#spiderman 2099 fanfiction

[sunflowersteves]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

Ithe reader’s got THICK thick thighs and he keeps playing w them

Either way,

He loves..

squeezing, pinching them, nipping at them anywhere n anytime he can

laying between your thighs, he’d place his head between your boobs

getting his head between ur thighs , tightening the grip on his head while eating u out

When sitting on his face you’re afraid you’d suffocate him with you thighs “Then I would die a happy man”

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, SMUT, thigh biting, miguel has a thigh kink, thigh fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), dom x sub, [18+ ONLY]

masterlist

Miguel knew he was obsessed—that much was completely clear as day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down to your thighs as they jiggled with each step. He couldn't help when his hands tightened around them, unable to fully wrap his large hand around the plush skin. 

It drove him fucking insane. 

“Cariño,” His voice was quiet in concentration, “y’need to stop moving.” 

You squirmed in his lap, legs perched up across his thighs. While you were watching TV, Miguel had a book in one hand, eyes scanning the page. However, for the past ten minutes, Miguel had been kneading into your thighs. He would squeeze them, feel them, and occasionally pinch them. 

His reading glasses slightly slid down his curved nose. His head was turned to you, ruby eyes intense with just the smallest of smirks across his lips. It was so distracting—he and his hands flushed up against your legs.

“Can’t read with you moving all around like that.” He says coolly. His voice was deep and gruff, the eye contact never wavering. You could feel yourself squirm again. Your body felt increasingly hot as his eyes gravitated towards his lap. He watched you move your thighs once more, and he subconsciously licked his lips. 

His large hand sunk deep into the molding flesh, creating the indents of his fingers into your skin. “Miggy—” 

He slapped his book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table. You let out a gasp as he moved so fast you hardly knew what was happening. Miguel had maneuvered himself so your thighs were slung over his shoulder, and he was crouched down so his chest met the couch. 

“Too fucking distracting.” He growls. His hands go to re-grip your thighs once more, spreading them apart. “Your fucking thighs—”

He cuts his own self off as he starts to kiss your thighs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he craved them—how much he thought about them completely enveloping his face. 

He loved when he could kiss them and put his fangs in them. He loved to see the indent of the way his teeth punctured your skin. 

He could feel his cock jump at the sight of them on display for him. He could picture the sweet memory of last night when he had his slick cock in between your thighs and fucked up into them. 

“Fuck, Miguel—” Your hands reach to his hair and pull. He lets out a groan, tongue swirling around your supple skin. 

He unsheathed his fangs and grazed them over the meat of your thighs. He watched as you gasped, head falling back. His hands continued to mold around the flesh, and he groaned, hips bucking into the couch. 

“So fucking thick,” he murmurs. “So fucking good to me, cariño.” 

He goes to kiss your mound, covered by panties and a pair of shorts. You whimpered, watching his glossy lust-filled eyes gaze at the skin before him. 

He lets out one of his claws, hand in the middle of the air, before ripping your shorts in half. “Miguel!” You scold. Another pair of pants and underwear were destroyed. Again. 

He doesn’t waste time, ignoring your scolding. He dips his tongue into your folds and growls at the wetness that sticks to your walls. “Taste—” He licks up to your clit and swirls the swollen bud. “So fucking—” His fingers press deeper into your thighs. “Good.” He gasps. 

Your thighs instinctively get tighter around his head, and he could practically feel his eyes roll in the back of his head. His head backs up as far as possible—wild eyes looking aflame. 

“Baby?” You say, concerned. He looked at you for a bit longer. Your eyes were hazy, your face looking completely fucked out. You had been squirming in his lap for some time, and he relished in the feeling of your body becoming hotter and hotter.

His eyes flashed. “Do it again.” He demands. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do what?” You were being genuine—not the innocent bratty nature that he was so used to. 

“Put your thighs around my head. Again.” He growled out the last part of the sentence. His cock twitched again at the sight of your thighs wrapped around him. 

Your hand subconsciously lightly tugs on his hair. “B-but, Miguel.” Your eyes flicker away from him. “I’ll crush you.”

He takes a good look at you once more. He then chuckles under his breath before kneading your thighs again. 

“Good. I want you to.” He pressed his lips back onto your slick and pushed a tongue between your folds. “I want you to crush my fucking head, cariño.”

He taps your thigh in an inpatient manner, the other hand teasing your entrance with a finger. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

He pleasantly hums. “Now sit back and wrap your thighs around me. Be my good girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

[angelltheninth]

Miguel O'Hara Bites You to Keep You Still Against Him

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cockwaming, biting, consensual paralysis, neck kissing, praise, scolding, bratty Reader

A/N: Feels like I haven't written anything for Miguel in a while.

He told you that he has more work to do and you have to stay still. And you could. For the first half an hour. Enjoying the fullness and the way his big cock pushed your tight pussy walls apart, making room for himself. But you didn't hear any moving, only calm breathing and the tapping of the keyboard on the desk. You really wished his moved to your body next.

He was famous for working late hours to make sure everyone's missions ran smoothly. It was admirable, yet for you, his girlfriend it was annoying. You told him he might as well figure out a way to marry his work since he likes it so much. That was when his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you close, his grunt sounding against your cheek.

You found yourself on his lap, his suit gone and your pants and underwear down your legs. You liked this compromise and took it a step further by actually pushing his cock inside of you. Miguel let out a shaky breath as your warm walls enveloped his throbbing cock.

"I didn't tell you to move yet." This would be a losing battle for him if you started moving more. "I have work to do love. Don't distract me." He warned only once. His fangs pressed against your neck, only pressed for now. He waited to see how you'd react.

You were still of your own volition. Miguel's work was important, that was a given. He had his priorities, that was admirable. But in this moment in which he chose to give you a hand you wanted the whole arm. Or in this case you really wanted to fuck.

You braced yourself on the edge of the desk and started moving up and down, just a few inches of his cock. That would have been distracting enough but there were also your moans, "Just for a little bit?"

"If I could have sex with you just for a little bit this wouldn't be an issue." Miguel pushed forward, trapping you between his body and the desk. "I still have an hour of work left at the least. I granted you this much, despite it being a distraction. And look at you, thinking you can do whatever you want and being a disobedient brat."

His scolding, low and commanding tone didn't help you calm down any.

Miguel tested out a few small bites first, eliciting little whimpers from you. "Stay still baby." You felt your body go still slowly, but until you felt fully numb he kept thrusting his cock in and out in small, shallow thrusts, providing you with just enough stimulation to get you through the next hour.

[cherryredstars]

parent!reader waking up one day, entering the kitchen and seeing dad!miguel taking care of their 6 month old baby while he fixes breakfast for the two of them because he didn’t want to wake them up so they could get some rest, and then just absolutely getting the worst baby fever known to man, because why wouldn’t you if that’s what you were waking up to every day 🤭🤭 that is all

(also thank you for all your hard work, you are single-handedly sustaining me and I need you to know that 🥹❤️)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Wanting More Children

Summary: Early mornings with baby babbling and chocolate chips.

A/N: This request is so cutesy!!! Thank you for sending it in, love!!

Word Count: 930

Why is it so bright?

A deep groan leaves your lips as your eyes squint against the beam of sunlight coming through your window. You sigh deeply as you turn over, grumbling into your pillow and closing your eyes again. You can feel your body beginning to melt back into the mattress when you hear something clatter to the ground. On instinct, your arms push your body up as alarms start ringing in your head. Your head feels woozy from home quickly you moved, but your eyes are frantic as you look around the room. The nerve-endings firing throughout your body calm within the next second, the sound of watery baby laughter filling your room from outside. A smile forms on your face when hurried hushing follows, which only makes the laughter louder.

Slower this time, you push yourself up and out of bed. You shiver the moment your feet hit the cold wood flooring, letting out a breath. For a moment you debate on making the bed, but the sound of pans and baby clapping convinces you to save it for later. You walk towards the bedroom door, and the second you open it the smell of batter hits you. Your stomach growls in response, saliva gathering in your mouth as you open the door further and walk out and into the hallway. The further down you walk, the closer the sound of kitchen clutter and baby babbling becomes.

The moment you emerge from the hallway, you can feel the way your heart expands. You lean against the entrance, crossing your arms with a smile on your face as you take in the sight. Your baby girl babbles nonsense to her dad, kicking in her highchair with half-eaten mini chocolate chip pancakes on her tray. On the floor is a missed spot of syrup, and guessing by the discarded baby bowl on the counter, the noise from before was her playing around. Your husband stands at the stove, a mess of pancake batter, fruits, and chocolate on the counter besides him. You don't know why the man needs so many butter knives and bowls to make pancakes, but you let him do his thing since he's the one cleaning them. He responds to your baby with oh's and aw's, pouring batter into the pan and flipping it with a spatula after a few minutes.

You're content to watch the scene forever, but your baby has other plans. Sensing your presence, your baby turns to you, her already there smile growing larger at the sight of you. Her hands slap down on her tray in excitement, happy babbles leaving her. You can't help but laugh, making your way over to her and picking her up the moment she makes grabby hands at you. Her hands are slightly sticky from syrup, but you've grown used to it, already knowing you'll be showering later. Her hands come to your face, cupping each of your cheeks as she gives you a smile. You smile back, giving her a surprised face before laughing at her elated reaction.

Her eyes shift slightly away from your face, moving to something behind you. It's the only warning you get before large arms wrap around your waist. Messy curls brush against your chin as warm breath fans your neck. A soft kiss is placed on your skin and pleasant shivers run up your spine. You turn your head and smile at the sight of Miguel.

"Hey, handsome," you greet, adjusting your baby on your hip so you can run a hand through Miguel's hair. He hums against your skin, placing one last kiss before pulling his head away from your neck.

"We didn't wake you, did we?" He asks softly, his arms unraveling around your waist until his hands are planted on your hips. You shake your head, turning back to your daughter and blowing a raspberry against her cheek. She lights up at the action, babbling and trying to replicate the noise. It causes both you and Miguel to chuckle, and you melt into his chest.

Miguel has a large smile on his face when you turn to him, love clearly shining in his eyes. When he looks down at you, that look on his face softens. He leans down and you smile against his lips when he kisses you. Even after having a kid together and being in a relationship with him for so long, you can feel the butterflies pinging against the lining of your stomach.

"Thank you for making breakfast."

Miguel smiles back, shrugging. He reaches his arm out, taking hold of the corner of your darling girl's bib and wiping away a bit of drool running from her mouth. "Anything for the two of you."

You don't think your heart has ever been more full. You turn to him, opening your mouth to say something when you pause. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. "I think... your pancakes are burning."

Miguel eyes widen and he curses, ignoring your scandalized gasp and reminder that the baby is present as he rushes to the stove. Your baby simply laughs at her father, clapping her hands. You can't help but join in, shaking your head as you watch Miguel scrape burnt pancake batter off the bottom of the pan. He throws you both a playful glare, sticking his tongue out for his daughter's amusement.

As you take in the scene, you can't help but think that you wouldn't mind expanding your little family. Maybe your heart has a little room left to be filled.

[sinnah8]

Fall

Pairing:F! reader x Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Minor spoilers to the movie

A/n- ahh I love this hope you enjoy (I tried my best lol) leave some requests:P

Masterlist|Requests

Y/n and Miguel both worked as scientists creating a watch that could travel across the multiverse. One fateful day Y/n decided to work on the watch disregarding Miguel's wishes to stop.

later that day Miguel saw you being sucked into a multiversal hole. He tried using his webs to save you but it broke. Miguel bashed his fists on the table he lost y/n. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a year. He couldn't locate you at all.

