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intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

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berry-potchy · 10 months

Text

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed

I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:

DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.

It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.

You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.

He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?

Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.

Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.

You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.

Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x female reader #potchy-writes #potchy-thoughts #spiderman 2099 x reader #dbf!miguel

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feralgirlfeelings · 4 months

Text

miguel o'hara breeding kink smut cause i'm ovulating rn

pairing: miguel o'hara x female reader

tags: established relationship, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, little bit of dumbification, little bit of orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex, female reader, afab anatomy, dom!miguel, oneshot

SO NSFW. minors dni!

spanish to english translations are at the bottom :)

word count: 992

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he has you lying down with your ass up, pillow under your hips, and a firm grip on your hips. he whispers sweet nothings into your ear and about how much he wants to fuck you.

miguel slides his thick, hard cock in between your folds, soaking in your wetness, before lining himself up at your entrance. he slowly pushes into your tight cunt.

"fuuuck, i missed this," miguel groans, holding back the urge to plunge deep inside you. you bury your face into the sheets as you feel the mild ache of being stretched out. he continues to slide in until he reaches the hilt, his tip pushing against your cervix.

he pauses to give you a moment to adjust to his girth. you feel so full, you can barely breathe. "go slow miguel, you're too big," you whine.

he chuckles, "lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño." he starts to pump into you, straining to keep a slow pace. your heavy breaths and soft moans fill the room.

as he slowly thrusts his dick into your tight cunt, the previous sting of being stretched transforms into a throbbing pleasure.

you feel a coil start to form in your lower abdomen and your moans start to get louder, his gentle pace no longer being enough for you. "mm, fuck me harder, miguel," you plead.

"anything for you, my princesa." he tightens his grip on your hips as he drags his dick out until his tip is just slightly kissing your entrance. he then slams his hips against you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your stomach.

you weren't prepared for the sheer power that this man is fucking you with. he thrusts into you at a dizzying pace and you can barely choke out his name.

"te sientes tan bien." he slaps your ass, delivering a sharp sting that makes you inhale sharply, "fuck you're so tight." he grabs your asscheek, groaning at the site of himself sliding in and out of you.

you moan in response, barely comprehending what he was saying. you were so fucked out of your mind and could only focus on the orgasm that you were so close to having.

just as you feel yourself almost reach your peak, miguel pulls out, leaving you empty. your poor walls clench around nothing. "miguel!" you whine in protest, "put it back in!"

he grabs your hips and flips you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. "i want to see your pretty face when you cum." he separates your folds with his cock, rubbing against your sensitive clit. you wrap your arms and legs around him and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, before plugging you back up again.

all you can do is mumble his name over and over again as he continuously rams into you. every pump delivering mind-numbing pleasure. the orgasm you were robbed of had crept back, and once again you felt a tightness in your stomach.

"i'm gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you," he groaned in between the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your soft flesh.

his words drive you crazy. the thought of being stuffed full of miguel's hot, thick cum brought you closer to the edge. he knows you're close, so he pounds into you faster and harder, chasing your release.

pressure builds until you feel the tension wound in your stomach burst. you cry out his name as your walls contract and you cream around his cock. he groans at the feeling of the added slick and your pussy squeezing around his dick.

he doesn't stop after you come down from your high. "you did so good, mami," he whispers in your ear, "ahora es mi turno." he holds you in place by your hips and fucks his dick into you, driven by a primal desire to fill you with his seed.

you're overstimulated and fucked out, your body limp and your eyes rolled back. all you could think about was how badly you wanted to be bred by miguel. "m-miguel," you stutter, "breed me. p-please."

"te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada. you're gonna make such a pretty mommy. f-fuck—" his thrusts get more erratic as he inches closer to his peak. he groans out your name before slamming your hips down onto his dick. he shutters as he releases thick ropes of cum into your desperate cunt, flooding your velvety walls. all you manage to do is let out some strained moans. nothing mattered more in that moment than you taking his seed. he makes sure to stuff his cum deep inside you, his tip jamming the entrance to your fertile womb. he pauses for second to catch his breath, before slowly rolling his hips, just to make sure he gave you every last drop.

he stops thrusting and collapses on top of you, but keeps you plugged up with his dick. his excess seed starts to dribble out of you. you're both panting, sweaty, and exhausted. he moves the hair out of your face and meets your lips with his for a gentle kiss. "look what you do to me. me vuelves loco, cariño,"

you let out a weak giggle, "you want my babies?" you ask playfully. you tangle your fingers in his hair, lazily combing through his messy locks.

"yeah," he returns a chuckle, "you're too pretty to not breed." he starts peppering your face and neck with pecks. "eres mi bonita esposa."

"i think you'd make a great father," you smile warmly and interlock your fingers with his. "you know...usually it takes a few tries before it takes."

"oh?" he asks amusingly, "well, i guess i'll have to fill you up again."

you feel his dick start to harden again inside of you. you brace yourself for another round.

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translations: ("lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño" -> "you're doing so good, sweetheart") ("te sientes tan bien" -> "you feel so good") ("ahora es mi turno" -> "it's my turn now") ("te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada" -> "i'm gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck you till you're pregnant") ("me vuelves loco, cariño" -> "you drive me crazy, sweetheart") ("eres mi bonita esposa" -> you're my pretty wife")

hope you enjoy!!! >:0 btw this is my first time writing a fic that included dialogue in spanish, so idk if things are all well-written or gramatically correct. i tried to take some tips from spanish-speaking miguel o'hara enjoyers, but if anyone wants to correct anything or give me tips, i'm super super open to it!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #spider man 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #female reader

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tarjapearce · 10 months

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Strawberry Jam (+18)

Dad friend AU!Miguel x fem!reader

Inspired in THIS ask <3 Thanks anon. Hope you like c:

PT. 2

WARNING: SMUT, Age gap, breeding kink, fang kink, choking, rough sex, brief tension, slight fluff.

"Rise and shine, cupcake!" Curtains were drawn out as sunlight seeped in your dim lit room. You groaned in response, trying to cocoon yourself under the sheets.

"C'mon, sweetie. I gotta meet a client in a coupe of hours, need you awake to receive some packages." Silence. He sighed, "I'll bring you some flan." You yawned and smiled. Of course he would, you were his spoiled girl. He had raised you well despite the rocky relationship with your mother.

Someone that had decided to not be a part of your life for quite a while, leaving your dad a good chunk of the responsibility. At least, she provided enough for your college. An agreement that had settled up a long time ago by a judge.

"Make it napolitan, please" He chuckled and kissed your temple. "Oh, forgot to mention, Miguel is coming over to help you."

"Miguel?"

And of course, it had put a toll on his mental health, during the last couple of years. As a father, your father, he was anything but perfect, but he made sure to be there, to always support you. He had met Miguel in one of those support groups for men, and things sort of snowballed from there. Your dad and Miguel had alot in common, single parents, demanding jobs, and unconditional love for their daughters.

You had the chance to meet him a couple of times during college vacations, at first he was intimidating to you. 6'9", a hard look on his face that seemed to only melt away with his close ones, and a hulking muscular figure.

