🥹

poor miguel is so scared people are gonna think differently oof their boss if (when) they see you holding hands so he hides it even tho the reader knows everything is 100% fine and everyone knows their together 😭😭

have a great day/night and stay hydrated!!

omg this is so so CUTE and don’t worry I did stay hydrated love <3

warnings || miguel is a softie, fluff, making out, gender neutral reader

Hobie knew, if not immediately, when there was something more than just friendship between you and Miguel.

He saw the stolen glances, the soft feather-light touches, and the smallest of smiles that perked up against Miguel’s lips. Hobie would look around, wondering if anyone else had noticed the newfound love.

Alas, after much diving, he comes to the conclusion that he’s the only true observer around. Everyone else seems absolutely oblivious to the butterflies that practically dance around you two—well, until you bring Miguel a gift one afternoon.

It was a particularly hard day for Miguel. Another mission had gone wrong and he wasn’t able to fix it this time. It seemed to him that mission after mission kept failing.

Hobie, Peter, Gwen, and Miles were going to be sent on a mission to clean up the gigantic mess that was left in another Spider-Man’s wake, according to Miguel. It was a harsh meeting—that’s for sure.

As if on cue from Miguel’s sour and proliferated choice of words, you walked in.

“Hi.” You said, smiling brightly. “I brought you empanadas.”

Everyone sighed in relief at the mention of Miguel’s favorite food. Maybe he will calm down just a little bit.

“Gracias, cariño.” He says, taking the to-go box from your hands. He thought nothing of it as the lightest touch caressed against the small of your back.

In the background, Miles gasped—he gasped so loud that Miguel’s head whipped over to him. “You and—Oh.”

Miguel could only stare, eyebrows raising by themselves in surprise. Miles’ eyes widened and he quickly shrunk into his form. “Nothing! It’s nothing. I-I just—saw a spider!” His eyes widened. Again. “But not like a—like a radioactive one or—“

Miles winces at the rambling that tumbled out of his mouth and immediately clamps his mouth shut. “It’s great. I’m great. Everything’s great.”

It was entirely unconvincing. Extremely, unconvincing. Peter and Gwen just raise their eyebrows at him while Hobie nods to Miles.

Miles’ eyes continue to widen at the sudden confirmation from his friend. He opens mouth to ask a million questions going through his head, but the straight glare from Miguel snaps it shut.

It wasn’t that Miguel was embarrassed to be seen with you or anyone in HQ. In fact, when he visits your universe, he can’t stop with the public displays of affection. His arm envelops you as you walk, his finger caresses the shape of your jaw as you talk about your day, his lips press sweetly into your shoulder on the subway ride home, and sometimes his fingers purposely brush and tap against your thighs at your favorite dinner spot.

He was so proud of the person you had become and endlessly encouraged you in your passions. He drooped all over you—practically—at every given point.

Miguel was obsessed with you.

His only issue was the idea of you getting hurt. There was no rhyme or reason, in particular, as why that related to everyone at HQ—but he knew that this was a dangerous responsibility to take on.

Since you, everything and everyone became a threat. He will be damned if he lets anyone take you away from him.

So, due to his fears, you both agree—with terms—to not tell anyone in the spider-verse. It was nice too when everything wasn’t a fuss. Well, until you continuously slip up.

~

After Miles and Hobie already figured it out, it was Peter’s turn—but this discovery was much more of a shocking scene.

You were in his office—lair—whatever he liked to call it, sitting perched on his lap. Miguel’s arms were tightly wrapped around your waist and your hands were locked onto his muscled shoulders.

His mouth was perfectly slotted over yours, his deep breath fanning up against your cheek. His tongue swirled deliciously against your own as you pressed further into his chest.

You break apart for just a second, “Miguel.” You whined. As if he was a drug, your lips leaned forward once more—whining for the millionth time when his lips dodged yours.

