#arqhmsspring2023

[ineylesian]

MIGUEL’S GIRL.

PETER B. PARKER/ MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | NAVI

— WORD COUNT | 1k

— WARNINGS | smut, masturbation (m), voyeurism (??), majorrr jealously, kinda cheating but not really, dirty minded peter.

— SUMMARY | it should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. you were miguel’s girl.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | remembered a cod fic inspired by jesse’s girl and had to bring it to atsv. also peter b parker is such bee keeping age 🤭 crazy for him

Being dragged into a different universe sucked.

Peter’s head was pounding, his back aching, growing stubble itching at his chin. His foot tapped as Mayday rocked around on his lap, babbling about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

“MJ and I are on the rocks again.”

Yeah. You paused at his answer, looking back with your mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Your response was quick, tones of guilt ridden underneath. “Uhm- how old is May?”

“She’s one.”

He sighed, slotting his fingers against his upper jaw. You were rambling about how pretty she was— his daughter, eyes shining, lashes batting at her teasingly. It’s almost as if you’d totally forgotten about what had just happened.

He’d put it lightly. MJ had called it quits (for the 5th time this year) the night this whole ordeal started. She found out about your, as she called it, “little tango with Peter Parker”, which was years ago and frankly over. You didn’t need to know that, though.

“You want to hold her?”

You excitedly walked over, scooping Mayday— his daughter, into your arms. Peter watched as you swung her around, happily responding with her incoherent babbles with nonsense of your own.

It was years ago, when you and him were together. Nothing much became of it; you dropped in from another dimension, he was single.. and bored.

Nothing much, Peter sighed; he’d know you for merely a month. Fell for you in merely a month, too, recalling the way you’d broken his heart, and his yours, as you headed for home.

That mere month he knew you was perfect. You were the girl of his dreams, he’d thought he’d escaped that.

But damn, you still looked good. Especially with his kid in your arms.

“Peter.”

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Peter.”

His eyes snapped open, looking up to see Miguel standing over him, Mayday held firmly in his hands.

“She needs to be changed.”

“You’re such a dad, el diablo.” You snickered, earning a glare from the man beside you. Miguel handed Mayday back to him before turning to you, effortlessly hoisting you onto his shoulder with a single arm. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you. I hate it.”

“Miguelllll.”

Your whine echoed down the halls, settling coldly in his ears as Miguel took you away. A frown had absentmindedly settled on his face the moment you disappeared, following him to the bathroom. The moment he looked into the mirror, he saw it, forcing him to smile down at Mayday as she tugged on his pant leg.

“Just my luck, huh, kiddo?”

Peter knew he’d heard this sound before.

“Miguel, what if people hear?”

You’d asked it, over, and over. You were always a cautious person, but you always gave in too quickly for your own good.

He’d also heard the same whine buzz from your throat. The same one you’d do when he’d leave hickeys on your neck. The same one that he’d do to you— except he wasn’t, Miguel was.

Shit. He could’ve picked any other hotel tonight. Any other that wouldn’t have him staring at the ceiling, listening to you get ruined by another man. Any other that wouldn’t possibly have Mayday waking up to the sound of his ex getting fucked in the room above him.

Just his luck, indeed.

Why was he bothered, anyway? You weren’t together anymore, that was in the past, completely. You didn’t love him anymore, and he had a kid with another woman. Albeit, a woman that he couldn’t stay with for more than two months at a time. And, you did look really nice holding May.

…shit.

Seconds passed. Your moans grew progressively louder. Peter could feel his face flush, deep, spreading erratically to other parts of his body. Every nerve in his system was struck, listening to you make noises like that— noises that only he should be pulling from you.

Before he knew it, Peter was palming himself through his suit, aggressively, listening intently as your voice began to run a little hoarse. Miguel must have already make you cum once, then. He imagined himself in that position, spreading the embarrassing amount of precum that had gathered at his tip along his skin as his hand slipped further underneath.

Peter could almost remember every detail from your nights together. He soaked in each reaction, how your face would scrunch up when he fingered you, the way your eyes would roll back when he bottomed out. Your chants and pleas of his name echoed faintly against the shabby motel walls, contrasting with his in a disturbing symphony.

