#oscar isaac characters

[bqdzmaru]

marc spector who folds your clothes up for you so they are ready for you in the morning when u wake up because he got used to it from his time in the navy. marc spector who hates being late, who is so ordered and clean and stiff. marc spector who makes sure he always smells nice. marc spector who spends his money on a collection of perfumes. basically, neat freak marc spector… in this essay i will—

[faetreides]

summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

do not translate/repost/give my works to ai

please consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !!

You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

*Marc Spector wearing a "Mental Illinois" t-shirt*

[boredzillenial]

Data

Your boss Nathan needs your body “for science”

Themes: DEAD DOVE DNE - dark!Nathan, kidnapping, sensory deprivation, fingering, oral breast play (f!receiving), jerking off

A.N: contains railroad sentences and my rusty attempt at improving prose 🤣 thank you @lunar-ghoulie for putting up with me

Word count: idk at the moment it’s short

“Show yourself you son of a bitch!” Your voice reverberated against the stark walls, “I know you’re there Nathan!” You twisted and writhed against your restraints to no avail.

Nathan, your boss, had invited you to come out to his estate. In an excess of caution you’d chosen to politely decline. What you hadn’t realized was his invitation was not a request, but a heads up.

You took a moment to breath and take notice of the different points of pressure on your body. Whatever he’d used to bind you you was soft but firm against your wrists, chest, waist and ankles. Your back pressed against hard cool material, the scent in the room clean and chilled air blew across your exposed skin.

You rolled your head from side to side in an attempt to wiggle the fabric from around your eyes but it didn’t budge.

“That’s not gonna work.” Nathan’s bored voice sounded from somewhere in the room.

You froze, “Nathan-“ you grated “let me go.”

“Nathan let me go.” He mocked, “Do you really think I’d go through the trouble of getting you here only to let you loose?”

Your lip curled in agitation as you snapped against the restraints. “What do you want.”

A fingertip pressed against your ankle “What I want,” he said slowly as that sensation snaked its way up your leg, “is data.” His touch paused at the line between your hip and thigh.

“What?” You growled in confusion. “I swear to fucking god Nathan when I’m out of here-“ the removal of sensation on your skin stalled your brazen words.

“Threatening your captor, interesting choice.” His voice still sounded bored amongst the rustling beside you.

“Interesting choice to kidnap me*eeee*.” Your retort was cut short when something firmly pressed against your core and vibrated furiously. It was too much all at once and you feebly bucked only to be met with the tight restrain across your hips. The curse in your throat twisted to a groan, “F-fuck yo-u.”

“Another curse -“ you could practically hear the eye roll in his tone, his next words breathed hot across your ear “so predictable.”

You tilted your face toward him with a smirk, if he wanted to play games let’s see what happened if you played along. “U-up a bit, and to the left.”

“Attagirl.” He chuckled and followed your direction. Your back arched and strained as your breath caught in your throat.

You’d quickly climbed to your peak with the precision and pressure, your breath coming in ragged pants. Just as you came so close to release the sensation vanished, leaving you crashing back to earth.

A choked whine wrung from your throat. “Why.” You whimpered.

“Measuring heart rate, perspiration…” a finger slid along your slick folds “arousal.”

You breath caught in your chest at the sudden sensation of two thick fingers plunged deep into your core. Nathan took his time moving around, scissoring his fingers inside as he tsked “still tight.”

“Nathan please.” You murmured, the stretching sensation growing to be uncomfortable.

“Why are you getting tighter?” From his tone he might as well have been asking a casual scientific question in a clinic.

“Doesn’t feel good.” You grumbled “not like that.”

Nathan’s hand adjusted, two fingers remained deep inside, but this time he added his thumb to press against your clit. “What about like this.” He drew slow firm circles and pumped slowly.

Your breathing picked up while a coil of pleasure twisted low in your belly. Despite your head swimming with pleasure you heard Nathan’s soft voice off to the side, “Slickness increase and vaginal relaxation with stimulation to the clitoris.”

“Are you - taking notes?” You huffed between breathes.

“I told you, I need data.” He said in annoyance. “Fuck sake.” He growled.

You heard a rustling near your head and the sound of spit hitting skin made you jerk. “What the fuck.”

“Shut up.” He snipped, his breath hitched as soft squelching sounded beside your head. The moment his fingering matched the pace of the noise beside your head you realized what was happening.

“You’re - jerking off?” You huffed.

“Want me to stuff it in your mouth?” He retorted. You snapped your head away, eliciting a sardonic huff from Nathan.

The squelching noise and his breathing picked up pace as his fingers worked. You groaned and arched against the pleasure building, gasping at a sudden wet tingling feeling on your nipple.

The stroke of his tongue as it lapped at the stiffened peak encouraged you to arch further, pushed you even closer to the edge.

A soft pop sounded and you whined in protest at the loss “Vaginal tightening with oral stimulation to breast.” He muttered, returning his warm mouth back to your breast with a hum. The rough tickle of his beard across your skin mixed deliciously with the swirling around your stiffened peak.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves as his hands and mouth worked in tandem. “S-shit!” The ministrations sent you bucking against the restraints and your breath in ragged pants.

Another groan vibrated your nipple sent fire through your nerves before it vanished. The fingers buried deep in your core and against your sensitive nub picked up to an uneven pace. A wrecked groan sounded from above you as warm wet ropes splattered across your chest.

Despite the ringing in your ears you heard Nathan growl in annoyance, “Data inconclusive, requires further testing.” Something fluffy wiped between your legs picking up the mess of slickness there before wiping up the white painted on your skin.

“Further testing?” You voice was weak and broken as you came back to reality.

“If I’m gonna make robots I’d actually wanna fuck I gotta get it right.” His voice moved about the room accompanied by rustling. “Movement, viscosity, tightness. I need so much if it’s gonna feel real and, well, it’s gonna take awhile if I keep getting… distracted…”

———————————

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing- Moon boys x f!reader, Khonshu x Hathor

🌗Series summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor,  crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future. 

🌘CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Friends to lovers,Angst, Fluff, flirting, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, soft dom reader, slight sub Steven, lots of communication.

WC-4.7k

A/N- I know this has taken me forever but I’m back with this story. I was feeling a little discouraged but decided to press on. For those that have stuck around I appreciate you so much.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2

Forgiveness is a sign that the person who has wronged you, means more to you than the wrong they have dealt. 

  Steven has said it so many times to tourists and people he’s guided that he loves living here. So much so that he thought he was starting to believe it himself. The city is nice, his flat is nice and everything is just as it should be. Except for days like this when he can’t imagine why he lives here. The umbrella does absolutely nothing to shield him from the sideways rain that pelts his jacket and stings his face as he runs up the steps of the museum. He puts a tight smile on as he reaches the top and closes it, trying to shake off any excess before entering the building. His previous annoyance leaves his brain so quickly he can’t even remember why he was getting so worked up. 

