#bf!miguel

[jfksbrainmatter]

personal space heater. 🤍

miguel o’hara x reader

genre : fluff 🧸

summary : you’re cold, miguel warms you up. <3

author note : i wrote this while shivering to death (vv self-indulgent)

wc : 316

you came home late from work in the dead of winter, cursing yourself for picking up extra hours while walking to your bedroom. miguel, your boyfriend, was snoring peacefully in bed, warm and cozy. when you slipped off your uniform you realized just how cold the air around you was. you threw on one of miguel’s t-shirts (that was two sizes too big) and fought against the shivers radiating in your chest. after taking down your hair and washing your face, you rush to crawl into bed next to miguel, feeling his warmth envelope you as his soft snores fill the room.

as you scoot closer to miguel, you feel him stir from the touch of your cold hands on his body, his snores stopped filling the air around you. shit. you huddle close to him, not caring about having woken him up and searching for any kind of warmth as he groans and squirms from the shocking cold of your touch.

“what the hell amor?” miguel grumbly mumbles, voice thick and deliciously raspy with sleep. “sorry m-miggy i’m jus’ so c-cold” you respond in a quivering tone. miguel sighs, rolling on his side and pulling you to press into his chest, your ice cold hands reaching under his shirt making him jump. “hey- watch it….” he says as a warning, not having any real threat behind his words.

“you’re like a damn space heater baby…” you giggle softly as you whisper to him, your whole body shivering as miguel rubs his giant hands over your arms and back to stop them. i mean- his poor baby is cold, he has to help her get warm somehow!! miguel finally wraps his arms around you, kissing your head lazily and sighing.

“go to sleep corazón, you had a long day at work..” he rests his head against yours as you slowly fall asleep in his warm, comfy arms.

[theorphicangel]

#1 “you can stay as long as you want.” | miguel x reader

the boyfriend series with miguel o’hara. | series of fluff, angst and smut with bf! miguel.

cw: none, fluffy.

“I still don’t understand how, for the entire movie, he doesn’t catch on that she’s the killer?”

“I know right, it’s stupid.” Miguel hums a a re-run of a classic slasher movie played on the television in front of you.

It was a late Friday night, the both of you were too exhausted from the past week of work to head out for a proper date. So instead you and Miguel settled for a movie marathon at his apartment.

Empty boxes of your favorite takeaway lay disheveled on his coffee table in front of the couch, your stomach fully satisfied with the meal. It doesn’t take much to get your dopamine running, you think. Him and food was all you needed to get yourself happy.

“I think if this shit played out in real life, me and you would have caught onto her in no time.” You note, as the killer on the screen preys onto their next victim.

“Oh, one hundred percent, we’re a dream team.” Miguel stretches out his exhausted limbs, a silent yawn following from his mouth. And as he does so, an arm magically ends up around your shoulder, pulling you in closer to his body.

“Wow. Smooth O’hara, real smooth.”

He smirks. “I try my best, mi amor.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays on. Having watched the movie before, you know what’s to come as the rest of the film comes as a total cliche. You can’t help but let your mind wander. Simultaneously, your hands become restless, fingertips fiddling with each other.

“I should head home soon.” You announce, keeping your eyes on the screen ahead.

Miguel hums, his fingertips tracing circles on your arms ever so gently.

You should head home but you don’t really want to. The thought of getting up from this couch is a headache in itself and the thought of driving home at the hour with traffic and dealing with god-awful drivers makes you want to bury yourself into the earth. You really don’t want to head home, but you probably should.

Through the shadow of your expression, Miguel can read the exhaustion on your face. As well as you, he really doesn’t want you to leave. Not when the two of you are so comfortable like this.

“Hey.” Miguel whispers, causing you to turn your head to look at him. “You can stay as long as you want.” He says. “You know that right?”

Your heart swells immediately at his words, a spark of love set off in your body like a sudden firework.

“I know.” You smile before continuing. “But I probably shouldn’t, I have tons of work to catch up and briefs and—”

“But I want you to.”

Miguel doesn’t mean interrupt your work ethic but for the past week he’s been yearning to see you. It’s hard enough that you both have busy lifestyles, meaning that finding time to see each other is rare. Not to mention how far you live away from him. It’s moments like this, when you have to leave, that Miguel just wants to be totally selfish.

So that’s what he’s doing. Being selfish for once.

“If you’re sure.” you confirm.

“I’m always sure.”

You snort to yourself at his comment. “Then why’d you take fifteen minutes deciding what to order earlier?” You nudge your elbow into his side gently, teasing him further.

Miguel rolls his eyes, now more at ease to wrap his large arms around you. “You’re a little alborotadora, aren’t you?” [troublemaker]

“Maybe.” You respond with a playful tone, adding a kiss on his cheek. Your hand moves up to cup his cheek. The action is soft and tender, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. And you knew he was, especially when he let you into the most intricate parts of his soul. Something that he rarely gave people permission to do.

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

reblogs are much appreciated! thank you for reading and thank you for being here!

[spideesenses]

nsfw babble ! 18+ minors DNI

holy, are you spent

what had started off as an intimate love making kiss, turned into a tearjerking fuck.

your wrist is pinned to your back, the other hand gripping the sheets under you as miguel shoves your face into your pillow as he violently pistons his hips into yours. your muffled moans are music to his ears as you come down from your fifth orgasm of the night. you hear his grunt from behind you as your walls spasm around him. he slows down his pace, gently caressing your back. you pant and whimper at the touch. miguel pulls out of you and you shudder at the feeling.

“you okay baby?” he questions as be flips you over. your hair sticks to your face with your sweat and he chuckles before pushing your hair out of your face, peppering your face with kisses. you can’t help but press the balls of your feet into his butt cheeks, pressing him against you.

he raises his eyebrow with amusement before complying to your needs and slipping back in, watching as your face contorts in pleasure. he could watch you all day.

“mmm ‘want you to come again for me,” you plead, locking your ankles around his waist, forcing him to fill you to the brim. miguel hisses, cursing under his breath.

“i don’t think i can, my love,” he admits, chuckling at your eagerness. he’d already finished twice, and while he’d love to make you come more, the thought of his release again intrigued him.

“no?” you pout. “please?” you ignore his protests. “but i want you to.” you grip his jaw and force him to look at you. miguel loved this side of you. his little cockdrunk love. “i wanna be stuff so full of you.”

reluctantly, he slowly moves his hips, his hand resting beside your head as he gazes into your eyes. you can feel every inch of him. when you didn’t feel like he was close enough to you, you’d press your feet against his butt to make him bottom out into you and your tummy flipped in excitement when his jaw would fall, a small gasp leaving his throat.

your words in your filthy voice echoed in his head.

want you to come again.

please?

but i want you to..

miguel’s pace was painfully slow, but it was working. the sultry look in your eyes was helping him. your hand on his face, oh this was so intimate for him. your other hand gripped his bicep, squeezing it anytime he’d hit that sweet spot in you.

“you gonna come? please? i want you to come for me, yeah, fill me up,” you murmured to him like a mantra.

it hit him quicker than he thought, like a tidal wave. his hips stuttered and he moaned your name, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. his eyes were shut tightly and your hands drew shapes against the skin on his back.

“you okay?” you repeated his question. miguel had been panting. he swore he just blacked out.

