#miguel o hara x reader

[cherryredstars]

Oh my stars helllooo!!! I LOVE LOVE LOOVVEEE all of your Miguel work and I was wondering if you could do some punk!reader one shots??

I always come across super cute Miguel one shots, but it gets kinda hard to imagine myself as such a soft girly reader when I’m always so opposite ya know??

It doesn’t have to be anything specific, it could be smut or not but it the reader was able to be more alternative and like punk/goth?

Stuff like face piercings, colored hair, scary or like more elaborate makeup with big eyeliner, or like a reader that gets in a lot of fights and people are more like afraid of ya know? Just something that’s a little more alternative.

I’m sorry if this is such a weird and big ask!! I’d really appreciate it if you have the time!! I hope your 2024 is good so far and have a good dayyyy!!!!!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Punk!fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing

A/N: Today is all for you, love!!!

Not Edited :(

You are going to break this mirror.

You glare into your reflection, then cursing as it smudges your still-wet eyeliner. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes in a futile attempt to calm your raging nerves. You smile slightly, opening your eyes and leaning towards the bathroom mirror again. Your lips thin in concentration as your frustratingly shaky hand comes to your eyelid, liquid eyeliner in your grasp.

As you press the tip to where you left off, Miguel walks into the bathroom. He means no harm when he walks in to wrap his arms around you, but him trying to scoot in between you and the door causes him to bump against your body. You gasp as your body jolts, your hand jerking up with the movement. Your mouth gapes as you stare into your reflection, a wobbly line of black eyeliner trailing from your eyelid and past your eyebrow piercing. The line goes straight into the hairline near your temple, ruining your perfect base.

You drop the eyeliner into the sink, your hands opening. Your nostrils flare as you look into your reflection, your hands making a claw-like shape as you imagine strangling the man behind you. The look of frustration disappears scarily fast. A sickly sweet smile appears on your face as you look at Miguel's reflection. You tilt your head to the side, blinking rapidly as your hands clap together. The loud noise fills the bathroom and Miguel rubs the back of his neck in guilt.

He gulps, meeting your eyes through the mirror, "Sorry."

"Miguel," You breath out, turning to him slowly with your tight-lipped smile.

"Yes?" He replies meekly, already knowing what's to come.

"Get out!" You burst, moving to push him out the door.

He grunts from your pure strength, moving backwards before grabbing the frame of the door to stop you from shoving him out completely. You huff as he doesn't move, his knuckles white from his grip. You cross your arms, cheeks puffing up in anger. You have nasty glare on your face, and Miguel second guesses himself.

"What?" You ask, your tone is all business.

"I-" Miguel starts as you raise your pierced brow, "I'm sorry. Let me help you. You've been in here for like, 30 minutes."

Your body relaxes for a second, thinking it over. Your tongue flicks over your snake bites before you sigh. You walk over to the toilet, putting the seat down before sitting on it. You reach over to the sink, leaning over it and grabbing your eyeliner and a makeup wipe. You hold both out to Miguel, a displeased look on your face.

Miguel smiles slightly to himself, walking over and grabbing the two items. His hand comes to your chin, tilting your face up. He has a look of concentration on his face as he gently wipes away the line of eyeliner. You stare into his face, a teasing glare on your face that he chuckles at.

"It's supposed to look like the other one, right?" He whispers, the outer palm of his hand resting against your cheek as he hovers the eyeliner over your eyelid.

You're about to nod, but with the eyeliner so close to your face you stop yourself. "Yup. Don't ruin it."

Miguel's lips thin as he twists his hand, and you close your eyes. You keep them relaxed, trying to not move your eye too much behind the lid. Miguel hesitates before he commits, attempting to draw the line at the same angle and ending it at the same place. You can feel the wet brush glide against your skin, and your eyes open the moment the sensation goes away.

Miguel is leaning back, his hand still on your chin as he looks between the other wing and the line he made. He nods to himself in accomplishment, leaning towards your face again. You close your eyes again, and the feeling of the brush against your lid comes back soon after. It glides back down, meeting the already dried part that is covering the majority of your eyelid closest to your lashes. Miguel leans back again, and you open your eyes. Miguel scolds you, telling you to close your eyes. You do so quickly, just for Miguel to change his mind and tell you to open them again.

You give him an unamused look as his eyes skip to one of your eyes to the other. He sucks on his cheek, before nodding and moving back towards your face. You close your eyes one last time as Miguel fills in the large wing, waiting a few more seconds even after he's pulled away to make sure it dries a bit so it doesn't transfer anywhere it shouldn't be.

"Is it okay?" Miguel asks when you finally open your eyes.

You push yourself off of the toilet, moving past Miguel to go to the mirror. You lean into your reflection, tilting your head side to side to study each wing. You hum in surprise. He actually did a good job. You smile slightly at your reflection, the frustration of not being able to complete the second wing finally dissipating.

"Yeah." You say softly, "You did really good big guy."

You can practically feel Miguel beaming behind you, his chest puffed out in pride. You laugh, turning to him and beckoning him towards you. He comes quickly, and you cup his cheek to lower his face so you can kiss his cheek. His eyes close happily, a smile on his face as you pull away. You huff out in amusement as the dark color of your lipstick stains his cheek. You grab the makeup wipe he used and rub at the mark.

"Next time you make me mess up my makeup," You say as you clean his face, "I'll kill you."

___________________

Well, this isn't fun anymore.

You sigh as you toe at a pebble on the street. The curb is uncomfortable under your ass, but you sit and wait patiently. The night chill doesn't really bother you anymore, but you know your face is flushed from the wind. You lean forward, your elbow resting against your knee as you rest your chin on your palm. The bent position of your hand makes your bruised knuckles ache slightly, but you kinda like the pain so you ignore it. You can wear footsteps, but you don't look up as the person stops behind you.

"I was only in the bathroom for a minute. How did you get into a fight?" A familiar voice asks you.

You shrug like a little kid getting reprimanded on the playground, continuing to play with the pebble. Miguel sighs, and you can already picture him running his fingers through his hair. Miguel shuffles before he sits besides you, and you lean your head against his bicep. His hand comes up gently, taking yours. His fingers brush over your bruised knuckles, and you scrunch your face up at the sore feeling. Miguel sighs once again.

"He was being an asshole." You mumble after a moment of silence, pulling your hand away from him. "He said he wanted a piece of me, so I gave him some. Handsy fucker."

Miguel's lips thin, trying not to chuckle. He shakes his head, leaning back on his hands as he looks up at the dark sky. You keep your head on his shoulder, playing with your lip rings. Silence envelopes the two of you, and Miguel's large hand cradles the side of your head.

"He had a nasty fucking nose bleed. Think you broke his nose or something." He comments suddenly, his eyes darting down to you.

You shrug again, eyes downcast. "Deserved it."

Miguel finally lets out a chuckle, sitting up again and pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Large fucker, too. Did a number on him."

You perk up, sensing the underlining tones of praise in his statement. You smile, turning your head at him as you nod excitedly.

"I know right! I got him really good!"

Miguel smiles at you, tilting his head to the side as he moves some hair out of your face. "Yeah, you did. Good job, baby."

You smile at his praise, pride surging through your body. You tilt your chin up, self-satisfaction radiating off of you. Miguel shakes his head in amusement, pushing himself off of the pavement and into a standing position. He dusts the back of his pants off, holding his other hand out for you. You reach out, a loud slap filling the silent night as your hands clap together and he hauls you up. You dust your pants off with one of your hands as Miguel holds on gently to your bruised one. Once you're ready to go, Miguel loops his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side as he begins to walk down the street. You're thankful for the warmth, not realizing how much the cold really was getting to you.