  You’re standing there, leaning against the welcome desk. He has to hide the flush running up his neck at the thought of practically having you memorized from behind. You’re wearing a flowy black dress with small gold hieroglyphics as the print. On anyone else it might look a little on the nose but on you it’s adorable. You're laughing and nodding your head as you speak in that palliative tone, like you’re addressing a toddler who just did something brave or new. He can see now why as he gets a glimpse of J.B. the head of security grinning at you pleased as punch. 

  Idiota

  “Relax, Jake he’s harmless.” 

  Why would the head of security be some harmless imbecile?

  Steven ignores him as he approaches the desk, J.B. waving like…well he can’t say it now or Jake would be right so he’ll just say enthusiastically. 

“Morning Steven.” The man is so smitten with you he actually greeted him by the proper name. 

  You stiffen at that and gather your things from the desk top. You don’t look his way as you offer a sincere smile to the other man. It pricks a little at his heart. 

  “It was nice meeting you James,I’ll be looking forward to the word of the day tomorrow.” You wave him off with your honey sweet tone and saunter away. 

  “You want to know the word of the day?” J.B. flips open a small booklet as Steven feels the panic rising in his gut. Did he do something? That night had been nothing short of magical and then you were gone. He knew you would be nervous and excited about your first day so he chalked it up to that when you didn’t return his texts or calls. He was obviously being stupidly optimistic that you had enjoyed the night in the same manner. 

  “Sorry mate, maybe tomorrow.” He scurries off trying to catch up with you without looking like he’s chasing you. 

  “It’s Kindred!” He yells over his shoulder as a few people look on in confusion.

  He shakes his head as he picks up his pace a little. You can’t move very fast in your cute strappy heels but you certainly try and that tears his heart a little more. He’s thankful the hallway is empty as he finally catches up to you, he gently grabs your elbow as you turn to him and he’s fully hemorrhaging now when he sees your eyes. 

  “Love what’s wrong?”

  You just shake your head and wipe your eyes. “I don’t want to cry on my first day.” A small laugh escapes you. “Well, I don’t want to cry anymore.” 

  Steven

  “Not now Marc.”

  He brushes his thumb against your cheeks, wiping a stray tear, he’s relieved you don’t pull away but you’ve got this far away look in your eyes. “Did I do something to upset you?” 

  Steven 

  “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  He seems distracted and genuinely concerned. You know it wasn’t in his nature to be mean, but you waited for so long. No note or sign that he would be back, or maybe he stepped out for coffee. You waited and waited until it started to feel like you couldn’t breathe. 

  “That morning.” You glance around making sure you are alone. “You were gone and I waited.” The tears start to flow again. It's so embarrassing to be crying in the hall on your first day. 

  Steven, it’s my fault 

  His eyes go wide for a moment as he regains his composure. He doesn’t want to immediately throw Marc under the bus so he scrambles for an explanation. 

  Blame Khonshu, he won’t even know

  DON'T BLAME ME WORM

  Steven ignores the giant bird at the end of the hallway, unsure of why he’s even here. “Well you see Love, sometimes Khonshu needs us at the last minute. I know that’s not an excuse but I promise it’ll never happen-“

  You cut off his rambling as you wrap your arms around him, nearly knocking the wind out of him in the process. 

  See I told you it would work. 

  You lean back looking up into his puppy dog eyes. “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts.” 

  “Of course not, never that. In fact I’d like to…we’d like to make it up to you.” He scrunches his nose and you wonder if Jake or maybe even Marc are listening. “Dinner, our place on Friday….I promise no waking up alone.” 

  You peek around him as you start to hear voices down the hall. Your lips meet his briefly as his hands start to wander. “ I’d love to.”You run away before you have a chance to see the awestruck look on his face. You don’t want to get caught kissing a coworker on your first day of your new job.  

  Why is he here?

  You don’t notice the bird leaning against the wall watching you intently as you enter the office now marked with your name on it. 

  ****

  Maybe it was the flirty texts that you kept sending each other all week, or the anticipation of not having seen them because you were so busy with taking on the new duties of your job. Perhaps the cute little notes they would leave under your office door has something to do with it. 

  My word of the day is peeved. 

Peeved that a bloke like j.b. Even thinks he has a chance. 

  You chuckle at the yellow post it that was slid under your door after lunch. It’s cute how Steven has absolutely no clue that you aren’t interested in each other in the least bit. J.B is sweet and unassuming but he doesn’t hold that same charm that you see in them. It is nice however to feel wanted and sought after. It wasn’t that you were trying to make them jealous but they deserved a little shake up after the stunt they pulled that first night you stayed over. 

  In all honesty you knew for a fact that your relationship was strictly platonic, having met the girl that caught his eye that led small exhibit tours. You may have had a direct hand in setting them up on their first date. 

  It didn’t stop you from relishing in the attention from Steven or Jake making the occasional unsolicited appearance at the museum despite their protests. Just to check on you. 

  It’s ironic how Marc catches on first…that day before your planned date when they enter the lobby and he can feel the heat rising in his chest at the sight of you leaning against the welcome desk. The knit brown dress hugging your body in all the right ways and those damn heels that he’s not sure how you can wear everyday and still manage to do your job expertly. 

  It’s then that it dawns on him how J.B. Is looking at you like someone he admires and not someone to be conquered. A prospective he’s never seen until this moment that a man could look at you simply as a friend or a companion. It startles him to think that he’s gone at this all wrong, maybe you look at them as a friend as well. Someone to help you along in your career and nothing more. 

  Marc doesn’t even realize he’s fronting until you catch his eye. Steven is a distant garbled voice in his ear the moment you smile at him. It’s obvious you’re the only one privy to their existence and he should be extremely grateful for your trust and the delicate way in which you handle them. You reach over the desk for a pen and post it as you scribble something down on it. 

  Oy, what do you think you’re doin mate?

  It’s obvious only to you how he squares his shoulders and straightens up. His eyes are clear and focused and he has this permanent smirk about him. The furrow of his brow is like Goldilocks and the three bears, him being smack dab in the middle. 

  Did you forget you don’t work at the museum?Steven pesters in his head but something keeps Marc here, pulled to you and whatever’s unfolding in front of him. 

  “Have fun with Laura, I look forward to hearing all about it on Monday.” You wink at J.B. and the man turns a shade of red that he didn’t think existed in the color wheel. 

  I don’t even hang around this long hermano. 

  J.B. tips his head to you as you round the corner closest to him at the desk. “Th…thanks again.”  He half stammers out but you give him grace. 