But now, every time you visited you'd find his blue Aston Martin Vanquish parked outside your house, beer in hand, screaming at the screen as a soccergame was on. He wasn't a stuck up guy (Like your neighbors had described him once), despite having flooding money in his account.

His daughter was in one of the best private schools in town after all, thanks to his job at Alchemax. He even got you a lovely gold necklace for your 21st birthday after ruffling your hair, something that annoyed you, since you weren't a child. He had came into your lives' two years ago.

"Yeah,some of the packages are his. He was out of town to get them, so I offered to receive them." The doorbell rang, announcing his presence. Your dad left and you sat on your bed and checked your phone.

Of course, your friends would be always asking about him, one of them even dared to ask if you had fucked him already once they saw you wearing the golden necklace. You knew he was off limits. Mostly out of respect for your dad, and of course, the weird feeling that he just saw you as his friend's daughter.

You stood up to prepare for the day, as uneventful as it would be. Hot shower with sweet smelling products, to then change into a pair of gray sweatpants, bunny slippers and a tanktop, washed your teeth and brushed your damp hair. Then, you came down the stairs only to find Miguel sitting across your dad on the kitchen island, mug of steaming coffee on hands.

"Morning" you greeted him with a pat on the shoulder as you put a bagel into the toaster and served yourself some orange juice.

"Buenos días" Miguel greeted, his eyes following you as you moved through the kitchen. Your house was homey, cozy and perfect for the suburban life. Miguel wore a black buttoned jersey, dark jeans and dress shoes. A black belt accentuating his waist.

"Gotta go then, You're in charge" Your dad spoke, and patted his sturdy shoulder to then leave. You rolled your eyes.

"Anyways, want breakfast?"

"No, Thank you." His eyes were focused on the newspaper before him, that until you bent over to search for jam in the lower cabinets. His eyes were immediately to your rear. he sipped his coffee and hummed. The thin straps of the tank top slid off your shoulder. He closed his eyes, engraving the image in his mind. You sat across him, breakfast on a plate.

"Whatcha getting?" you munched in the bagel, a bit of jam smearing in the corner of your lips. Instinctively, he licked his own.

"Some playground for Gabriela." you nodded as you relished the flavor of your bagel. Licking off, the strawberry jam off your stained fingers. His eyes wandering to the way your lips trapped your fingers, the gold necklace adorning your little neck. It looked almost inviting.

"Glad to see you liked it. Gold looks good on you." You didn't know how his shirts fit him so well without bursting or tearing. His back had been lately the object of your new hyperfixation. You had seen jacked up guys in college, but Miguel was certainly in a whole different level.

"Thanks. It got me into a bit of trouble back in college actually." you snorted and drank your orange juice.

"How come?"

"Well,my friends think that I've got myself a sugar daddy."

His eyes twinkled in amusement, an idea seemed to be popping in his mind.

"Funny they think that when you still keep smearing jam on your face. Come here" He took your hand and pulled you across the kitchen island, even though he was sitting, he still towered over you. You barely reached his chin. He cupped your face, your sweet breath fanned his lips. He pouted as his face inched closer.

"Pero qué muchachita tan desastrosa." He mumbled, as he wiped the jam off the corner of your lips to then lick it off his finger. Your eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as you swallowed.

"D-Dad would kill you if he'd see you like this"

"Good thing he isn't around, hm?"

"You're the same age" your voice almost a whisper as he kept cupping your face with a single hand as the other one pulled you closer to him, "You could even be my father!"

Your heart thumped hard against your chest, his warm, coffee-like smelling breath brushed over your lips.

"But I'm not." his hands roamed your shoulders, the straps of your tanktop peeled away under his touch, the fabric slid lower and lower as it hovered over the curvature of your breast.

The doorbell rang. You both froze.

"Puta madre…" he seethed and stood, towering even more over you, "I'll get it. Stay put."

"But-"

"Stay.Put." His finger pointing at you as he disappeared back to the livingroom.

Your mind was still trying to process what just happened. You could hear Miguel exchange peasantries with the delivery man as he received an array of boxes. Your straps were slid back on their original position, and your phone buzzed. "Dad <3" on screen. You picked up.

"Hey"

"Hello, how's everything going?"

"Dad it's just been twenty minutes. But at least the packages just came."

"Careful with a small box, it has some fragile things."

The main door was closed.

"Oh? ok. Uh… You coming home soon?"

"Why, is there a problem?"

Big hands covered your shoulders to pull the upper part of the tanktop down, breast spilled from their confinement. Miguel's hands cupped them and gave gentle squeezes as his mouth kissed your neck.

"N-No, no no. Just asking so I can make-" You bit your lip, drowning a gasp as he toyed with your nipples, "E-Enough lunch for both"

Your hand covered your mouth as his teeth grazed your skin. Somthing you found interesting about Miguel was the fact he seemed to have larger canines than the average people. Whenever he was angry, you could see a glimpse of his pointy teeth underneath his plump lips.

He gave soft love bites, licking the skin. Your skin shivered.

"Ah, don't you worry about it, I might get there until night it seems. Anyways, see ya later, love you cupcake."

Miguel stopped for a moment.

"Love you too." You hung up the call, Miguel removed the phone from your hands and twirled you around to kiss you deeply. His hands fisting your hair to hold you in place as his tongue invaded your mouth with such expertise it made your legs feel like jelly. You gasped as she pressed you closer to his body, warmth spreading all over yours.

Miguel nipped at your bottom lip, and placed you ontop of the kitchen island with ease, bunny slippers falling off your feet as they dangled. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed the piece of cloth on the dining table.

"W-Wait! Shouldn't we better go-"

"Shh." His fingers hooked on the hem of your sweatpants and pulled down along your panties. Smooth skin revealed to his eyes. He pulled your hips closer and dragged a finger down your folds to then ease it inside you slowly. He hissed at the moist and warm feeling, he retrieved the finger back and licked it clean, groaning.

"Riquísimo, preciosa" His hands maneuvered your legs like a toy, he spreaded them to then push them back to expose even more flesh. Your mouth fell open as he dribbled the tip of his tongue around the knub of nerves and then drag it down and up your entrance.

Yelping, you held tight on the sturdiness of the island. His mouth disappeared between your slick folds, your breath caught in your throat as he sucked eagerly at your clit while his tongue flickered.

Your sweet coos and moanings only urged him to hold on you tightly, he moved his head to the sides increasing the intensity of his eating. Your hips grind against his tongue, seeking for relief, but he stopped you, a choked whine from your throat.

"Look at you" He put your hips back on the cold tiles, to then unbuckling his belt. "What would your dad think if he saw you like this?" He pulled you off the island, to then bend you over it. One of his feet, kicked away the clothes.

"All spread for me, eager to be filled up" He slapped your pusy softly as he pulled his underwear and pants down, also kicking them away, "Wanna make him a grandpa?" Your eyes went wide, panic surged through your mind but he pushed your torso flat against the cold surface. His legs separating your own.