"Sorry, for ruining date night." You say as the two of you walk, looking up at his face.

His eyes dart to your face, a lazy smile on his face. "It's okay, I wasn't really in the mood to go to a bar anyways."

You smile slightly, looking forward again, but quickly looking back up when Miguel starts talking again.

"But, if you really want to make it up to me," He teases, "you can let me help you redye your hair when we get home. Oh, and put some frozen peas on that hand."

He secretly loves when you get into fights so he can baby you after.

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.3

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: Mentions of infertility, slight angst, Miguel shows off his geneticist side, Rough sex

Summary: After months of Miguel having the symbiote, it's not working like you thought it would.

A/N: It took me eons to write this part but I'm back! We only have a few more parts of this story before I move on to something else. Enjoy!

You never thought you’d be sitting at the table with an alien. Although, a few years ago, you didn’t think you’d be married to a superhero. Now look at you. Eyeing the symbiote’s head across the table, drinking hot chocolate. You didn’t want to leave them out as they had cups of coffee. And you heard they like chocolate.

“Does it even have a name?”

Miguel and his symbiote looked at each other, “We aren’t really on a first-name basis.”

“You mean, you let this thing fuse with you and you don’t know its name?” You held back smacking your forehead. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I am.” Your husband reassured you, “Their name is Ravage. I didn’t name them that, they did.” You watch the alien smile, sharp teeth in clear view.

“Why Ravage?”

Ravage uses a tendril to imitate shrugging, “It sounds cool.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“How long were you planning on keeping them?”

“Until you get pregnant.” Miguel explained, “I wasn't planning on keeping them forever.”

You folded your arms, “And what were you going to do with them once I got pregnant?” You raised a brow at his delayed response. The symbiote wasn’t saying anything either, waiting for Miguel to answer.

“Find a new host was a general idea. But you don’t need to worry about that.” You wanted to ask more questions but he held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, “Let’s keep trying.”

You squeezed his hand back, your lips forming into a smile. You absolutely wanted to keep trying but thought it was good to set some ground rules. As much as you enjoyed having sex with him every day, you still had lives. You agreed to indulge in the baby-making process around ovulation periods to give the highest possible chance of conception. If either of you were in a particular mood, it was okay too.

After having the conversation, sex with the symbiote was stress-free. You took the enlarged cock with ease, got filled with his seed, and relaxed right after. It was nice at first. But the results weren’t there.

No clear signs of pregnancy after a few months of Miguel obtaining Ravage. You thought you weren't having normal symptoms outside of the usual fatigue and aching joints. So you bought a pregnancy test. Only to be disappointed as the single line appeared in your vision. Pregnancy tests weren’t always accurate so you asked Lyla to conduct a scan on you.

Only for you to come up short.

Before Miguel’s newfound symbiote friend, you were trying to have a baby for eight months. You all did research. You knew it could take a while for conception to take place. Yet, it’s been almost a year, and no progress.

Hopelessness clouded over your mind. Thoughts began to settle in, accusing yourself of the reason why you couldn’t get pregnant. It was all your fault. Miguel said it would be difficult, not impossible. But that’s what it felt like. Impossible.

The thoughts wouldn’t go away. Not as Miguel’s lips peppered your neck, hands fondling your soft thighs. Ready to go for a round in their bedroom after a long day at work. In any other situation, you would’ve felt good. But all you could focus on was being a failure.

“I missed you today…” Miguel’s low tone resonated in your ears. A gentle squeeze on your breast as he continued to your shoulder, tugging on the collar of your shirt for more access to your skin. “Did you miss me?”

You hummed in response, raising your arms for him to remove your shirt. Your stomach twisted at his loving gaze on your naked top half. You knew he loved you. Yet, you were torturing him by not being able to provide what he wanted.

“You okay?”

You blinked, realizing you weren't reciprocating. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You kissed him, distracting yourself with the unnecessary thoughts. Not wanting to succumb to them as you were laid flat on your back. Hands moving from under his shirt to lift it over his head. You focused on his lips moving down your body. Open-mouth kisses covering your upper half.

“Can't wait until these are full of milk…” Miguel said, running his tongue over the swell of your breasts. “Getting ready for our baby…”

You shuddered as his tongue ran over your nipple, sucking on your breast while fondling the other.

All you thought of was you were trying for nothing. This will be another session that will lead you to not getting pregnant. Another disappointing endeavor. Because of you. All because of you.

“Nena?” He called, causing you to perk up. You were doing it again. Not reacting.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

You blinked, “Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say?”

Miguel hovered above you, eyes searching your face. “Nothing. Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen at work?”

“No, no I'm fine.” You cradled his face in his hands, giving him another kiss. “Really.”

He sighed, leaning back and pulling her towards him. You were held in his arms, sheltering you from the outside world. “You're not fine. You're thinking. And with your face, I know it's not good.”

Curse your husband for knowing you so well.

“It's nothing you need to worry about.” You buried your face in his hairy chest. Hearing him suck his teeth.

“I always worry about you when something’s wrong.” The hold on you tightened in reassurance. “Now tell me.”

You struggled, fighting back the tears. “This isn't working. None of this.”

“What? Baby, we did know this was going to take a while.”

“I know, but-” Your breath stuttered, cheeks getting wet, “I'm letting you down. I just can't seem to get pregnant.”

Miguel shook his head, pulling you away to assess the damage. He wiped away your tears, using his shirt to remove the incoming snot. “Don't say that. If anything, it's my fault. My sperm isn't doing a good job. With or without the symbiote.”

“You're not the one with an infertile diagnosis…” You harshly laughed, blinking more tears away.

He helped you put on your shirt. “I don't like when you're upset. You know that, right?” You nodded. “We have to keep trying. And if it doesn't work, then we have other options. Like adoption.”

You watched your husband lay beside you, a strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Your head on his chest, his lips kissing your hair. He was right, there were other options. But you couldn't be comfortable with not trying anything you could. Before giving up.

“You could use me.”

Ravage's head hovered above your body in bed. Your eyes darted to Miguel’s sleeping form, unsure if you should wake him. Wait, what did they say? “I could…use you?”

“Yes.” Their smile may appear sadistic if it was anyone else. You kind of saw them as being genuine, “We can fix you. Cure you.”

“Can you? I didn't know symbiotes could do that.”

“Your husband failed to spare the details.” They went closer, you getting to see his intense eyes. “We make everything better. From physical to genetic…” Goosebumps formed on your skin as he emphasized the last word. There had to be a catch.

“If you knew this, why didn't you latch on to me and do it already? Like that time at the lab?”

Ravage huffed with frustration, “We need someone willing. You wanted us to that time. We could do it by force but then…” He trailed off, hoping you would get the idea. You knew if that happened Miguel would be on the alien in a heartbeat. If you were to consider it, he'd have to know. It is your symbiote now too. It wouldn't hurt to share.

“No, absolutely not.”

Miguel declined when you brought it up during dinner the next day. You had to sit with the idea yourself before bringing it up to him. Understand the pros and cons of letting a foreign entity connect with you. You weren't a spider-person either. No superpowers or anything to help you resist. You'd be going in completely vulnerable.

Of course, he wouldn't like it.

“Why?” You asked, “It could fix what I have going on with me.”

“It's only temporary.” Miguel warned, “Once you part with it, it's only a matter of time before what you have comes back. Maybe even worse than before.”

“Okay, but once I get pregnant, it won't matter anymore.”

His brows furrowed, “This is an alien we're talking about here. That's fusing with you. It's dangerous.”

“You didn't ask for my permission when you fused with it! Why should I ask for yours?”