“yeah,” he huffed, opening his eyes finally. miguel kisses you feverishly. “you’re so spoiled.” he grins at you.

“and you love it.”

[p1nkmic]

Don't know how to caption this,,

Let's just say that those fics on ao3 about biting changed something in me

[poppy-metal]

"you're so tiny and i dont want to lose control." monster bf and "idc and im gonna taunt you until you break and ruin all my holes." gf

[yerbabrava]

me waiting for writers to start writing the spot x reader fanfics

[augustinapril]

he's looking at me btw. just so you guys know.

[thefangirlfever]

DBF! Miguel O'hara x reader (part 6)

Tags: F/M, age gap (reader is 28 and Miguel is 48), taboo relationship, mention of medication, depression and racial prejudice, reader is a woman of color, angst, mention of death and grief, slow burn

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

See the end for notes.

Words count: 6503

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Miguel and you had come to an agreement. You were in charge of the dinner from Monday to Thursday and he took care of it the rest of the week. But even like that, he couldn’t help but intervene into your cooking; no matter how many times you’ve told him to “trust the process”.

“But how can you be sure that it’s gonna taste good if you don’t even follow the recipe?”

You rolled your eyes, amused by his comment while adding a last spoon of spice to the boiling soup on the stove.

“Who needs the recipe when you got vibes and confidence?”

He was now the one rolling his eyes. He hated to admit it but your recipes always managed to taste edible, good even, despite your inability to follow a recupe. You should have already been responsible of a food intoxication but you didn’t. Cooking by your side was always an experience, truly. But it also managed to help him relax after a long day at work. You even looked more relaxed while doing so.

You turned toward him, holding a spoon of soup and asked him to try the soup with a small grin. Miguel could only oblige when you looked at him this way and so he leaned forward to sip a bit of the soup. And just like he had guessed it, it was delicious. He may not be the most objective taster out there but it was still good. The creamy and rich texture made him think that you must have some hidden talent because he has seen you cooking without a recipe and there was no other logical explanation for it to taste that way.

“So? Not that bad, huh?"

It was nice to see you were feeling better now. After only a few days of his attention, you were already back on your feet. His gaze traveled down your figure, noticing your now rosy cheeks and the way you looked generally better. Maybe the countryside had a better effect on you than what you could have expected? But he couldn’t ignore the tired lines on your face, meaning that you were still sleeping poorly.

“Miguel…” Your soft, questioning voice took him out of his thoughts and he blinked twice, collecting his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

“Do you...still have trouble sleeping?” The sudden change in the conversation surprised you but you didn’t immediately deflate the conversation or tried to run away, which was a progress in Miguel’s eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you considered taking something to help you fall asleep?” Miguel wasn’t surprised when you shook your head no. He still asked: “Not even melatonin?”

“I used to take some when I was in high school but...it wasn’t strong enough.”

His eyes opened wider and he stuttered: “In high school?”

“I was an anxious kid.”, you simply replied. He didn’t have any trouble believing that.

“I could get you something more efficient if you want…” You turned off the stove and shook your head.

“I...I don’t have a good history with strong medications.”, you simply replie. Most doctors you’ve met so far were quite insistent, always trying to convince you to take those type of things. But speaking from your personal experience, you didn’t like how they made you feel. And in general you’d rather avoid any type of medication.

Miguel didn’t insist, thankfully, and he simply nodded.

“Well...if you need anything, you can always ask me.”

“I think I’ll stick with herbal tea for now but thanks.”, you replied while smiling. And he gave you back your soft smile. You seemed in a great mood and he thought it was not the right time to ask anything about your history with medication. Plus, he was not on duty anymore. He could simply enjoy this moment with you, without thinking about anything related to his job.

The two of you were setting up the table and he had to remind himself to leave a good distance between you. Nevertheless he still looked at you from the corner of his eyes, watching every movement you made, from the very tip of your fingers to the way you balanced your weight on your feet. It’s been a month since your arrival and Miguel has felt something changing inside him ever since. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he has been waiting with so much enthusiasm for every chance to see you. Every moment you shared had become the highlights of his week. And you were more present in his thoughts than he wants to admit it. Your father had told him how much of a nice girl you were; saying things about how the two of you would get along so well. But Miguel had this feeling that your father may have underestimated just how good the two of you got along… Because he had the feeling that was he was feeling when you were together had nothing to do with friendship or what he was supposed to feel.

You have also noticed how closer the two of you seemed to be. It’s not a bad feeling but you would have never guessed the two of you would feel this comfortable in the presence of each other. Maybe Sarah was right. There was nothing wrong in asking for help… And Miguel has been a great help so far on so many levels. He didn’t just help with the house; you have the feeling that he helped you personally.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear Miguel saying: “That color looks good on you.”

You looked down to where his eyes were. He was looking right at your sweater, an old one that you have found this morning in the back of your closet. You couldn’t remember exactly when was the last time you wore it or even when you bought it, probably during one of your phases in high school. It was bit loose on your shoulders and it hung loosely over your clavicles but the soft fabric felt like a blanket and the color really appealed to you when dressing up this morning. It was a soft lilac, almost the same shade as an aster.

“Oh thanks. It’s just an old thing, I guess…”

Miguel’s eyes have been nothing but locked on the way the fabric exposed your clavicles or the slope of your neck; especially with your hair tied up tonight. That color reminded him of a flower but he was not sure which one exactly. You reminded him of some flower. As embarrassing and corny as it may sound. He thought he was way past this at his age but it seemed like he was wrong. The mohair wool had caught his eyes ever since he came in the kitchen and he couldn’t stop wondering just how soft it acutally felt, how easily his fingers would slide through it…

He promised himself he would not look at you like that. He can’t do this. You trust him. Your father trusts him. He knew better than this and he didn't want to be that type of man who pried on younger, inexperienced and fragile women. He swallowed back the rest of his compliment, which turned into a lump in his throat and he looked away; just when your father called for you.

The three of you were sitting around the diner table, chatting lightly, joking from time to time. It’s been quite a long time since you shared a real meal with anyone. Since you began living alone, you were usually relying on take-outs and would eat in your bed in front of a show, enjoying the calm of your apartment after a long day at work. Your apartment… You had left a double of the keys to Sarah like most people would do so their plants would be watered and all these kinds of things. But there were no plants to water at your place, no animal to take care of… Sometimes this place didn’t feel like yours. But you had to move quickly after and that was the fest thing you had found. It was not objectively bad but...it was not your home.

The conversation had slowly shifted toward the topic of your school years when Miguel told your father about the restoration work that would begin soon. You still remembered vividly the walls of red bricks with the wine climbing on them, the windows decorated with the drawings of the students, the ugly yellows wallpaper… Maybe it was not a bad thing that this place was going to be renovated. It will be safer at least.

“It will be for the best.”, your father declared before taking a sip of his coffee. “Those buildings were already there when I was a student after all.”

“So they must be really old.”, Miguel joked and your father laughed heartily.

“Are you implying that I’m some type of dinosaurs or something?”, he asked with a grin and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling too. It was nice to see him laughing around. Miguel’s presence only did good things to him.