Soon the watch was done but he knows he wouldn't be able to find you. Then a rip in the multiverse happened and everything pinned pointed to Miles Morales from Earth 1610.

With a loud bash Y/n landed on Earth 1610 confused but fascinated by what her surroundings. It was Alchemax laboratory, then y/n sees a Spider-Man it Miles Morales you tried to hide but he saw you.

He walked behind her "Who are you, lady", Confused y/n explained where she came from and told him about the malfunction. He began to ask a gazillion amount of questions about your earth.

He showed her the ropes around his world and she managed to accustom to it. Soon Y/n became Aunt to Miles, a loving and supportive figure who provided the guidance he had longed for. She embraced her role wholeheartedly, always ready to lend an ear or offer words of encouragement.

Then Gwen came to visit Miles and talked about being in an elite society filled with spider people. Later that night Miles was completely gone. 2 days later he met you in the rooftop of his apartment completely Panicking talking about Miguel.

Her heart dropped Was it actually talking about her Miguel. You placed your hands on Miles shoulders "His last name was O'Hara?" "Something like that".

Then you hear the sound of a portal opening and it was your Miguel and he tackled miles. She rushed to break them up but Miguel webbed you instead.

Filled with rage Miguel was going in for a punch until you yelled his name. Miguel's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized y/n .

He retracted his webbing "Miguel," Tears welled up in Miguel's eyes as he fell to his knees before her. "Y/n, I am so sorry". Y/n reached out a hand and gently lifted Miguel to his feet. " Its ok my love" Miguel leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers.

"I missed you more than you know Preciosa."

"Try not to kill miles next ok?"

"I won't"

[miggyyyyohara]

Mhm...okay and? WhAT ABOUT IT???

Also my mind 24 fucking 7:

[wh1sp3rr]

an: i’m tired and depressed and am in need of a big, irish-mexican man to put me to sleep

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

miguel brushes your hair, however curly or straight it is, as you snuggle up into him, nose kissing his neck, breath fanning him comfortably, legs adding the perfect amount of weight and pressure to his hips as he click clackity clicks away, smooching your benign features lovingly. when someone barges in and you perk your head up suddenly as to not be caught in this vulnerable position, he shushes to you so sweetly, caresses your hair once more, smoothing it down, and whispers:

“it’s okay, baby. relax. go back to sleep, okay?”

he glared at whoever the disturber of his precious was and discusses anomalies galore all the while gently shifting his chair side-to-side to rock you, his love to sleep.

[tarjapearce]

I'm just minding my own business, eating a nice hot Italian sausage sandwich, and my brain decided to do the naughty thinking

Imagine Miguel all pent up cause he hasn't been home cause our big man's a workaholic, and when he is home he's dead tired or you're busy too for whatever reason. You two finally get to sit down and have dinner for a little date night, he's just finally relaxing and ready to dig into the delicious meal you two made together, and the poor poor man looks up just in time to see your lips wrapped around a sausage or any other suggestive food item., and his brain just fries.

I never understood the food leading to dirty thoughts thing until one of my exes straight up forbid me from getting ice cream cones or popsicles on dates and he had to explain it. Now I just find it hilarious

Oh nonny, 🤭

Mild nsfw undercut. suggestive, Dirty minded Miguel ~

It didn't matter how heavy his shoulders felt like or how hefty they slumped, exhausted as he was, knowing you awaited him with welcoming arms was his reward after an extra busy day at HQ.

The Boss would find himself lost in your loving embrace, replenishing his energies with that gesture alone.

"Welcome home, Miggy"

Your voice was like a lullaby after the countless screams, barking orders to recruits that seemed to be slacking and so many complaints about the little malfunctions of his gizmo. But now, he was home with you, ready to prepare dinner.

Being a leader was exhausting, and when he was exhausted, he'd be hungry. Mostly of the times he'd be starving for you. Either just physical comfort like showering him in affection, playing with his hair or even letting him snuggle you on the bed or couch, whichever he plopped on first.

But other times it was the hunger for having you a trembling and breathless mess underneath him, mewling his name and pleading for more of him.

He chopped his share of vegetables as you cooked other things next to him. The little chat about his day turned into little playful bites on his arm, trying to light his mood up.

"Go sit down, I'll serve. You're tired."

"I'm okay, corazón."

You slapped his butt gently and smooched him, "None of that. You always work hard. Lemme spoil you, ok? Go sit."

Knowing that arguing with you was futile, he went to his seat and you served him one of his favorite comfort foods.

Huevos rancheros, some chile con queso and some spicy sausages. The way his lips burned at the spicy food was one of your preferred faces he made whenever eating along a tall glass of lemonade.

He dug right in after you sat next to him, devouring his food like he hadn't eaten in a long time, and knowing him, he probably hadn't have a nutritious meal in the past days. He groaned in delight at your seasoning.

"You'll choke, sweetheart. Do you want more?"

"I'll get it, it's ok."

He was about to stand up when his eyes darted towards you and your lips. Pouty and kissable lips perfectly molded in the round shape of the sausage. His Adam's apple bobbed as you bit down gently on it, letting the taste invade your mouth with a satisfied groan.

Some of the meats juices scurried away in the corner of your lips, one of your fingers dabbed away the little droplets before sucking it off your finger. His brain was entering an override. Lips parted as you took another bite, a little groan rumbled at the base of his throat as his eyes fixed on the degluting motion of your throat.

Just the way it moved when he slid in and out of your mouth, using your warm crevice in a more creative and delicious way. Your tongue peeked to lick your bottom lip, cleaning the saucy mix off it to then release it with an inaudible pop.

"You okay?" Big, round bunny eyes stared at him innocently.

"Yeah..." He tore his eyes away from you. Cause he knew that if he kept staring, he'd just throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom where he'd make a trembling mess out of you. Tiredness slowly abandoned his body.

How could such mundane thing had turned his gears this way was beyond him.

"So good" You mumbled at the taste of the sauce he had done. His cock twitched almost involuntarily. Oh how he remembered the other intonations of such phrase, specially when he buried himself deep enough in your tight and moist walls.

"Miguel?"

His hands slicked his hair back, trying to placate his thoughts.

"Si?"

"Do you want more?"

He'd always want more, that wasn't even a question. Would it be too selfish to just rip your clothes off and bend you over the kitchen and raw you silly until your legs gave out?

Focus

But how could he when you were slurping the sausage off? Was it intentional? No. You were just hungry and he was definitely being dirty minded.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, amor."

Lies. He wasn't fine and his cock certainly wasn't fine either, as it grew painfully tight in his sweatpants.

"Oh, you have something in your lips"

You'd dab away the sauce off him, to then lick it off.

Dios mío...

He stood gently to then pry the dishes away from your hands and threw you over his shoulder. It had been the last straw

"M-Miguel!" You giggled as he marched towards the bedroom. Exhaustion abandoning him completely.

Yeah, he'd be always hungry for something more.

[kairiscorner]

˗ˏˋ ✮ kairi's AUtober !

day 1: your husband: miguel o'hara.

"mmm... mi amor, don't go..."

his gravelly voice begged of you as his sculpted, tan arms wrapped themselves around your waist. he buried his sharp nose in your hair as he took in the delicious scent of his spouse, the love of his life that he was so fortunate to have for... forever now. he kissed down your neck as he held you closer, pulling you towards his massive body and caging you in his tight, loving grasp. "mi vida... it's sábado, don't leave me alone in this big bed..." he murmured to you as he sneaked his hands under your top and roamed his palm all over your smaller, plush body.

from the moment he got to know you, the moment you flashed him your signature, beautiful smile and looked up at him in the eyes with so much friendliness and openness in those eyes of yours... he felt himself fall into the insanity and the calmness of loving yo; whether he realized it or not at the time he was yours the minute he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of you.

miguel made it a point that he loved you, that he loved you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes; he loved you for your heart, your mind, your body, and just all of you. you make your husband go crazy with the smallest of things you do, and it's even better when you're oblivious to him being absolutely smitten with you. he had never thought he'd be the type to settle down and devote the rest of his life living quietly with someone as spectacular and worth loving, that someone being you.

he'd whimper silently into your ear when he's craving you and your love, when he's desperate and needs to be held and loved by you, the most perfect person to ever exist. he's a stern man who takes his responsibilities seriously, but he does lose his composure and all his restraint when you're out here being so lovable to him. "please don't go... i'll be lonely... the bed's so cold without you... you know i hate the cold..." he whines as you sigh and turn over on your side to face your husband. "it's cleaning day, miggy, i have to get up early."

miguel gave a long sigh and pulled you even closer to him with one hand. he kissed your forehead and grumbled. "i don't give a crap if it is, it's a rest day, mi vida; you need a rest from being away from me... i'm your husband for goodness' sake, and i'm tired of not being with you, so... por favor, mi amor? just a few more minutes in bed with me...?" he begged you like a child, pouting out his lower lip to try and make you feel sorry for him, but it instead made you giggle.

he chuckled lowly at your contagious giggling and brought his face closer to yours. "that's right, oh, i love it when you laugh... makes me forget all the shit i've had to deal with earlier this week." he mumbles as he pecks your lips gently and brings his hands up to either sides of your face, holding you close as he kisses you. "my precious spouse... i never wanna live another morning without you here." he mutters as he smiles at you, brushing away a stray lock of your hair and chuckles again, relishing the passing minutes with you close to him and in his hands, thanking his lucky stars that you became his one and only, and swears to you every day in his own ways that he will make you the happiest with him; for he's your husband, and he will always, always devote himself to you and love you unconditionally.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[guilty-pleasures21]

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

I was inspired by this fic by @tarjapearce . I LOVE her writing so much!!! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

1. Um ... yeah ...

Part 1 - the beginning

Part 2 - the car

Part 3 - the detectives

Part 4 - the contract

Part 5 - the clothes

Warnings: graphic descriptions of sex including blowjob (f receiving), penetration (p in v).

_______________________________________________

     She studied herself in the mirror, her critical gaze running over the new lingerie she’d bought earlier. Francesco only ever let her leave the house to go shopping. ‘It’s for your own protection, mia cara’, he’d always tell her, the term of endearment sounding like poison on his lips. And then she’d feel bad all over again - because he was right. He’d given her everything and asked for nothing in return. It was the reason she’d married him, after all: because he’d promised to keep her safe. Because he had kept her safe, when no one else would. She walked over to the cupboard to pull out one of his shirts: a neatly pressed white top that grazed her thighs and slipped off her shoulder when she buttoned it up. It had been a while since she’d dress up for him, so rarely was he ever at home. But he’d said he’d be coming home early tonight, so she’d thought to take the opportunity to bring some of that spark back to their relationship. He’d been sweet in the beginning, taking her to dinner, buying her jewellery, promising her that no one would ever hurt her again, not as long as he had anything to say about it. But the thrill of chasing after her - of being much more in love with her than she was with him - must have worn off at some point, because his work days had become longer, his trips to the city more frequent. Now, she was lucky if she got to see him more than a few hours every weekend. She returned to the mirror to adjust the shirt, but then heard a sudden commotion happening outside, cars screeching and doors banging and guns going off before the sickening sounds of fists meeting bodies flew through the room. She dashed over to the intercom by the bedroom door and turned on the camera. An unfamiliar group of men and women stood outside the entrance, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the guards Francesco had hired to keep watch over the villa. She shuddered, the fear squeezing around her insides as she tried to come up with a possible escape route. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and took her passport from the safe, stuffing both of them into one of her crossbody bags. Then she went over to the window, taking a moment to survey the area below, making sure she had an unobstructed path to the shed at the other side of the swimming pool. She inhaled a deep breath, then climbed over the ledge and lowered herself as carefully as she could, hanging from the edge to get her feet as close to the ground as possible before she jumped. Then she let herself go. 