“Because this is different. I'm Spider-Man, you're not.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now, we're having this conversation again?” Miguel huffed, face lowered as he went silent, focusing on his meal. You hated it when he stopped talking in the middle of an important conversation. You usually understood and were patient, but now you couldn't hold your tongue. “If I had powers, would you consider it?”

“No.” He said, his voice strained.

“Then what difference does it make?”

“Because you’re my partner.” Miguel stared at you, hard red eyes into your soul. The grip on his fork was strong enough for him to bend it, holding back his true feelings. “I don't want anything to happen to you. Symbiotes are unpredictable. Dangerous. I'd rather put myself through that and not you.”

“That’s not fair. We’re supposed to be a team.” His face softened as you gazed at him with soft eyes.

“We are.”

Miguel stood, not wanting the rest of his dinner. He mutters about finishing up some work at HQ, making a portal before disappearing behind it. Leaving you to clean up. You weren't diminishing his protests. The idea of dealing with symbiotes was scary, especially with someone who hasn’t used them before. You thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.

But now your husband was angry. He was going to avoid the topic now until you couldn’t take the silence anymore. At least that’s what you thought.

The next morning he came to you, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. A lab coat over his spider suit. To say the words you never thought he’d say.

Let’s do it.

His hair was messy, like his actions as he paced in his lab. You saw multiple images presented by Lyla to support his theory. None of it made sense. You weren't a scientist. But he mentioned how it can be possible as long as you set some ground rules. Control the environment so things won’t get out of hand. And you wouldn’t get hurt.

Your heart squeezed as he rambled, the geneticist side coming out in full force. “You stayed up all night thinking about this, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Miguel quickly said, his cheeks flushed. “I love you.”

You cradled his face in your palms, thumbs rubbing his cheeks with affection. “I love you too.”

To be cautious, Miguel wanted to test how you reacted to the symbiote. He wanted to monitor you for 24 hours. He first suggested locking you up in the lab so he could be close by but you weren't having that. You decided that staying home and doing your usual tasks would be good enough. Miguel wasn’t a huge fan but he shut up after a few kisses.

You weren't sure how you'd react to the symbiote. If you would feel a drastic difference compared to your normal self. So when Ravage attached to your body, there wasn’t a dramatic shift. No change. Only that they were there. A niggling on the back of your head. It wasn’t annoying, but it would take a while to get used to.

You did everything as normal. Freshened up and grabbed a cup of coffee. Until your mug snapped.

You shrieked at the sudden action, your coffee on the floor, hot droplets on your hand. Miguel was watching you because he called through your watch right away.

“Are you okay?”

You started wiping up your mess, “I’m fine. It just happened so quickly.” Your brows furrowed while sweeping the broken contents. You’d never snapped a mug like that before. Was it because of Ravage?

“It’s the symbiote.” Miguel confirmed, “By enhancing you, it also applies to your physical traits.” Oh right, Ravage did mention that.

You stared at your hands. “Does that mean I have powers?”

“Kind of…Like I said, it’s only temporary.” Right. You shouldn’t get excited. All of this was temporary. “I’d watch your grip.”

You resorted to handling things with your fingers, willing yourself to touch them with the lightest of touch. You understood how Miguel felt about his abilities. If you moved your arm wrong, you’d probably break something. Or someone.

“I’m hungry.” Ravage’s voice resonated in your head.

That was another thing you had to get used to. Every time they spoke, their words would rumble through your body. Prickling your skin in an uncomfortable way that was also satisfying. And no one else could hear them besides you.

“You’re always hungry.” You commented while pulling out a bar of dark chocolate. You broke up the bar into smaller pieces, feeding it to them. “How many times did Miguel have to feed you?”

“Many times.” They said, chomping on another piece. “We don’t just need chocolate to feed.”

You purse your lips, “I’m not feeding you brains.” You gave them a look as they scowled, angrily eating his last piece of chocolate.

“We’re not talking about that. Sex should suffice.”

You perked up, “What?”

“You heard us. Intercourse staves us for a while.”

“Sex is nourishing for you?”

“We didn’t say that. We just like it.”

That explains why Miguel kept wanting to have sex with you. A lot.

“We can’t though. Knowing Mig, he’d want to wait until 24 hours are up.”

“Sex does involve said participants to be next to each other, right?” Their eyes raised in question, “It shouldn't be a problem.”

“No. Not until 24 hours are up.” That's what you said, but it wasn’t what you were thinking. You'd admit getting impatient. You wanted to see if this crazy plan would work. After months of trying and failing, you were tired of waiting. Why couldn't you make love to your husband now to see what happens?

Thoughts kept running rampant as you couldn't sleep. You wanted him to pull you in close, get on top, and have his way with you. You placed a hand on top of his own that rested on your stomach. Your ass, only covered by shorts, started to rub against his lower half. Miguel wasn’t asleep yet when his hand gripped your shirt, a groan slipping out.

“What are you doing?”

You kept going at that same agonizing pace. “Thinking…”

“About?” He made no moves to have you stop, only having a death grip on your shirt.

“How horny I am right now.”

Miguel’s breath quickened at the faster pace. On instinct, he pulled you closer, the large hand splayed across your belly. But he suddenly had a moment of clarity as he pulled back.

“No, it hasn't been 24 hours yet.”

You held back a smirk at how you could feel his cock getting hard against your bottom. “You can still watch me while you fuck me.”

You maneuvered to get back in your original position but he stopped you. “Sorry, I really don't want any surprises.” He gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning over to try and sleep, which may take a while due to his current state.

That's fine, you could wait.

You made arousing your husband your mission. Showering with him, making sure his entire body was clean before work by running the washcloth over his body. Making out with him with the towels loosely hanging from your bodies. You felt Miguel’s muscles tense from every seductive touch. His eyes were hard on you as he knew what you were doing but didn't press further.

You stole another kiss before he went to work, tongue sliding across his own with fervor. When you parted, he took a long, deep breath.

“Me vas a matar (You’re gonna kill me)…” He muttered.

“I love you too.” You waved him goodbye when he disappeared.

Ravage’s pleased hum once again filled your body, “We are enjoying the teasing. But when do we play?”

“Be patient.”

30 minutes until the 24-hour surveillance was up. How convenient it was also around the time you ate lunch with him.

You arrived, displaying a casual demeanor when meeting up with Miguel at his lab. He was rightfully cautious as you walked side by side to the cafeteria. You had sent him a naughty text not too long ago. Everything was okay. Cool and casual. Right until you locked eyes with the broom closet.

With your newfound strength, you opened the door, grabbed your husband, and launched him inside.

The cleaning supplies shook from the force as you closed the door and locked it. Miguel didn’t have time to protest as your lips pressed against his in a rush. Filled with need and wanting. His hands gripped your sides, a groan escaping as he gently pushed you away.

“We have about 24 minutes and 15 seconds until-” You kissed him again and he reciprocated it. He pulled your body close to his, devouring each other in the embrace. But Miguel was such a stickler as he pulled away again. “We should wait-”

“Ravage hasn’t done anything these past 23 hours. If they wanted to, they would’ve.” You pushed him down to the floor, seeing the hunger rising in his eyes. Your stomach fluttered at his gaze, sitting down on his lap. “Now fuck me.”

Miguel didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again, a tight hold on your hips as he rolled his own against you. It didn’t take long for him to get hard, ready to release what you had started since last night. You were as desperate as him as hands tore through your clothes. You couldn’t be upset, as you sunk down on his length.

The entire act was filthy as Miguel gripped your plump cheeks while he thrusted up into you. A death grip on your flesh so you couldn’t escape. Rough enough to where the entire room started to shake. His head was deep between your breasts, whining about how good you felt. So good that you could feel the slight prick from his talons. They weren’t fully out, thank goodness, but enough to knead your soft flesh.