“I would never.” You looked at Miguel’s expression and he had the exact same grin on his face. But when he was the one smiling, your eyes would linger a bit longer on his face, on the curve of his smile… He caught you looking at him and you were suddenly very invested in the appearance of your cup of tea. Your father didn’t notice anything and kept joking:

“Well, you’re not getting younger either, my friend.” He added with a knowing smile in your direction. “Poor Y/N, you’re stuck here with those two old men…”

“You’re not that old.” You protested weakly and you were not sure who you were trying to convince of that and if you were only speaking about your father. Your father sighed and his smile looked a bit more contrite.

“Well, I’m not getting younger for sure…” He looked at the cast on his leg with a look you've been catching more frequently on his face recently. He was in pain. Not physical pain. But he had to come in terms with his mortality, with the fact that he was growing older...exactly the same way than when your mother died. “I just think you would maybe enjoy more the company of people of your age.”

You were not sure of where this is coming, so you slowly took a sip from your cup, waiting for him to finish talking. Miguel was also waiting.

“Why wouldn’t you try to link up with some of your old friends? You know, most of them didn’t move away.”

Miguel suddenly looked more intrigued and interested by the conversation. It was true that so far, you haven’t mentioned any of your past acquaintances. You couldn’t be this antisocial truly. With a shrug of your shoulders, you replied as casually as you could:

“Well, they must all be busy.”

“I’m sure they would be glad to see you too.” His soft tone didn’t fool you. You know how stubborn he could be when he had an idea in mind. So you asked: “What did you do?” His satisfied smile proved you that your assumptions were right.

“I called one of your best friends and asked her to come visit over. And she gladly accepted.”

“Who did you call?” Miguel watched your exchange like one would watch a tennis game, his head swinging from left to right.

“Actually I called a few people.” Your father said with a bright smile and that was when it hits you. He genuinely thought he did something good. As much as you appreciated his effort, you couldn’t help but groan, slightly annoyed. What were you supposed to say to your old friends? Would you even be able to talk with them or link up the way you used to? Would they even recognize you?

***

The next day the living room was filled with laughter and the faint sound of chit-chat. Sitting on the edge of the couch, you quietly observed your friends from high school. The atmosphere in the room reminded you of the time you would all have slumber parties in high school. Except that it was only 4 in the afternoon and that you had traded your snacks and corny movies for homemade cookies and old album photos.

The three women facing you looked nothing like the pictures you were watching and at the same time they couldn’t be more themselves than they were now. On your right Jane was no longer wearing the thick glasses she used to have when she was younger, having them replaced by lenses but the movements of her fingers reminded you of how she would always adjust the frame of her spectacles back then. She had already apologized three times for being late but who would blame a business woman like her to have more important meeting in her day? Assya’s cooking skills were still unmatched and you thanked the Lord for her cookies, delicately wrapped into a pink paper. Her calloused hands from all her work were still looking rough but your eyes could’t miss the wedding band on her finger. A bright diamond on top of a silver ring. And there was Margareth, Mag as she’d rather have you calling her, whose athletic silhouette was now draped under a delicate green tailor suit. Even under the large jacket, she couldn’t hide the impressive bump of her stomach.

And there was you who was giving “I peaked in high school” energy compared to them. But none of them seemed to address this or even wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. They seemed to respect your silence and they ware graceful enough to not comment on your tired face or rub too hard their happiness on the said tired face. None of them mentioned your mother as they keep flipping the pages of the album. Assya even slided a new box of cookies toward you when you were finished with the first one. So...it was a bit better than what you were expected.

Jane pointed at one of the pictures and started telling a story about this day. Her memory was quite impressive to you. You barely remembered that day. The four of you were looking at the camera with a bright smile. You were all sitting in your bedroom, during one of these infamous slumber parties. The more you looked at the picture, the more you realized that your friends were not the one who changed. You did.

The four of you were still down the memory train when the front door opened. It can’t be your father. As soon as your friends came in, he disappeared into the patio, saying that he wanted to give you as much space as possible. It could only be Miguel. It was a nice surprise for him to be here this early. There was something comforting into knowing that he’ll be back after almost every day...

You turned toward the door, a bit too enthusiastically, and watched him making his way toward the living room. He was the one in charge of the dinner tonight and he was carrying a crate full of fresh vegetables. His forearms flexed slightly when he lifted the box and for some reason, you couldn’t take your eyes away from this sight.

“Doctor O’hara, I wasn’t expecting to see you there. Is this where you’ve been hiding all these weeks?” Assya asked with an amused smile while crossing her arms over her chest. She had told you she’s been working as a nurse at the clinic but it was only now that you realized what it meant. She knew Miguel. For some reason the small grin she gave him annoed you, wedding ring or not.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you there either. Do you guy know each other?” Miguel asked with a polite smile and all the women nodded in unison. His eyes stopped on the silhouette of Mag and he asked in a caring voice:

“How are you feeling today?”

She slowly patted her stomach and replied: “He’s been really quiet today. No nausea whatsoever.”

“Good. If you need anything, my office is always open.”

It was your first time seeing him interacting with his patients and colleagues, and again, you could’t believe that people like him actually existed. People who were so selfless, people who cared and who could genuinely talk to other beings. And for a second, you could picture him at the clinic, working, giving orders, taking care of his patients… Just how many parts of his life did you actually ignore?

Miguel was slightly amused by the sight of all four of you reuniting in the living room. Once again, it seemed that you have underestimated yourself and your social skills. Everything seemed fine. His eyes trailed over you, taking in your polished appearance. You tried to make yourself look a bit better for today and he actually realized that it was the first time he saw you wearing some make-up. It was just a bit of blush and lipstick but his eyes are drawn to the shape of your lips tinted in a deep carmine. The same color rushed to his cheeks and he looked away before saying in a firm voice:

“I’ll let you to your memories now, ladies.”

You watched him going to the kitchen, a bit disappointed. You were not sure of what just happened because it lasted only a millisecond but if you had listened to your body, you would have followed him into the next room. Instead you just sat there, quietly, while your friends started giggling. Assya was the first one to break the silence:

“I know I’m married but…”

“Please, don’t finish this sentence. I already know what you’re going to say.”, replied Jane with a growing smirk.

“Come on, you can’t blame me. He is fine.”

The two of them whispered in order to not be heard from him and you felt like you were back to your high school years when you would all tease each other about your crush. So, it looked like you haven’t been the only one noticing that he was attractive…

Mag gave you a knowing look from the other side of the couch and your eyes were drawn to the shape of her stomach. While Jane and Assya kept bickering around, you decided to shift the conversation away:

“So...when is it due?”

She must have sensed your uneasiness because she chuckled softly. You have always been awkward around children and maternity, so it was not a surprise. Again, her hand gently patted her stomach.

“In two months I think.”

“It’s a boy?”

She quietly nodded and as soon as this conversation begins, you found yourself unable to ask anymore questions. It’s not that you didn’t care but the topic of motherhood made you feel uncomfortable, even more so these last years… Hopefully she changed the conversation when sensing your discomfort.

“So...it seems that he comes here often?”

“Who?”

“Doctor O’hara.”

“Ah...yes, Miguel...well, he is here to help my father. They’re good friends and I think it’s good that they are hanging together.” It felt like you were trying to justify yourself or something. You cleared your throat and grabbed your coffee while Mag kept looking at you with a knowing smile.

“He is nice, isn’t he?”, she asked after a few seconds and you simply nodded slowly.