His fingers prodded inside once more before coating his cock and as gently as he could, eased his way inside you. The stretching of his cock had you biting your lip and gripping softly at his wrist.

"Ohmy god" you half whimpered, slurred as he filled you completely.

"Estás tan apretada, mami" He kneaded your trembling hips. One hand held you in place as the other one twisted in your lowered tanktop. His hips rolled slowly. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable enough before his hips smacked yours with enough force to make you lurch forward, air knocked out of your lungs. You were on your tip toes. His hand slapped your ass as it bounced back and forth on his cock.

"Such a good girl" he grunted and sunk his nails on your hips, "Te voy a coger tan bien que cada vez que entres a este lugar, te acuerdes de mi." His hand freed the tanktop to take a fistful of your hair and pulled back. He had gone to ruffle your hair, to pull it.

Your arching gave him the perfect spot to ram into. So ever tight and hot. You hissed as an array of lewd cursing flew out your mouth. His balls slapped your flesh mercilessly.

"Con esa boca le dices a tu papá que lo amas?" he clicked his tongue in feigned disapproval. He let your hip go, hands immediately hooking underneath your right thigh and hoisted it up, spreading you like a book, pounding deeper and rougher into you.

Your pants and desperate moanings drowned his growling. Your body felt on fire, a thin layer of sweat covered your body, his torso glistened in sweat. His front bangs had fell onto his face by the constant movement.

You held onto his forearm, contorting your torso up, to see his lust blown face. His hands made sure to hold you tightly, preventing from falling. Big eyes stared at him, too lost in sinful thoughts as he pressed closer, deeper into you.

"Fuck me" You choked a sob as your orgasm approached. Your voice too coarse from the constant mewling.

"Just like this, mami?" he breathed before hoisting your leg a bit wider, you whimpered, nodded and clawed at his arms. You begged him to not stop, your orgasm was around the corner as he rawed you silly.

Your inner thighs and outher flesh were flushed by the constant rough slapping of his hips, the hand that held your leg, snaked its way towards your neck, squeezing tighly, your leg dangled and swayed at the rythm of his thrust.

"Come for daddy, preciosa" he groaned as his thrustings turned erratic and sloppier, slickness rolling down your sopping pussy and inner thighs.

"Fuck fuck fuckfu-" He let your leg go and held you tightly against him. your feet barely touching the floor, your torso once more flat against the cool tiles of the island as he painted your walls white with a guttural growl. It earned him a shaky and loud mewl.

"Te ves tan bella así, toda llena de mí." He picked you up and kissed you on the lips, "You alright?"

You nodded and panted, legs trembling.

"We gotta… clean up" he nodded with a smirk.

---------------

"Hey cupcake?"

"Hm?" You were sat on the solo couch, browsing through your phone as Miguel sat in the couch nearby. Your dad had arrived an hour after you were done cleaning yourselves. Something that had nearly turned into round two if it wasn't for the fact that your dad had called in to announce he was on his way back.

"Did you cook something?"

"Eh no, why?"

"Kitchen smells funky." Your eyes widened, as Miguel went stiff. You had been too engrossed in eachother that barely had the time to clean after your mess. Your dad went back to the kitchen to get himself a beer. It had been an uneventful evening for him, he was gone two hours but it was good enough for him to get a new sponsor to his remodeling contractors firm.

You shared a nervous glance with Miguel. Your dad groaned annoyed.

"(Name)"

Uh Oh. He only used your name when he was pissed.

"Yes, dad?"

"Look, your… sex life is none of my concern, really. But from all the places you could… do such thing, was the kitchen necessary? And you, I told you to keep an eye on her." He scowled at Miguel. You hung your head in embarrasment as Miguel chuckled with his hands up defensively.

"Who was it?"

"W-What?"

"Whose the guy, so I can talk to him, to not pull this… stunt again. You're better than that, (Name)"

"Hey, relax. Go easy on her." Miguel spoke

"Shut up, O'Hara."

"C'mon, you probably acted worse when you were her age. Remember when you told me about the time you-"

"Miguel, stop." Your face went as red as a tomato and your dad sighed. He looked between you and Miguel, and you could swear the five stages of grief going through his face at the sudden realization.

"You fucked my daughter…"

"Dad, stop!"

"Dad, nothing! Go to your room, now."

"You can't ground me, I'm old enough to-"

"To what? Be a step mom? Fuck older guys that could be your father? You don't know what you are getting into, young lady."

"You out of everyone know that I'll never do something that would put her in danger."

"Miguel, I don't know how your brain works right now, but You.Fucked.My.Daughter. My Daughter! The last thing I want is her being a mother before she finishes college."

"She won't be. That's a promise."

"Damn right it is, cause you won't be seeing her anymore."

"W-What? Dad!"

"I thought you were in your room, like I fucking told you."

"Don't talk to her like that." Miguel frowned

"My daughter, my house, my rules. You need to leave."

"You're angry, I get it. It was wrong of me to cross you like that, but she is old enough to know what she wants. I would never force her to do something she doesn't wants to do." Miguel spoke with his hands still in defense.

"For how long have you… been doing this?"

"It was the first time, actually" you spoke meekly from the doorframe.

"Like, you're always complaining about the few guys I introduce you to-"

"This is different!" you had never seen him so serious and angry.

Silence stretching too long, your dad sighed, annoyed.

"I fucking… I fucking swear, O'Hara. If you get her pregnant, I'll fucking kill you."

"Relax, I'm not making you a grandpa." Your dad's shoulder slumped, defeated.

"Yet." They went tense again.

"Oh my god." Your need to be swallowed by the earth underneath and to spit you away from them only increased as their conversation kept unfolding.

"So, now the surprise has been popped, that means I have your permission to properly date her?" Your dad rubbed his face tiredly.

"I wanna make things right." Miguel glanced at you.

"I've known you for a couple of years, and you've met her ever since she was eighteen. You're not a bad man, but trust me when I say that if this girl, my girl, comes here with tears in her face because you did something stupid to her, we're done. Understood?"

"Por supuesto" he went to your side and pulled you closer.

"And clean up this fucking mess."

He left to his room and left you alone. Of course you'd talk to him later, when everything was a bit more calm. Miguel on the other hand kissed your temple and sighed in relief.

"So…"

"Sunday night, at 6 for dinner?"

"Sure."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine. Just give him time to get used to it."

"What if he never gets used to it?"

he kissed your hand

"You'll come with me"

------------------------

Buenos días- Good Morning

Pero qué muchachita tan desastrosa- What a messy girl

Puta madre- Fucking shit

Riquísimo, preciosa- So delicious, gorgeous

Estás tan apretada,mami - You're so tight, mami

Te voy a coger tan bien que cada vez que entres a este lugar, te acuerdes de mi- I'll fuck you so good that every time you enter this place, you'll remember me

Con esa boca le dices a tu papá que lo amas?- With that mouth you tell daddy you love him?

Te ves tan bella así, toda llena de mí - You look so beautiful like that, all full of me.