It didn’t take long for your climax to arrive. Your warm walls clenched against his length, inviting him to fill your insides. His warm seed coated you as his body stilled.

“Good. Very good.”

You heard Ravage as you gave Miguel another kiss. You weren't exhausted, your body sturdy enough to go for many more rounds. You were never like this before. Miguel had enough stamina to go all night if he could. But you were only capable of a few before passing out from exhaustion. Not this time.

Miguel picked you up and went home, completely neglecting his duties. Ravage started to take over, forming a second skin around your body. No one cared as you locked yourselves in the bedroom.

Miguel pressed you against the bed, bottom raised while he pounded into you. The entire room quaked under his rough thrusts as you were pinned against the wall. Bite marks covered your skin as you subdued him, locking hands and riding him until he saw heaven. Droplets of cum dripped out of you, only to be pushed back in by his large fingers.

You didn’t know how long you were going until you saw the clock. Being almost eight in the morning. Your head was hazy from the constant lovemaking. Heavy snores filled the room as you looked over, seeing Miguel sleeping on his stomach while tangled in the bedsheets. The sun peeked through the curtains and it was too much sunlight to your liking so you went up to close them. Your body felt heavy but also oddly satisfied. This must be the perk of having a symbiote.

“That was fun.” Ravage chittered, pleasure once again seeping through your body. “When can we play again?”

[miggyyyyohara]

AY PAPI- I MEAN DADDY please- i mEAN SIR!

Follow this artist on Instagram @ narutoss.ramen 🫶🏻🤌🏻

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[inkdrinkerworld]

idk if it’s weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel 😭😭

omg omg😭😭

you're laying in bed unable to fall asleep when it happens. your hand just creeps up his shirt.

miguel doesn't think much of it, you like the skin in skin contact- so does he.

it's when your hand hovers just under his pectorals that he turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

he's still working, hair tired back with one of your scrunchies and his tablet looks tiny in his massive hand. he'd been trying to hypothesise a re-calibration to his nano-bots all day.

"what do you want?" he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.

your eyes are barely even open, your face turned to face his bicep. "can't sleep," you murmur, planting your hand on his chest and squeezing.

"oye," he bats at your hand when you do it a second time. you groan when his hand removes yours from under his shirt.

"miguel," you whine, drawing the syllables of his name out long.

"amor," he mocks your exact tone. "why're you grabbing my chest?" he drops your hand and cups your face, guiding your tired eyes to rest on his face.

"'cos it's comforting," your words sludge together but miguel makes you out just fine. he cracks a smile, you narrow your barely open eyes; "it is. helps me sleep."

"yeah?" he teases, and you nod. your hand slinks back up his shirt and rests on his chest, for the most part it's just an added heat to miguel's chest. "if you don't fall asleep any faster i'm calling bullshit."

you let out a tired giggle and slobber a kiss to his bicep; miguel waits five minutes and in no time he feels your breathing change- deeper now as you fall asleep.

he can't believe it.

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

[arien-rey]

can i request for a miguel with an s/o who's having major baby fever for a daughter? you can make it smutty or fluffy!!

cw: breeding kink, light light choking, size kink

an: im sorry i literally went INSANE over this bc i know my man has a big big breeding kink!!! i made it realllly smut-heavy, hope thats ok with you! <3

wc: 1.2k

“Daddy! Mommy!” Gabriella exclaimed, her face lighting with pure joy. She quickly sprints to Miguel, backpack swinging wildly. Without a moment’s hesitation, Miguel drops to his knee next to you and eagerly awaits his daughter’s embrace.

With arms outstretched, Miguel effortlessly catches Gabriella in mid-air and holds her tightly against his chest. A warm smile spreads across your face at the heartwarming scene, your husband’s large hands enfolded around your daughter.

As Gabriella buries her face into Miguel’s strong shoulder and he grins. “missed you, mija. How was your day at school?”

Gabriella pulls away and turns to hold your hand before shyly, begins to rattle on about her day; all the new friends she made, her soccer games at recess, and a particularly impressive drawing she made with water color. “Thats amazing, honey,” you exclaim, and Miguel nods in agreement.

As you walk back to the car, you feel a strong surge of love in your chest as you watch the way Miguel interacts with Gabi so affectionately. The way he listens attentively to every word she says, and how she runs into his arms with a goofy grin spread on her lips. It was attractive to say the least, and it got you thinking…

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

“Miggy, I want another one.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dancing across his face. He sets down his book to turn his attention to you fully. It was late at night, and the two of you were cuddling together on the couch after Gabriella was put to sleep.

“another baby, huh?”

“yeah, a cute baby girl. Just.. the way you handle Gabi is so…” Your voice trails off, unable to find the right words. he wraps his strong arm around you, smiling with playful satisfaction at your response and you, blushing shyly, bury your face into his chest.

“Please, Miggy,”

You whisper, and suddenly you feel his rough touch under your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet your eyes with his hazel ones, dim with a new desire.

“of course, nena. you want me to give you another baby girl? huh?”

you nod softly, shivering when you feel his other hand snake up your thigh, stopping on your inner thigh and gently messaging the flesh with his thumb.

“let me help you then,” he murmurs softly, drawing close to you, his lips meeting yours in a tender touch. With a gentle glide, his calloused hand caresses your chin, cradling your cheek, as he pulls you closer. As your lips meet his, you reciprocate without any hesitation, indulging in an affectionate, delicate kiss.

this tenderness didn’t last long though, the gentleness quickly transforming feverish and greedy, moans vibrating from both your chests and your bodies suddenly burning. When you both pull away, you feel his fingers slip under the straps of your tanktop and slide them off your shoulders. “Get this off,” he demands breathlessly, and you comply , stripping for him hastily.

you breathe, splayed out in front of your lover, face flushed as miguel sits up in between your legs with his intense gaze burning your skin as they trace your figure.

“you’re beautiful,” he breathes, and you whimper at his words, clit throbbing at the thought of being bred full and bearing another daughter to the man you love.

Miguel is quick to follow suit, pulling his tight shirt over his head to reveal the tan skin and solid muscle underneath. You bite your lip, eyes lidded as you watch him finish stripping. Miguel hastily takes off his sweatpants and boxers and lets his hard, leaking cock spring free from its confines.

He presses his hand against the plush of your inner thigh and spreads your legs, using his other hand to pump his cock with languid strokes.

You mewl feeling him drag the tip of his fat cock in between your folds, mushing it and teasing it against your clit sending pleasure coursing througch your body and making you throw your head back with a whimper.

he leans down and kisses you slowly, biting down on your lip gently. “feels good?” he asks breathlessly, and you nod, moaning at the feeling of his angry red tip against your swollen clit.

feverishly, he runs his length over your slick folds, grunting as you rocked your hips to meet his touch. After a few intense minutes, with desperate teasing and soft moans slipping from your glossy lips, you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm building rapidly. suddenly, he pulls away, making you to whimper at the sudden loss of friction. But before you can protest, he silences you with a brief kiss.

“‘M gonna put it in, okay?” he murmurs hotly, lining up the tip of his cock against your hole before gently pressing the aching tip inside.

Your mouth hangs into an ‘o’ shape, eyes pinched shut as he slowly sinks his cock into your core. You squirm and whimper as you tread the line between pain and pleasure, walls fluttering as his hips press against the back of your thighs. the feeling of being filled fully by miguel sends you into a daze everytime, and he’s so deep inside you can almost feel him in your throat

“g-god, you’re so big,” you whimper, face flushed as your body adjusts to his huge size. Miguel sucks in air between his gritted teeth sharply as your tight walls clamp down on him, engulfing him in your warmth and sucking him in. While he gives you a second to adjust, he slides his hands under the backs of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest for a less extreme breeding press.