The rest of the afternoon went by pretty fast as the four of you got lost again in your memories. Assya was the first to leave because she had to pick up her kids at daycare and Jane and Mag followed quickly. Once they were gone, you let the silence of the house wrap around your and youfinally rested your face against the wooden panel of the door for a few seconds with your eyes closed. As much as it was nice seeing them again, you feltl drained of all your energy and you would probably need a few days to recharge your social battery.

The sounds of footsteps made you turn around and there was Miguel, looking at you from the end of the hallway, a soft smile on his lips.

“Are you alright?”

You leaned your back against the door for a few seconds as a migraine started hitting your head. He could sense that something was off and that you needed to rest despite your attempt at reassuring him. He slowly moved closer to you and only stopped when he was a few feet away. He didn’t exactly know what made him act this way but there was again this lingering need to take care of you in ways that would make him feel ashamed if he could admit it.

“I can leave you alone if you want…”

“No it’s okay.”

Your eyes trailed up and down his figure in the dim light of the corridor and your eyes locked on the apron he is wearing. The white fabric had turned yellow at some point and the blue flowers on it looked withered. On one of the pockets there was a small heart. You had embroidered yourself when you were younger, as a gift to your mother.

Miguel seemed to realize his mistake and he started to untie the apron. He didn’t mean to offense you by taking this memory of your mother out of the cabinets. He just took the first thing he had found to cover himself. He was about to apologize when your hands stopped his movements, holding his wrists firmly.

“Don’t take it off.”

Your voice was only a murmur but he clearly heard you. With a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with yours while your two bodies got a bit closer. The mere light from the window of the door looked like a halo around your hair and he has to catch his breath. The room suddenly fels like it had been completely deprived of air while he got lost in your eyes. What if he got closer? What if he held you in his arms, only for a few seconds? What if…

The questions rushed in his mind, pressing him to decide what to do. But he had the feeling that none of this is what you need at the moment, nor what he should do. The grip of his fingers on yours finally loosened and he stepped back.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.” You watched him slowly walk away before leaning back against the door. Your body slowly slid down the panel and you end up sitting down the floor, a mix of boiling, raw emotions that you couldn't identify lingering inside your chest.

When you were finally back inside the living room, you noticed that Miguel had left a glass of water and some aspirin for you. You smiled at the sweet attention and immediately swallowed one pill. He also had cleaned up a bit the room and yet, all the album photos were still out. Your father was sitting down the couch, absorbed in the old pictures, so much that he hadn’t notice your presence at first. You didn’t need to look over his shoulders to know what, or rather who he was looking at. In fact you’d rather disappear from the room rather than bring the attention to this topic but he caught the sound of your footsteps as soon as you started moving

“Hey…” he gently called you out. When he turned around, you caught a glimpse of the picture he was looking and you were unfortunately right. It was a picture of you and your mom. It had been taken the first year you all went camping in family. “How was the afternoon with your friends?”

“Good. Thanks.”

He was smiling in a way that would break even a heart of stone. With a tired sigh, you dragged your body to the side of the couch and sat by his side.

Your mother was holding you in her arms on the picture. You zere both wearing matching green windbreakers, an idea from your father because he was wearing the same one on the other side of the picture. There was something so comforting about staying in her arms like that. She was not a frail woman with he square-shaped shoulders, her burly arms tanned after hours spent in the garden and she was always carrying around her a scent like the one of a fireplace. You were sure that it was how a mother’s hug was supposed to feel for a long time in your life, strong, maybe a bit rough in the beginning like a mama bear holding her cubs. It was the only kind of hugs that could chase away the monsters under your bed or in your heads once you grew up.

Your father’s fingers glided over the page and you felt a bit uncomfortable. You squirmed over your sit, not knowing what to do. Should you offer a few words of comfort? Hug him? It would be quite appropriate but you were not sure your hugs would feel as comforting as hers.

He sensed your discomfort and flips the page. A large smile slowly crept up his face and he started laughing. It was a picture of you at a dance recital, around age 8, dressed as a large daisy. You cringed at the picture. Your chubby cheeks were squished by the fabric of your corolla and you were all red and sweaty, because of course the taffetas of the dress was too hot for the month of May.

“Dad, can we please ignore that?”

“No way, you’re looking adorable. And your mother spent so many time on your costume.”

The sound of your banter had attracted Miguel and he smiled when he seed that you seemed to feel a bit better. When your dad called him in, you felt a cold sweat running down your back.

“Dad, no.”

But the catastrophe happened too fast for you to react. Miguel sat on the other side of the couch and as soon as he looked at the picture, a goofy smile curled up his lips.

“No wonder you enjoy gardening. It’s like your natural habitat after all.”, he teased you gently. Your father laughed loudly at what you would have considered a pretty lame joke if it wasn’t for the adorable smirk that he was wearing. On the next picture, you were dressed as one of the rats for the ballet Nutcracker and you thought that you might actually die of embarrassment right now.

Miguel was having a blast seeing all these pictures that your dad always commented on with a funny story. Not only did he get to see an other side of you but he also caught the blush that crept up your cheeks and that slightly annoyed pout you were doing. Ever since he met you, he had never seen you embarrassed or really flustered. This might be the most emotions you’ve shown in one time and he quickly diverted his attention from the picture to your profile. After seeing the pictures he could clearly see how well of a mix you are between your parents. You got the lanky silhouette from your father, his long and thin face with the sharp eyes and pronounced chin. And from your mother, those curly locks, your nose with the high arch and those cheekbones… The said cheekbones were turning more and more flushed, their shade according well with the one of your tinted lips.

"Stop looking", he taunted himself.

As the pages kept moving and your dad talking, you slowly relaxed and your arm was now resting on top of the head of the couch. Just like Miguel’s. You were still trying to act unbothered the first time his fingers brushed against yours, thinking it might be an accident. But when it happened again, you were not so sure anymore that it was a mistake. Your two hands were resting behind the couch and your fingers were brushing from time to time, especially when Miguel was laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. At some point his forefinger brushed against your wrist, right against the edge of your sleeve.

You quickly pulled your hand back to yourself. Not out of discomfort but because you felt confused. This was not an invitation from your part...but you wouldn’t have minded for this contact to last a bit longer either…

Miguel didnn’t dare thinking that he was disappointed. Touching an inch of your skin even for a few seconds was still worth every hour of hesitation and turmoil that would come after it. How could your skin be so soft? So tempting? All when he had seen of it so far was your hands and a bit of your neck?

Still unaware of what was happening behind his back, literally, your father turned to an other page. It was a picture of you on your last recital. You were around fifteen years old, dressed in a dainty pink tutu, glitters sprinkled all over your hair. You had spent hours cleaning them off with your mother afterwards...

“This was your last recital?”, Miguel asked but it was your father who replied.

“She had to stop after that. You know how it is? High school, college entrance exams…”

Miguel didn’t reply but he did furrow his brows and nodded with a serious look on his face. He would have liked to ask more questions about this part of your life that looked so surreal. How come this little girl with that bright smile and her face covered in glitters turned into the woman you were today? He could’t also help but wonder if you still remembered a few dance moves…

But your father had flipped the pages once again and now there was an other picture of you with a boy around your age. His skin was the same shade as yours and brown curls flowed down to his shoulders. The two of you were standing close to each other, at a respectable distance with a shy look on your face. Miguel knew too well this type of picture and when he looked back at you, he was expecting to see some reaction on your face. Maybe you would be a bit embarrassed, flustered or at least nostalgic? But to his surprise you had a blank expression on your face. He didn’t know if it’s good or not. Before he could ask anything else, your father said in an obnoxious voice:

“You were such a cute couple together, David and you. You remember that day, Y/N?”