  “Don’t mention it James.” You lean in whispering something that Marc only catches the tail end of. It’s with a V remember. You pat him on the shoulder as you make your way towards your office, the echo of your heels clicking along the marble floors. 

  It leaves him utterly speechless as J.B. properly greets his head mate hello for the fifth time this week. The person he’s worked with for three years and could never get his name right and yet now somehow he has it perfectly down to a science. 

  He waves him off, not yet ready to relinquish the body to the true holder of the day. His adrenaline is too high and he’s too set on figuring you out. He was determined to keep you at arms length and now it’s as though he can’t be away from you. He stumbles a little, drawing a few eyes as Steven tries to forcibly take the body. 

  Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast because I can’t hold him off much longer. 

  He picks up his pace a little trying not to seem hasty as you’re almost to your office door. Moving quickly and yet gliding slowly all at once. 

  He ignores the bird once more perched in the corner of the hallway, now a constant presence in your daily lives. Annoying them even in silence as he watches and judges their every move. 

  You stop just before the door and turn to face him, your hand reaching out for him and upon impulse he can’t help but take it. It’s like his body is not his own of course it’s not but in so many different ways. He feels this pull towards you like he would combust if he didn’t follow your every move. 

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you later.” Your breath fans across his face as he closes the gap, desperately wanting to open the door behind you and do unspeakable things to you in that office marked head curator with your name not yet etched in the paint. 

  All he can manage is a nod as a small post-it is slipped into his palm. His heart beats at a dangerous pace as he feels Steven pull to the front just as your office door closes in his face. 

  Word of the day Lecherous

  Steven stands there and stares at it, your perfect handwriting and the curvy letters not making sense in his brain. The brain that he shares with two others who seemed to have stalled at the word. 

  He hurries as fast as he can, glancing down at the watch on his arm. Fifteen minutes until his first tour starts. Plenty of time.

  Just look it up on your phone 

  “Oh well now, where’s the fun in that?” 

  Jake just chuckles at the scene unfolding before him as Steven races to the Museum Library. Heading straight to the dictionaries and forgoing the questions from the librarian who usually knew what he was shopping for.

  “Oxford, Oxford…” he drags his thumb along the bindings until he finds the one he wants. He flips the pages open, finally landing on the word. “Lecherous, having or showing…” The rest of the words die on his throat. 

  Strong feelings of sexual desire. 

  ****

  You’re not sure what came over you this morning, what could’ve possibly possessed you to be so forward with Steven. The growing sexual tension between you has reached a fever pitch and he completely took you by surprise when you arrived tonight at their flat. His mouth was on you before you stepped through the door. The look in his eyes when he would try to focus on his task at hand as every piece of clothing was peeled from your body. 

  The ravenous way he licks up your neck as he has you pinned against the door, the feral sounds coming out of his mouth as you palm at his boxers having nearly undressed him in a hurry. 

  You need him in a way that scares you. Your hands roam over his tan, toned chest as something flashes in your eyes. It’s brief but doesn’t go unnoticed by his head mates. Steven too caught up in finally having you all to himself. 

  “Steven.” You pant against his mouth as he holds you suspended. “Bed…please.” 

  You yelp as he throws you over his shoulder. It still amazes you that this soft spoken, bibliophile has so many secrets. Never wanting to divulge too much into his night time activities. You suppose the job description comes with superhuman strength.

  You giggle as he throws you down in the bed. A bed you’ve been in before under much different circumstances. Always the gentleman letting you have the bed when you stayed over as “just a friend”. You hope after tonight the latter changes into something more. 

  You feel a little exposed as he hesitates to join you on the bed. His eyes roaming over your body as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

  Really he’s thinking how lucky he is. How he could’ve possibly ended up here with you in his bed, looking at him with that slight nervous smile. He hates making you squirm but he loves knowing you’re wanting this just as much as he does. A few deep breaths won’t hurt to keep the lion in the cage a little longer. 

  “You are absolutely gorgeous love.” He licks his bottom lip as he dips down onto the bed. He leans down kissing up your thighs and stomach as you let out a contented sigh. 

  He kisses up your jaw and your lips meet his all soft and warm. His chest blooms with pride as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and you instinctively lift your hips. “So good for me love.” 

  You gasp as his fingers rub through your slit, groaning at how wet you are for him. You tug on his hair as he dips two fingers in, giving you no time to adjust as he curls them hitting that spot that makes you go dumb. 

  “Fuck…Steven.” You moan as you arch your back into him. You can feel the wet patch rub against your thigh as he ruts into you. 

  He’s making you sing, like he’s known your body for years. He pumps them in and out as you cry out his name louder, plummeting towards your first orgasm. You’re both too caught up to question why he’s working with expert precision. Like a book he’s read a million times he’s got you memorized. 

  The way you say his name spurs him on even more. The feeling is intoxicating, having you at his mercy. The louder you get the more he can feel the growing presence looming in the background. The ones that have been so quiet as to not disturb this moment. They never discussed being around and yet it turns him on even more knowing they can see how he’s got you all worked up for him. 

  Perhaps he should tell you but he wouldn’t dare ruin this moment. As you grip right onto his shoulders growing closer to your end. You whimper softly in his ear as he presses his thumb down on your clit. A soft cry as your climax washes over you like a warm bath. 

  You’re bathed in a soft sheen of sweat as you come down from your high. Your body is so hot…yes you are beautiful but physically you’re burning up. It would be concerning to anyone else if you didn’t look like you were in absolute heaven. He kisses your forehead as you smile sweetly at him. He’d be perfectly content with this being all you did tonight, but when you pull him down to you licking into his mouth as you pull down his boxers he knows you have other things in mind. 

  “Steven, can I ride you?” The most sinful words leave your mouth the most innocent look on your face. 

  Mierda 

  He nods frantically ignoring the first thing Jakes said in hours as you switch places. You swing your leg over his hip as your hands are on his chest, gently guiding him down against the pillows. You lean forward kissing him as you rub your pussy along his impressive length, not yet wanting to put it in. He groans against your mouth as you grind your hips nearly coming at the sweet friction.

  “I’m on the pill, unless you want to wear a condom.” 

  “No!” It’s said more desperately than he intended as he grips your waist helping you rub deliciously along his cock. “I need to feel you.” 

  You slide forward just enough to notch his tip at your entrance before you sink down, taking him all the way to the hilt in one swift movement. He chokes on his words as you bottom out. Pushing against him to sit fully upright. His hands are sure to leave bruises as he fights the urge not to come just looking at you, seated perfectly in his lap. 

  Your eyes are hooded as you wait for him to catch his breath. One hand comes to squeeze your breast as you bite your bottom lip, clenching down on him. 