Por supuesto- Of course.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #female reader #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv smut #spider man 2099 smut

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nova-amor · 1 month

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men who aren’t afraid to have make out sessions with your cunt. their tongues rolling and swirling and lapping at every puffy fold and slick crevice. their noses nudging at the hood of your clit, inhaling the addictive sweetness of your arousal. their arms curling around your thighs, forcing your legs to stay nice and open as you hump their tongue through an orgasm, body trembling from the shocks of pleasure. they’d rather die than pull away, growing annoyed as you beg them to give you a break. why should they stop? they have a perfectly good meal in front of them thats plate still needs to be licked clean.

#𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙧𝙤𝙩.ᐟ #꒰ 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ꒱#x female reader #18+ mdni #choso kamo x reader #nanami kento x reader #suguru geto x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #simon riley x reader #konig x reader #eren yeager x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #armin arlert x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #jujutsu kaisen #call of duty #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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angelltheninth · 11 months

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Miguel O'Hara with a Short Girlfriend

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, establidhed relationship, kissing, cuddles, teasing, size difference

A/N: I'm short, that's the whole reason I'm writing this.

Miguel loves seeing you strugling to reach for something on the top shelf

You look so cute he almost wants to let you do it yourself

But then he remembers that he should be a good, helpful boyfriend

Thanks to his spider powers he can sneak up behind you quite easily

Sometimes he will crawl up on the sealing and reach down for what ever you're grabbing, quickly putting it behind his back and telling he'll let you have it if he can have a kiss

A fair trade if you ask him

Other times he will sneak up from behind you and hoist you up on his shoulders

You know to expect him now because he's done it so many times you're no longer spooked but you still give a playful yelp

Clothes sharing is a given, you are free to take anything from his side of the closet

If you have one of his big shirts on its really easy to kiss your shoulders and neck

And also get a good view of your thighs when you reach up

Cuddles at least three times a day or else he gets really clingy with you, he loves phisical affection

Has to bend down to kiss you or lift you up, mostly by your thighs

Or he can push you against the wall and let you sit on his thighs while he takes his sweet time kissing you

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel fluff #marvel x female reader #x reader fluff #x female reader

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diejager · 10 months

Note

a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

Bittersweet Devotion

Pairing : Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, neglect, canon death, dead wife, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.5k

Miguel’s been distant these days, the world around him coming to a stop. His temper shortened and his patience dropped lower than it was before, but his attentiveness to his work sharpened. He divulged more of his time to the cause, to defend the multiverse from every anomaly that kept popping up in wildly different universes, at the cost of his personal life. Ever since the *Miles issue* had been dealt with (Spots was stopped from ending Captain Morales’ life prematurely, the canon was kept safe and intact, but his parents knew of his identity and his duty to New York and the multiverse.), Miguel shut himself inside the main office, closed off from the wandering Spider-people he brought over to help him protect their livelihood.

Atop his platform, he worked tirelessly, swiping screen to screen in search of any escaping anomalies. He depended on Lyla to help him search and the rest of the community to capture and contain these anomalies before they could be sent back to their appropriate universe, closing the rifts they used to escape. The brooding Spider-Man locked himself in, imposing shoulder peering from the edge of his high-floating platform while he stayed there most nights; days even, he hadn’t returned to your shared apartment in the building. He ate when you, Jess or Peter B. brought food to him, he drank and cleaned only when you urged him to do so.

Staying in his den meant that he rarely slept, the dark bags under his beautiful eyes growing as the days passed. Anomalies appeared left and right, Spiders were dispersed to catch them, sometimes in solo missions, and other times in teams if Miguel deemed it necessary for the anomaly (Green Goblins, Vultures and Sandman were some that were harder to deal with for their volatile attacks.). If you weren’t sent away on a retrieval mission, you’d be working around his office, keeping it clean and usable while he moved around, growling and throwing things as he went.

That’s where things became complicated, Miguel hated meddling and you were often in his space. While he was soft and caring in your shared room (the one he hadn’t been in for weeks now), he was domineering and imposing around the others. His shorter temper meant he often hissed and growled at you, brown eyes glimmering red as he sneered your way. You hadn’t made much of it, contributing his issues to the stress and anxiety he felt while shouldering all this madness. His glares and growls meant little, he was under pressure, but his words, his rants in your face hurt.

His words burned you to your core, the degrading things he screamed at you when you did something that might’ve ticked him off or the insults he’d throw your way when you did something he deemed unsatisfactory. They stung, but you ignored the pain that tore into your heart, the tears that threatened to fall and the anger you felt at his shrugs. You simply missed him.

Didn’t you deserve some affection? To feel the tender caresses of Miguel’s hands on your skin, the loving promises of his dreams and wishes, and the adoring stares he sent your way. Were you selfish for wanting that? For wanting to have your lover back in your arms. Or were you feeling neglected from the time you spent alone in your bed, the faded scent of his musk, the coldness of your apartment and the uneaten and forgotten plates on the dining table? Were you at fault for feeling forgotten? To sacrifice one for the good of thousands. To sacrifice your love for the safety of all universes. Did one outweigh the other?

“Hijo de puta! Why can’t you do anything right?!” He’d scowl at you, talons digging into the metal of his desk. The ear-splitting sound echoed as he dragged his talons to the edge of the table, red eyes brimming with wrath. He seemed on a warpath, ripping into anything he could get his talons in and throwing the things he could lift off the platform. (Motherfucker-)

You skipped around the objects he threw in his fit, ducking under a chair he gripped and swung randomly, over the desk he kicked, and around the cabinet, he swiped at. Every object he used to vent his emotions were light, in comparison to your given strength. He’d complain afterwards about his things being broken and needing fixing, something you helped him with unless they were too technologically advanced for your time. You webbed all the things you could, aiming your wrist and quickly sticking your end to the floating platform when it stuck to the victims of Miguel’s power.

You danced around him, catching everything without getting too close to Miguel. He acted without thinking at times in these fury-filled moments, eyes tinging red and reverting to his more animalistic side. He’d warned you before about staying clear of him, to wait until he calmed himself down and realized the devastation of his office. Then he’d apologize and kiss you in hopes you’d forgive him (you always did, you knew his biology made him different - more violent - than you and the Spiders.). You’d fix the platform up, remake the broken parts or simply forget about it, like the many cabinets he ended up buying instead of patching them up.

Now especially, his tantrums began more often and lasted longer, a common occurrence when it was rare months ago. You couldn’t fault him, you didn’t want to, even if your heart throbbed painfully at his words, shoulders curving under the immensity of his tone and actions. You loved him, so you’d bare him in his best as in his worst.

“Detente- Simplemente detente!” In his fits of rage, Miguel reverted to his vulgarity, spitting Spanish words at anyone he faced. His voice was low and gravely, body convulsing as he swung at the fizzling, orange screens, dissipating under his aggressive gesture. (Stop- Just stop!)

When his fuse popped, he’d throw words left and right in Spanish, the enchanting slur of his Mexican accent turning hellish, slamming loudly like the Hephaestus’ hammer. Along his hit came the blow, the effects following them. Whether they were positive or negative, he pushed on, frenziedly hammering the weight of his words into whoever was the nearest to him. Which, coincidentally, happened to be you at the moment when you climbed onto his platform to relay the summarised report of last week’s missions from every Spider.