“Mhh...not really.” You seemed pretty unaffected by the picture, which was not something that Miguel was expecting from someone who just saw such a memory.

“Oh come on...you really don’t remember? It was for your birthday. You remember that nice necklace he gave you?”

You nodded without saying anything. You knew it was useless to argue with your father over this topic. He had always loved David, almost like a son. The fact that his parents were from the same diaspora as your father only made them get closer and your father had always assumed that you would end up with David. He was a nice guy, sure. But there was a reason why you never kept seeing each other after high school and you remembered it while looking at the picture. There was no chemistry between you, even a blind could see that, whatever your dad liked to think.

Miguel’s eyes were still locked on your profile and the more you were looking at the picture, the more anxious he was getting. Why were still silent? How was he supposed to understand the way you were looking at this picture? Was this good? Bad? Did you miss that David guy? Why was he suddenly just realizing that you must have had former partners? And why did he make him want to take your hand back in his, to pull you closer to him?

Your father didn’t seem to realize that there was a slight tension because he kept digging his own grave:

“It’s been a long time since you saw each other. Did you even call him? You know, I think he would be really happy to talk to you…” and with what was supposed to be a playful nudge, he added: “And I heard that he is single.” Miguel quickly caught the pink hue on your cheeks and it made his stomach twist as if he was sick. Were you embarrassed? Or was there more to this reaction? God, he hadn’t realized until now how hard it was to read you and he wished he could ask you directly. But...he was not entitled to ask that of you. Who was he to think that?

“Dad, I’m not going to call him.”, you replied while organizing the albums on the coffee table. “We had a good time and now it’s over. What happened in the past belonged to the past.”

Miguel almost sighed out of relief but your father was quick to reply: “Maybe you should start thinking about the future...I mean, you’re almost thirty and I haven’t seen you with anyone in a few years now.”

That was a low blow.

Even if it had been said in a rather understanding voice, you couldn’t help but feel your blood boil. This was the last conversation you wanted to have with your father. Miguel felt like his presence was unwanted and he tried to make his way out of the living room as quietly as possible. He would be in the kitchen if you needed help but there was no need for him to make you feel like he was prying on this delicate moment.

***

It was not your first time having this argument with your father. In fact, you remembered the last time it happened. It was a few years ago when you decided to move with your last boyfriend. Most parents would have welcomed such a good news but your father wasn’t too happy about it. First of all, he never really liked this man. History would prove him right, but it was not for the good reasons that he disliked him.

“He is not what I imagined. He is..."

Not like us.

That cryptic sentence took all its sense when you introduced your boyfriend to your father. He didn’t fit in. Your father wanted someone who could speak his language, who could share his memories of the country they left…

“And you’re living with him without even getting married?”

“You know what the people will say!”

“I raised you better than this…”

Hearing him screaming was somehow less hurtful that his resigned voice. He could sound so disappointed sometimes that you almost wondered why you even kept trying.

But at least at the time, you had your mother by your side. She always knew how to calm him down. She was like this bridge between the two of you and somehow she was the only one who would manage to help you find a compromise.

At least when she was alive.

***

You couldn’t run to your mother after an argument anymore and you’d rather stay alone than talk with anyone else. At least, that’s what you used to think. Now that you were back in this house, you might as well go and see her.

The next day, you grabbed your windbreaker and headed out of the house before your father had waken up. You had spent the last evening, alone in your room. It’s been so long since the two of you fought; you had forgotten how bad it could hurt sometimes. The thought that Miguel could have heard your argument made you feel so embarrassed. What was he thinking now?

The air around you was crisp and you could feel the scent of the pines and the muddy ground this early in the morning. It was a perfect day for what you were about to do… The gates of the cemetery had barely opened when you walked inside. It was a few days before Halloween and a few people would come and clean the graves soon, change the flowers… Seeing all the decorated graves made you regret not bringing anything. And given your father’s state, no one probably brought anything to your mother’s grave.

She was right where you remembered her. The plaque with her name stood at the foot of a small hill. A vase with withered flowers, a decoration with a dove...exactly how you remembered it to be. You carefully sat in front of it and watched the black marble. A few remaining raindrops from the night slid down the material, on top of her name engraved on it.

“Beloved mother and wife.”

Finally, some peace and some silence.

You didn’t know how long exactly you stayed there, sometimes contemplating the grey sky, sometimes the delicate intricacy of the letters of her name. Next time you would bring some flowers you promised as much as her than to yourself. At some point while looking at the build-up of stormy clouds in the sky, you noticed a large silhouette, all too familiar, moving down the hill.

What was he doing here?

You tried to get up despite your numb legs and the silhouette seemed to walk faster in your direction, his long coat flowing behind him. It was only when the first raindrops fell down that he managed to join you.

Miguel didn’t even dare asking you anything, if you were feeling alright, who you came to visit… the answer to each question was obvious. Instead, he simply offered you shelter under his umbrella and a tissue for your wet eyes.

“Do you want to stay a bit longer here?”, he finally asked after a few seconds. You shook your head and the two of you made your way out of the graveyard. His arm was holding yours, guiding you gently toward the exit, his sturdy shoulder brushing against yours from time to time.

When you reached his car, Miguel opened the door for you and then sat in front of the stirring wheel. But he didn’t feel like taking you back home now. And neither did you.

The rain was hitting the roof of the car in a loud, discorded melody. You could barely see the world outside through that much rain. A slight fog had covered the windows with the warmth of the heater, and yet your shoulders don’t stop shivering.

Miguel’s comforting hand gently squeezed your shoulder as he tried to make you look this way, a vain attempt to anchor you in the moment.

“Hey…”

He was slowly getting a bit more worried that you’re not responding but he doesn’t dare insisting. His hand stopped at a few inches from your face before he slowly leaned back into his seat. The silence inside the car was only troubled by your heavy breaths as you tried to compose yourself. After a few minutes, he couldn’t hold it anymore and asked: “Do you want to talk about it?”

You were not sure if he was talking about the argument with your father or your visit to the cemetery but you still shook your head. He felt a bit relieved when he heard your voice, even if it was barely a whisper:

“I’m fine, Miguel.”

An other heavy silence filled up the space inside the car and quite surprisingly you were the one breaking it this time, again.

“Why were you here?”

His eyes seemed suddenly very focused on the stirring wheel and he absented-mindly started rubbing his pointer finger with his thumb while looking for his words.

“I needed to visit someone.”

===============================================

Notes: This was a pretty messy chapter, so I want to thank anyone who took the time to read this.

I'm currently working on the seventh chapter and just so you know, I'm very impatient to write it.

Taglist: @safixiovi @laysmt @reverieblondie

My Masterlist!

< part 5 / part 7 >

[loganlermanstanaccount]

is miguel falling in love with the reader in rm?

I like it when men are so disgustingly down bad so it's creeping into my fics little by little. I am humbly pushing the agenda that Miguel is a SIMP!

[roxxeatzgravel]

OKAY!!!!