“gonna fuck my cum into you hermosa and knock you up with another baby,” He growls breathlessly, “You’d like that, yeah?” You eagerly nod your head in agreement, tummy flipping with butterflies at his dirty talk before he teasingly pulls out his length almost completely, only to thrust it entirely back in with a force that makes an unintentional moan escape you lips, and your eyes roll back.

His thrusts eventually build a strong rhythm, his hips slamming into you so heavy and mean, hitting the spots inside you that made you see stars. The only sound echoing in the small room was your loud moans mixed with his breathy grunts, along with the loud squelching sound of your slick as his cock drags in and out of your sloppy cunt. “god baby, you’re fucking me so, so good,” you moan, voice shaky, and he slides his hand up your body to rest a hand around your throat. “Yeah? you like it when im rough with you?” he chuckles dryly.

You suck in a sharp breath as he releases your throat and pulls your knees even closer to your chest in a full mating press, letting them rest over his shoulders as if he’s trying to get his cock inside you impossibly deeper. you cry out and desperately claw at the couch, feeling helpless as the new position sends electrifying shocks coursing through your body. pleasure cascades over you and overwhelms your senses, causing your legs to tremble uncontrollably.

Miguel loved seeing you like this, mind gone and pussy stretching to take cock that was too big for you to handle. God, you looked irresistible, fucked dumb under his touch.

“‘M gonna cum Mig, please, please, cum inside me, please!” you beg, tears beginning to well in your eyes. miguel notices and groans at the sight, his thrusts beginning to quicken even more. “shh, baby, you don’t wanna wake up Gabi, do you?” he coos breathlessly, causing a flutter in your chest, and you suppress a gasp. Moving closer, he gently places his forehead against yours, igniting an intense warmth that engulfs both of you. “dont worry nena, I’m gonna fuck my cum right into your pretty little pussy and give you that daughter you wanted m’kay? don’t cry,” he whispers, and it only takes a few more hard thrusts before the coil in your stomach finally snaps.

your eyes squeeze shut and you let out open-mouthed silent moans, your voice lost to the amount of pleasure you’re in as you gush around him. Miguel follows suit soon after, his heavy groans and growls filling the room as he presses his pelvis against your ass and breeds your cunt full of his hot, sticky cum.

Miguel doesn’t bother to pull out yet, the room falling into an abrupt silence, with only the sound of heavy, labored breathing breaking the stillness.

“Hope you’re ready, because I’m not done with you yet.”

[st4rymoon]

𝘕𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦

Context: overstiming miguel

༉‧₊˚. Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader

“Pl- please baby ah- oh fuck” Miguel was a moaning mess as you sat on your heels and on your knees in front of him with his cock in your mouth.

He’d been begging you for this so there you were, giving him exactly what he asked. Your hand wrapped around his base perfectly as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking his tip softly while watching him squirm under you.

You’ve been doing this for the past 30 minutes and Miguel had came in the first 2. Already on his 5th orgasm, his face and chest were drenched in sweat. His face flushed red from the large gasps of air he was taking from the feeling of your tongue trailing down his veins.

You hummed in accomplishment as you heard him babbling to himself. His shaky moans and whimpered no puedo más making you smile.

Now that he was under the same thing he regularly put you through, you wondered if this was why he loved doing it to you.

Glaring up at the way his stomach clench and jaw tightened whenever you’d take all of him inside your mouth just to slurp back up his cock and suck on his tip was mesmerizing.

Miguels hands were fisting the sheets, his eyes trained on you as the mix of spit and his cum dripped down your chin and onto your chest. “Fuckkk” Miguel’s head flew back and a loud moan spilled from his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks and picked up the perfect rhythm.

His hands moved up to your head, Miguel grabbed the loose strings of your hair and held it up for you. He smiled down in bliss as he watched you suck him off like it was the last thing on earth.

“Así- así así” before you knew it Miguel’s loads spilled down your throat, the warm liquid making you moan as you watched him clench his jaw and hiss. You finally pulled back, the sticky mixture of saliva and cum stringing off your face as you smiled up at him.

“I love you so fucking much”

[spiderlyla]

I bet Miguel loves it when he can see himself inside of you. Like a little belly bulge from where he’s fucking you and be just loves to stare at it and watch as he fills you up 🤭🤭🤭

cw: belly buldge, size kink, praise kink, a bit of a breeding kink (sorry had to.) afab!reader, 18+ so minors dni!

"yeah, yeah? you like that, don't you?" Miguel rammed into you, over and over and over again. He's been at this for what seems like hours. You've lost all sense of time, your body was quivering with how many orgasms he'd bullied out of you, your brain had gone dumb, you couldn't think of anything but the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls and filling you up over and over.

"m-mig, 'nough—can't take it." he silences you with a feverish kiss, like you'd be gone if he was to pull away from you. like you'd dissappear if he stops touching you. "I know you can, mi amor, you can." He buries his face into your neck and you tangle your fingers in his dampened hair. "Such a good girl f'me, aren't you?" His hands roam down to your chest, fondling the plush skin but quickly gliding it over your stomach and down to your abdomen. He leaves it there, feeling where his tip reached everytime he thrusted into you.

He straightened up, and slowed down his thrusts just to admire the view. You looked gorgeous, all spread out and fucked-dumb like this. Eyes fluttering, lips agap and all those broken, incoherent moans and variations of his name spilling out of them. Your walls were fluttering around him, and you were milking him dry, and he loved it. He loved every second of it. "Mig—Miguel—can't cum, baby, I feel—" He wouldn't have that. He stopped thrusting and grabbed your legs, putting them over his broad shoulders. When he started to thrust again, he reached deeper into you.

"You will, nena," His hair stuck to his forehead, his crimson eyes fixed on where the two of you were connected. "Gonna fill you up, hm?"Your face flushed red at his dirty talk, he only gets this filthy when he's close. One of his big hands rested on your abdomen, while the other one held your thigh so it wouldn't slip off his shoulder. "Te voy a hacer madre, yeah, yeah?" Your nods and whimpers of approval made him speed up again, the tip of his cock reaching your cervix with the position he had you in.

[I'm gonna make you a mother.]

Your walls clenched around him and your body shook violently against his, you arched your back, fingers tugging on Miguel's locks as you let your orgasm crash down on you. A white ring formed around the base of his cock and the sound of squelching was louder and louder with each thrust of his. He let your legs fall off his shoulders, hands on your hips to keep you steady while he rode his own orgasm out.

It didn't take long for him to spill inside of you. Miguel watched as you took his load, your belly swelling up from it. God, he could cum again just by looking at it, at you.

He slumped over you, almost crushing you with his massive weight on top, but you've gotten used to it. Your arms wrapped around his neck as the two of you take in deep breaths. His hair is a mess, wet with sweat and absolutely disheveled from all your tugs, and let's not mention your state, in short, Miguel had made a mess out of you. You two needed a bath, or a shower.

And Miguel seemingly read your mind.

"I'd run us a bath, honey, but.." He moved a little, only for you to realise he was still inside of you. Keeping everything inside of you. "Would hate if all that went to waste, hm?"

[0800-her]

He tried soo hard to be gentle, he really did. the whole night he made sure you were wet enough so he could slip in easily. he fingered you, made sure to stretch you open properly, talking you through it the whole time. when he finally bottomed out inside you, you hissed in pain shoving your head into a pillow to muffle your cries. "sweetheart? you ok? your feeling a little tense sweets," you mentally rolled your eyes. "Oh really? nah it's not like your digging in my guts or anything cos i can FKN feel it." Being a brat never got you anywhere. that's why the next morning you had to call in "sick" from work because you could hardly feel the bottom half of your body.