You let him ramble in silence, watching him twist on the spot and walk circles before his desk, turning and gesturing arbitrarily at something that wasn’t there. He’s expressive with his love, his spite, his care, his needs and his fury. He’d make big motions with his hands, voice dipping low and sometimes rising high with the pitch of his impatience. He growls when he’s displeased. He roars when he’s furious. He spits when he’s agitated. He smirks when he’s pleased. If not his voice or his lips, his eyes shine with emotion, showing those who knew how to read him how he felt.

That’s why you ignored the sharp nabs at your person, the low jabs at your work and how you dealt with the other Spiders as his right hand, or at your simple performance of his care. He didn’t want your care when he was busy, he didn’t want your soft and soothing words when he was tracking down another anomaly with vehement hate, and he didn’t want your meddling when he was focused on important matters of the multiverse.

He was stressed, and pressure mounted over self-expectations made him lose himself. Down went his tolerance for failure and mistakes. Down went his awareness of his needs. Down went his patience with people and Lyla. Every man and woman would buck under intense pressure, some would break and stop working, and others would submit to the fate of their failures, but Miguel persevered, he pushed and pushed, pulling at the strings he could grasp, even the shortest ones.

“Can you just- Coño- can you just shut up for a second?!” Miguel bucked, slamming his fist into the desk. It’d probably leave a dent for you or him to fix, a hole in the shape of his fist.

You rushed to him, hand wrapping around his upper arm, supporting his hunched body as you webbed a chair closer to him, pulling on the synthetic fibre until it was behind Miguel. You whispered encouraging words into his ear, easing him into sitting on the rolling furniture. His legs shook, falling limp when he finally sat down, back slumped over and head low. You ran your fingers through his hairline, pulling up his wild mane. His eyes were closed, bags the deepest you’d seen, and his cheeks were sunken, near sickly.

A chill wracked your body at his deteriorating appearance, his exhaustion had finally caught onto him. You wanted to fuss over him, to berate him for letting it get this far, but his exhausted figure made you frown and rethink your words. You couldn’t let this go on, you’d have to sit him down and talk to him after you took care of him. You lowered the platform, watching Miguel from the corner of your eye until you reached the lowest it could go.

“Miguel,” you hushed, pressing your lips to his cheek, soft and gentle for his fatigue. “We need to get you to our room, you can’t work anymore.”

He grumbled, feet weakly moving to ease the weight on your shoulders, you wanted to remind him that you were strong and that you could easily carry him back if you wanted, but he liked to keep his pride as the strongest, the boss that people could depend on. You nodded at those who gave you worried glances, shaking their helping hands for carrying him (you knew Miguel wouldn’t have liked others to touch him so casually.) and asked some to run errands for you while you two were busy. Lyla would take over for now, until you took care of Miguel.

“Let me help you, Miggy. Let me take care of you.”

He slept better than night, the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks - months - and was grounded to a week of rest and recuperation. You helped him shower, washing his back and hair. You cooked his favourite dishes, following the Mexican cooking books you had laying around. You gave him daily massages for the aches over his shoulders and back, massing the tenseness off his arms and legs. At night, you’d force him to bed, blocking his access to his office and kissing him goodnight. The sun rose with you, you rode Hélio’s chariot, turning his nights into mornings as you pulled Selena’s moon into the sky.

While he rested, you worked tirelessly to fill in Miguel’s seat, scouring the multiverse for anomalies and sending Spiders to deal with them. You had Lyla run diagnostics and simulations about the chance for future appearances, playing the game of prediction and bettering the percentage after each successful prediction. Peter B. and Jess could help you around the clock, they shared the job you had as Miguel’s right-hand and worked fantastically together when put in charge of it. They were still sent on missions if you and Lyla determined it was too difficult to face alone, they were skilled and had experience, and they would mentor those who needed help. If the case came forward, you would step away from the office and jump through the multiverse, aiding your fellow Spiders to capture anomalies while Lyla took care of the office.

Miguel came back healthier, stronger and more energetic. He thanked you in the forms of kisses and hugs, gratified words and gestures that made your heart warm, flutter like wings. It nearly made you forget all the heartache he burdened you with within the past months. Nearly.

Something had ticked Miguel off, his ragged breath simmering in the air, a steady stream of fury. It burned like the lowest pits of hell, ruled by the cold tone of its god, seated at the top-most throne of the Underworld. Powerful and iron-handed, Hades led with strong principles and meticulous habits, much like Miguel did. His fury and anger were dealt by Cerberus, the three-headed dog of hell, as ferocious and dangerous as Miguel’s agitated state was.

His shoulders shook, waves of unadulterated rage filtered off his back, rippling his sculpted back as metal creaked under his hands. His talons sunk into the metal, drawing lines in his anger-filled moment. He spun to face you with a roar, arms flailing until he faced you. He heaved heavily, shoulders and chest moving as his blood rushed with emotions, eyes dilated and turned deep red. He stalked towards you in all his mad glory, like the form of the Cyclops casting its dooming shadow on Odysseus’ men. Except, unlike his men, who were eaten in a blink, embraced by death in such a violent but swift way, you’d be ripped apart by it, pieces of your being torn apart for a slow and painful descent.

He moved in big, lumbering steps, looming over you, shoulders broad and demanding. He sneered at you, in ways that would kill others but wound you deeply, to tear your heart out and throw it away like old, wilted flowers. The air seemed stuffy, hot and confining, his breath even hotter, burning you when he stopped inches from you. You gaped at him, eyes wide and fingers trembling, something crossed your mind, a flash of emotion that you never thought possible to connect to Miguel: fear.

“Why can’t you be like-!” He started, mind dead set on breaking you down to your smallest, his force slamming into your softer one. Then he stopped, body seizing as if he was shot, but his round eyes told you he almost let himself slip, to let the name slip from his tongue in a haze. You knew who he was talking about, the memories that he related to her, that he was simply mad, but it didn’t ease the pain that ripped through your heart.

“Like who, Miguel!?” You cried back, hands clenching and rigid on your side. Your body trembling with disgust, shock and heartbreak. You couldn’t believe he would bring her up, to compare you to her and voice it out. It hurt; it drove the nail deeper into your coffin, adding another thing over the mountain of doubt and pain.

He just stared, he couldn’t finish his sentence, a starch contrast to his attitude seconds ago. It pained you that he couldn’t even say the words, to apologize to you about what he said. He knew how to run, how to ignore, and how to push things back. He did that well, and now he couldn’t face what he said to you was pathetic.

“Like who, huh?! Like her!? Like Dana?!” Your vision blurred, and your breath hitched as your body crashed down with agony, sadness and betrayal. You shook this time while he looked on with desperation, body unable to make a sound or motion.

“I- no- mi cielo, no- I didn’t mean to, I swear, ” he reached out, hand (his talons had received back into his pads) extending to touch you, to hold you in an apologetic embrace, but you stepped back, unable to contain your sobs. “Mi vida, please. Perdón, no fue mi intención.” (I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.)