     She was pretty, he thought to himself, his eyes running over the long, curling lashes, dark, almond-shaped eyes and soft, rosy lips of the woman curled up in his arms. But whatever was she doing jumping out the window of Francesco Lombardi’s bedroom? And in his clothes, no less. She scrambled out of his arms, horrified, and pressed herself against the wall, clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. She curled into herself as he continued to study her, doing her best to minimise his view of her bare legs and shoulders. But she couldn’t hide the gleaming golden band that wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. Francesco Lombardi had a wife? And such a beautiful one too, no less. 

     He folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her, the expensive material of his back shirt pressing against the rippling muscles of his forearms. She glanced up at his face and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was: deep-set copper eyes, sharp cheekbones and jawline, powerful, defined muscles. His full lips twisted into a smirk, noticing the way her eyes roved over him, and she gulped, the sight making her stomach flip over. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

     “I don’t have anything,” she told him softly, making her voice vulnerable and helpless. She tugged on the strap of her bag. “This is just my phone. And my passport.” 

     He walked closer to her, intrigued by how ready Francesco Lombardi’s wife was to leave him at the slightest hint of danger. But was that just common sense? Or did she know more than she was letting on? 

     He stopped a few centimetres in front of her, close enough for her to smell the woodsy, spicy scent of him and feel the heat radiating off his imposing form. He stayed there for a bit, letting her squirm for a few seconds, her gaze flickering between him and the ground in anticipation of his next move. Then he held out his hand to her silently. 

     “What?” she asked.

     “Passport,” he requested. His voice was deep and thick, but gentle - not like Francesco’s; harsh and demanding, an undercurrent of slyness lacing his every word. And his accent was different too - not the Italian that tinged Francesco’s voice or the hint of British that crept into hers. His was Spanish, if she’d had to guess, but mostly American. He hadn’t grown up here then, not like Francesco. 

     “W-Why? What would you want my passport for?” She was cute, the way she hunched over her bag protectively, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she looked up at him. 

     “So I can find out your name.” He shrugged, his lips widening into a full smile. She frowned and straightened, trying to make herself seem bigger. Even though she was so very small to him, especially in that oversized shirt that kept slipping off her tiny form. 

     “Why don’t you just ask me?” she pointed out to him. 

     She had to know how adorable she looked when she made that face; had to know that no one would ever take her seriously if she looked at them like that. He took a step even closer to her, tilting his head down so that their lips were just a breath apart. “Would you tell me if I asked?” 

     Her lips parted, stunned by their sudden proximity. She felt her mouth begin to water at how soft his lips looked, how lush and inviting. And she swallowed hard, pulling her gaze away from his. “Only if you’ll tell me yours.” 

     “Miguel,” he revealed, holding his hand out to her. “O’Hara.” She eyed his hand carefully, then slid her gaze up to his again. Miguel. It suited him. But his last name … it sounded Irish. Maybe he was mixed? He didn’t really look it though, with his dark features and tanned skin. She took hold of his hand cautiously, her slender fingers curling around his.

     “X,” she confessed. He raised an eyebrow. 

     “No last name?” 

     “I don’t want you to search me up.” She tried to keep her tone light as she said it, like she meant it as a joke. 

     “Hmm.” He considered her thoughtfully. Then he jerked on her hand, pulling her forward so she fell against his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and he slid his hands up her back, holding her close to him. “Tell me, X: do you usually shake the hand of strange men who break into your husband’s house?” 

     She curled her fingers against his chest, chastising herself for forgetting to take off her wedding ring. But what did he want with her? And how could she get him to let her go? It was no use trying to push herself away from him - any effort she made would be futile, considering how big and strong he was next to her. She hunched over, trying to make herself seem even smaller. 

     She was so small and soft in his arms, her warm body fitting so perfectly against his as he held her close. He bent over slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear so he could murmur in it. “What a shame, princesa.” 

     She pushed against his chest, hoping to catch him off-guard - and conceal the way her body shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling her neck. But he loosened his grip on her anyway, letting her go. She took a step away from him, avoiding his gaze. “Just … Can I at least put on some proper clothes before you … torture me or whatever?” 

     He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide the smile that took over his face at her request. Not just cute, but funny too; in a sarcastic, witty kind of way. He placed his hands on his hips and bit his lip as he looked at her, waiting until she lifted her gaze back up to his. “If I was going to torture you, cariño, you’d be taking off your clothes. Not putting more on.” 

     How could he say that to her? While looking at her like that? In a way that had her feeling hot enough under the collar that she might have considered removing her clothes anyway? She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him, trying to look stern. “You … If you’re going to be using lines like that, then I’m definitely going to be putting more clothes on.” 

     He grinned and moved closer to her, stopping just in front of her once again. He lifted his hand to her chin and tipped her face up to his, their mouths so dangerously close once again. His gaze fell to her lips and stayed there. “Then what should I say, cariño, to get you out of those clothes?” 

     Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, then she wrenched her face out of his hand and side-stepped him. “Can you just … tell me why you’re here?!” 

     There it was, that adorable frown once again. Dios, he might just fall in love with her if she kept it up. “I’m here because your husband has some information I need.” 

     If he took Francesco down, she’d go down too. Unless she found a way to escape - to run away to some other countryside where no one would find her. But how would she even be able to afford it? Never mind the meagre savings she’d managed to transfer to her mother’s account before the lawsuit, everything she had belonged to him. She had to interfere - had to throw him off Francesco’s scent. At least until she managed to convince her husband to share with her all the passcodes for his numerous off-shore accounts. She gripped onto her bag strap again, hesitating. 

     “I … can help you,” she suggested, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. “Maybe?” 

     She probably had some plan in mind to try to stop him. Then again, she had tried to escape from the house immediately. With her passport, no less. Maybe she did know something useful about Francesco Lombardi’s business dealings. And besides - his eyes trailed over her small figure again - there was no way she could pose any sort of threat to him. Maybe he’d try playing along. He waved a hand at the house, signalling for her to lead the way. She obliged, turning to slide open the balcony door. As soon as they’d stepped in, however, the front door slammed open and Francesco himself burst in. His gaze bounced between the two of them, his brows drawing together in an angry frown. Then he stalked over to them. 

     “You let her go! Now!” he commanded Miguel, grabbing X’s elbow to pull her to his side. He turned to face her, his light brown eyes widening with concern as he looked at her. “Take the car, mia cara. Go to your mother. I already told Antonio to transfer money to your account. I’ll meet you there.” He pressed the car key into her hand, pushing her towards the door. But she hesitated, glancing back at Miguel thoughtfully. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what she’d do. 

     “What are you waiting for?!” Francesco yelled at her, his normally immaculately styled sand-coloured hair falling into his eyes as he yelled at her. “Go!” 

     X stumbled as he shoved her again, making her way over to the door. But then she froze. 

     “Cariño,” Miguel called out to her lazily. “What happened to you helping me?” Francesco moved to block X from Miguel’s view. 

     “You leave her alone,” he warned Miguel. “She has no business in any of this!” 

     Miguel leaned to the side slightly, easily chancing a glimpse at X over Francesco’s smaller form. “That’s not what it seemed like to me.” 

     Francesco turned to glance at X, trying not to let his confusion show at Miguel’s revelation. “What are you still doing here?! I told you to run!” 

     X nodded and continued walking to the door. But then she was stopped by two of Miguel’s … bodyguards? A short woman with smooth brown skin and tightly curled hair and a taller, fair-haired man with a long face and bulging muscles. 

     “Ven aquí, cariño,” Miguel instructed her, that languid tone still drenching his voice. X gulped and returned to him, knowing that her best bet was to just try and play along until he got bored with her. 

     So, she understood Spanish. He’d have to make note of that for later. He tugged on her shirt when she’d gotten close enough to him, pulling her even closer. She gasped as she fell into his chest again. 

     “¿Qué pasa, hermosa?” he asked her, injecting a tone of hurt into his voice. “I thought you said you were going to help me?” 

     Francesco leaped forward, meaning to pull his wife away from the monster, but Miguel pulled out his gun and aimed it at Francesco, stopping him in his tracks. X curled into herself as she tried to avoid meeting Francesco’s gaze, ashamed now by how she’d tried to sell him out so quickly. “I-I … I don’t …” 

     Miguel wrapped his free arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair with his nose, inhaling the sweet and fruity scent of her shampoo. 

     “¿Qué pasa, bonita?” He lowered his mouth to the base of her ear, grinning when he felt the shiver run down her spine. “Tell me where he keeps his bank statements, mi angelita. The ones you’re not supposed to know about?” 

     He brushed his nose against her neck and she let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “M-Mi-Miguel …” 

     Ay, coño, the way she whimpered his name? It drove him mad. He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and let out a soft moan, squeezing her soft curves appreciatively. “Mmm. You have such a lovely wife, Francesco. How could you even think of cheating on her.” 

     She dug her fingers into his shoulders, horrified by the revelation. “W-What?”

     She turned to Francesco, looking to him for reassurance. But he looked away, avoiding her gaze guiltily. 

     “Did you … cheat on me?” she asked him, knowing the answer deep down anyway. It would explain the long nights, the trips to the city, the months he’d gone without touching her. He refused to answer. 

     “Francesco!” she pressed, the rage beginning to bubble up within her now.

     “It was just … It was just one time, mia cara!” he pleaded with her. “I was tired and … She took advantage of me!”

     “Oh.” Miguel schooled his features into a fake expression of confusion. “One of them actually managed to take advantage of you? What kind of lawyer are you, Señor Lombardi?”

     “‘One of them’?!” X repeated, horrified - the exact reaction Miguel had been hoping to draw out of her. Francesco glared at him, but whether it was because of his declaration or because of the insult, Miguel didn’t care. 

     “Tu sporco canaglia!” he shouted. (You dirty scoundrel!) X tightened her grip on Miguel unconsciously, her lips twisting into a frown as she looked back at Francesco. 

     “You … You filthy piece of shit!” He hadn’t expected that. Miguel grinned, amused by the curse falling from her sweet lips, and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, supporting her as she seethed at her pathetic excuse of a husband. Eventually, she gritted her teeth and turned to Miguel, revenge the only thought on her mind. “His safe is in the kitchen. You can check there.” 

     “Gracias, cariño.” Miguel pressed a delighted kiss to her forehead. He might keep her around, he decided. Pretty, smart, and driven by anger, turning it into something productive. She couldn’t have been better than if he’d conjured her up himself. He gestured for Ben and Jess to bring Francesco into the kitchen, following after them with X. She went over to the oven and pulled it open.

     “No! X! Don’t you dare! You f*cking b*tch!” Francesco screamed at her, struggling against Ben and Jess. Miguel scowled at the insult and stepped forward, ready to smack the insolent b*stard across the face. But X yelled back at him. 

     “Shut the hell up, Francesco!” She pulled out the back of the oven and handed it to Miguel, then disappeared back inside to key in the passcode to the safe. It wasn’t long before she’d gathered up the binders inside and given them to Miguel. He opened one up and sifted through the papers within, then grinned when he saw they contained what he needed.

     “Bien hecho, mi angelita (Good job, my little angel),” he praised her before setting the binders atop the kitchen island. He took hold of her shirt again and tugged her back to him. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then cupped her cheek in his hand, his heart speeding up as he gave her a smirk. “Should I give you your reward now?” 