   She’s a fucking goddess 

  “Ya she is.” 

  It wasn’t meant to be said out loud but you don’t seem to notice or mind that you might be being watched by more than his eyes. 

  You experimentally roll your hips, reveling in the way he looks so wrecked beneath you. The slow drag of him through your walls as you trace your hand along his jawline. He may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and right now he’s at your mercy. 

  He’s babbling nonsense as you pick up your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his strong hands lift you. He throws his head back as he meets you thrust for thrust and you’re not sure how much longer you can last like this. 

  The word Jake is looking for is completely lost on him. Impressed doesn’t seem to cut it at the moment as he watches you take what you’ve wanted for months. He has to hand it to Steven for lasting this long with the way your tits bounce and you moan his name he’s not sure he’d be fairing the same. 

  Marc knows he fucked up the other day and yet here you are, all forgiveness and peace. You’ve been that way since the beginning, since that first day they met you. Any small part of him that was trying to keep you at arms length because of how things ended with Layla is out the window. 

  “Steven…I’m so close.” You whine out as he pulls you down to him. 

  His arms wrap around you tight as he pulls you into a messy kiss, his hips punching every breath out of your lungs as he takes control from the bottom. It’s intoxicating how he grunts in your ear with exertion as he hits that spot over and over. Your pussy clenching around his cock as he bites down on your shoulder. 

  You hope he’s not gone deaf from the scream you let out as you reach your climax. 

  “Oh fuck, love where?” 

  “Inside me Steven.” 

  He groans as he spills himself deep inside you, an obscene sound of skin on skin as you ride out your high echoes through the room. He rubs your back whispering praise into your ear as you shake in his arms. 

  “Steven that was…”

  “I know love…it was for me too.” He kisses you softly as you bask in the afterglow. Not yet wanting to break this spell. You wonder what he’s thinking right now as he smiles up at you, brushing your hair back from your face. 

  Steven rolls you slightly to deposit you under the sheets. He retreats to the bathroom, running a warm washcloth under the tap and catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. 

  Bravo hermano

  Not that he needed the praise but it makes him swell with pride nonetheless. 

  You’re already nearly asleep when he returns to clean you up, gently brushing the towel over you trying not to wake you too much. You look perfectly divine in their bed and he knows they’re all thinking it. Even if it’s too soon, they hope that this will be a permanent thing. 

  You stir a little as he slides under the covers, wrapping his arms around you as you nestle closer to him. 

  “Sleep love, I’ll be here in the morning.” 

  ****

  There's a slight knock on your chamber doors before you beckon the visitor to come in. You recognize the small stature of your servant girl but her face is shielded by the large cartouche adorned with flowers. She sets it down on your table along with the rest you’ve received each day this week, which would make this the fifth. 

  She sends you a knowing glance as she sets them right to face the sun shining bright from the west doors. “Hathor, you must have done something right.” 

  “Watch yourself.” You point at her. “I’ve done nothing of the sort.” 

  “My apologies.” She dips her head as she bows to you. 

  You approach her and lift her chin slowly with your finger, the timid look on her face is not one you’re used to. You weren’t like the others and it came off harsher than intended. “You’re forgiven, I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea.” 

  “Forgive me….but Khonshu is hardly one to try this hard.” 

  You laugh at her forwardness but decide she needs a lesson in things above her comprehension. 

  “My dear, that’s exactly my point. He’s trying very hard and it’s all for me. Why would I make it so easy for him to stop trying?” You release her chin as she weighs your words. “You can go now, I won’t be needing your assistance until the feast.” 

  She bows her head and exits your chambers leaving you to admire the newest addition of flowers. 

  The scent of jasmine fills the air as you run your finger along the orange mandrake petals. In the center of each ornate bouquet was a large blue lotus flower. Perhaps a coincidence on his part that it happened to be your favorite. 

  You pluck out a small sealed papyrus placed in the soil. You brush your fingers along the delicate paper not wanting to miss a detail. 

  My dearest Hathor, 

  I have waited a thousand years for you, and I will wait a thousand more. 

  Mer Khonshu 

  ****

  You wake just as you did that first morning after spending the night with Steven but this feels much different. You’re wrapped up a little tighter than when you fell asleep. You’re hugging a pillow that must be theirs as the smell of musk and pine hits your senses. 

  Another smell is working its way to you, nutmeg and vanilla with a hint of coffee. You sit up and stretch your sore muscles and find a small pile of clothes next to you on the bed. You can see a shirtless Steven humming something in the kitchen, his back muscles rippling as he stirs something in the bowl. His sweats are hung low on his waist and his shoulders are  squared back and for a brief moment you wonder who you are actually looking at. 

  It sounds like he’s talking to someone…more like bickering so you take this moment to slink out of bed and freshen up in the bathroom. 

  You stare at your reflection in the mirror and to your surprise you look refreshed. Dare you say even glowing, despite needing a shower. You splashed some water on your face and used your spare toothbrush that they insisted you leave here and it dawns on you how normal this all feels. Over the months you’ve weaved your way into their lives and they gladly accepted whatever form of this they could get. 

  You pull on the gray sweatpants and breathe in the fresch scent of the gently used museum gift shop t-shirt Steven lent you before pulling it over your head. 

  You notice when you exit the bathroom he’s wearing a shirt now and you silently wish he was still shirtless so you could run your hands along his toned chest. His posture is much more relaxed now as he cautiously smiles at you. “I hope you like French toast.” He says as he serves you up a plate of golden brown goodness. 

  “I happen to love French toast, although I’m sure whatever you make would be amazing.” He blushes at the compliment as you take a seat at the kitchen island, not wasting a moment to dig in. In your haste you both had forgotten dinner the night before and you didn’t realize how starving you were. 

  You moan as the syrupy sweet flavor hits your tongue and his eyes widen a little as he leans against the counter gauging your reaction. A quick glance to his left that you almost miss and he clears his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for breakfast darling.” 

  “Oh.” 

  “Ugh ya…Marc figured it would be best I don’t burn the house down trying to impress you.” He nervously rubs his hand along the back of his neck. 

  “Well consider me impressed, and tell Marc to stop cooking for me and disappearing.”You reach over, taking his other hand pulling him towards you as he kindly obliges. You spin the chair as he settles in the spot between your legs. His hands instinctively go to your waist as his warm breath fans across your face. “Steven…can I kiss you?” 

  He huffs out a little in laughter as you tilt your head in question. “Love, after last night. You never have to ask.” 

  He closes the space between you as his lips meet yours. The taste of mint and syrup mixing together as he cups your jaw with his palm. Your chest blooms as you revel in the way he already has you like putty in his hands. It’s a moment before you break away for air and if you have a repeat of last night you’ll die from starvation. 