You backed away from him, his warmth, his adoration, his love. His apology sounded guilty, dripping with regret and sorrow. He winced, watching you step away from him, regret gripping his heart as he moved to follow you. Every step you took backward, he took one forward, copying you, trying to approach you as if you were a wounded and unpredictable animal, to appease and soothe you.

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his teary ones. You fiddled with your watch, opening a portal to your world and shook off your watch. You jumped back before he could catch you, hand extended to you in a desperate attempt to stop you. He wanted to bring you back into his arms, to kiss the tears away and beg for forgiveness until you let him back in, but to leave him, to throw away the watch that connected you to him. It broke him.

He wouldn’t be able to see you unless you wanted to be seen, the tracker in your watch left blinking before his feet, discarded as you had with him; after he pushed you away, tore you down with his words spurred by the moment’s rush of negativity and pressure. It wasn’t an excuse, he knew that, but it didn’t ease. He sank to the floor, raking it with his talons as he cried out, a pained sob breaking out of his chest as he cradled his head, cursing himself for not being careful, for not heeding your winces and frowns, and not taking your heart into consideration.

You fell when you landed in your universe, knocking a few boxes as you crashed onto your side. Your body jerked, cold droplets pouring down on your broken figure as you sat back up on the pavement. You hissed, the downcast atmosphere making your body heave a heartbroken sob, clutching your chest - where your heart would’ve been if Miguel hadn’t shattered it - and falling into yourself. You made yourself smaller, hiding your tear-stained face between your knees as you let the rain shower over you, soaking you down to your socks.

A relationship built on pain, need and desperation was bound to fall. The carelessness of his ways cracked the edge of your relationship, slowly breaking it down into a shell of what it was. You bled for his cause as you bled for your loss. Like Apollo - a caregiver, a watcher of the fates of the people he oversaw, all the good and evil he could do just by saying the word - Miguel loved and felt, he gave and took, but lost it all in the end. His heart was broken and his soul lost over and over, the people he loved and cared for lost to time and fate. Like the Greek god, he loved what he could not have, loved what he could not hold, loved what he could not keep.

As would Daphne’s story, she loved as much as you did, she cared as much as you did, and she hated as much as you did. In love was the god, as Miguel was with you, heart-stopping in every aspect. He stood like a god over them all, tall, broad and caring. But like any Greek love story, yours was as tragic, the hymn of your love left to fester with hate and anger, with regret and untold pain. Run, you did as Daphne had, crossing where you hoped he couldn’t reach you; where you’d be left hidden from the heartbreaking sorrow.

You didn’t know how long you sat in the rain, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but every moment blurred into one. The once vibrant colours of New York dulled to a boring monochrome, the world was swallowed in tones of black and white. Your limbs felt numb, you could hardly feel the cold, only the drops of rain and the heaviness of your heart in your chest. You could sit here a while longer, to drown in the sensation of the world falling around you-

Then it stopped raining. That wasn’t right, you could see the water crashing onto the ground by your feet, inches from you. Your side felt warm, a calm, soothing warmth that made your body quake from the cool air. You looked to the side and saw feet, big ones. You followed their body, tracing the lines of their soaking pants, to a warm jacket, broad shoulders and to a familiar face.

“Oye, who did this to you?” His voice dripped with worry, a calmness that contradicted his frowning eyes. It was a familiar voice. It was a familiar face. It was Miguel’s face. Your lips quivered, staring at the face of your lover - ex-lover now that you thought about it - with newly shed tears. His eyes widened, even more worried than before as he crouched down to your height, hand running down your back soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. It’s all right.”

You wished you could believe his words, believe the softness in his tone and the beat of your torturous heart that missed the Miguel you knew. This one - your universe’s Miguel O’Hara (you didn’t even know you had one in your New York, it felt surreal to your depressed mind.) - was a stranger wearing the face of the person you loved. His face was a carbon copy of your Miguel’s, but softer on the edges, calmer and more… human than Spider-man 2099. His voice was gentler, caring more warmth for a stranger in need than yours has, like a whisper from an angel lulling you into a peaceful rest.

“Vamos, let’s get you out of the rain first.”

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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miguelswifey04 · 9 months

Text

miguel o’hara x fem! reader

cw: lactation kink (breastfeeding), reader! breastfeeds miguel, breast-sucking, nsfw 18+, smut; no plot

a/n: this was requested so, if you don’t like this js skip or block me :3

as you removed your apron, revealing your beautiful curves and plump breasts, miguel’s breath caught in his throat. the sight of you was undeniably alluring, and desire welled up within him. he couldn't resist the pull any longer, his hands gliding over your bare skin as he pulled you closer. his lips found their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, peppering it with soft kisses.

“you’re irresistible," he whispered huskily, his voice filled with desire. "every curve, every part of you... drives me wild." his hands traced teasing patterns along your waist, caressing the softness of your skin. "you are the most enticing sight in this kitchen, my love." miguel chuckled softly against your skin, his touch growing bolder as he let his hands roam over your body. his voice was laced with a playful yet seductive tone. “you’re always so kinky,” you giggled as you leaned into his hungry touches.

“oh, you have no idea how kinky i can be. i’m just waiting for the right moment to show you." he moved one hand up to cup your breast, teasingly running his thumb over the hardened nipple. his lips resumed their exploration along your neck, his touch becoming more urgent with each passing moment. miguel’s movements were swift and confident as he carried you effortlessly to the bed. a hunger burned within him as he lowered your top, exposing your breasts and the sweet milk that awaited him.

his lips found their way to your exposed flesh, his mouth latching onto your nipple. he suckled gently, savoring the taste of your milk, his tongue lapping and swirling around it. a deep moan rumbled from his throat as he enjoyed the intimate connection between you, the mixture of pleasure and nourishment filling his senses. he nursed eagerly, his touch and suckling becoming more intense, his desire to please you growing with every passing second.

“oh god," he murmured with urgency, his voice muffled against your breast. "you taste so delicious. i can't get enough of you." you squirmed under his hold as he continued to suckled on your breasts. you could feel the tug from his lips as he slurped up your sweet milk and with the flick of tongue, lapped up the milk that threatened to spill from your breasts. “oh—miguel, that feels so fucking good..” your breath hitches and your body shudders as he continues his assault on your breasts.

miguel’s desire intensified as he heard your moans of pleasure and felt your squirming beneath his touch. it fueled his own arousal, his passion for you growing with every passing moment. his free hand roamed across your body, teasing and caressing your curves, heightening your pleasure. his lips trailed a path of kisses and nibbles from your breasts to your neck, his warm breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

he released your breast with a gentle pop, his lips and chin glistening with traces of milk. he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of longing and adoration. “you are exquisite, mi reina," he whispered, his voice laced with desire. "and i want to show you just how much you mean to me."

a/n: shiver me timbers omg i can’t believe i wrote this omg 😏

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @astro1bloom @sabcandoit @obi-mom-kenobi @emiemiemiii @meeom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #lactating kink #breastfeeding #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #atsv smut #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara drabble

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intoxicated-chan · 9 months

Note

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader smut request

Our dearest Miguel breaks the headboard during sex. That has for sure happened to him once or twice!! At least it's true in my headcanons!