     “I didn’t do it for a reward,” she told him, her voice coming out much softer than she’d meant it to. She could tell by his tone how, exactly, he planned to reward her. But in front of other people?! In front of her husband?! Sure, he was a cheater, but she wouldn’t be the same. Although … it wasn’t like they’d ever repair their relationship; cheating was a dealbreaker for her, so he was as good as dead in her book. 

     Miguel grinned as he watched the emotional conflict play itself out across her face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, leaning down to press his lips to the crook of her neck. 

     “¿Qué estás pensando, mi angelita? (What are you thinking, my little angel?)" He slid his hands higher up her back, pulling her tighter against him, and brushed his lips along her neck. Then he began pressing soft kisses along her skin, taking his time to relish the feeling of her against him. 

     “I-I … I …” she trailed off, her words disrupted by the shiver than ran down her spine at the feeling of his lips on her. He was so gentle, so soft, and he smelled so, so nice. Like nutmeg and wood, warm and spicy, clouding all her senses entirely. 

     “You … You f*cking leave her alone, you b*stard!” Francesco yelled, his voice cracking with his fury. Miguel groaned loudly against X’s neck, maintaining eye contact with her husband as he did so. 

     “¿Qué dices, querida? (What do you say, darling?)” he asked her, voice low and husky. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

     “M-Miguel …” ¡Ay, coño, that p*nche whimper again! He slid his hands down to squeeze her ass, causing her to squeak and tense against him. Maldita sea, she was cute. He wondered what other sounds he could get her to make, if the layers of clothing between them weren’t stopping him. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding them up her bare skin. Then he trailed his fingers down to her underwear, tracing the thin fabric and giving a soft chuckle at the feeling of the delicate lace draped across her curves.

     “Was this a surprise for him, mi angelita?” Miguel asked her teasingly, face still buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Do you think he deserves it, cariño?” He curled his fingers around one of the thin ribbons, his mind running wild as he tried to put together a mental image of what she might have been wearing underneath the shirt. 

     “N-No!” She glared at Francesco, still yelling and struggling against his captors, then her head fell back with pleasure as Miguel dipped his hand just into her underwear, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I-I … D-Divorce …” She gasped and wrapped herself around Miguel, sliding her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, clutching at the strands tightly. He groaned into her neck, his fingers moving dangerously low along her skin. 

     “Mmm, angelita.” He looked up at Ben and Jess and nodded his head at Francesco. “Leave him. I want him to watch.” He turned his gaze to Francesco as he lowered his mouth back to X’s shoulder, bare now where he’d slid the collar down. Franscesco continued his futile protests, kicking and fighting against Ben and Jess as they handcuffed him to the very oven that had been his downfall before they left. 

     “M-Miguel.” She clutched at the collar of his shirt, pulling back to look up at him desperately. “I don’t even … k-know you.” He grinned and plunged his fingers all the way into her underwear, dragging them through her rapidly dampening folds. She bit her lip, trying to muffle the moan that fought to slip out.

     “Angelita,” he whined, feeling himself start to harden at how soft and wet she was, how her little body shuddered against him helplessly, getting more and more aroused by his movements. “Should I take you on a date first, princesa? Hmm? Where would you like to go? Dime dónde quieres que te lleve (Tell me where you want me to take you)." He brought his mouth closer to hers, chuckling when she tilted her head to follow his lips with her own. Then he leaned forward and kissed her as he continued playing with her p*ssy, his fingers stroking and teasing her while his tongue swept across her mouth. She stumbled at the overwhelming feeling of him all around her and he pulled her hips against his, holding her upright as he kissed her. 

     “Angelita,” he moaned again, pulling his lips away from hers to move them back to her neck. He groaned at how wet she was, at how sweet she tasted on his tongue, and circled her entrance with his fingers. Her legs twitched at the sensation and another whimper fell from her lips. “Me estas matando, cariño (You're killing me, sweetheart)."

     God, he was good, torturing her and teasing her with his large, calloused fingers. She gasped, her entire body tightening as he slid his finger into her. He laughed. 

     “Relájate, mi angelita (Relax, my little angel),” he soothed her, tickling her walls gently. “I’m not going to be able to go any deeper if you don’t relax.” 

     “F*ck you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco yelled at him, the oven banging and rattling as he pulled at his handcuff. X relaxed her body, so lost in her own pleasure that she didn’t even hear the horrified shrieks of her husband - soon-to-be ex-husband, if either she or Miguel had anything to say about it. Of course he’d never let her go back to that monster - not now that he knew what it felt like, having her in his arms. He pushed his finger deeper inside of her, then added another, forcing a gasp from her lips. 

     “¡Ay, p*ta madre, mi angelita!” Miguel groaned, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before.” She was just so tight, so sensitive and so desperate for him: it was like she’d never been touched before. X gripped onto his shoulders tightly, her body beginning to contract at the feeling of his fingers prodding and poking at her. Miguel chuckled at her gasps and moans, then looked back up at Francesco, his features pulled tight in horror as he watched the sight unfolding before him. 

     “Or is your husband just too small for you?” Miguel grinned wickedly at Francesco and curled his fingers inside of X, prompting a loud moan to fall from her lips. “Discúlpeme, mi angelita (Excuse me, my little angel). Ex-husband."

     “I’ll kill you! I’ll f*cking kill you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco threatened him, dishevelled like he’d never been before. Miguel snorted at the threat and returned his attention to X. 

     “Then I’d better take advantage of this moment, sí, mi preciosa?” Miguel teased, removing his fingers to trail them across X’s clit. “What do you say, mi angelita? Do you want me to show you what a real man feels like? Between those legs?” He ignored Francesco’s curses as he looked at X, waiting for her response. 

     She couldn’t - she shouldn’t. She didn’t even know him, this stranger who had broken into her home and tied up her husband after stealing his bank statements. She looked up at Miguel, eyes wide, lips quivering as she tried to tell all of this to him. “M-Miguel …” 

     P*ta madre, she was cute. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking and licking off the glistening liquid she’d left there. He moaned at the taste, then flashed a smirk at Francesco before reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “Sabes muy deliciosa, cariño (You taste so delicious, sweetheart)."

     She whimpered at the declaration, tangling her fingers in the collar of his shirt as she felt another stream of arousal leak out of her. Miguel grinned and lifted her up easily, setting her down on the kitchen island and spreading her legs apart to accommodate himself between them. He held her thighs down and looked her in the eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to force you, mi angelita. Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

     A gang leader? With morals? She would have laughed at the thought if she hadn’t been so painfully aroused then. She glanced over at Francesco, knowing she should say no, knowing she should tell him to stop, then leave and never look back. But she said nothing, just turned back to Miguel with an embarrassed look on her face. He grinned. 

     “Let’s see this underwear you got, hmm, cariño?” he suggested, starting to unbutton her shirt. “We wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would we now?” He slid her shirt off and tossed it aside, sucking in a breath when he saw her exposed curves beneath the scanty pink lace. F*ck, she looked delicious. So f*cking delicious, all his for the taking. He ran his hands up and down her sides, completely exposed save for the streams of ribbons holding the piece of fabric that clung to her front against her body. She was so, so beautiful, he was getting hard just thinking about all the ways he’d make her squirm and writhe beneath him, her soft curves pressing up against his hard muscles. 

     “Cariño,” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl as his eyes roved over her hungrily. She glanced over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Francesco’s reaction - he’d used to look at her in the same way, back at the start. But then he’d found his other toys and hadn’t needed her anymore. He clenched his jaw, his normally handsome features scrunched up in anger and frustration, his eyes boring holes into Miguel’s back. And then Miguel slid his hands up her front, landing on her breasts where he pinched and stroked her already stiff nipples, pulling her attention back to him. 

     “So … So f*cking beautiful, cariño,” he told her, licking a stripe up her neck to her ear. Her head fell to the side in response and he let out another growl before cupping her face in his hands, straightening her so he could begin kissing her. He groaned into her mouth as he brushed his tongue against hers, the sound sending vibrations running down her chest, then he glided his hands back down to her thighs. 

     “Can I … Can I …” he mumbled, his lips moving against hers as he tried to get the question out. He pulled back, his thumbs toying with the ribbons around her waist, and fixed his gaze on her chest. “So f*cking beautiful, cariño.” He raised his hands to undo the ribbons around her back, taking his time to expose her full, luscious breasts to him. He licked his lips as she whimpered nervously, then leaned forward to press his lips to her nipples, holding her firmly in place as he sucked and licked on her gently. 

     Holy shit! He was so gentle, so … appreciative, like he was in such awe of her body, had such a desire to just worship her. He dragged his tongue around her nipple, then closed his lips around it, pulling her breast into his mouth and groaning as he sucked on it thirstily. She gripped onto the table as she let out a choked gasp, her p*ssy throbbing desperately against his stomach. Francesco stilled behind them, his lips curling with horror as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the sight. Miguel released her with a wet pop, then licked his way up her collarbone, his teeth grazing her throat as he made his way back up to her mouth. He kissed her again, harder this time, more aggressive, then began moving his hips against hers, driving the bulk of him into her. 

     “M-Miguel,” she gasped, her body begging for more - for him. “P-Please?” 

     “Lo sé, mi cariño, lo sé (I know, my sweetheart, I know),” he reassured her, his lips and tongue brushing along her neck and throat. “I just … Just let me taste you, querida. Just … Déjame probarte, mi querida, solo una vez. Solo … (Let me taste you, my darling, just once. Just ...)" He stood back and undid the rest of her ties, his wavy hair cascading into his eyes at the frenzy of his movements. And then she was fully exposed, completely bare before him, her delicious curves entirely on display for him. 

     “Mmm, f*ck,” he murmured, his pupils dilating as he squeezed her breasts together, bouncing them in between his hands. She let out a desperate whine and he lowered his hands to her thighs, pulling her legs apart and kneeling down on the ground. 

     “Don’t,” Francesco begged softly, his tone defeated. “Please.” But Miguel ignored him, instead pulling X closer to him, so that he could drag his tongue up her centre. A loud yelp escaped her throat and her body shuddered at the feeling, her hips bucking against his mouth as she silently begged him for more. He closed his mouth around her, his pleased moans sinking into her skin and vibrating along her nerves, adding onto her pleasure. He dribbled his tongue up and down her folds, drinking up the c*m that continued to leak out of her as he kept playing with her. F*ck, she tasted delicious. 

     “Miguel!” she pleaded with him, her legs twitching as he circled her entrance teasingly. “Miguel, please! Please?” He dipped his tongue into her, swirling it around her insides, brushing up against her walls and stroking her vigorously. She whined and moaned loudly, drowning out any protests Francesco might have had, and Miguel increased the intensity of his movements, spurred on by the sounds of her pleasure. Finally, with one last curl of his tongue, she came, her body shaking and shuddering as she rode out her orgasm on his mouth. He kept his tongue shoved up inside of her when she’d finished, making sure to drink up every last drop of her sweet, sweet c*m, and she felt her brain turn numb at the feeling. How could she sit there, completely exposed, another man’s tongue buried so deeply inside of her while her husband watched? She shifted uncomfortably, ashamed by how thrilled she was by the thought, and Miguel finally slid his tongue out of her, pushing himself up to look at her. She glanced up at him nervously, a squeak escaping her throat at the mix of saliva and c*m dripping from his jaw, and lowered her gaze again. 