Goldenpunk (aka Hobie x Pavitr) HCs cause I can

Hobie is a SKINNY MF (slightly from malnutrition) he’s also very light and is 6 foot something

Pavitr is pretty toned for a 16 year old and is avarage height

Hobie is a Transmasculine Enby (he/they/it he/him pref)

Pavitr is a Nonbinary Demiboy (he/him)

Pavitr when sleeping takes up a LOT of space and Hobie takes up very little so they’re perfect

THEY ARE TFT (both nonbinary)

Pavitr is Bi while Hobie is Gay

Hobie wasn’t able to afford top surgery so he got it done for free in a sketchy back alley and also cause fuck capitalism

Hobie is AFAB and has been on testosterone for 2 years (which once again he gets in a sketchy ass alley once again also cause fuck capitalism)

Pavitr is AFAB nuff said

I was informed that GRLwood is cancelled for completely fair reasons (one of the members is a sexual abuser) so i simply removed this HC

Hobie is fairly strong for such a skinny guy

Hobie doesn’t like his mom a lot

Pavitr misses his mom and thinks she would think he is a disappointment

They’re inlove

Hobie has a soft spot for stray animals of any kind so do with that HC what you will

The first time they met Hobie tried to murder Pavitr out of instinct and instinct alone

Pavitr sometimes helps Hobie with his hair but he really loves running his fingers through hobies hair same with hobie

Hobie HATES cold weather

Pavitr will complain if it’s a little too hot

Sometimes Hobie will just crash through Pavitrs window and Pavitrs basically numb to it at this point

Mentioned in the previous post but Hobie wears lipstick and is heavily affectionate so….it didn’t take a lot of people long to figure out they were going steady

Hobie constantly uses the term Necking instead of Make out cause Miguel hates it and he loves to make Miguel mad

I call the ship Chai Tea sometimes ( Chai = pavitr Tea = Hobie) just cause it feels right in my bones

Pavitrs aunt maya loves Hobie just she’s a little suspicious about the fact he’s British, not to mention she makes a FUCK ton of jokes about Hobie stealing pavitr like the british stole India's history which slay girlboss

Pavitr makes a lot of jokes about Hobie being British too

Hobie wrote an entire song about wanting to kiss Pavitr and it took Pavitr two years to figure out

Miguel hates their constant PDA so Hobie calls him Homophobic (and also a nonce)

Jess thinks that it’s sweet that they’re so affectionate with each other

Miguel will piss off Hobie and hobies like “aight OI PAVITR LETS GO NECK IN MIGUELS OFFICE”

Pavitr likes Hobies accent a lot

Same with Hobie

Hobies 17 and Pavitr is 16 but Hobie is older by 3 months

Hobie is easily flustered he just is good at hiding it

slightly angsty one but Hobie (when they were first developing crushes on each other) was terrified that pavitr would either get killed because of him or pavitr would turn out to be homophobic, this caused him to have a breakdown in the middle of a fight

Hobie and Sunspider are best friends cause WLW and NWLNW solidarity

Sometimes Gwen and Hobie hang out in Pavitrs universe but Hobie hangs out there all the time

They like to have really meaningful conversations while beating up facists

Both of them hate facists

On Hobies back there is a tatto (which he shouldnt fuckin have but once again sketchy ass alley and fuck capitalism) that says Stay woke as a reference to something said in the black community years back to fight against police brutality

stole this one from @toshkakoshka and made some adjustments but Hobie and Pavtir have matching henna designs of each others spider symbol

aunt maya did it for them

hobie will NEVER admit but he is a HUGE snuggler (also he'll never admit hes a fan of weezer)

Hobie is the parent of the friend group.

THEY ARE Black lab and golden retriver

After quitting Hobies watch slowly stops working so he started collecting small pieces of tech that were given to him by gwen and other friends who think miguel should pull the stick outta his ass and just let miles join *cough cough* sunspider *cough cough* so hobie makes the first version of the watch that gwen was given near the end of the movie, this first version has a time limit so when ever Hobie wants to go hang out with pravitr, miles or gwen (usually pravitr) he has to stay vigilent so he doesn't fucking die

and because of this and being homeless he rarely gets sleep

Pavitr and Hobie are either roughhousing when ever theyre around each other or Being a lovey dovey couple cause the fucks refuse to separate

Pavitrs type in men is tall guys with piercings and who dress androgynous his type in girls is usually gals who are the same height as him who are smart, have short hair, and can rock both the fem and masc style

Pavitrs and his Gf spilt up because they both realized they were going complete separate ways in life (she never wanted to have kids and Pav wanted kids one day) so they spilt but they are very very good friends still and are slightly queer platonic (Hobie is completely comfortable with this)

once Hobie shaved his head and when i tell you pavitr had Bisexual panic i mean it

even if the relationship was only platonic Hobie would still be heavily affectionate to Pav since thats his way of showing people he cares about them

Pav can be VERY bitey at times this annoys everyone except Hobie

Hobie writes cheesy ass love songs then plays them for pav but he never finishes them

Pavitr needs reminders that Hobie still wants to pursue a romantic relationship with him (similar to me lmao) Hobie is completely fine with this and reminds Pav when ever he needs to

Pav is a ACCIDENTAL shirt thief he forgets to give them back (same lol)

Aunt maya loves the entire group (even though they make her life slightly harder) and calls them little nicknames in arabic

here are the nicknames (Sry for the butchering im using google translate) Miles = العنكبوت الصغير Hobie = بريطاني gwen = فتاة ذكية and finally Pav = حمار (pavs is a tad mean but hes okay with it)

Hobie only lets the friend group call him Spider-punk, with anyone else? ON SIGHT ASS BEATING

Hobie AND Pav have abandonment issues just in two different fonts

Hobies gender envy sums up to Demonic shit and beings

Pav (by other people) has been described to be as loyal as a dog which can bite him in the ass based on the people hes friends with

heres a Gwen x Miles HC for your troubles, Gwen did the kiss thing except She stuck Miles to the ceiling and took off his mask to kiss him

Sun spider started teasing Pav about his and Hobies relationship kinda being like romeo and juilette after Hobie quit, just for shits and giggles (Pav didnt mind at all)

Charlotte calls Hobie hobo or faggot and Hobie calls her Slag or Dyke (They are NMLNM and NWLNW solidarity)

so a common interaction between the two would go like "sup fag" "hey dyke" then the two laugh about it

Hobie and Gwen have set a building on fire together like besties do

Miles asked Hobie if he liked Gwen and Hobie laughed and just said "Im gay bruv"

Gwen and Hobie (at first) COULD NOT handle eating in Pavs universe

Pavitr (when kissing) bites for some fucking reason he doesnt even understand the reason he has the impulse to bite his romantic partners

Sometimes Hobie just screams for no reason other than "fuck you miguel"

Hobie thinks we should get rid of the pride parades and just have riots (he has a bit of a point)

sometimes hobie will just carry people like they're wet cats (its mainly charlotte)

Charlotte and Pavitr had a Greece moment in which was of course ruined by Miguel

Basically SunSpider wanted all the deets about Pavitr and Hobie

Hobie calls Pavitr Pavi and Pavitr calls Hobie Hobs (sometimes)

[gummycube]

hello holofang nation: I'm back

[cupcakeinat0r]

I just know Miguel would use his ceo money on every Hello Kitty/Sanrio related thing he sees n buys it for me, I just know he would. He a “aye, I stopped by at Marshall’s n found this for u <3” type boyfie. And if we’re at the store together, u best believe my man is hunting for hk merch right along w me.