Tell Me How U Feel

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ You’ve told him many many times that he must watch his strength whenever it comes to sex. It seems Miguel doesn’t like listening.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Tell Me How U Feel” by Black Dresses. Two posts in one day, especially smutty ones. Thanks for reading!! I used Spanishdict so please let me know if there is anything wrong!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 430

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, p in v, little obsession from Miguel, no prep, fluffy, restraints, hickies, bruising…..

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

“Las cosas que haría por ti.” (The things I would do for you.)

A yelp comes from your lips as you fall back, caught by surprise by the springiness from his bed. You push yourself up on your elbows, you look up at him to see him staring right down at you. The two of you were already nude.

Miguel crawls forward on the bed, he looks over your hickey littered neck and the bruise already forming on your hip. His eyes then came into contact with yours, he stopped when he was on top of you and pushed you back to lay back on the bed.

He takes your arms and moves them upward until your wrists are pushed against the headboard. You can feel the weird substance of Miguel’s webbing retrain your wrists.

His tongue runs over his lips as he grabs your legs, spreading them further. He didn’t tease or give any kind of warning, he slammed right into you.

Miguel let out a growl like sound, his pace quickened immediately which earned more and loud moans from you.

“Quiero todo de ti.” (I want all of you.) Miguel hissed, his hands moving to clutch the headboard as he slammed right into you, over and over again. You can hear the headboard slamming against the wall.

“Te quiero solo para mi.” (I want you to myself only.)

That’s when you heard the crack and your arms fall from the headboard, it makes Miguel stop his moment and click his tongue in annoyance.

“Dammit, Miguel!” You groan, “I just bought this frame!” You look at the damage, carefully moving away from the splinters and broken pieces of the wood, “Seriously?”

“You should’ve bought a better frame.”

“I shouldn’t be buying more frames if someone could watch their strength.” You retort, “Untie me.” You sit up and push your tied wrist to him.

He grabs your wrists, “No puedo controlarme cuando estoy contigo.” (I can’t control myself when I’m with you.) He uses his claws to pry off the webbing.

“Great! Now I have to get a new frame.” You get up from bed and gather your clothes.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked, grabbing his clothes and putting them on when he’s following you out the door.

You manage to put on your clothes, “To buy a new frame.” You grab your keys and put on your shoes.

“Can’t that wait?” But Miguel doesn’t follow you when he steps out the door.

“No.” And you shut the door, off to buy a new frame. You leave Miguel feeling frustrated.

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daisies-daydreams · 11 months

Text

Intoxicating (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Breeding Kink, Feral!Miguel O'Hara, Pheromones, Use of Petnames, Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Mating Press, Baby Talk, SPOILER FOR ATSV Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: Based on a prompt by @imslightlycreative. Literally cannot get enough of this man, istg. 😩🥴 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rough. If I got anything wrong feel free to correct me. Translations are at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

Original Prompt: "Reader is ovulating. Miguel finds out that his heightened senses can also pick up on pheromones".

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Miguel crept through the bedroom door. His hard heart softened when he saw you tucked beneath the comforter. You sighed and shifted slightly, your breathing steady as you slept soundly. He hovered next to you, his hand brushing some messy hair out of your face. Just as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, a bolt shot down his spine. His nostrils flared as he picked up on a scent: it was potent and sweet like rose water, yet intoxicating like wine. His talons suddenly drew out on their own as his pupils began to dilate.

"¿Qué carajo?" he muttered as his skin crawled, heat stirring inside his chest. The hair on his arms stood on end as he suddenly released a quiet grunt. Your eyes fluttered open as he clamped his hands over his mouth.

“¿Miguel?,” you blinked. Miguel’s hands shook as his carnal desires began to devour every inch of his body. He parted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs.

“Sí, bebé. I’m home,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. He swallowed thickly as you shifted yourself up, revealing your naked breasts from beneath the covers. His head spun as you slid your hand into his, your touch sending ripples down his spine and straight to his cock.

“Are you feeling okay, hermoso? You’re breathing pretty heavily,” you frowned as you stretched your arms out to cup his face. Miguel released a shaky sigh as you laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up,” you said. Miguel nodded and licked his dry lips, his words swirling around in his clouded mind like a torrent.

“J-Just some leftover adrenaline from the the mission,” he explained shakily, his eyes raking down your luscious body. You tilted your head.

“Are you-” You gasped when Miguel’s large shadow suddenly cast over yours. He caged you in between his muscular thighs as he bared his teeth over your pulse. A deep hunger rose from the pit of his belly and spilled into every corner of his mind. His nostrils flared as he battled with the part of him that desperately wanted to rut into you.

“M-Miguel,” you sighed as you swallowed. Your mouth opened as he stuck his nose where your shoulder and neck met, inhaling your scent.

“What perfume are you wearing, cariño?” he purred. You whined as he scraped his teeth over your soft flesh. You arched your back and gasped when his hips bucked forward into your bare pussy.

“I-I’m not wearing perfume,” you said with a shaky breath. Miguel’s eyes snapped open as his lips danced over your collar bone.

You weren’t wearing perfume? Then, that scent…

Miguel’s gaze went back to your breasts. Curiously, he cupped them in his palms before giving them a light squeeze. You moaned, your mouth falling open into a wide “O”.

“Ah-Mig,” you cried out. Miguel's lips fell into a straight line. Your whole face turned a deep shade of crimson as his lips trailed down your torso. The smell became stronger as he came closer to your dripping cunt. Miguel’s chest heaved as his hands slid down from your tender breasts and spread your thighs apart.

His hot breath fanned over your pussy before he gently lashed his tongue across your folds. His body felt like it was on fire as he lapped your sweet arousal into his mouth. The last shred of his willpower snapped with the taste of you on his tongue. Miguel released an animalistic snarl as he lunged forward and completely pinned you to the bed. Your eyes widened with shock as he grinded his hips against yours, his cock rock-hard and ready to burst.

"Cariño, te necesito," he practically whined as he drove his clothed cock against your naked pussy. You keened as wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Arruíname,” you keened with drunk, half-lidded eyes. His crimson eyes rolled into the back of his head as he cut a slit in his pants with his talons. His dick sprang out and bounced on your stomach. Your eyes glistened at the sight of his swollen, flushed cock leaking with precum.

“Mi hermosa,” Miguel snarled. He brought his hands beneath your thighs before sheathing his cock inside your wet heat in one eager thrust. He couldn’t get enough of the small moans and cries that tumbled from your lips as he eagerly pounded into you. Your tight cunt greedily sucked him in as his dick slid along your plush walls. “Tan apretada,” Miguel gasped as your pussy fluttered around him. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin. He bared his fangs as his heavy balls smacked against your puffy, wet folds.

“M-Miguel,” you drooled when the tip of his cock reached into your cervix. It felt softer and more open as he relentlessly stroked against it. "Feel so good, Papi-please go faster!" you begged. You released a silent scream as Miguel pressed your legs up to your shoulders. Your slick splashed against him each time he buried himself to the hilt inside you. He leaned down to your ear.