“Miguel.. ah— Miguel— don’t stop…”

It should’ve been his name you were crying. Peter’s strokes grew faster as he tried to block Miguel’s name out, violently fisting himself at the thought of you under him, hot and streaking with tears of pleasure. He could nearly feel the soft curves of your thighs that he would gently trace, choking out a moan at the way you would look at him while he was lapping up your sobbing pussy.

It should’ve been him. Should’ve been you he fucked his kid into. The thought had him grounding his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes brimming with tears as his abdomen began to tighten. You were outright wailing now, begging Miguel to let you cum.

Peter imagined that you were whining his name, just as you did before, eyes glossy, lips swollen and puffy. You cried one last time as you came, and he felt his own cum leaking onto his hands, along with Miguel’s quiet praises. He swore, burying his head into the pillows when he began to console you.

It should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. You were Miguel’s girl.

In this universe, at least.

[ineylesian]

FEVER DREAM.

MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 1.2k

— WARNINGS | smut, mentions of wounds, fem anatomy used, penetration (f), cumming inside, overstimulation, biting (you see those fangs), blood kink (??), oral asphyxiation, light choking.

— SUMMARY | you often find yourself waiting for miguel to come home.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | posted nothing on my to do list bc ATSV has taken ahold of all of my thoughts. miguel is actually so fine i just had to hop on it

— SPANISH TO ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS ARE BELOW EACH PARAGRAPH.

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

You knew the deal. Nine words spoken in a nonformal contract to you the first time Miguel clawed his way into your apartment, bloodied and bruised.

“I cant promise you I’ll come home, mi alma.”

And you knew the words after that, too.

“… but I can promise you that I will die trying, with you in my thoughts, always.”

That night, he sat you down. Made you swear that you would never get too attached. Being a superhero in New York was a lethal deal, and you had to be prepared for anything— everything. Miguel wouldn’t stand the thought of breaking your heart, at least without warning, so he forced you to seal it, everything you loved about him buried away in the depths of your mind.

Yet, human emotion was the victor concerning the inner workings of your heart. And, when he comes home, every little detail of that contract you made shatters.

Miguel treads the glass of your longing heart with fatigued steps, focused on nothing but the sweet capture of your embrace. You feel as if he is a gift sent from the heavens themselves, gazing upon shades of brown that reflect tawny in the light. The light stubble he grew scratches against your jaw as he draws thick sighs of relief, and you feel as if you’re in a fever dream, hands tiredly fumbling for your belt as you sing your praises of his return.

And still, nights like those are a rarity. The words he uttered to you years ago float through your head like a lost prayer, and you’re left lost in the shadow of his absence.

You often find yourself waiting for Miguel to come home. Through all four seasons, the same spot on the couch awaits you night after night, TV static spitting dull reflections of the world outside as you stare up at the ceiling. Some nights, you wonder if he’s finally met his maker and run short of luck.

You still wait. Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. Just as you’re about to lose hope, he returns, just the same as you remember. Suit roughed up, gashes and cuts adorning his skin. He’s nonchalant to the fact, sultry eyes staring you down— a look that you know is just for you. Your fingers find homage in the roots of your hair, brushing thick, unruly strands from his gaze. A little longer than you remember.

“Qué bueno verte, tesorito.�� He mumbles, tracing his teeth against your neck as he picks at your skin. “Te extrañé.”

[“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, TREASURE. I’VE MISSED YOU.”]

You hum, eagerly latching around the collar of his suit as he pulls your shirt off. Heat trails along your thighs as his bare hands run along them, dipping his head to kiss you while his index finger loops around your panties. He tastes lightly of cedar and pine, and you smile against his lips as the familiarly of him settles deep within your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you, day and night.” His voice is just above a whisper, fingers dragging along the slick folds of your pussy. “Couldn’t wait to come home and…”

His sentence trails off into a hitch in his throat, blinking slow at the sight of you, practically drooling for him. His fingers swipe lazily at your bud, kicking the rest of his suit off before snaking over you. You’re panting lightly, face tinted in a dusted pink as he strokes his cock, teeth lightly tugging at his lips as he does so.

“Don’t tease me, Miguel.” You complain, softly pinching his arm. “I want you, now.”

He huffs in amusement, lips perking up in a smile.

“You haven’t changed a bit, cariño.”