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Nerd!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Reader Under the Influence of an Aphrodisiac, Somnophilia, Blowjob, Slight Nipple Play, Slight Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Mean!Miguel, Slightly Perverted!Miguel

A/N: Requested!

Summary: There is only one man you can turn to in your time of need

Word Count: 3.2K (Barely Edited)

Fuck!

You almost miss your landing, having to hold extra tight to the fire escape railing to not fall. Your breath is ragged, and you never realized how hard it was to breath through your mask until now. You stumble as you step off of the railing and onto the landing, taking a lungful of air as you reach behind your head and rip off your mask. Your steps are clumsy as you walk towards the window, your body burning up as you grasp the window ledge and push it up with a grunt. God, I told that idiot to start locking his windows, you think as you slide through. 

It’s completely dark inside, the only bit of moonlight being blocked by your figure. But even then, you can see the outline of posters and figurines on the wall. You can even see the outline of his body laying in his bed. You let out a heavy sigh, making your way over to him. His bed creaks as you kneel on top of it, the soft mattress sinking under your weight. Miguel’s sheet is half-way off his body, probably kicked off during the night-time heat. His chest falls steadily, his whole front being exposed to you as he sleeps on his back. He mumbles something, sleepy whispers leaving his barely parted mouth as his hand comes up to scratch at his naked chest. You can feel your skin heat up at the sight of the exposed skin, seeing the way coarse hair spans over tan muscles. You feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. 

You don’t really think before your palms land flat onto his skin. It’s slightly cool under your hands, but it does nothing to kill the heated flush over your own skin. It only makes it worse. A tortured sound leaves your lips as you rake your hands down his body, ghosting over the skin of his chest and stomach until they stop at his thighs. Why are his boxers so tight around his thighs? You take a shaky breath in, shifting your weight as your hands travel up slightly until they’re right over the outline of his soft dick. Your hands shake as you massage him over the thin fabric of his underwear; have they always shook like that?

You can feel him hardening under your hands, and your head snaps up when he lets out a soft moan. He’s still asleep, that steady rhythm still moving his chest. But his brows are furrowed, lips parted slightly. It makes something in your stomach twist in fear and excitement at the idea of being caught. You let out another breath as you drop your attention to his semi, your hand gently guiding his cock out through the hole of his boxers. Even though he’s not fully hard yet, you can see the beginning bulge of a vein running up the underside of his cock. The length of him just barely being supported by the hold you have on him. 

Your mouth feels dry at the sight. He’s big, and he isn’t even fully hard yet. You try to chase the dryness in your throat away with a swallow, but it only makes more saliva pool on your tongue. You sneak a peek up again, finding him in the same pose from a minute ago. You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lean down, only looking down for a second as you guide your mouth over him. Your bottom lip brushes over his tip, but you turn your head to the side as you lean further down. Your tongue darts up, licking the length just above your hand as you make your way back up to his tip. Miguel’s breath hitches, your eyes looking towards him. His head is thrown to the side, but he doesn’t seem to be waking up. 

Good.

You hum against him, tongue flicking at his slit. Your hand moves up and down him slowly, feeling him get harder in your hold before you wrap your fingers around his tip. You suck lightly, eyes fluttering when the first salty beads of precum melt on your tongue. You can feel a dull throb beginning at your core, your body craving Miguel’s addicting taste. Your body needs it. A small moan falls from your lips as you take him deeper, your hands falling away to sit on his thighs as you slowly move your head up and down his length. The heavy warmth in your mouth is comforting, and the pleasure of having him in your mouth travels straight to your cunt. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you focus on moving your head, gagging slightly when you force him a little too far down your throat. But you’re caught off guard when a heavy hand falls on your head, forcing Miguel’s cock down your throat entirely. 

You squeal, quickly turning into a gag as your nose meets the coarse hair at the base of his cock. The hand keeps you there and you snap your eyes open. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes stare down at you, sharp crimson glinting. His other hand is stretched out to his side, coming into view in a second, the frames of his glasses pinched between his fingers before he slips them on. You moan around him, trying to communicate the uncomfortable pressure pressing on the back of your throat, but it only makes Miguel hiss out in pleasure. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head up before pushing it back down to the base. 

“Fucking knew it,” he breaths harshly, repeating the movement until he’s controlling how fast you suck his dick. “Thought I wouldn’t find out it was you, huh?”

You whine around his cock, mind too hazy on the smell of his skin and the feel of his dick in your mouth to process what he’s talking about. Miguel’s head rolls, his hips beginning to thrust into your mouth as he keeps your head still. You can feel tears pricking at your lower lash line, wet gags escaping your throat with each of his thrusts. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his boxers, eyes staring up at him. You can feel yourself dripping, praying it doesn’t seep through your suit. Miguel thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls you off of his cock, allowing you to take a large breath in and sputter. Spit wets the entirety of your chin and lips, and you gasp as warm liquid splatters on your cheek. Your eyes close instinctively, your ears picking up Miguel’s low groan and labored breathing. Your eyes slowly open, closing quickly when his cock slaps against your cheek.

It twitches against your face, softening only slightly. When you open your eyes fully, Miguel is sitting up. He’s looking down at you, eyes taking in your face and the all too familiar hero costume sticking to your body. He has a knowing look in his eyes, and you yelp when he grabs you. Your positions are switched quickly, your body bouncing once it hits the bed. Springs squeaking under your weight. You can feel Miguel’s body pressing against your back, his hand snaking to your front and pressing up on your abdomen until your ass is forced against him. You whine as you feel his cock pressing against your ass, and you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him. His glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he studies your body. Or rather, your suit.

‘So, how does the suit work?” he asks, hands running down your sides. You shiver at the contact, pressing yourself further against him. “How do you put it on? A hidden zipper, maybe?”

You gasp as his hand suddenly and roughly cups your clothed cunt, the heel of his hand pressing against you. You’re so warm there. “Or is it something you have to slip on? Gotta get naked before you can put it on, right? It certainly doesn’t feel like you have any panties on.”

You're at a loss of words, shaking your head and trying to grind against his hand. You didn’t know how desperately you need that pressure against your sex until he put it there. Miguel chuckles, cooing at you. His body presses against your back as he leans forward, warm breath hitting your ear. “I saw you on the news earlier, got sprayed with something, didn’t you? You smell so good.”

Another whine passes your lips when he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. You smell sweet, delicious, like sex and candy. His free hand slips up to your chin, forcing your head up. You grind into his hand desperately as his warm tongue licks up your throat. The saliva is sticky on your skin, but you just wished he could lick you everywhere. Maybe it would help your body cool down. Miguel chuckles against your skin again, pulling away. 

“God, so needy.” He laughs, pulling his hands away from you completely and loving the way you pathetically fall limp onto his bed. “Don’t tell me it was an aphrodisiac or something.”

You huff against his pillow, trying to back your body more into him. It makes him laugh louder, meaner. His hand comes to wrap around the base of his cock, slapping it against your ass. “Is this what you need? You need a nice, big cock to make it all better? Pathetic.”

Despite his words, he’s smiling. He’s wanted this for so long. It’s only a plus that you, his best friend that he’s been tugging his dick to, is also one of the hottest superheroes in Nueva York. It’s like a fucking wet dream. But here you are, in his room with a desperate need for your pussy to be stuffed to the brim. How could it get any better than this?

“I- Miggy, please,” you breathe out, a flush covering your cheeks at his dirty words. Miguel coos, his hands returning to rub up and down your sides.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise I’ll help it feel better. I’ll make it feel so good.”

You gasp when you feel his hands at the nape of your neck, a loud tear filling the room as he rips your suit down your back. “Hope you got extra at home, cariño.”