  “I hope you slept well.” 

  You humm as you resume your breakfast, he’s leaning against the counter again, completely content with just watching you enjoy your breakfast. “I did…but I keep having these bizarre dreams.” You think back for a moment just staring at some object on the counter. 

  “Care to share it with me.” He asks as the presence of both head mates are at attention. 

  “Tell me more of your god Khonshu?” 

Prev/Next

🌘Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌗

Taglist-@chichimisaki@missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor @faretheeoscar @22carolina08 @villainfan @clairewinchester14 @brighterthanlonelywords @astrosphereblog @casa-boiardi

[fake-bleach]

all mine | miguel o'hara x reader

summary: You have an unspoken rule with Miguel O’Hara. He takes care of you, he provides for you, and in return, you let him take what he wants.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), literally porn no plot, unprotected piv sex, implications of free use but also not rly, slight choking, dirty talk, roughish sex, no foreplay (straighttt to it), use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, girl, etc), coming inside, i think that's it lolll, !no atsv spoilers!

i know this isn't p but i watched spiderverse last night and had to get him out of my system + i adore oscar isaac <3 working on two joel fics rn so expect those :)

ao3 link | masterlist

The ruffling of your sheets weren't nearly enough to wake you from your sleep. But, the pressure of Miguel's body on yours was.

It always was.

"Hey, baby.. It's me," he whispers in your ear, his hands and arms practically consuming you as they roam across your entire body. With you laying flat on your stomach, his hips and chest press so tightly against you.

It runs chills down your spine; the force of his pent up cock in his rigid suit as the sultry voice fills your hazy mind, barely wakening from your deep slumber. His lips plant desperate kisses on the back of your neck, lowering the more he lifts your flimsy pajama shirt up and up and up.

He never did really like you wearing anything to sleep.

Your sluggish murmurs barely register to him, a soft, “Mmphf," and "Miguel.." making him almost instinctively say the same words he always does when he comes to you.

"Yeah.. Missed you too, cariño." He mutters out, his hands already reaching for your shorts to lower them along with your panties, not taking a single second to waste. The small kisses he plants on your lower back never slow, giving you that bit of reassurance which almost sends a surge of energy through you.

He was always so needy with you; never putting much effort to make any small talk. He was here for a reason and you knew that.

But, you didn't mind it one bit.

The cool air from the sudden exposure on your skin sends shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble just enough to force a faint laugh out of Miguel's throat.

It's that same laugh that makes you crave him; the deep, heavy tone of it making your eyes flutter open with need already soaring through you and your core.

His fingers trail down to your inner thighs, almost teasing you with the gentle glide of the tips, wanting to force those little noises out of your mouth, which he successfully does. Your faint whines just make him grin, knowing that you need him.. just as much as he needs you.

He drifts them over your soft folds, nearly hissing out at how wet you already were. It makes him chuckle, your whimpers growing louder the more he touches you. "Already soaked for me, honey? Bet you were just waitin' for me to come see you.." He whispers out lowly, his lustful eyes fixed onto your glistening cunt.

His fingers take their time, faintly pressing against your entrance and swiping through your lips, gathering the wet slick that you were so graciously providing for him.

It always makes this so much easier for him.

You moan out, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his body and the movement of his free hand releasing his cock from his suit, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He desperately guides the tip of it through your folds, getting ready to indulge himself into your warm heat. The feeling of his cock pressing into you makes you groan, gripping onto the sheets as butterflies flow through your stomach and core, hole clenching around nothing.

You needed him so bad already, just like you always did.

Mouth falling open, you whimper out, "please.." and all it does is make him laugh, smirking as he glances up at you. "Need me that bad, baby? Barely getting started.." He rasps out, nearly pressing the head of his cock into your cunt, but just enough to get him a taste of you.

He groans out, his hands now moving up to squeeze your ass eagerly before slapping it. The harsh sound and the sting of it makes you cry out, thrusting your hips against the sheets in attempt to get some kind of friction.

"Fuck, missed this pretty pussy.. Gonna cherish it.. fuck it.. just like you need, honey." He lets out with a faint hiss, taking his time to start pushing his cock inside of your tight hole. The girth of him makes your walls constrict around him, gripping onto him tightly as he presses himself into you, each inch making your jaw fall wider and wider.

You've been at this too many times with him, but you never get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

It doesn't take too long until his hips are flush against your ass, the tip of his cock piercing so deeply inside of you and filling you up to the brim. It has you letting out small pants, eyes almost rolling all the way to the back of your head at how heavy the air feels around you, how full you feel.

Your face lays on the bed, the side of your cheek pressed against your pillow as your eyes gaze onto Miguel's hips and large body nearly covering you entirely. He licks his drying lips, staring up at you for a moment to look at your face.

He coos at you, almost patronizingly. "Too much?" he teases, "Fucked you so many times, baby.. n' your cunt's still so tight around me."

His head tilts down to stare at the sight of your walls wrapped around him and slightly pulls out as he lifts your thigh up a bit, just enough to see you clench around him involuntarily. It makes him groan; the feeling of your warm pussy enough to wash all of his problems away.

That's why he was here, anyway.

His hips begin to create an unrelenting pace, slowly yet surely making your entire body push and pull into the mattress over and over again, every force of his cock hitting you harder each time.

The echoing smack of his hips slapping against your ass and thighs fill the room entirely, along with your moans growing louder with each thrust. The recurring sting of his skin leaves you breathless, letting out small gasps as you grip onto the sheets tighter.

Miguel doesn't take a second to rest, making sure he slams his cock into your cunt to the brim, using every inch of your hole as if it were only his to use.

He lets out short, hoarse moans each time he enters you. The squelching noises your soaked pussy gives out makes him smack your ass, your slick coating his cock and nearly running down your thighs.

The sounds make your cheeks burn, his mocking laugh forcing a groan out of you as he moves his body forward to lay his chest on your back now, the weight of him keeping your waist and stomach flush into the bed.

The pressure of him feels intoxicating, your breath hitching as he leans his mouth towards your ear. His grunts are the only thing that you can hear now, along with the faint sounds of the constant slaps of his hips against you. It's so filthy, yet you crave it every time with him.

His grunts now turn into whispers; faint, heavy breaths that you can barely process from how full and fucked out you felt.

It's almost like you're going in and out of consciousness, hardly registering what he was saying, until you hear, "Good fucking girl.. Lettin' me use you like this, fuck, taking such good care of me.."

You whimper out in response, his words making that heat in your stomach and core rise. The praise, yet degrading things that Miguel tells you always leave you wanting more.

His hips begin to slow down now, instead taking his time to pull his cock out of you, letting the tip of it rest against your entrance. Lifting his head from your shoulder, his eyes travel from your bare skin back to your ass. He shoves himself back into you, harder with each thrust so you can feel every inch of him, taking you completely.