     “P*ta madre,” he breathed, shaking his head in awe. “Sabes muy p*nche deliciosa, mi angelita (You taste so f*cking good, my little angel)." He raised one hand to her face, cupping her chin and tilting her head up to his so he could start kissing her again. He needed … He needed more. He needed to feel her clenching around his d*ck the same way he’d felt her clenching around his tongue, her tight little p*ssy begging him for release. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt, his lips never leaving hers as he pulled off his clothes and tossed them to the ground, climbing on top of her when he was fully naked. 

     “Querida,” he whined, holding her down against the cold marble of the kitchen island as he tugged on the skin of her neck with his teeth. “Querida, tu … Te necesito, mi angelita. Te necesito … ahora (Darling, you ... I need you, my little angel. I need you ... now)."

     “Mi-Miguel,” she breathed, losing control of her thoughts once again. Holy shit, he felt good, his broad shoulders and chest, his smooth skin and hard muscles, pressing into her and shielding her from the rest of the world. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping onto the silky strands as she wriggled beneath him, rubbing herself up against him for relief. God, his c*ck! It felt huge! So hard and so warm and so painfully outside of her, not filling her up like she wanted him to. “Migue-el!” 

     “Mmm, querida,” he chuckled, delighting in how badly she wanted him as well. He moaned against her neck, then sat up, sliding her around so she could lie more comfortably lengthwise on the counter. He took hold of himself then, tracing his tip along her soaking folds, lubricating himself in preparation of entering her. She raised her hips, seeking him, but he pressed her down gently, holding her flat against the island. “Calmate, angelita (Calm down, little angel). I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything you want, mi angelita preciosa.” 

     He grunted as he began easing himself inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up so very nicely. She sighed at the feeling, arching her back and wriggling her hips to better accommodate him, barely hearing the groan he let out at the satisfied look on her face. Then she was sitting up, her head falling onto his shoulder as he held her against him, keeping her upright on his lap. He raised her off of him slightly, then slammed her back down on top of him, thrusting his hips into her at the same. F*ck, she felt … so f*cking good. He continued the movement, pumping himself in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her tight and warm walls squeezing and squelching around him. 

     “Querida,” he mumbled in her ear, sliding his hands up her back to press her soft curves tightly against his hard body. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering shut as her brain went numb, completely consumed by the sheer pleasure of having him so deeply inside of her. She gasped as she came again, writhing helplessly in his arms as he continued to drive himself into her. He bit down on her shoulder and squeezed her ass as she contracted around him, her soft little p*ssy tightening around his d*ck even lovelier than it had around his tongue. And then he came as well, his muscles finally relaxing as he relieved himself inside of her. She leaned over and bit his ear, then lowered her lips to his neck and sucked on his skin, licking up the salty sweat there as his warm seed seeped into her. 

     “Mmm, Miguel,” she murmured against him, scrunching his hair in her fingers as he continued to hold onto her. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers stroking her spine as she panted against him as well. Dios, she was cute. He definitely wouldn’t be able to let her go now that he’d had a taste of her. 

     “Boss?” Jess called out to him from somewhere outside. “Cops are on their way. We’d better get going.” Miguel pressed a final kiss to X’s cheek, then lifted her off his lap, setting her down on the table. 

     “That’s right,” Francesco told him, suddenly regaining some of his confidence. “You’d better get going you filthy b*stard.” Miguel rolled his eyes and got off the table, holding a hand out to X to help her down. She hopped off of it, stumbling slightly as her legs shook, still weak from having him inside of her. But he held her steady until she regained her footing, then bent over to pick his clothes up. X reached for her underwear, then grabbed Francesco’s shirt as well, starting to put it back on. But Miguel held a hand in front of her, stopping her. 

     “I don’t want you wearing that, cariño,” he told her, taking the shirt from her and replacing it with his own. “Here. Put this on instead.” She bit her lip, worrying at it as she contemplated his underlying meaning. Her gaze flickered over to Francesco, his brows set into a harsh frown as he glared at her. Then Miguel moved to stand in front of her, blocking her husband from her view. He nodded at his shirt, gesturing for her to put it on, and she did so, setting the underwear aside. He picked it up and shoved it into his pants pocket, flashing her a wicked grin that hinted at whatever he had planned in mind for later. So he wanted there to be a later. Was he really intending on taking her with him then? But how long would he keep her for? What would he have her do? Besides … the obvious, of course. She gulped as her stomach flipped at the thought, lowering her head to avoid meeting his gaze. He slipped his jacket on and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out the door and far away from the life she knew she’d never come back to.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Hello!!! congratulations on 2k you absolutely deserve it! can I please request Miguel O'Hara with promt 29."touch me there. right there" with fem reader( for some extra spice maybe it's inexperienced Miguel learning how to touch the reader) thank you so much I love all of your work🖤

Shy

College AU!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Language, smut, fingering, shy Miguel.

Thank you for requesting! It's not very good but I hope you still enjoy it <3

...

Miguel was precious.

He had a tentative touch, his rough fingertips gliding over the smooth skin of your thigh, gently playing with the hem of your pleated baby-pink skirt.

He was kneeling at the edge of your bed, his body pressed between your legs as you leaned back on your elbows, watching him stew in his timidness. 

“Miggy,” you smiled, tilting your head a bit when his eyes flew to meet yours, pausing his little exploration, “it’s okay if you wanna stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” he grunted, quickly averting his eyes and focusing on the hidden treasure between your legs, the place he’d always wanted to touch but would never allow himself to. You let out a soft whine when he carefully messaged your legs, his calloused hands sending tiny jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You sighed, reaching out to run your fingers through Miguel’s thick hair.

“What about your roommate?” He asked suddenly, fiddling with your skirt, smoothing it out for modesty as if you both weren’t in the privacy of your bedroom. “Won’t she hear us?”

“She’s out with her boyfriend,” you assured him, “she won't be back till tomorrow, I promise.” That seemed to calm his nerves if only for a moment.

Miguel was shy, something that was both surprising and endearing.

He was captain of the university baseball team, a stellar student in biochemistry, beyond gorgeous, and highly desired. He was literally the entire package—every girl's (and guy's) dream.

And he was shy. Who would’ve thought?

He admitted to you on your first date that his experience with physical intimacy was limited. He’d always been too nervous, throwing himself into sports and school to avoid unwanted attention.

But then he met you—a pretty thing that sat next to him in Poly Sci. One look at you was enough to have his heart beating faster than it ever did on the playing field. And all you’d done was smile.

And, well, the rest was history.

After allowing him a gentle exploration of your thighs, you took his hand, pushing it under your tiny skirt and over your clothed cunt. He took in a breath, hissing when his fingers connected with the damp patch on your panties. You mewled when he brushed his fingers over it.

“Like that?” he asked you, pressing his thumb down over the patch when you nodded vigorously, biting your lower lip.

“Mhm,” you mewled, “K-keep going, you’re doing so well,” Miguel grunted at the praise, slowly peeling your skirt back to let it pool over your waist, revealing your silky panties. The damp spot stood out, and he couldn’t look away from the arousal that stained the delicate cloth. 

“You’re so wet,” he marveled, gently peeling it aside to glance at your glistening cunt. Your folds were swollen—hot, slick, and inviting. He hesitated, putting a finger over your entrance and gently swiping through your folds before pulling back to observe the slick that clung to his skin. He pressed it between his fingers, watching how it stretched apart like tiny webs.

And then suddenly, he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue curling out to lap at your mess.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him curiously, his eyes fluttering as he savored the taste of you.

That was bold of him. Really bold. And you liked it.

“Mig,” you whined, making work of removing your panties, “please.” He pulled his fingers from his mouth, biting his lip when you brought your knees up, planting your feet firmly on your bed, and giving him a clear view of your pussy. 

“W-what should I do?” He stuttered, his cheeks burning in mortification but you only smiled at him, your eyes heavy as you moved to take his hand again, placing it over your sopping core.

“Touch me.” You whispered. 

It was a clumsy touch at first, his inexperienced fingers swirling around your slick till he pushed against your clit, making you gasp.

“Touch me there,” you moaned, chasing the ghost of his fingers, “right there." 

“Yeah?” Miguel’s confidence grew, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, ripping lovely little whimpers from you. 

“Mmm,” You mewled, your eyes fluttering shut as Miguel worked your clit. Your legs began to shake, and your cunt oozed more slick over his fingers. 

You could hear him take in a breath, a small whimper falling past his lips at the sight.

And then he stopped. You huffed, peering over your knees to look at him.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined, canting your hips up to get him to touch you again. He just looked at you, licked his lips, and prodded at your sensitive entrance with the tip of his middle finger. You moaned, feeling your cunt squeeze in anticipation.

“Can I…?” He questioned, and you nodded your head enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes, yes, in me, Miguel, please.” He gently traced your quivering hole before plunging his finger in, gently at first, but with your guidance, he began to pump into you eagerly, his finger completely coated in your creaminess.

“Add a-another finger,” you begged and Miguel complied, stretching your channel with his thick digits, “mm, yeah, just like that, fuck.”

“You like that?” Miguel breathed, his eyes roaming over your blissed-out face before locking on your weeping pussy, pushing his fingers deeper, “feels good?”

“Yesss,” you cried, fisting your sheets, “s’good."

He kept at it, sinking his fingers into your moist heat until your cunt clamped over them tightly, your body convulsing when your orgasm washed over you. You cried out, feeling Miguel's breath over your quivering pussy. 

“T-that was…” You were panting, chest heaving, failing to formulate words.

“Beautiful.” Miguel finished the sentiment for you, his eyes tracing over the juices coating his two fingers. He paused, pressing a quick kiss to your sensitive cunt before lapping your taste off his fingers.

“C’mere,” you dropped your legs, extending your hands so that he could fall into your arms. When he does, you feel his erection press against you through his sweatpants. “Your turn, Mig,” you reached down to cup him but he stopped you, burying his face into your neck.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbled into your skin, far too overwhelmed with how you fell apart for him, “you can have me tomorrow.”

“But my roommate will be home. Aren’t you worried about us making noise?”

“S’okay,” he said, holding you close, feeling his lashes tickle your skin, “you sound so pretty when you make noise.”

You smiled, pushing his head away from his hiding spot so that you could kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

[eroseas]

thinking about miguel o'hara. technically im always thinking about miguel o'hara but rn im thinking about miguel o'hara getting a blowjob and absolutely losing it. he's so sensitive and vocal, and every time the tip of his dick gets sucked, he shudders hard.

"dios—" he chokes out, "bebé, porfa, no puedo más—"

he likes when he's kissed while he cums— loves when his moans and whimpers are swallowed up as he cums all over his chest and hand.

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[angelltheninth]

Lost to the Instincts

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, enemies who fuck, rough sex, biting, size difference, hate sex, name calling, degradation, possessive sex, mating season, creampie, multiple orgasms

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Miguel losing it completely would just end me... in the best way possible.

Teasing Miguel while you were fighting him was part of the dynamic you built over the years. You tease him, he retaliates, he flirts with you, you push him away only to be pinned by him and it ends in an angry make out session before you agree to never speak of it again and have it never happen again. It's been happening for years, on and off.

Why was it that this time it was too far? You haven't done anything different. But he seemed to be on edge before the fight began too. His posture was too sturdy, his movements too heavy, his growling too loud, his fangs snapping too close to you for comfort.

Now you were clinging onto him, kissing him, his rock hard cock rocking against you stomach, his hands on your hips, your ass, your thighs, your breasts, anywhere they could reach. He was frustrated, but not with you it seemed.