He chuckled, his lips trailing lazy kisses along your neck. “Patience, cariño. You know I’ll take care of you.”

Your lips felt too swollen and your body felt too heated for you to make a conscious reply. Too kiss drunk, you just say his name once more. It was more desperate this time.

Miguel smirks smugly before leaning his lips down to yours again. You taste so sweet as he licks to the inside of your mouth—wanting to feel your velvety tongue. He growls at the feeling of your legs wrapping around him tighter.

Without any caution, Peter swings into Miguel’s office—despite lyla’s many protests.

“Hey, Miguel! Do you wanna see more Mayday pictures because I’ve got tons and I know that you’re busy but—oh my god!”

He screeches to a halt when he finally looks up from his daughter’s hand tightening around his finger to the sight of you—on Miguel’s lap with your tongues down each other’s throat.

His hand instinctively slaps Mayday’s eyes closed, even though she was already fast asleep in his arms.

You both, in practically a millisecond, jump out of each other’s skin and stand five feet apart. “Oh I’m—I was just—looking for a file.”

Miguel’s hand ruffles through his messy hair. “Yep. A file. They needed a file.”

He stared blankly at the two of you for a couple of moments. Miguel had patches of bruises that fluttered against his neck and as you predicted, your lips were swollen.

Then Peter smiled—he smiled so large. “Sure.” He drags out. “A file. Yeah, that’s exactly what you needed.”

Miguel grumbled underneath his breath while you stood too shocked to do anything quite yet.

~

Lastly, Gwen was the last one to notice. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have figured it out, but more so she had a lot on her plate at the moment. Unfortunately, she was distracted more than normal.

Luckily, this was going t o be a highlight of her week—you and Miguel. About fucking time.

Everyone was in a meeting—you, Miguel, Hobie, Miles, Peter, and Gwen. Under the table, without anyone knowing, Miguel slowly interlaced your fingers together. Your lips twitched at the feeling and you squeezed his hand.

When Miguel got nervous, his hand would try and find your figure. It didn't matter what—a pinkie, your whole hand, an elbow, you name it. As long as he could find the comfort of the soft plains of your skin, he knew he would be okay.

Gwen nudged Hobie and Miles. She whispered as softly as she could. “Are they holding hands?”

Her eyes widened at the nod both of them gave back to her. Peter just smiles—almost too brightly at the sight of his friends being happy together.

"Yeah they are."

Gwen glares at them the three of them before whisper shouting. “You guys knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

Peter, very cautiously without suspicion, raised a hand in defense. "Well, I didn't wanna tell—you know, because I knew."

She rolled her eyes at the older man. "You're ridiculous. That's definitely not true."

“I knew the whole time. It was pretty obvious.” Hobie stated, unamused.

The other three gasped and it caused you and Miguel to slight jump—no spidey sense and all. "And you didn't even tell us?" Miles scoffed. Gwen just started to cuss as she was fed up, these were her friends for fucks sake. Peter just sniffed and whispered, "how could you?"

Miguel bellowed. “Are you idiot-brains even listening?”

As if on cue, each of their eyes widened substantially. Their lips were sealed tightly and nodded. Well, except Hobie. Hobie just laid back slightly more in his chair. Miles had to ask him how to be more unfazed.

"Not at all, blue panther. Just take them out of here and have a proper date now, yeah?" With that, Hobie takes his leave, despite the protests from Miguel to come back to finish the debriefing of a mission.

Miguel felt hot. He felt very hot. The entire team had just witnessed the two of you and he wasn't sure what you thought about it. You bit your lip and stared into his eyes. He could only stare back in nervousness before the realization followed him and toppled over him like a freight train.

Oh, who cares, he thought. A la mierda, he thinks once again.

"Will you? You know," He says it almost bashfully. You couldn't believe your eyes. "Go on a proper, real date?"

You smiled, so wide. You didn't have to hide anymore. Sure, you've had plenty of dates, but he's talking about a real one. One where you don't have to shove yourselves in bushes and wear non-recognizable clothes.