You cry out at the intrusion, the harsh force making your eyes roll back as you whine out his name. The push of his cock reaches that spot deep inside of you, forcing your eyes wide open at the overwhelming sensation.

His name on your tongue drives him insane, lifting one of his hands from your ass to reach underneath the weight of your head, wrapping his fingers around your throat. He feels your heart pounding beneath his fingertips, his grip on you tightening just to see you gasp with his eyes fixed on your face now.

He moans your name, his coarse voice making you tighten around him, "There we go, sweetheart.. Think I hit a spot, yeah?" He murmurs out, your groans giving him the answer he needed. The repetitive movement of his thrusts never relent, Miguel making sure that the pace and aim of his cock stay the same.

Your body shudders at the feeling, sending waves of pleasure through your core as you feel him buried to the hilt. You breathe out, desperation seething out through your teeth, "Yeah, Miguel, s-shit, yeah..", feeling your orgasm build up the more he fucks you.

"That's it, honey, let me hear you say it.. Who's fuckin' you this good? Who's gonna make you come, baby?" He pants, thrusts growing faster as he chases his own release, needing to come with you.

Another smack of his large hand on your ass makes you gasp out, eyes shutting tightly as you force the words out of your lips, "You, Miguel, fuck, s'always you.. no one else.."

Your confession goes straight to Miguel's cock, pride growing at the knowledge that you give yourself to him and only him. He grits his teeth, groans slipping out of his mouth while he reaches between your stomach connected to the bed, pressing his fingers against your clit.

"Yeah, baby? I'm the only one who can fuck this pretty pussy, that right?" He urges out of you, hardly processing his thoughts before he can speak them, "You're mine to use? Mine to fuck when I want, huh?"

His words mixed with the pressure of his fingertips on your clit, pressing small, tight circles on it has you moaning out spurs of nonsense; mindless, fucked out noises, with the way his cock slams inside of you over and over again. You feel so full, the heat and coiling inside of your stomach and core increasing.

You whine out, biting your swollen lips, "F-Fuck! Yeah, yeah, m' yours Miguel, all fucking yours.." you breathe out, "Yours to fuck, whenever you want.. Yours to use; whatever you want, Miguel.."

Admitting that shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

You never thought you'd be able to speak like that, much less degrade yourself in such a way; not until he came into your life.

Not until he ruined you for everyone else.

His chest presses tightly against your back, lips back in your ear as he grunts into it, "That's my girl.. knowing your fuckin' place, that's right.." His hands press into the small of your back, forcing your stomach into the bed. You didn't think it was possible for you to feel even more full, but the way he buries his cock to the hilt has you seeing stars.

The quick circles on your clit with the force of his hips has your stomach tightening, coiling up as your walls constrict around his cock, making you come without any warning at all.

Your head lifts, pants and moans escaping your throat with your eyes shut. Miguel's voice encourages you, his fingers on your clit slowing, though his hips never let up. He lifts his chest off from your back to gain better leverage now, hands gripping onto your ass as he pounds himself into you.

The pressure of his cock into your sensitive, spent cunt has you wailing out, whining at the overstimulation. Miguel just uses you and your abused hole, chasing his own release as his cock twitches. "Shit, honey, gonna come, gonna fill you up, fuck," he groans out in rushed breaths.

You clench around him involuntarily, the spasms of your pussy and orgasm hardly to your own control, letting out, "Fill me up, baby, ruin me, please.."

Your words were enough to push Miguel right to the edge, the sudden halt of his thrusts making you gasp out as he buries himself deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick streams of come. He lets himself fall against you, chest pressed into your back with his hips up to the hilt of your hole.

The mix of your heavy breaths and his pants fill your ears and the entire room, the air filled with the scent of sex as you both fall from your highs. Your chest fills with air, heaving up and down with each breath you take as you stare at Miguel, taking in his figure entirely.

You could never truly allow yourself to actually feel for him; you knew that would never be wise, but you can't help the words that escape your mouth.

"Stay tonight?"

Miguel just lifts his head to look into your eyes, giving you a small, tired smile. "Yeah, honey.. Thank you..” he breathes with a press of his lips to your shoulder, “I needed this.”

"I know."

-

a/n: idek if this made any sense bc i wrote it so quick but idgaf i need him <3

-

reblogs are appreciated!

send me requests & i might write it for you! :)

wanna be on a taglist? fill out the google form in my pinned post!

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, brief mentions of sex, oral sex.

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 2 PART3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel that comes home tired of another day at the spider society, dealing with more than he can take on.

Needy Miguel that feels the weight of the multiverse on his shoulders and feels empty inside when he opens the door of his room and nobody is there to greet him and comfort him.

Needy Miguel that drags his feet to bed exhausted, disengages his suit and lays flat naked on the bed, his body drained of energy.

Needy Miguel that tries to drift off to sleep but thoughts of you earlier on the day when you were together on a mission start invading his head, making him hot and bothered.

Needy Miguel that even though he’s tired and he know he’ll regret this in the morning gives his already hard cock a couple of testing tugs and immediately moans and squeezes his throbbing member at the thought of how good the curve of your ass looks in your spider suit.

Needy Miguel that dry fucks his fist angrily out of frustration of not having anyone that can satisfy him, not having a warm body against his, at the frustration of not being able to tell you how he feels about you, about not having the opportunity of fucking your sweet cunt instead of his own fist like every other day when he finds himself at this exact same situation.

Needy Miguel that stitches his eyebrows together as he thinks about how your moans would sound probably like heaven as he fucks you senseless, picturing your legs spreading out for him, your inner thighs full of bruises that he left after eating you out and making you come on his tongue at least 3 times before he buried his fat cock deep inside you.

Needy Miguel that decides to finally reach out for the lube and drip down some drops, moaning and arching his back at the sensation of the cold substance against his hot head.

Needy Miguel that likes to edge himself, likes to fuck his fist fast to then slow down and just rub his thumb against the underside of his weeping swollen red tip making his legs shiver and whimper in need.

Needy Miguel that plays with his balls with his free hand, pulls them down, kneads at them, stretches them and brings them together as he feels a sweet relief from that.

Needy Miguel that changes positions in bed and closes his eyes, resting his feet flat on the bed to meet each violent and fast tug of his hand with a thrust of his hips as a loud groan erupts from his chest and resonates all over his penthouse.

Needy Miguel that was too tired to even notice that when he threw his gizmo next to him in bed, he accidentally called you, the live feed option turning on, making you witness everything; hearing each moan and sweet sound he made, praising your name over and over again until finally loads and loads of thick cum ran down his knuckles when he met his release.