It takes a few rough tears to completely expose your backside, Miguel pushing the torn edges away as you pull your arms and legs out of them. He groans at the sight of you: your naked body laying in front of him as the tattered remains of your suit lay around you. Your skin is so warm under his touch, like you’re running a fever. And you’re so responsive, mewling and shivering as he rubs your sides slowly. You look so small under him, so perfect. Your back arches when his hands snake to your front, grasping your breasts. You gasp loudly, your hands pressing your body up from the bed, standing on all fours. 

Miguel leans to lay on top of you, pinching and flicking at your horribly hard and sensitive nipples. His teeth are sharp against the lobe of your ear, soothing the sting with kitten licks. You whine when one of his hands leaves your breasts, feeling Miguel twist his head to the side slightly. 

“Down, girl,” he commands, a smile evident in his tone as his hand presses on the center of your upper back and your body buckles. You let out a puff of air as your chest hits the mattress again, your hands sliding out from under you. “Good girl, that’s a good spider.”

You huff at the teasing, glaring at him from over your shoulder. He chuckles at your expression, ignoring you as his hand slips away from your chest and ventures further down your body. You stiffen as his fingers stop just above your clit, your thighs aching to close. With a slight stretch, Miguel’s middle finger skims your bud, your hips bucking. Miguel hums in contemplation, his hand moving away despite your whine of frustration. His hands come up to rub your ass, one of his hands moving further down until his fingers are playing with the sloppy mess of your cunt. You sigh in relief, your back arching further. 

“God, you’re so wet. Is this all for me, baby?” He coos, watching the way his fingers get completely drenched from a few swipes at your folds. His curiosity gets the better of him, plunging two thick fingers through your throbbing hole. You groan, and Miguel slaps your ass to shut you up. 

A wet squelch echos the room when he curls his fingers. As he slowly drags his fingers out, your walls clench in a futile attempt to keep them inside of you, a sad pop coming from your hole when his fingers pull out completely. Miguel holds his fingers up, studying the slight glint of arousal against the moonlight. It drips down his fingers, and Miguel licks the trail up to prevent a further mess. He moans at the taste, sweet and heady. He sucks the rest into his mouth, tongue working around his fingers until they come up clean. He uses the same fingers to smear saliva over the head of his cock, hand dragging it down as he tugs at himself. He shifts behind you, aligning himself until the head of his cock presses against your tiny hole.  

“Gonna make it all better now,” Miguel whispers into the air before he thrusts his hips forward. His low groan is drowned by your loud screech, your walls stretching rapidly to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you bite down on the pillow, the tip of his cock pressing right against your cervix. 

Miguel curses when your walls pulsate, molding to his cock. His teeth grit as he looks down, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he watches the way your hole moves as he pulls out slowly. Your hole completely melts around his tip, stretching wide as he suddenly fills you to the brim again. Miguel pushes his glasses up again as he smiles, repeating the movement. You moan loudly despite the pillow in your mouth, your hands grabbing at the sheets to stabilize yourself. Miguel’s hands grab at your ass again, kneading it in his hands as he begins thrusting in a steady rhythm. You melt into the bed, eyes fluttering with each snap of his hips. 

A sweat builds on Miguel’s face as he moves his hips, mouth open in a moan each time your walls clench around him in thanks. His glasses slide down his face again, refusing to stay in place no matter how many times he pushes them up. He tires of it quickly, cursing as he rips them off his face and throws them somewhere near your head. His hands leave your ass, coming up to your hands. His palms are against the tops of your hands, his fingers connecting between yours despite the tight hold you have on the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, his forehead pressed against the side of your head as his thrusts speed up. You choke on a moan, your body jolting upward with the force. 

“That’s it, taking it like a good, needy slut,” Miguel praises, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, a stark contrast to the way he punishes your dripping cunt. Your walls tighten embarrassingly at his words, making him laugh breathlessly. 

The room is deafening with the sound of his pelvis hitting against your ass, his balls slapping at your clit when he goes flush against you. It all mixes together to form the wet squeals from your cunt, your mind going dizzy from it all. Miguel’s hand pulls away from yours, coming up to your throat to force your face away from the pillow. A wet circle surrounded by teeth marks stains his pillow, more abstract lines showing where his cum has rubbed off of your face. He turns your face towards him, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip before pulling you into a heated kiss. His tongue licks at your teeth, tangling with your tongue. Your face presses more into him with each of his thrusts, and you moan pathetically in his mouth as the rubber band inside of you snaps. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gush around his cock, body breaking in an almost uncomfortable arch as your body twitches. Miguel groans into your mouth as your walls grow tighter and tighter around him, his thrusts getting desperate as he tries to thrust in and out of them. He rips his mouth away from yours as you go to collapse on the bed, your muscles jumping from your orgasm. Miguel’s hand travels to your clit, rubbing in fast circles that overstimulate you. You gasp and cry, your walls confused as they pulsate quickly and trigger another orgasm in seconds. Your hands shake as they let go of the pillow, traveling down to hit and tug at Miguel’s arm. 

“T-t’much. Miggy, t’much,” you sob, your muscles prickling. 

Miguel hisses at you, removing his arm to hold your waist as he bounces you back on his cock rapidly before he stills. His groan is animalistic as his cock twitches inside of you, painting you in white seed. You moan like an animal in heat as the warmth fills you, your entire body collapsing on the bed in an exhausted pile. You only whine slightly when Miguel gives you a few slow pumps of his cock to ride out his orgasm, forcing his cum deeper inside of you before pulling out. You sigh as you close your eyes, that overbearing warmth that was once consuming your body finally dying away. Miguel lets out ragged breaths over you, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face before squinting his eyes and looking for the outline of the glasses he threw. When he finds them, he slides an arm down his face to get rid of pesky sweat before putting them on, his eyes falling down to your abused cunt just in time to see a bead of cum slip from your hole. 

He lets out a heated sigh, turning his head to look for the shirt he discarded on the floor before he went to bed. He reaches for it, balling it in his hands before swiping it against your cum soaked folds. You mewl at the coarse fabric rubbing against your sensitive pussy, but Miguel is too tired to care as he cleans his mess and throws the shirt to the floor again. The front of his boxers has a slight wet ring around his cock, but he makes no move to take them off as he stuffs his softening cock back into its confines. His hand rubs up your back before he moves to lay down besides you, pulling tattered parts of your suit out from under him and onto the floor. Exhaustion fans his body as he turns to his side and pulls your limp body into his chest. 

“Need to talk about this Spider-Woman shit in the morning,” he mumbles into your hair as he closes his eyes. You only hum, shifting into his warmth. 

Yeah, definitely.

Nasty! Dirty!

[madschiavelique]

accidentally overstimulating miguel while you’re riding him so he literally has to lift you up off him and he’s like “okay, yeah, that’s enough”

yESSSSS AAAA (i know this is not a request per se but i felt like writing a lil smth about it)

summary : overstimulating miguel while riding him to the point where he has to lift you off him... so he fingers you and gives you oral instead

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader riding migul, overstimulation, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 839

tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel couldn't wait, it had been too long since you and him had fucked. The reasons were varied: you were on a mission and he wasn't, he was on a mission and you weren't, you were both on a mission and had to take care of business, or you had to take care of reports and other interdimensional problems.

So when you had a little more free time and he welcomed you into his home, he couldn't hold on any longer. He'd double-locked the door, and as soon as he'd done that, he'd guided you in the bedroom, pulled down your bottom, practically ripped off your panties and thrust himself inside you.

And now you'd been in there for over an hour. You were on top of Miguel, riding him, undulating your body perfectly on top of him as he just had an orgasm.