Part of you wanted to know what this was about, what brought out this side of him. But if you asked he might stop, you didn't want that. You dreamed about fucking Miguel. Often having to fuck those feelings out when you'd wake up from said dream. Or when you'd get back from your fight with him. His big, strong body always overpowered yours but you always slipped through his fingers.

This was the one time you didn't want to. You welcomed his hands on you by rolling your hips against him, eliciting a growl and a small bite on your bottom lip.

Your moan went from painful, to pleased, to startled when you heard the ripping of fabric and moments later felt his fingers on your bare pussy. "This suit is expensive you asshole." You whined against him but ended up not caring that much honestly.

Miguel didn't care at all, his own suit vanished completely, "Better?"

"No... yes." You admitted because not only did you finally get to see him in all his naked glory but also got to see his huge, hard cock dripping with so much cum it already looked like he had an orgasm. "What's gotten into you? You seem... unlike yourself. Not that I'm complaining." You grinned and rolled your pussy against the bottom of his cock, making him hiss.

"None of your damn business." Miguel grabbed his cock and rubbed the fat, angry tip against your entrance, "Fucking need... pussy." His glowing red eyes met yours. His self control was remarkable, he's been hard the entire fight, the entire make out session, and waiting for you to say he can fuck you. But... you also had a feeling that hearing you say it would be a thrill and a boost for his ego. "Mating season."

Mating season. Right. Spiders went through those. It might explain his sudden leaves of absence over the past years. He would always disappear for about a week and then show up again, things would be normal. You always assumed that he was away on other hero business. When in reality he was so horny he couldn't leave his home.

Should you tease him for this? Yes. Absolutely, fuck yes. When would you get this opportunity again?

"So you finally stopped fucking random women and decided to come to me? Took you long enough." You grinned up at him and locked your legs tighter around his hips.

Miguel grunted and shook his head, "No other women. Just my hand and toys. You'll be better then both I'm sure. I know you want this, have for a while. Every time we fight I need to stop myself from ridding your pretty ass when you get horny. Makes my mouth water."

It pained him to say this. He was a hero wanting to fuck his enemy. This was embarrassing enough to admit to you, let alone if it were to get out to the presses. But Miguel was too far gone to care about this now, after all he was fucking you on a rooftop, pressing you against a the door that lead to the stairs.

Never has he given less of a fuck about how a situation might look.

For you it was the realization that not only did he want to fuck you too but that you were the only one who he's wanted to go through this with. On some level Miguel trusted you. He trusted you enough to show this side of him to you, this desperate, needy side.

"Why are hesitating then? Hurry up and fuck me." You tugged his lips against yours, "Do you want me to fuck you instead? I could ride your big cock so good you lose your brilliant mind." You returned the bite he gave you before, your groan silenced by his rough mouth on yours. That hard cock of his felt better then any dildo you had inside you, and other cock, it was wide and hard and so damn hot and slippery with all the cum on it. "If you dare hold back on me..."

"As if." Miguel never held his punches when it came to you. Holding back now was the last thing on his mind. Right away he started off strong, making your body shake into his with every deep, long thrust. "Shame you're one of the villains. I could use good pussy more often." He smirked down at you, his hands firm on your hips.

"So? We're fucking now aren't we, big guy?" You gripped his broad shoulders and rolled your hips in tandem with his, sinking on his cock just right. You loved the small grunts he made when his entire length felt your pussy clench around him. You'd remember these for later.

"Cause of my instincts." He justified, his attempt weak. "Or are you saying you fuck everyone you fight? I hoped I was special but maybe you're secretly a big slut." There were quite a few hot heroes you fought. But Miguel was the only one you wanted to fuck. "I've seen you flirt with them." He pushed in roughly, "Well? Anything to say for yourself?"

If you wanted to fuck everyone you had a fight with you could have. You knew that. But would they ever compare to how Miguel felt now? No. So why do it? Miguel was better then all of them. Still... you could...

A devious little smile spread across your painted lips. You pulled him close and latched onto the nape of his neck, moaning for him with every thrust he made. The longer you avoided telling him the truth the rougher he got with you. This was bothering him, it made him angry that you'd fuck anyone but him. So angry that he pushed himself balls deep and came, taking you by surprise and making you fall against the wall.

His cock didn't soften one bit, he snarled as you bit his neck in retaliation, his hips smacking against yours again, fucking his cum deeper, the tip ramming against the deepest parts of you, dragging against your front wall, the pleasure making it hard to think.

You weren't worried about a pregnancy, you always had contraceptives to take. The fact that you liked it raw from him right now... well that wasn't a secret. Your pussy fluttered around his cock, your moans loud in his ear despite your lips on his neck.

"Does it mater who I've slept with before? You fuck me better." That wasn't exactly what he was asking. Yet it seemed good enough for now, he didn't push the issue further now that he knew he was the best. "Fuck. I haven't felt cum inside me in so long." Words left your mouth before you could stop them, pussy clenching around him again, spurring him on.

"Then I'll give you all of mine. I needed somewhere to dump it in anyway. This fucking pussy will do nicely. When your friends come and get you they're find you here with your pussy bare and overflowing with my seed. They'll never touch you again. They'll know his slutty pussyhole belongs to me. My pussy, my slut. Mine." His teeth nibbled on your neck. You shook, aware of the paralyzing venom he possessed.

If he wanted to, if he was a bad man he could bite you and use you like a fuckdoll until he was satisfied. If you asked... would he? Or would be it too much for him? He did just call you his.

"Calling me yours after making me come once. You're so needy. Make me come again if you're gonna talk such a big game. Or maybe your cock is bigger then your skills." You egged him on, watching as his eyes narrowed, the dangerous aura sending electric pulses to your clit. "Miguel. Make. Me. Come."

He pushed his body on top of yours, making you wrap yourself around him entirely, one of his hands on your lower back to keep you from falling, the other digging into the concrete wall, leaving deep claw gashes. You were rocked back and forth with every pump of his hips, his cock hammering into you, your head pressing against his chest, both your eyes shut tight in pleasure.

Thick cum ran down your pussy, his cock and balls, your ass and onto the floor. He was marking you with it, he wanted everyone to know.

Miguel felt your body go rigid under his and pressed you closer to him, his cock enveloped in tight, pulsing heat that sucked him in deeper and deeper. When he was all the way inside, with no room for his cock he came, painting your insides white with more cum. Keeping your hips close he rocked back and forth, not pulling out, the cum staying inside you for as long as possible.

Your felt your body go slack beneath his, your heart beating as fast as his, your breathing fast, shallow, your whole world spinning only around Miguel. You didn't need to ask him to hold you, he was already moving you into his lap, his back against the wall and his arms around you.

He didn't say a word to you. Maybe he didn't know what to say. He fucked you to get rid of his horniness. And he was your enemy. What else was there to say? Where do you go from here? Back to the way you were before. With a lot more sexual tension between you. You couldn't deny it anymore. And when trading punches became too boring you could trade orgasms.

[chixkencxrry]

mi sol

Summary: You get a new job as a caretaker at a mysterious estate two towns over. The salary is good enough for you to ignore certain things -- at first. Soon enough you have no choice but to get away. Too bad you're in for life. (one-shot, plot with porn) Vampire! Yandere! Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: eventual SMUT, masturbation, p in v, pussy eating, somewhat YANDERE! MIGUEL, YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU! NOT PROOFED

fanart by @yeagersatorubar (twt)

The email had come in the middle of the night.

It was from an unrecognizable source. An acceptance to something, some job you didn’t remember applying for. A caretaker job two towns over. You rubbed your eyes in the blue light glare of your rickety laptop, lips pursued as you read.

“When did I apply for this?”

Attached to the close of the email was a number and name. A woman named Lyla was the contact. The name of the property was Stone. You dialled the number. If the person was sending the email this late, you didn’t worry about your call waking them up. 

“Hello. You must be our new caretaker.”

You cleared your throat – taken aback. “I, uh, yes. I am. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling this late.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s fine! You’ll learn that we keep odd hours here.”

“Right,” did you really need the money that much? You eyed your room. It was pink, with posters half hanging. It had been your childhood room and you still occupied it. It made your mouth itch. You needed to leave. “When do you want me to start?”

Though as your taxi pulled up to the estate, you found yourself regretting it. Maybe regret was too strong a word. You found yourself reconsidering it. Had you done something terribly stupid by coming here? By packing your things and telling your parents they could fuck off?

It had taken four hours to get here, the sun had set and it was twilight now. Would it be too early to run back with your tail between your legs? Were you so weak that you had to give up? 

“That’ll be 50$.” the driver grunted, growing impatient with your slow movement.

You baulked and shoved the bill into his hand. Out of spite, you took your time to get your bags out – making sure you didn’t miss one. You could have sworn you heard him curse as he drove off. Rolling your eyes, you slid your phone out to get to your emails – Lyla had sent you the code to get in. Turning your flashlight on the keypad, you punched the code in and continued your trek up the property. It was a long walk that left you huffing. 

Once you met the great doors, you knocked the lion-faced knockers loudly a few times and waited. When you went to try for a second time, it pierced your skin, making you hiss. Your finger slipped into your mouth and you sucked. 

The door swung open to reveal a fashionable dress auburn-haired woman with heart-shaped sunglasses. She grinned at you. All sharp, white teeth. “Hello! Aren't you an earlier riser?”

You bristled. “Pardon?”

“Are these your bags?” She turned her head inside the mansion and whistled. “I’ll get Ben to bring them in.”

Lyla was the assistant of the owner of the house. A real recluse, she claimed. You didn’t mind. They had paid you a freaking signing bonus when you agreed. Who gave signing bonuses to caretakers? Dumb rich people. This guy could be a troll for all you cared. As long as each salary came with the flourish of that, you could never meet the man. 

“It's more of a managerial position really.” Lyla clarified after showing you the lion’s share of the house. “Ben takes care of the heavy lifting. Or Peter – he doesn’t show up much though, new father and all that.”

“We have cameras in the common areas. Bedrooms and baths are off limits of course. You’ll get access to them.”

“So, Mr. Stone just wants me to look after the place? Make sure it's clean and in order?”

Lyla stilled, causing you to bump into her. Her pale face twitched. “Mr. O’Hara. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Sorry. It’s just the name of the estate –”

Lyla shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake again.”

“My bad.”

The tour continued on silently. Lyla stopped at the West Wing, where a portrait of a young family hung. They were dressed in regalia from at least three centuries ago. It was of two beautiful boys, a stately-looking woman and a cold-faced man. You shivered. You hoped the man was not Mr O’Hara.

“Don’t worry,” Lyla seemed to read your mind. Her pointer finger landed on the taller of the two boys. “That’s Mr O’Hara.”

You relaxed. Even though it was an old photo, the bright-eyed kid couldn’t be too different from the man who had just hired yourself out to. 

Right?

***

Miguel felt warm.

For the first time in a century, he felt the warmth of you in the walls of his prison. It was like feeling the sun again. Like tasting wine, luscious and dark. You were home. He hadn’t risen yet. His meal sat by his window, eyes glossed over with compulsion. Miguel didn’t want to see you without eating. It had been so long after all. So very long without your touch, the brush of your lips, the scent of your hair, the feel of your pussy.

He throbbed with want for you. 

Rising from his coffin, his talons fell. Piercing two holes in the side of his meal’s neck, Miguel made sure to drink his fill until it was cold and listless. His fangs, his fangs he would keep for you. 