Fair for me to say you’re gonna probably have an interesting chat with him tomorrow.

AN: This is my first post writing smut for Miguel, I had a revelation about him after I woke up knowing that I dreamed about him but sadly I don’t remember what it was about 😭😭

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fics Masterlist

[whaddayadothatfor]

Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

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

[psychedelic-ink]

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. 

[ivystoryweaver]

I’ll take one of each

Part 2

[jayke0]

Oscar Isaac says it's ok to cry 💙💙💙

[odetodilfs]

How they like to get railed...

Oscar Isaac characters

A/N: This is just filth, as well as the Oscar Isaac obsession hitting me hard. Anyway, these are a bunch of Oscar Isaac characters and headcanons on how they like to be fucked, enjoy!! Characters in this list: Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Poe Dameron, Santiago García and Miguel O'Hara.

This is obviously nsfw.

Top male reader. Sub or dom depending on the character.

Steven Grant

Steven’s preferences depend on what you want, he’ll do anything you want.

He loves it when you go gentle on him, treating him like he’s made of glass, running your hands through his hair.

You two can last hours like this, indulging on each other’s bodies, biting at each other softly.

These sessions tend to also be filled with some soft laughter and many, many praises, it’s your way of letting Steven know how much you love him, how pretty you think he is…

He whimpers a lot, he’s still unused to the amount of love you give him during these moments and every kiss is electrifying.

It’s not unusual to end up with faint scratches on your back after a session like this, he always apologizes profusely the day after but you honestly love how you make your man feel so amazing that he digs his nails into your back.

His favorite position is the good old missionary, he just loves how he gets a close look at you.

Sometimes though, he wants it rough and you give it to him. 

Here, he doesn’t whimper, instead he moans and sometimes even screams. 

As for where he wants you to cum, inside him is the go to place, he feels completely yours when you do that and loves feeling it leak out of him.

Marc Spector 

Marc is a bit of a different story, he’s more dominant over you. 

He’d love edging you with his hole, he knows how much you want to cum and he doesn’t let you, he’s slightly sadistic. 

You’re his best stress reliever, a service top is all Marc’s ever wanted. 

He’d definitely call you a “good boy” while he rides you, if you’re lucky, he lets you hold his waist. 

He looks you in the eyes a lot and very intensely, it's to assert further control on you.

His favorite position would be riding, it’s the way he can have control over you. 

But sometimes, he just wants to be fucked hard just like Steven, to fuck every thought out of his pretty little head, only this time the scratches on your back are deeper, more noticeable and redder, which is still hot…

He’s not much for foreplay, he prefers to get right into the action, he’s stressed a lot of the time and only more anticipation for him doesn’t help at all, give the man some dick please. 

He grunts a lot during sex, "Fuck yeah" he'd grunt while you pound deeply into him, knowing it's best not to stop.

He also likes sucking you off… which makes sense, considering he loves you cumming on his face while he looks at you with the most dominant and intense eyes.

Jake Lockley 

The most feral, deranged and dominant out of all the moon boys by far.

It’s not unusual for Jake to tie you up and edge you for literal hours, surrendering to him as you fill his sadistic urges.

He gets off on your begging, the fact that your cock borderline aches. 

Sometimes he doesn’t even cum, he just likes to see you weak.

Other times, all he wants to do is use you. 

His favorite position is where he rides you and he bounces furiously up and down your cock, normally with tied hands, he likes to have you vulnerable.

He wants to ride you, cum first, then you cum inside him and he leaves.

However, a lot of the time when he gets up he kisses your temple and says “good boy” before he leaves, cum running down his legs.

It makes you feel so used, like a toy almost, and you can’t act like you don’t like it. 

Poe Dameron 

Poe is the term “power bottom” personified.

He knows everything that he has to do to break you, and so he can use you for his pleasure.

That cocky little grin of his… not even while getting fucked he doesn’t have it on him.

The way he’d throw his head back and he’d say “Ahh.. fuck yeah…” while riding you.

He’s a huge fan of riding you, but sometimes he lets you fuck yourself dumb with his ass in mating press, pumping load after load into the man.

He wants to hear your pretty whimpers, nothing turns on Poe more than his top whimpering.

He’d let you indulge yourself with his body, licking and sucking everywhere, he especially loves it when you play with his nipples while he rides you.

He uses the term “good boy” for you a lot during sex. He knows it can make you crazy and submit even further to him.

He just has such an effect on you that gets you craving him, and the craving gets so pent up you have no hope of dominating the man, considering you get so subby as soon as his walls wrap around your cock.

He’d want you to cum inside him, as a sign that he owns you, a subtle reminder that even if you’re the top in the relationship.. you’re his bitch.

Santiago García 

He’s a huge switch, sex between you two is improvised, you decide who’s dominant when the time comes, normally you just fall into whatever role is natural in that specific time.

Unlike Marc, he’s all up for foreplay, he loves sex to last as long as humanly possible between you two.

He speaks Spanish if he's really needy for you, "Por favor.. por favor" and if he has an amazing orgasm, he'll scream "¡Te amo!" sometimes.

His weak spot is the scar on his neck, it’s the one spot that when you kiss makes him instantly yours.

It’s amazing for him, for some time, he can let go of everything haunting him and he can focus on just you and your dick in him.

He used to be very big on doggystyle but his knees have gotten worse with the years, so it’s only a rare occurrence, but he’s found a new muse: cuddlefucking. 

His orgasms are always so strong when he’s with you, and he clenches so tightly around you. 

When he decides to be dominant, he almost talks you through it and he gives you a look that makes you only more and more obedient with each thrust…

When he decides to be submissive, he has a similar air to Steven, it’s very touchy sex where you wrap your arms around him.

His neck is the best place to kiss while you fuck him, and the vibration of his whimpers on you just tops it off, you love making your man feel good.

The cuddling normally gets you too lazy to pull out, so you cum inside, however sometimes he likes to swallow your load.

Miguel O’Hara 

(I know he’s not REALLY an Oscar Isaac character, but he’s voiced by him and Oscar seems to like him a lot so I guess he’s part of the gang now)

Poor little baby needs his stress to be pounded out of his pretty head.

He’s the biggest fan of rough sex, it’s rare you two have a soft session the whole time. But not like you mind, you love seeing him weak while you fuck him into oblivion.

Miguel’s prostate is extremely sensitive, which leads to him grunting loudly and screaming if you’re in private. 

He’s submissive most of the time, having someone else have to take control is a stress reliever for him, but he can power bottom sometimes.

It’s not hard to make him go cock drunk, especially after heavy teasing. He just wants to be mercilessly pounded by you.

He’s very sensitive in his nipples too, he can cum from stimulation there alone…

His favorite position is mating press, you just overpower him so gracefully.