[“HEART.”]

The shift of his hips is sudden, and you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock filling up your hole. A heavy breath escapes you as he struggles to push his way fully inside, hands planted firmly on your sides, head just inches from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Miguel peppers kisses over your lips, seemingly making the way he bullies his way into your walls more bearable.

“So pretty, mi alma.” His words are soft, flowing in both ears as he draws himself back. “Sé que puedes tomarlo, breathe.”

[“MY SOUL. YOU CAN HANDLE IT.”]

You do as he instructs. Tears prick at your eyes as he thrusts in and out of you, cock heavy with lust, dragging against your tight walls. With each slap of his balls against your pussy, you can see Miguel’s gentle nature slowly escape him. His breathing becomes rugged and hot, panting against your neck in rough takes. Tiny beads of sweat collect at the base of his forehead, and he grips the headboard above you to stay grounded.

“Mmh- feels so good Miguel.” You whine, hands clawing at his scalp. “Don’t stop.. please.”

Your words toy with his self control, twisting a knot deep in his abdomen that furrows his eyebrows tightly together. The growl that emerges from his throat is nearly animalistic, and you bite your lips as he lifts your neck up with his nose.

“Need to taste you, por favor.” His words are strained, mouth hanging open to flash the canines rooted into his gums. “I’ll be gentle, ah- I promise.”

[“PLEASE.”]

His pace is unrelenting, in sync with the fangs that sink into your flesh. Miguel moans against your skin, sending a deep vibration to your nerves that makes you squirm. Blood drips from the puncture when he releases himself from you, lifting a thumb to stifle the bleeding.

The taste of your own blood fills your mouth as he kisses you, and you feel a wave of heat flash over your body. Your stomach tightens, and you cry out against his mouth, faintly gasping as he presses down harder on your throat.

It’s all too much— yet not enough. Miguel groans your name, pace stuttering as spurts of cum paint your insides white. His hold on your skin lightens at the feeling of you gushing over his cock, thrusting sloppily against your spent pussy a few more times before pulling out.

He fully snaps back once his dick flops against your stomach, thick strands of hair messily coating his eyes. You pant in synchrony, chests heaving, blood slowly flowing from your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this— glassy eyes fighting to stay open, fangs prodding against his mouth, slightly ajar.

Such a sight reminds you of why you wait for him to come home, no matter how long it takes. After all, you knew what you signed up for, and his return only made you yearn for him further. Never could you imagine putting your life in anyone else’s hands.

You push at him lightly, gesturing to the open wounds on your neck. Miguel scrambles once he sees them, hurriedly returning to you with a large wrap of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Lo siento, cariño.” He mutters, gently sticking a few thick layers of bandaging against your skin. “I should’ve controlled myself, I’m-“

[“I’M SORRY, LOVE.”]

You cut him off by pressing your index finger to his lips, smiling as his mouth slowly falls shut.

“Don’t worry, Miguel. You’ll let me get you back, won’t you?”

[ineylesian]

hey sable babe! for your event can i just request a lil blurb with simon? maybe getting back from a mission and cleaning his eye makeup off? just some fluff with him <33

LINGER

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X READER

— AO3 | MASTERLIST | SPRING 2023 EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 1.2k

— WARNINGS | petnames (lovie, dove), kinda ooc ghost?

— SUMMARY | you’re always looking out for ghost, even in the little things.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | okay this is a lil ooc but it’s the best i can do on a drabble, trying to keep it short and sweet <3

It’s been 16 hours and 3 refills since you took off.

An elongated sigh pushes through Price’s mouth as the pilot announces you’re about to land, lightly coating over the static bicker of Soap and Gaz over what type of crackers are the best. They cease only at the shrill whistle of his fingers, mildly annoyed glances molding to excitement when they see the ground.

“Back to the motherland.” Soap manages through a stretch, earning numerous questionable gazes from those around him. “What’a you say about hitting the bar?”

Cheers follow, and your eyes shut at the uproar that starts the moment the aircraft touches the ground. You flatten yourself against the wall as soldiers pass, berating your ears with plans of what bar to go to as they walk.

When your feet finally do meet the soil, Soap is already coming your way, expectant gaze joined with a bright smile. Price manages to still a hand on your shoulder before he can reach it, and you silently inhale in relief.