It was funny how it started. He had run into you while on a hunt. Well, you hadn’t noticed of course. You had been on a date, smelling of want and looking like sin in red. He wasn’t worthy of you. But that man touched you and lips had planted on your skin – he was lucky Miguel hadn’t killed him right then and there. He had been too caught up in you. Looking at you. Seeing you. Flesh and fire before him. The curls of your hair, the flare of your hips, the drag of your voice and the thrill of your laughter.

That man did not deserve any of that.

All of that belonged to him. 

In the computer age, everything lay at his fingertips. He found you with ease. Found where you lived. Who you were now. Everything that the web of connections could provide. He knew what books you read, what songs you liked, your favourite bands and flower. 

He also knew you needed him. You were twenty-five and unemployed, living with your parents and your art wasn’t selling as you’d liked. How that desperation clung to you, how that desperation made you sweet to him. 

A gurgling sound distracted him. 

Sneering, he looked at his feet to see the meal had not totally died. Rolling his eyes, he tore the heart out of its chest and sucked the remaining blood. He cursed. 

Now he’d have to shower before seeing you. What a nuisance.

After cleaning off the blood, he watched the surveillance footage of Lyla giving you the door and waited until she’d left you alone like he’d asked to find you. He didn’t want an interloper. He wanted you alone to create a repertoire. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his teeth in the mirror — all traces of blood were gone. His talons were retracted, fangs disappeared but his eyes were still red from feeding. Would that freak you? He didn’t want to change it.

Tapping his smartwatch, he ordered Lyla to bring him a pair of contacts. 

“Why? Won’t it just dissolve in a few hours?” 

“Because I said so.”

“Well, now I’m not gonna bring them on principle.”

Miguel snapped. “Lyla…please bring the goddamn contacts.”

“They’re already in your room, fearless creator. Vanity drawer to the left.”

Miguel switched the watch off. Carefully, he placed the contacts onto his eyes. They stung a little but he only needed it for a few hours. They would be long dissolved and by then his eyes would return to their true brown. 

You were beautiful in the kitchen. Hair tied up in a bun ontop of your head. Messy curls sweep to your forehead. Lips, pinked and plumb moving as you chewed. You seemed to try to make yourself seem smaller. Crouching over the plate of chicken salad Lyla had prepared for you. She couldn’t cook – his golem, but she tried. They had so few human guests these days after all.

Miguel cleared his throat, making you jolt and stare at him with big eyes. Your lashes fluttered, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood. “Oh, hello! You must be Mr. O’Hara.”

Your offered hand hung for a moment. He eyed it. Bare, delicate, your nails sharpened to a humanly acceptable point. He realised he’d been staring for longer than necessary and took it, glad he fed so his body warm. Your hand slipped in with ease. He gripped it and shook it, saying your name. “Call me Miguel. It’s nice to meet you. Lyla gave you the grounds tour?”

“Oh...no, she, uh, showed me the house and my quarters but not the grounds.” You titled your head, looking out the window. “I figured it was too dark out, no?”

Excellent. “We have very good lights. If you’re finished eating, I can give you the tour myself.”

“Yes! Definitely.” So eager. How promising.

***

Mr. O’Hara – no, Miguel, led you out by placing a hand on the small of your back. It was large and spanning and brushed against the rise of your ass before it fell to his side again and he resumed a respectable distance. He smelt of sandalwood and citrus. An oud wafted from him. This immaculately dressed older man with lines on his face creating dimension. He couldn’t be much older than you, but everything about him seemed grown whereas you seemed like a child playing dress up in adulthood. 

The grounds were massive. Three acres he’d said. There was a small rose garden that led out to a private lake. A family mausoleum that made you shutter when you passed it. Arched trees bent over the manicured green. The entire place was immaculate. 

What on earth did they need you for?

“Did the pass caretaker retire?”

Miguel shook his head. A small fence came into view. You saw dried-up shrubs and trees, barren spots and a small shed. “She passed.”

“My condolences,” you whispered softly, fingers brushing along his arm to comfort him briefly. “What is this?”

“It used to be a greenhouse.”

There was nothing green about the space. Clearing your throat, you let Miguel guide you back to the house. It was late now. You grew tired. So, very tired. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” His eyes peered curiously at her. She swore they flashed red but that may have been her weariness showing. “I hope you can be comfortable here.”

His gaze was intense. You found it difficult to look away – it caused a dizzying effect on you. Turning away, Miguel and you went back into the house and he escorted you to your quarters. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m really excited to dig in.”

He smiled – all white teeth. “No. I’m pleased to have you here. You have no idea how much.”

When you finally closed your door you let out a slight squeal of excitement. Biting your lower lip, you traced your fingers along the door. You had not expected Mr. O’Hara to look like that. Sure, he was certainly a mature man. The lines on his face told you that he was at least mid-thirties and the way he carried himself like a grown man would. 

God. You didn’t know how you were going to make it out working with such a specimen. You could barely keep it together on the walk! Running your hand over your hair, you went to your laptop bag and pulled the small notebook out. You googled your new boss, disappointed to find nothing much. There was one link that had his name, a record from an archive three hundred years ago. When you clicked it, it bounced back. 

Frustrated, you closed it and decided to just go to bed. 

Weeks passed by, and a monolith of activity passed. You devoted your all to the house but particularly the greenhouse at the back of the property beside the lake. It became a passion project of yours. Lyla and Ben were helpful of course – they made sure that you got all the aid and materials you needed to realise your vision. 

You became closer to the other members of the house. Lyla was kind and a good guide for you. Miguel was something.

It was not that you had an extensive working history but you were quite sure the interest he seemed to pay to you and your tasks were a little extra attention. In some regard, it unnerved you. But in another, you liked the praise and appreciation you received for every task completed. You also didn’t mind being in close proximity to him. There was no denying that Miguel had become a crush of yours and the star of your private fantasies.

Look at him. All harsh angles and sharpness, but his actions, his words were rose petal soft. God. He was a delicious man.

Another thing that struck you as strange was the utter loneliness of the house when the sun was up. When they had called themselves nocturnal creatures, you had merely thought it meant that they slept very late or worked very late in the evening. You were wrong though – they were completely gone during the day. In the afternoons they rose, bright and colourful as your energy dwindled down. 

“Techies,” Lyla had explained. “We work best at night – what can we say!”

It felt like bullshit but the pay was too good for you to make it your business. By the beginning of your third month, you know the place like the back of your hand. Well – most of it but for the wing Lyla had warned you against. One particularly slow day temptation had gotten the better of you. Could your curiosity be blamed for your next act? You crept into the area, floorboard creaking as you looked. It was not a different hallway than the others. 

A painting sat at the edge – but it was too poorly lit for you to see from your end. Squinting, you walked closer. The painting held a tear. It was a woman no doubt, soft-featured but you only saw up to her lower lip on which sat a mole. Something pulled at you. 

You stretched forward, fingertips brushing the dried oil and hanging paper. Pushing it up to see the face, your breathe hitched at the sight. 

The hairs at the back of your neck stood up and your stomach turned. You ran back to the other half of the house, heart speeding in your chest to jump through your ribs. You closed your door – the feeling of your skin getting ready to crawl off your body not leaving. You rubbed your ribs beneath your bosom. 

Everything about that had felt wrong. 

Since you began working here – you hadn’t taken a weekend off. Packing your bag hurriedly, you made a call to your mother, placing her on speaker. It rang for only a few moments.

“Hello, little stranger.”

“Mom – I, I need to come home.”

The panic in your voice set her voice on edge. “Baby? Is everything alright at your job?”

“I just got a bad feeling, Mom. I just need to come home.”

“Okay. Call an Uber.” Logic was your mother’s failsafe in times of duress. 

You shook your head. Ubers didn’t get this far out. You would have to walk a mile into the town to order one or call a taxi. “No. They won’t come here. I’ll head to town and catch something.”

“Call me when you’re there. Okay?” Your mother cautioned. 

“Okay...I will.”

Packing your things took longer than anticipated. You looked at your watch – it was almost five. It usually got dark around six. Shouldering your haversack and duffel bag, you snuck out of the estate and made your walk down the winding road to the town. 

Your bags felt heavy and the road took forever. Eventually, you found a bus stop. It was just about twilight now. The blue sky became a warm orange. Warm day dying into a cool evening. 

You sighed, back hitting the seat of the bench. The app told you the next bus to town was coming in the next twelve minutes. You just needed one ride to the inner city and there you could easily get an Uber home. 

Closing your eyes, you felt relaxed for the first time in an hour. 

You were safe. You were going home. 

***

He knew you were missing the moment the sun had set. 

Miguel had stretched the entire expanse of the property – searching everywhere for you. All of your things were gone from your quarters. Even your dirty laundry was gone. It was still full of your scent. He dug his nose into the rumpled sheets. Lilac and Lily. His talons dug through them – he picked up notes of fear and curiosity. Fear? What had made you fearful?

Miguel went to the abandoned wing. Your scent filled the air. Had you been snooping little girl? The painting. You’d seen your first iteration from so long ago. 

“Lyla,” Miguel roared. “I want everyone on the ground looking for her. She doesn’t leave this town – do you hear me?”

“Louder than necessary but okay.”

He drove from the estate, through the town until he picked up your scent. His talons dug into the steering. Rage fuelled him like no other. Had you really thought you could leave? He thought he could be patient, be kind, and wait you out. Then you left. 

What made you think you had the right?

His journey halted. Miguel retracted his talons and exited, fangs extended as you sat leaning back on a bus bench. About half a mile ahead, he could hear the incoming sound of the bus. You would get the chance. 

“Where do you think you’re going, mi sol?”

You jumped up, eyes wide. “Miguel! How did you?”

“I can find you anywhere.” He said gruffly. “You leave without notice at all your jobs?”

“I, uh, I was just taking the weekend off.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re lying to me. You were snooping. Come back with me.”

“I’m not going back.” You snapped. “I don’t know what’s going on in that place but it's not natural.”

Miguel grew tired but he knew he couldn’t be heavy-handed. He had to be smart about this. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that go to your family. But know on Monday you’ll still have a job and a home with us.”

You were so easy to lie to that he almost felt bad.

The bus came and he fell back, watching you leave. The bus moved slowly down the dusty road. It was a long ride back to town. He tapped his watch and made a phone call. “Lyla. I need an accident. Now.”

“Fatal or fatale?”

He sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be in the mood for you either.”

“Crash the damn bus, Lyla, now.”

“Already sent something that way, bossman.”

“Ayudame dios.”

Keeping up with the bus wasn’t a problem. Through the woodlands, he could see a creation jumping through – all fur and bolts, his favourite hairy bot crashing into the bus from the front, making the driver stop immediately. The wolf sat growing, padding its way to the front sidewheels before he punctured it with his teeth tearing through. The bus leaned to its side, dipping. He watched, from his parked spot, morbidly as the great machine broke the side window, paw reaching in. He heard you scream and smelt the faint scent of your blood. 

Miguel decided it had gone too far then, chasing the creature off. 

The driver of the bus came out first, assessing the damages. You shivered, trembling as you climbed down with your bags on your shoulders. You had been crying. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks. “How long until someone gets out here.”

The driver scratched his head. “Best luck you got is to hitchhike. They’ll come get me in an hour or two. Sorry, darling.”

That was his cue. Miguel started the car and drove by slowly. It was tinted so you excitedly jumped up and down, glad to think it was a kindly stranger. As if he would leave you to be picked up by some ill-thinking stranger.

He stopped, rolling the windows down. “Need a ride?”

You looked stiff with fear. The driver, however, beamed at him. “Oh, sure young man. This lady is heading into town. Think you can give her a ride?”