When he’s a power bottom, he rides you in reverse cowgirl, he knows how crazy you are for his ass and feeds into that.

He loves it when you cum inside him, he feels like he’s yours when you do that. Sometimes, he even plugs his ass so he can keep inside of him.

[wriitingwoes79]

Careful, He Bites

Miguel O’Hara x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: You’re FWB with the ever-elusive vigilante Spider-Man (2099) who unfortunately, for you, is not too fond of being ghosted.

Content Warnings: dom!Miguel, sub!reader, face sitting, biting, overstimulation, webfluid!bondage, dirty talk (and in español también !!🤭)

WC: 645 (ik ik it’s short my bad lol)

AN: heavily unedited and my Spanish is rusty (gotta love being a no sabo puerto rican ) so I apologize for that!! part 2 maybe? who knows lol

MDNI!!!

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, your roommate’s photo and caller ID popping up. In your current state, you would just have to let the call go to voicemail—it’s not like you would be able to answer now or any time soon, anyways.

Especially since your thighs were bound by thick muscular arms (and ropes of webfluid) while Miguel’s tongue and lips flicked and sucked over your clit hungrily. The obscenely wet sounds emanating from your thighs held much more sway than the buzzing phone to your right.

Wave after wave of pleasure lapped over you as Miguel forced orgasm after orgasm from you. Your thighs shook around his head, and you squirmed as you felt the familiar rise of arousal leading towards another release.

“Ah!” You cried as you felt Miguel’s teeth lightly rake over your clit, quivering from the sensation. It was a warning from him: take it.

Sit there and take it.

Dios mío, you absolutely couldn’t take another orgasm—your clit was beyond sensitive, overly aware of every rough flick and wet swirl of his tongue as he licked up everything that dripped from between your thighs. His soft groans didn’t help the situation either, soft vibrations from his lips and throat running along your now-aching pussy.

Miguel’s hand tightened on your thighs, hard enough that you were sure the marks would be there by the time you made it back to your apartment.

This had to be a punishment, you thought. How orgasms could even be considered a punishment you didn’t know but you knew the roughness, the little care for how much you ached (despite the overflow of pleasure) had to be some sort of retaliation.

Sure, you hadn’t talked to Miguel in over a week, and sure, you had a blind date with a coworker of your roommate’s but that was nothing! Miguel was just a nice little friends with benefits.

Well…a vigilante friend with benefits.

A vigilante who swung you into his apartment, tearing your panties off with his fanged teeth and trapped you over his face without even taking his suit off—he’d merely lifted the mask up to free his lips and tongue for your torment. You hated how much it turned you on to see his lips and the tip of his nose peeking out from the blue and red suit material.

The orgasm rising in you once more was enough cause for you to squirm more, trying to ease off the side of his face. Miguel’s grip tightened and his lips left from your clit to trace your inner thigh. In seconds, his teeth—his fangs specifically, gripped the soft fleshy part of your inner thighs and pain sparked there. He bit, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to keep you as still as you could manage.

Hard enough to leave marks for you to find later.

“No te muevas,” he growled against you, his lips finding your clit once more, “you can take it, amor.” You whined at the sensation, his lips and gruff voice against your sensitive pussy, the way the ‘r’ in “amor” rolled so delicately off his tongue and onto your clit.

“Puedes hacer uno más,” he said and continued to devour you as if it were the only sustenance he needed to survive. Within seconds, the orgasm came bursting from you, your thighs dripping desire and release which Miguel lapped up with ease. Your entire body shook from the effort and you slumped over, legs tangled on Miguel’s shoulders from the ties still taut and biting into your skin.

Your phone buzzed again and Miguel eased himself you, pulling you free from the webfluid ties without a second thought. He picked up your phone, answering it and held it to your ear,

“Tell her you won’t be coming home just yet, cosita linda. I’m not finished with you.”

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Quick question but has anyone painted that, but with Jake and Khonshu instead?

(omg I just noticed he's also on the newspaper!)

[barbiedragon]

Duke Leto Atreides NSFW Alphabet

(I'm dipping my toe into the Dune fandom)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Leto loves to have his partner rest on his chest after sex, stroking their body as they come down from a post-coital high. Will ensure both he and his partner are cleaned after

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s a big, big, big ass man. Loves to squeeze and slap the area, delighting in the squeals of his partner. He’s proud of his entire physique but will get a special shiver when his partner wraps their fingers around his biceps. Also enjoys his partner running their fingers through his hair

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Doesn’t mind if things get a bit messy. Loves to pump his partner full, and watching it leak out, will finish down their throat or splatter their chest/tits.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Adores the sight of his partner on their knees for him, especially if they are wearing a collar

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Prides himself in his experience. He absolutely knows what he’s doing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style, lotus, reverse cowgirl/cowgirl, flatiron

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tends to take the moment seriously, not an overly humorous man in general

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keeps himself trimmed so it’s not too wild but prefers to keep it natural (i.e. the beard) 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Leto is a fan of a snuggle after, making sure to tend to his partner

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

On occasion will engage if he’s feeling particularly stressed, prefers the company of his partner or concubine 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, impact play, breeding, hair pulling, breeding, creampie, edging, overstimming

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Prefers his more intense trysts to remain in the privacy of his bedroom, but for a quickie or a fun time, he can be coaxed into exploring locations outside or various areas of his lodgings. Does enjoy bending his partner over a table to fuck them

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When he’s riding the high of feeling respected in his position and being acknowledged. A flirty look from his partner will usually send a stirring through him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not a big fan of putting himself in a submissive position, not into scat or piss

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Absolutely loves to receive and enjoys watching his partner deep-throat his cock. Though he is skilled at giving, loves the sound of his partner falling apart against his tongue

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood, he enjoys both. When taking his time, he loves to trace his tongue and mouth various parts of his partner, making it feel very sensual

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Is up for a cheeky little quickie every now and then

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Is an adventurous man and is very open to experimenting

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Leto can last a few rounds, needing some time in between to recover

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a nice collection to use on his partner for impact play: paddles, canes, crops, and floggers. Enjoys the sight of his partners in padded leather cuffs and a bar of stainless steel between their teeth

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He certainly doesn’t like to be teased, but he gets satisfaction in riling his partner up and then denying them

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Has a tendency to grunt, but not a screamer

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he’s feeling in a particularly dominant mood, will order his concubine to straddle his thigh. He will place his hands on their hips, controlling their movements as they leave slick behind on his warm skin 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Unless he’s in full dress or working, prefers to go without. Prefers to sleep in the nude

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high. He doesn’t crave it constantly but will always be in the mood when the time strikes 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He stays awake for a bit after, enjoying a late-night talk with his partner if they are also awake