He'd gripped your buttocks tightly, taking your skin entirely between his fingers as he'd pressed his pelvis as close to yours as possible to go deep inside you.

At last, he'd let his head rest on his pillow.

Only you hadn't stopped moving. The sensations you were experiencing were delicious, his whole length and width plunged into you and stretching you to perfection. The rocking of your hips was delicious, yet Miguel's sensitivity was beginning to kick in.

It was as if you were gently caressing a fresh wound, each movement turning the touch into a painful grip.

He grunted, sighing as you continued your movements. He looked at you, absolutely magnificent above him.

He had no desire to interrupt your pleasure, to suddenly stop the superb sounds you were producing thanks to him - he was too proud of making them.

But the sensation was becoming less and less sustainable, and with a final grunt he gripped your thighs firmly and lifted you off him to let his cock fall back against his lower belly, still glistening with your juices.

"Okay," he huffed, completely out of breath and relieved, "yeah, that's enough."

You looked at him, equally breathless, the small regret that it stopped so suddenly settling on your face.

Miguel felt almost guilty at your apologetic expression, but he was unable at the moment to continue satisfying you like this, unless he proceeded otherwise...

"Still wanna go at it, nena?" he questioned, stroking your thigh.

You nodded softly, the warm desire in your lower belly still present and demanding attention.

"I'll give you a choice then," he nodded, "choose: fingers, or mouth?"

You bit your lower lip with a smile before only leaning into him and confirming:

"Both."

A low rumble vibrated in his chest as a sneer stretched one of his lips in a dark smile.

"Good choice."

In one swift movement you found yourself in his place and he in yours, towering over you with his massive body as he began a trail of kisses across your skin and you chirped under his touch.

He moved down to your lower belly, leaving small marks in his wake before bringing his hand to your wet folds, coating two of his fingers with your wetness before sliding them in.

The shaky breath you took made Miguel smile against your skin, the warmth of his breath crashing against your exposed flesh. You deserved this attention, and he was going to give it to you.

As his fingers slowly began to curve in and out of you, he came to kiss your skin, moving down with each kiss towards your clit. The sensation of his lips grazing the latter inevitably brought your hand to rest in his hair as you arched your back.

The gesture elicited a slight moan from him, which vibrated on the sensitive ball of nerves, and you sighed a mix of a breath and a moan.

His tongue made sinuous circles around your clit as his two fingers accelerated slightly. He knew which places he had to touch to make you produce the sweetest sounds, and he wasn't going to deprive himself of hearing them.

He would never tire of seeing in your eyes even the size of your desire, and he would never tire of the idea that it was meant for him. He knew how lucky he was.

Your walls were perfect, taking his thick, long fingers into you so good. He curved them while making smaller and smaller circles centered on your clit, kissing and licking it.

The state you'd been in just a few moments ago while riding Miguel was close to orgasm, and his calculated gestures were going to push you over the edge. Instinctively, your pelvis began to undulate on its own.

Your hands gripped his hair more firmly, your breath quickening as the heat rose to your cheeks and the knot tightened in your belly.

And then it all exploded, Miguel tenderly kissing your skin as you felt like he was kissing a second heart beating in your entire body. He waited a bit before pulling out his two fingers gently, bringing them to his lips, sucking them until all your juices were clean from his fingers.

Then rose to kiss you, murmuring tender words to your ears.

"You're amazing, nena, and I need you to know it."

[miggyyyyohara]

ohshitohfuckohdamn

thank you for feeding us @exzeeve (twitter)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

GIF by aenhanse

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: You confront Miguel.

warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!) 

a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.

wc: 4k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door. 

You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.

He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets. 

"You shouldn't be here." He strains. 

Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?" 

All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."

Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat. 

"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."

He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"

You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp. 

Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive. 

It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy." 

He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "

You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?" 

He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum. 

He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."

You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head. 

"What makes it feel better?" 

Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-" 

"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this? 

"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."

"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."

His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-" 

"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes. 

"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."

He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."

You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter. 

You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."

Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it. 

"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better." 

He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit. 

"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "

You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."

It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face. 

"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods. 

Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause. 

"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again. 

Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard." 

"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me." 

"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?" 

"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you." 

"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand. 

How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.

Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help." 

Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-" 

You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum. 

Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy.  Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him. 

It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips. 

"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy. 

As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know. 

He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry. 

"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."

With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure. 

"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.

Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong. 

You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver. 

"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."

" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-" 

He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip.  Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it. 

"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out. 

" Miguel, fuuuck." 

How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised. 

"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit. 

He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities. 

"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."

You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure. 

"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."

With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body. 

One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light. 

And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back. 

Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.

"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this." 

You look at him in your haze, brows knitted. 

"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though." 

"Better , Miggy?" 

"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."

You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous. 

"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."

As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- " 

"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature. 

"Let-" Smack. " Me-"  Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack. 

You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell. 

'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure. 

"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."

Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another. 

"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist. 

He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.

Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand. 

"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another. 

"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.

"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?" 

Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit. 

You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."

~~~

"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious. 

The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily. 

You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom. 

"You didn't either." You throw back at him. 

"That's not th-" 

"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."

His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-" 

"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"

"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you. 

"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-" 

"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight. 

"...I don't understand."

"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."

You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this? 

"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichita. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."

With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always. 

You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say. 

"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."

"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile. 

Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to. 

"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?" 

Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"

"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."

"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."

"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest. 

"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."

"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."

"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."

He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.

"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."

_

_

_

taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @ebrysteria

[theorphicangel]

nsfw, 18+

thinking about spending a lazy day in bed with Miguel. the two of you had had a busy ass week, barely being able to spend quality time with each other. but now on this quiet Sunday, you both grabbed the opportunity as fast as you could, silently agreeing to cuddle up next to each other all day.

nothing else needed but you and him between the sheets. your naked limbs wrapped around each other, impossible to part. and sooner or later, one thing leads to another: slow, relaxed lovemaking without time jeopardising this moment together.

miguel is buried heavily into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim. your head falls into the crook of his neck, eyes closed, hiding your face in his warmth.

“c’mon my love,” he purrs, his voice raspy, “no te escondas de mi.” [don’t hide from me]

a whine leaves your throat in response and ever so slowly do you peel away from his warmth, coming up to meet his dark brown eyes. your lips are parted, breathless moans come out as light gasps as Miguel continues to thrust into you. each time he does, it’s slow and accurate, brushing against your sweet spot.

“it’s too good hmm?” and there’s a slight grin on his face as the words leave his mouth. he watches your eyes roll back, you’re completely intoxicated by his cock, no words come to your mind quick enough to respond.

you can just about murmur his name, your high pitched tone warns him of your climax.

“jus’ a little bit longer okay, nena? you’re doing so well for me.”

his praise in combination with his deep thrusts causes the pressure building up in your lower abdomen to burn. your pussy tightens around his cock and Miguel lets out a hiss, muttering under his breath as his hands kneads the fat of your ass. you’re almost there and so is he, much sooner than he had expected.

“fuckkkk-“ he seethes, his hands still kneading your ass, your body perfectly in tune with his; a perfect melody as the room fills with filthy skin slapping, his grunts and your drawn out moans.

it’s not long before he increases his pace, helping you bounce all over his cock until the two of you reach your climax. breathless, you lay on top of Miguel, body and soul exhausted. he peppers kisses across your face, never-ending praise leaving his lips. “you did so well for me, my love.”

you hum in response, sweat dripping down your skin, mixing with his. nor you or him were bothered to move, souls too tangled up to separate.

in this present moment, neither of you were bothered to sort through the knots, not now or ever.

[lmk if that Spanish translation is correct because I do not trust myself 😵‍💫😵‍💫]