“Comin’ along, lass?” He questions, head nodding toward the mass of your squadron heading for the streets. “Looks like you could use a drink or two.”

“Bloody Hell. Get lost, Johnny.”

A second presence settles at your side, and you can already sense the annoyance radiating off of him. Ghost holds a squint to Soap, glancing to you after a round of silence passes.

“Yeah, uh, John.. I think I’ll stay in tonight.” You smile, lightly patting the hand Price slipped off your shoulder. “Captain will keep you company, yeah?”

Price sighs once more, waving Soap off with a flick of his finger.

“You know the hotel we’ll be checking in at?”

Ghost nods, and you follow suite. Your luggage sits encased between his arms and chest, with a tiny bag of his own strung over his back.

“Right, then I’ll see you two later.” Price turns around, steps dragging as he takes off after his men. “If I’m even alive by then.”

He waves, and soon enough, the two of you are the only that remain on the airstrip. Silence encompasses your ride to the hotel, with your taxi driver holding a near bewildered gaze at the sight of Ghost. You’re even forced to send him up to your room to stop the hotel workers from shivering while checking in.

It’s still quiet when you unlock the door. The sight of relief that escapes you is smothered by his presence, and you decide to leave him be, offering a light squeeze to his arm as you take your things. He ducks down while you string his own bag from your fingers, mask lifting up to peck you on the cheek.

“Cheers, lovie.”

You smile, stealing a quick graze of his lips before he can pull it back down.

“I’ll get some towels from the lobby.”

Once the bags are set, you head out. To your dismay, one of the same workers that helped check you in earlier is in the area, and they greet you with a rather particular smile that has you nearly running back to your room. The shower is off once you return, so you slip one of the towels in your stack through the door.

Just as you start to unpack, a string of curses falls privy to your ears. Worry settles in your gut, and you quickly make your way back to the bathroom, only to gape at the sight before you.

Ghost stands in front of the mirror, fully dressed. However, the towel you had given him less than a minute ago is stained black, as is his skin. Dark, watery streaks leak from his eyes, dragged down to his collarbone likely from putting on his shirt. He sighs before setting the sodden towel down, glancing at you through the mirror’s reflection.

“Rubbish.” He scowls, running a hand through his hair. “Ran out of wipes.”

Wipes?

You nearly gasp, leaving Ghost and returning within a matter of seconds. He turns toward you at the sound of the bathroom door closing, eyes widening as you hold a pack of makeup wipes against your chest.

“You mentioned how you hate scented ones, so I got the fragrance free kind.” You’re practically grinning now, fingers pointing to the label on the bottom of the package. “And they’re family size!”

He’s quiet. It feels like his breath is caught in his throat, wrapping around his tongue and choking him. Darkened eyes gaze at you, slightly wide with shock. Nearly at a loss for words, his mouth slowly parts, and he blinks.

There’s a warmth that pools in his chest, consuming all that he is. It’s unfamiliar, and he wants to be scared. But it’s you, and the reminder makes his fingers twitch.

“Lovie..”

“Ah ah-“ Your spare hand reaches out, poking his chest as your head cranes away from him. “You’re not kissing me until your face is clean.”

Ghost grumbles lightly at your objection, picking you up and set you on the counter. You set the wipes down, gently clasping your hands together. He’s nearly level height with you now, caked eyelashes darting from their hold on your gaze to the mirror once they’re caught.

You fold the first wipe in half, starting at the base of his collarbone. His skin is warm to the touch, holding the urge to dote on him tightly behind your teeth. That wipe, along with three others, are completely used by the time you reach his jawline.

“Halfway there.” You declare, tilting his chin with your fingers. “Okay so far?”

Ghost hums, bringing his hands up to your thighs to steady himself. He’s still, entirely compliant as you drag wipe after wipe against the filth, slowly unveiling the skin underneath. A sigh escapes him as you graze over his eyes, rebuilding the contrast set by umber irises. After a few more, you toss the last wipe in the trash, swiping your hands together with a nod.

“All done.”

He’s looking at you, eyes glazed over with a mix of longing and harrow. He can’t speak. He still can’t believe you’d paid so much attention.. watched him so closely— done something out of the kindness of your heart just for him.