“¿Quieres a mi bebe?” he rasped. You mewled at his words, your hands scraping down his taut forearms.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you whined. The creases of your knees were held in his palms as his cock somehow struck even deeper within you. His lips crashed into yours as he nearly folded you in half, your slick dribbling down across the bulge that poked out of your lower stomach.

“Want me to put a baby in you, hm? Want me to fill you up again and again until you can’t walk?” he husked. You released a moan loud enough to shake the bedroom walls.

“Yes-yes I want your baby! Please fill up my pussy, Papi!” you begged. Miguel smirked as he slid his tongue along your jawline and pistoned into you at a brutal pace.

“Buena chica,” he purred. His balls began to feel tight as your walls restricted around his boiling shaft. Miguel had to admit that he loved seeing you like this: folded and ready to take his seed. “Vamos, puedes hacerlo,” the man groaned as he saw your eyes squeeze shut and brows pinch together. Your breasts rose and fell as your breathing became ragged.

“MIG!” you screamed as your hands raked down his back. He grunted as your cunt clamped down and spasmed around his thick cock.

“Tan buena, tan buena para mi,” Miguel strained as he tried to push through the way your pussy squeezed his cock. The way your face twisted in ecstasy brought him closer to the edge. The back of your thighs jiggled against the front of his thighs. His thrusts became sloppy as you whined below him.

“Fill me, fill me,” you begged incessantly, your lips parted as drool slid down your face. Miguel could feel the red-hot eruption boiling in his cock as he heard your pussy squelch around his length.

“Mierda,” he grunted. You gazed into his darkened eyes, hot tears rolling down your glowing cheeks.

“Papi,” you cooed. The simple word finally pushed Miguel over the edge. He yelled and slammed his hips down. His mind was drowning in waves of pleasure as his body stiffened. Miguel’s cock throbbed as he squirted rope after rope of his thick cum into your stretched hole.

He panted as he felt the tension in his body begin to unravel-feeling at how his cum bubbled and spilled out where your sexes were joined. His dick twitched as it released the last stream of his spend, stuffing you completely full of his seed. Miguel’s eyelids drooped as he caught his breath. You gazed up at him, tear stains still trailing down your face.

He cooed as he leaned down, hushing you with a gentle kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he lay on top of you, his cock still plugged in your weeping cunt. He felt your hot breath fan over his shoulder as you played with his raven hair.

“Did you know I was ovulating?” you asked. His eyes snapped open.

“It was just a hunch,” he mumbled, his mind still somewhat drunk from your cunt squeezing him so tightly. You giggled and kissed his temple. His body began to relax as he listened to your heartbeat steady.

“So, how many are we going to have?” you whispered. Miguel’s throat tightened as he looked at you with a soft gaze.

“You mean-you really want to have…” his voice trailed off as images of his variant daughter flashed through his mind. You beamed and cupped his cheek, kissing the tip of his nose while nodding. Joy spread from the cracks in his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. A wide smile stretched across his face as he kissed you over and over again, his hand trailing down your side.

“Gracias, mi vida,” he whispered, his eyes misty as he swallowed a lump in his throat. You sighed, then gasped when he rolled both of you over.

“Miggy!” you giggled as he nipped at your ear. You mewled as he pressed his chest against your back and shallowly pumped his cock into you. His cum sloshed around inside you as he whispered into your ear.

“We might as well get a head start, since my cock is already stuffed inside your tight cunt”.

___

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Qué carajo? - What the fuck?

Papi - Daddy

Sí, bebé - Yes, baby

Hermoso/Hermosa - Handsome/Gorgeous

Te necesito, cariño - I need you, honey

Arruíname- Ruin me

Tan apretada - So tight

¿Quieres a mi bebe? - Do you want my baby?

Buena chica - Good girl

Vamos, puedes hacerlo - Come on, you can do it

Tan buena, tan buena para mi - So good, so good for me

Mierda - Shit

Gracias, mi vida - Thank you, my life

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man 2099 x you #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 x y/n #spider man smut #marvel smut #fem reader #female reader

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qaxqxd · 10 months

Note

Miguel O’Hara with an s/o who is on they’re period but gets super cuddly because of the headaches and cramps?

Warmth

♡Pair: Miguel O’hara x f!reader Genre: Fluff Warning: nothing bad, just fluff :) A/n: AAAA I love this idea. It's a little short, but thank you for requesting this. Summary: You're on your period and you wanted to cuddle with Miguel.

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

It was morning, the sun was seeping through the blinds. You woke up feeling a unbearable sharp pain in your lower stomach. Walking to the restroom, seeing blood on your underwear.

“Shit.” You cursed, as you felt a headache coming through.You were on your period.

Great.

Cleaning yourself up, and putting on a pad. To walk back to the bedroom, laying down on your bed. You mumbled in pain. As you decide to call in from work today. You notify the watch. You were aching from your stomach.

You had your phone and watch turned off. You tried to fall back to sleep, hoping the pain would go away.

Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

Miguel flinched a bit, looking over his shoulder to who the voice was. As he noticed it was Jess.

“I’m- just a little worried. (Y/n) hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. She called in sick, but I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right.” Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. He was very worried for you.

“She’s probably fine. Have you checked on her yet? As in person?” Jess bridges her arms together. Miguel shook his head. As she sighed.

“I can take over for a bit if you’ll like.” She offers him.Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back.” He said with haste, opening a portal to (Y/n)’s Earth. As he left, Jess let out a small giggle. As (Y/n) texted her earlier letting her know everything was alright. She knew you just wanted him to be with him, and she was happy to help you success with that.

Miguel needed a break either way.

As the sun seems to set on your Earth. Miguel arrived at your apartment, he had his own key to your apartment. You knew it’d be handy someday. Opening your door to your apartment.

“(Y/n)?” He questioned if you were home even.

“In here.” You drag out the word ‘here’. As you sounded tired. He walked into your room.

“Are you alright, mi amor?” He sat on the side of your bed, stroking your face. As you nodded at his question, you sat up a little bit, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s just that I'm on my period.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Ah, do you want any sweets or anything by chance, mi vida?” He asked, a little worried. He was glad you weren’t actually hurt, or in trouble. You shook your head, as really all you wanted was to be close to him.

“Could you stay for a bit, Love?” You looked at him, hoping he would say yes. As his small smile confirmed that he’d stay.

“Of course I'll stay for a bit, mi querida. I want to take care of you.” Miguel cups your face, laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

And he did just that. He made sure you had everything you needed. Holding you close to him, knowing you’re feeling super cuddly. You both watched movies with each other. As you snuggle closer to him.

You spend the rest of the day with Miguel. He got you treats even though you said it was fine. You were just glad you had him around you, and you were able to cuddle against him. This was a side most people wouldn’t see from Miguel, but he was just happy to be with you.

As you two rested on each other. Cuddling with each other. Eventually falling asleep on each other.

WC. 0.7k

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 11 months

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

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