You press your thumb into his cheek and stroke softly. "I would love to, Miguel."

He smiles this time—it was wide and all of his teeth shown brightly through his lips.

"Ew you guys are gross." "This is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. Mayday, did you see?" "Can you guys adopt me?"

Miguel groaned, "Please, get out." He pauses a beat, "Now."

[sunflowersteveslibrary]

i'm not cute || m.o.

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary || Miguel always loved when you played with his hair.

author's notes || this is my first miguel fic and im v excited!! there will be much more to come <3 also, my spanish is v v v limited and i tried following what ppl were saying in the miguel tag but please let me know if I need to fix anything!!

warnings || none, fluff, it's tooth-rotting

“Did you just braid my hair?”

You paused—froze even. Your hands stilled in between his luscious, soft hair, and it took every ounce inside of you to not continue to feel through each strand of his. 

“Uh, no?” It was bashful. 

You inwardly winced at the extremely unconvincing tone of your voice. You couldn’t see, but his lips curled into the smallest of smiles. His spidey-DNA, as you liked to call it, sensed the heat that radiated off of your body. 

After an unsuccessful mission, Miguel came home in a state of ire. His eyebrows were furrowed, anger rolling off of his body in waves as his chest heaved up and down. But as soon as your hand placed itself across the plains of his chest and soothed the fabric of his suit, everything started to dissipate. 

The anger, the grief, the guilt—everything. 

You gently pulled his wrist, and he blindly followed you into the living room of your makeshift apartment he built in Nueva York. You sat right above him on the couch, brush in your hand as you stroked through each strand of hair. His frame practically barrelled over you, despite him sitting on the ground with his back to the legs of the couch.

 In return, he wanted to desperately turn around and press light kisses into your skin, but he refrained. He knew that all you wanted to do was comfort his tense muscles. 

“That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You bite your lip, sheepishly, as you ignored his comment and started to braid another part of his hair. You very carefully twisted the fluffy soft hair between one another and grinned at the What he didn’t have to know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Well, apparently, you were wrong because once you tugged on his hair, yet again, and he practically jumps. 

“¡Ay!” He yelps and turns his head to look at you, “¿Qué mierda haces?” 

Your eyes widened, “Miggy! Oh—I’m so sorry!” You go to reach for his head again in an attempt to soothe the pain that you caused, but he caught your wrist. 

If you weren’t too concerned about tugging on his hair, you would have noticed the slight change in his lips that turned into a sly smirk. “Cariño,” He warned. His voice was gravelly and rough—the sound sending shivers down your spine. “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” 

In one motion, he’s hovering over you. “Hmm?”

Your mouth opens in surprise—the spark in your heartbeat not going unnoticed by the man before you. “I–I just, Miguel—” You were starting to get nervous under his gaze—just like you always do.

Pure adoration flashed between his ruby eyes, and his finger gently rubbed against the side of your cheek. It was so gentle and affectionate that it almost created tears against your waterline. He loved when you got nervous and playful—it always struck against his chest and seized him whole. He wanted to see the effect that he had on you in every waking moment, it seemed. 

He smiled. “You’re cute.”

You gasped, attempting to turn the tables around and flip him over. “I am not cute!” Alas, you were unsuccessful. 

He laughed. It was hearty and pretty against your ears. “You’re right. You’re the cutest.”

You grumbled under your breath, and it took every ounce of control not to kiss the puffing of your cheeks. “Whatever, you’re the cutest. Not me.” 

Miguel smiled—teeth showing and entirely genuine as he took in your playful expression and fingers that twisted the short hair against the base of his neck. 

“I’ll eventually make you admit it, mi alma. Don't you worry."

~~

¿Qué mierda haces? - What the fuck are you doing?

Cariño - Honey

¿Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am i going to do with you?

Mi alma - my soul