Ghost is pulled from his thoughts at the brush of your fingers against his cheek, and his eyes come into focus. He feels your lips next, and you taste exactly like that lip balm you offered him when he was grumbling about his lips chapping.

And suddenly, he gets it. From this, to the time you offered to share a bunk with Soap so he could have space to himself. You’d always done so much, even when he was undeserving of your kindness. Just having you around seemed to be a gift from the heavens itself.

“I owe ya, Dove.” His voice is just above a whisper, fanning over your lips in warmth breaths. “Wish I could give you the world.”

He knew he could never truly pay you back, but he could damn well try.

“Stick around, Simon.” You manage between the latch of his lips, offering a smile that would linger in his mind until the his last breath. “That’s payback enough.”

[ineylesian]

I don't mean to bother you but for the spring even request could you possibly write about Graves guiding his inexperienced girlfriend through a handjob

MOTION

PHILLIP GRAVES X GN! READER

— AO3 | MASTERLIST | SPRING 2023 EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 616

— WARNINGS | pwop, handjobs (obv), kinda sub! graves, smut in a closet, petnames (sugar, sweetheart.)

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | tysm for the request, you could never bother me!! this actually challenged me a lil but i hope you like it 🫶

— THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

It’s slightly dark; the only thing you can see clearly is the hem of his jacket, slightly unzipped from your advances. Dust clouds your vision as it rises upward, the prickling sensation of Graves’ teeth on your neck making you dizzy. His hands trail down to your own, eagerly taking them and settling you on his abdomen.

The bass of bar music settles uncomfortably in your ears, and you shift from the ambience. A round of boots passes, followed by the idle murmur of your subordinates. It wouldn’t be long before they began checking rooms.

“Don’t have much time...” He mutters between marks, adjusting your legs so they rest on a storage crate. “Think you can help me out, sugar?”

You eye the placement of your hands on his naval, feeling your skin grow clammy as one travels to his jeans. Your fingers stop once they take hold of his zipper, looking up to him with a sheepish smile.

“I’m afraid I might disappoint you here, Sir.” You sigh, lightly prodding against the bulge in his pants. “Would you be so kind as to help me?”

Graves whistles, low, and frankly impressed. The singsong pitch of your voice smooths like velvet over his ears, and he hums. A gloved hand gently secures your roaming fingers, allowing you to discard his pants and the garments under them.

The sight of his cock is nothing new— you practically have the mold of it imprinted in your brain. However, you’ve never jerked him off before. The pure thought of it had Graves’ teeth drilling into his lips in apprehension, the excitement shown in the beads of pre that slipped from his tip.

His hands move once more, securing your fore fingers against the base of his dick. With a push of his thumb, yours slides near his balls, and he lightly presses down.

“That’s all, sweetheart. You know the motion.”

A subtle wink is thrown your way, and the rough padding of his glove is gone. You resist the urge to furrow your eyebrows as you begin to move, languidly stroking up to his tip. Pre spills over your fingers, lathering the entirety of Graves’ dick as you move back down.

You glance up, finding approval in the lopsided smile Graves sports. The sight encourages you to move faster, your body edging up against his thighs to gain perch.

“You’re a natural, sugar.” Graves puffs, planting a hand on your back. “C‘mere, don’t wanna leave you hangin’.”

He pushes you forward, hand steady on your shoulder blade as his lips raise to meet yours. You revel in the taste of him, lightly buzzed with alcohol and pine. His mouth is hot, sucking you in with the alluring prick of his canines. You sigh at the feeling of his spare hand running along your jawline, grasping your chin to keep it steady.

Graves eventually has to pull away, labored breaths mold into drawn out moans as you work his dick. You bite your lip at the sight of him, cheeks lightly dusted pink, eyes fluttered shut from the pleasure. Words fail him as his climax approaches, and you can feel him throb in your hand as a silent warning.

He opens his eyes only when your hand is coated in his seed, hair tousled, mouth slightly ajar. The rising shouts of Shadow Company soldiers grows closer than ever, and you slide off of him, grabbing an old uniform off of the floor to wipe your hand with. Graves stifles a chuckle at the look on your face, and when his men pass, he runs a hand over a patch of mess you missed on your sleeve.

“I owe you now, yeah?”