[spideesenses]

Heat → Miguel O’Hara

pairing: miguel o’hara x afab!reader

warnings: smut! MDNI! there’s no piv, just dry (wet) hmping. dom!miguel. panty fcking. light degrading. mentions of menstrual cycle.

prompt: Miguel doesn’t take his rapture serum, letting his more animalistic tendencies surface.

note: this has been my brainrot for several days now bc my bf did it to me and i😵‍💫 please practice safe & clean sex! you can mess up your pH balance especially with something like this, so please make sure you know the proper aftercare. love u

He could smell you. The scent of your wet slick between your thighs sent him in a frenzy, not to mention that you were ovulating. So this intense wave of horniness would hit you randomly. You’d been trying so hard to concentrate on the mission report that Jess was delivering, squeezing your thighs to gain some friction.

As Jess wrapped up the mission report, Miguel dismissed everyone. Everyone except for you. A wave of panic shot through you. You knew there was better choices to be made during the mission, but was it worth getting reprimanded for?

“What is this about?” you spoke softly, stepping forward. The release of your tightened thighs only released the scent of your dripping pussy even more so. As you stepped closer, the scent filled his nostrils and he had to stop his eyes from rolling back.

“You were helping Lyla reproduce my rampage serum earlier this week.” Miguel finally spoke after what seemed like an eternity. He wasn’t asking, he was stating the fact. So you were unsure what he wanted from you.

“Yeah, you had me stay back from a mission because I was feeling unwell.” you period was so crippling that day. You still wanted to make an impact so you asked Miguel for an alternative project to work on. “Is there a problem?”

The question made him chuckle dryly. You felt her pulse at the sound. That, you couldn’t help. He turned giving you what seemed like a grin. A sadistic grin.

“When you updated the inventory,” he waved his hand and a computer monitor came up. Video footage of you storing 6 vials into his cabinet pulled up. You had turned in your rolling chair to lean over as you went to fill out the fields on the computer.

Your name

The date

The serums you were making updates to

The quantity

You squinted your eyes at the footage. Oh. Seemingly enough, you had fatfingered an extra number on the file and saved it carelessly before exiting the lab.

“I was under the impression that I had another 10 vials to last me before I had to make more. I actually would have asked you to assist me in that again, but because of your mistake,” he swiped his hand again, making the video feed disappear and taking a step closer to you, making you instinctively back up. “I am all out.” he wasted no time grabbing you by the neck, forcing you to look up at him. “Do you understand what that means cariño?”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wincing as his grip on your throat tightened. You reached up to grab his wrist, giving it a squeeze.

He ignored your apology. “And while Lyla is scrambling to make a new batch, I have sit here and smell you.” if his teeth wasn’t dripping with venom, his voice was. This didn’t help your problem. You could feel the wetness collecting at the crotch of your suit. The way he was manhandling you? Scolding you as a means to humiliate you? He took a whiff of the air once more, blinking a few times before narrowing his eyes at you. “Is this- Are you getting aroused by this?” you didn’t have to answer, he could smell it.

Due to his lack of rampage, his senses seemed to have heightened. He was more aware, he had to be. He was like an animal released in the wild with no limits to his terrain.

He needed you just as much as you needed him. He’d take you as quickly as he could, oh but he knew it would take patience. As mean and broody as he was, he was still a gentleman, when he wanted to be. Images of you being manhandled, moaning with him touching every inch of your body. He blinked a few times realizing you were using your powers on him. You could project thoughts into ones mind.

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” he nuzzled his face into your neck, peppering kisses there. Miguel teasingly dragged his fangs against the soft skin at your neck, making you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you huffed out. Your sexual frustrations were agonizing, body heating up quickly as your dripping slick grew warmer. The sounds that were coming from you reminded Miguel of the sounds that a prey would make when it was caught. The primal instinct was to bite you, mark you as his territory.

A sweet little moan escaped passed your lips. Miguel looked down and seen your thumbs caressing your nipple through your suit. He could see the hardened mound, how painful it looked. The thought of you pleasuring yourself underneath him would have been more than okay… if he wasn’t feeling territorial.

Miguel flicked your hand away, grasping your breast in his free hand, his other still tightly around your throat. He palmed over your sensitive bud, the feeling of a more calloused hand over your boob feeling sensational. You didn’t care how needy your mewls had sounded, you were unbelievably turned on out of your mind. Whatever he was willing to give you, you would take. The moans falling passed your lips were caught with his.

You would occasionally buck your hips into his, emitting a growl as he lightly bit your bottom lip. You needed friction. Anything to relieve the growing pain. With control, you bucked your hips slowly, making sure to drag the pool of wetness onto his suit. You’d let out a breathless ‘heh’ as you felt him through his suit.

Oh and he could feel you alright. The one stroke alone had left a wet on his suit. He quickly commanded for his suit to disappear and he was suddenly bare in front of you.

He was mouthwateringly gorgeous. His chiseled chest through his suit was a masterpiece. And now that it was bare right in front of you? He looked too delicious to be consumed. His waist was slim in comparison to his chest, yet bulky and defined. His happy trail lead down to something that you would consider very happy to see you. It wasn’t just the girth that intimidated you, it was the length as well. How the hell was he going to fit that in you without breaking you or tearing you in half?

He wasted no time in tearing at the crotch of your suit.

“Hey!” you whined. You’d made your own suit. You were actually one of the only spider people without an upgraded suit. The first version of your suit was your now ruined suit.

“I’ll program you another suit princesa,” he panted, gasping as your silky red underwear came into view. Though the wet patch of your underwear presented a more maroon color. He lifted you up on his desk, pushing his keyboard and mouse off in the process. He bent down, taking a whiff of your clothed, soaked pussy.

His eyes glossed over crimson. Miguel wasn’t even sure if he had ever been this aroused before. Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember a damn day where he was out of his serum. He pressed your lips together in a hard kiss, jerking his hips forward so the leaky tip of his cock would press against your puffy clit.

“M’gonna fuck you with your panties on,” he mumbled against your lips. He guided his cock underneath your panties, collecting the wetness from your crying pussy. The tightness of your underwear was enough to keep his cock firmly pressed against your slit.

You bucked your hips eagerly, whimpering as the feeling of his cock against your pussy stimulated the most sensitive part of you. He switched hands; one resumed its position at the base of your neck, pinning you down on his desk and the other held your thigh as it was hiked over his hip.

Miguel rutted his hips, letting out a sigh of relief. Although it wasn’t the inside of your plush, wet heat, this would do. The scent of you enveloped him and he could only imagine what your velvety walls would feel like fluttering around him.

“More, please.” you begged, tears brimming your eyes as you could feel yourself wanting more than just the slow rolling of the hips.

“Oh,” Miguel pursed his lips, looking down at you. “Look at you so desperate for my cock.” he was talking down on you again, making your jaw fall slack as he slowly picked up the pace, stimulating your clitoris a little more.

The sounds that were coming from the underside of his cock rubbing against your wet slit were pornographic almost. Slosh, slosh, slosh. If he could drown in your puddles of wetness, he’d be all in you every second of everyday.

“Cock hungry and I haven’t even been inside of you,” he coo’d. He drew his hips back, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds. Miguel’s eyes locked onto yours as he gently prodded past your pussy lips.

At this point, it was like you were the animal. Bucking your hips in desperation, tears spilling from your eyes as you pleaded - as you begged him to break you. He could take you however he wanted, he could make it hurt, you just needed him.

“You’re gonna shut up and take what I give you, like the slut you are. Do you understand me?” his voice was stern enough to pull you from your cock drunk state. You nodded your head. “Use your words, princesa.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you answered before he shoved his fingers into your mouth, to which you suckled on with joy.

“That’s my good girl,” he gave you positive reinforcement. Slowly begin to move his hips again, only this time he had his thumb placed on top of the fabric of your panties, so he could keep the placement of his cock over your clit.

His pace was unforgiving. The sound of you begging so desperately for his cock echoing. The image of you crying over not being fucked was glued to the back of his eyelids. You were so cock drunk already, it made him wonder how long you’d been thinking about him fucking you.

Images of you fucking yourself with your fingers, free hand pinching your nipple while moaning his name popped up in his head. Here you were, projecting images into his head once more. As he’s fucking you through your panties, he can feel the grip of your mouth releasing his fingers. Your mouth was ajar as he pistoned his hips against yours, your moans and his grunts filling the room.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned, your hand capturing your breast. “Please, can I come?”

How obedient. Still asking him permission after he told you to take whatever it was he was giving. How much were you wrapped around his finger?

“Yeah baby, you can come. Come for me,” he leaned over, mumbling into your ear, his teeth grazing over the shell of your ear. “Come on, be a good girl for me.” hearing that made you whimper in his ear as you released the knot that was forming in your stomach.

“Fuu-“ you whined, arching your back against him. Your walls clenched around nothing, wishing you could milk him for every drop. You felt your body convulse as euphoria took over you, your cheeks flushed red as your legs shook around Miguel. He could feel your hard nipples on his bare chest. In the frenzy you were in, he had no idea how you were even coherent enough to reach down between you two. Your hand kept his cock in place while your thumb circled around his sensitive tip.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He imagined the softness of your hands being as soft as you were on the inside as he pounded you. His hips began to stammer as he released his load into your panties, with a guttural moan. His hips slowed and he rested his forehead against yours.

You could feel how heavy your panties were. They were slicked down from the wetness of your pussy, and now they were filled with Miguel’s cum.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel muttered.

“Huh?” he heard Jess’ voice in confusion.

He blinked and suddenly Jess, Peter, and you surrounded him. Just as you did during the mission report. Jess and Peter were confused to say the least, but not you.

Your smug grin confirmed Miguel’s thoughts. You had been using your powers to project your sexual fantasies in his head.

“Ay coño,” he whispered under his breath. “I’m gonna fucking kill her.”

[dezid]

Spiderverse x rvb bc i cant think about anything else these days

[mrsoharaa]

Ꮺ ❥ 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅

characters: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

content warnings: highly suggestive (nothing too descriptively spicy!), ex lovers, "one night stand" sort of thing??, sensual kisses, hinting/lingering touching.

It was meant to only be a one time thing.

One.

Now there you were, standing in the same familiar bathroom that swelled with nothing but his strong, addicting scent. The entire vast steam infused, space clouded with nothing but the pure smell of his distinguished, black sandalwood and tobacco whiskey essence. The stern distinct of his natural oders intoxicating your hazed senses, triggering the recently sticky, events that had just unraveled from the night prior.

Thus-- your current predicament.

You curl the fluff of the borrowed black towel around your bust, lean against the edge of the widen marbled counter top of his sink and cleared some of the fogged mirror that stood before you. Starring indubitably long and hard.

What are you doing?

You KNOW you shouldn't be here!

You shouldn't be with him!

You're doing this to yourself!

You bite your bottom lip and slump your head forward weightlessly, exhaling a heavy, prolong sigh. Your grip amongst the edge of the sink tightening, battling pointlessly with the rambling, pestering thoughts invading your blundered mind.

You close your eyes softly, inhaling in softly, exhaling just as gentle.

Lost in your brawling mind, you could feel the familiar, comforting warmth of large, calloused palms delicately roam around the vulture of your waist. A staggering weight of radiating heat and lingering enticement grazing up against the stride of your back, the husk of his torrid breath fanning ever so temptingly against the nape of your neck, his hot, plush lips lightly brushing and caressing at the tender, silken exposed flesh.

You could feel his looming figure closing in on you, trapping you inattentively against the cooling, glossed marble of his sink. His ample hands wooing you in to his tantalizing touches.

"Qué pasa, mi amor?" his sleek, smooth voice echoed ever so enchantingly into the depths of your ears, simply rolling your head over your shoulders, you gradually peeled open your dazed out irises and gazed at him through the mirror before you.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this, Miguel" you finally collected, listening to the bellowed tune of his gentle hum reverberate against the lush of your pulsing skin, his hands soothing up and down the stride of your sides with such care and tender.

"Mm...do you not want to do this? do you not want to be with me? because if that's the case...I won't stop you from leaving, my love" he gently whisks into the plain of your shoulder, painting the flush of his searing lips up along your neck. Gradually guiding your head to tilt to the opposite direction of his motions.

Steers out a more soften breath from you, breathes in your overwhelmingly enraptured aroma. Homing his full lips at the juncture of your clenching jawline, his languid fingers roaming to the midst of your covered belly.

He knows exactly what he was doing.

"I--..." you felt your mind going completely numb to his soothing, deep voice, seducing you delicately with his hovering grazes and simple words "...You know I don't want to" you breathe out, feeling his left hand slither down the valley of your left leg, meddling up further and further until his fingertips slips at the edge of "your" towel.

His fingers halts, your eyes glimpsing up and over your shoulder to look up at him. Such compassion and care wallowing in those soften, hazel eyes of his.

He carefully twirls you around to face him, guides your head up with both of his warm hands placed onto each side of your cheek, subtly brushing his thumbs across the supple flesh that beautifully resonated a comforting warmth "I don't ever want to make you feel pressured or you feel like you need to choose" he states, leaning forward to plant a chaste, gentle kiss onto your forehead.

"You know you'll always have my heart, mi primero y unico amor" he softly mumbles against your forehead, feels your smaller hands drape around his stockier, bulked body. Your face nestling against his chest, the evident smell of his strong scent evading your nostrils. Driving your mind and body into a whirlwind of climbing arousal.

"...God, I hate you so much" you grumble with binding fluster, tearing away from his chest, cupping his strong cheeks and pulling him downward to meet your hungry lips with such haste. Lapping and melding your greedy flesh with his, pressing your needy body against his, wrangling your fingers into the silk of his disheveled tresses.

You could feel him smugly smile against your insisting, eager lips. His hands finding their way back onto the mount of your curvaceous hips, hastily hiking you up upon the bathroom sinks counter, curling your fumbling legs around his slim waist, instantly matching your sloppy, lustful kissing pattern.

"Mientras me toques, respirándome en ángel... no me importa" he husks against your lips, drawing himself back into the messy, salacious entanglement of deprived elevation.

[anchoeritic]

i’d like to send miguel o'hara a nice polaroid of me arching.