“Sure I can.” He unlocked the door, pushing it open. Miguel smiled at her, showing his sharp teeth. “Get in.”

Nodding, you hurriedly got into the vehicle. Your curly hair fell to your face as glossy eyes watched him. Miguel turned the radio on and a storm warning came out. 

“What are you?”

“Let’s get back to the estate and then I can explain.” Miguel made a sharp U-Turn and drove past the wreckage, racing back to the property. 

He could smell your fear, the hint of your blood, he looked down seeing a little blood blooming beneath your white dress. It formed a little cloud. He hissed, he hadn’t meant for you to get hurt. “Are you in pain?”

You kissed your teeth instead of responding to him. He sighed. He had expected that – you always, without fail, had a bad attitude when he fucked up. Miguel cursed himself, he should have removed that painting. Why hadn’t he thought clearly? “I didn’t want it to come to this – if you had just let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?”

The estate was coming into view now. Rising like a terrible moon on the horizon.

“It wasn’t you in the painting.” He clarified. “Well, not you. A version of you.”

He punched the code in, the gates opening as he drove up and slamming shut behind the two of you. “That doesn’t make any sense, Miguel.”

You clutched your bags, walking ahead of him as you entered the house. You set them down and Miguel smelt your blood more. “Let me fix you up. Please.”

You flinched but allowed him to lead you to the other side of the house into the very wing that had made you run. Miguel tucked his hands into his pockets. Watching you carefully step ahead. He tried hard not to look at your ass, the switch and sway of the hefty cheeks but he tried to keep his mind on task and out of the gutter.

Which was hard since you looked and smelt like you.

“Are you human?”

“No.”

You gasped, wrapping your arms around you. “Okay.”

Miguel could positively hear your mind working. You turned to look at him, eyes narrowed as if to find the answer in his face. Miguel decided to make it easy on you. He opened his mouth, fangs dropped. 

“Shit!”

“Shit.”

A familiar door came up. His hand settled on your waist, stopping you from going further. He felt you shiver under his touch. The faint scent of your arousal wafting upward. His gums shivered. 

“C’mon,” his voice was gruff. “It's right through here.”

It had been decades since Miguel had let anyone but Lyla in. Having you here – where he slept, fed, and worked as a sort of rawness he had missed. He had missed you. Miguel had learned to love this new version of you, you sang as you worked along the house. Danced to pop songs and cooked in the early mornings before the sun rose. 

“Sit here.” he directed you to a chaise lounge, eyes gazing back. “Take the dress off.”

Your lips quivered with a mounting argument but common sense seemed to reign for a moment as you slipped it off. Just watching you made him harden. The black cups of your bra barely keep the fat of your tits in, through the thin lace, he could see the puckered areolas of your breasts. The high waist of your thong dug into the subtle curve of your hourglass figure.

Merida. 

Miguel set the tools down on the bed and cleaned the wound. It wasn’t too deep, just a flesh wound that didn’t need stitches. He brought his thumb to his fang and nicked the skin, pressing the open hole to your wound he smeared it with blood. 

“Jesus Christ…that’s a health code violation.”

He snorted, leaning forward and licking it clean. After his saliva had wiped it off, not even a cut remained. “All better, mi sol.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sn.” he translated. “You’re my sun. Always have been.”

“So you’re a vampire.”

“I’m a vampire.”

You hummed. “And the woman who looks like me in the painting?”

“My wife when I was human.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m a version of her?”

“One of many.”

“Did you kill them?”

“God no.” The idea made his skin burn. “I could never, never hurt you.”

“But you’re a vampire, Miguel. What kind of promise is that?”

“Every time you’ve been in my reach, I loved you until you left me. Until old age took you or until sickness took you.”

Miguel fell to his knees resting his head on your lap. Your face read on incredulity but the fear had vanished from your scent. Curiosity with hints of want. 

“I’m going back to my room.” You stated, picking up your bloodied dress. “And tomorrow night, we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

***

You couldn’t sleep. When you got back to your room, you shower and change. Texting your mom to know you’re alright. You try to listen to music. To watch a movie. To read but nothing gets you sleep. 

Perhaps it's simply a side-effect of finding out your work for vampires. 

Rain began to pour outside, it was a soothing sound – you blushed as another thought came to mind. There was another way to get you to sleep. Opening your door, you peek outside, making sure the hallway was clear.

Closing your door, you twist the look and step out of your nightshirt and slide your panties off your hips. Digging into one of your bags, tucked at the very bottom was your prize. The blue vibrator stuck out to you. Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you sat at the edge of your bed. Raising one leg and keeping the other down, your legs were spread. 

Your thumb rose the speed to your usual one as you teased your clitoris with it. Eyes closed, you imagined a familiar scenario. Your back against a wall, legs hooked by a faceless strong man. He would take his time with you first. Fucking a thick cock in and out of your wet cunt. 

Your head fell back, as the man in your imagination sped up, fucking you harder. Back hitting the wall. As your height came – you murmured a name and a face appeared in your imagination. 

“Miguel.”

Your climax was instant, spraying wetness onto the edge of the bed, a few droplets dampening the carpet. You set the vibrator aside, collapsing onto the bed. Hands roamed up and down the length of your body, and you vibrated with desire – Miguel’s hands would be bigger than yours, rubbing along your figure, grabbing and biting. He would want you. He would let it be known how much he needed you. 

Your fingers went back to your pussy, rubbing the sticky substance about before slipping a finger in. His fingers would spread you better. Fuck you better. You were sure. 

“You look delicious, mi sol.”

Eyes flickered open – Miguel stood at your door with glowing red eyes and mouth parted in hunger as he stared. His hair was not gelled as usual, falling curls making him look dishevelled. Shamelessly, you added a second finger. The wet sounds grew louder. In the quickness of a blink, he appeared in front of you. He squatted in front of your pussy – inches from your furious fingering.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come.”

You snapped like a whip. Miguel growled before you, eyes never leaving your wanton form. “Tell me I can touch you.”

“You can touch me.” you whimpered.

He sighed, a hand resting on the mound of your pussy. His thumb stroked your clit. “Tell me I can kiss you, mi cara.”

“Kiss me.”

Miguel’s lips planted themselves on the folds of your pussy. He kissed and sucked, tonguing the insides of you while he strummed your clit. He took his time. Savouring the flavours of your pussy, moaning as he ate and tasted every crevice of you. 

Your fingers threaded his curly hair, gripping them as you ground against his face. His lips sucked on your clit, his hand moving from your mound to your thigh to keep your legs open while two of his thick fingers sawed into you. 

Messily, you sprayed his face, hips moving maddeningly against his pretty face. Miguel sucked it down, licking and nipping at your trembling centre. When he rose, his face was shiny and he grinned down at you. 

“Say you want this.”

How could you not? “I need this.”

You watched with earnestness as he pulled his pants down, slipping them off. His T-shirt went next. His body was better than you had imagined. The bounce of his thick cock. Begging to be made shiny with your pussy.

“Spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see this pretty little pussy.”

Your fingers spread yourself, you watched as he stroked himself, coating the large member with pre-cum. He bowed his head, spitting on your wet cunt. Miguel’s thumb rubbed the saliva in, using two of his fingers to open the weeping carven. Slowly he entered you – his thickness making you gasp. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, moaning as he bottomed out. You whimpered, groaning as he started to move. Your legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You’re doing so good, mi sol. Taking my cock so deep.”

His hips snapped, taking his time as you grew used to him. Miguel was certainly bigger than any toy you owned. His cock dragged along you like he was making sure you took him so deep you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Such a good girl. Mi vida. Mi luz.” His hand went to your throat, squeezing it slowly as his eyes stayed on your face. Memorising every O your lips made. It was disconcerting. But when his hips sped up, shaking the bed and making you mewl – you couldn’t care less. 

Miguel’s head bowed, lips to your neck as he kissed his way down to your breasts. You felt his teeth graze the soft flesh of your breasts. He didn’t have to say what he wanted. You wanted it too, you could feel the tremble of your upcoming orgasm. 

“Do it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Teeth sinking into the flesh and sucking. You creamed his cock, shouting obscenities as your orgasm shuddered through your entire body. Stars dotted your eyes, your toes curled and your bite your tongue so hard it bled.

Miguel’s hips went faster, hips snapping hard into you that it pained you ever so slightly. His cock twitched with an especially vicious plunge, painting your walls with his cum. Fangs retracting, Miguel licked your nipple, lips kissing it as he held you close. 

The high of it all slowly died down. You felt the thickness of his cock and the fullness of his seed. Your fingers traced along his arm. “I’m guessing you’ve been hearing me most nights for the past three months.”

He kissed your sternum and then your lips. It was a passionate kiss. And you realised – your first kiss. How backwards the two of you had done everything. How unjust – because it seemed Miguel was a damned good kisser.

 “And every night I touched myself to your sound.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought. Miguel smirked. “Aren’t you sore?”

“I’ll worry about that later.”

“As you wish.”

***

“So you’re sure everything is alright now?”

You rolled your eyes, reassuring your mother for the fifth today. It had been a solid week since you’d left and returned. Your mother still didn’t believe it was totally consensually – despite the fact that you had invited her and she’d come and see that you were totally alive and well. 

“You can’t blame your mother for worrying.”

“I know.” Your eyes flickered outside the greenhouse. It was night now. The other members of the house would be up soon. Your mother and you finished talking soon after. It seemed like on cue as you finished the call Miguel came into the greenhouse. Pulling off your muddy gloves, you smiled at him. At your side in and second he kissed your forehead and set his hands around your waist. 

“Hello, mi luz.”

“Hi, baby.” You kissed his mouth. “Did you feed yet?”

He hummed a confirmation, caging you against the desk. Miguel picked up a seed packing, explaining it. “Hibiscus? I don’t think those grew here.”

“Well, they’re not native,” you said. Slipping out from him, you dragged him down to his knees to see a box of soil you’d been working on. “But I’m sure I’ve got the soil mixture down. In the next few months, we’ll see how it goes.”

His hand rubbed along the side of your body. “That’s incredible, baby.”

Standing up, you looked down at him and blushed. “Well, its no machine wolf.”

“Mhmm.” His hands held your hips, squeezing the globes of your ass cheeks. He smacked the fat, groping it unashamedly. His nose pressed to your groin. “You’re an incredible woman. I hope you remember that.”

“Kiss up.”

His eyes flashed, and his lips spread to a mischievous grin. Miguel fell back onto the ground of the greenhouse. You smirked setting legs on either side of your hips. You unbuckled his pants and took his member out. You stroked it, spitting on the tip of it, before rubbing up and down. His hand raised your skirt up, a talon stretching out and cutting the side of your panty off. He pulled it off, baring your pussy against the rough material of your jeans. 

Hips raised, Miguel pulled you onto his cock, grinning as you whimpered at the sudden intrusion of his thickness. Your hands pressed to his hard chest, crying as he fucked up into you. 

Yes, you thought, eyes rolling back, everything was more than alright.

masterlist

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[sinnah8]

If universes aligned

pairing: Miguel o hara x Spidergirl!reader

Prompt: Miguel falling for Spidergirl!reader and being a complete simp for her whenever she is around him

a/n: I got this request from alathan13 ty! I added a bit of a twist. send me some requests!!!

Masterlist | ask

Miguel was stuck in a different dimension because of Lyla. The prototype for the watch worked but she couldn't get him back. So he decided to find a Spiderman and that's when he met Y/n Spider girl.

He couldn't stop thinking about Y/n once he came back after being with her for a month and getting to know her. Miguel knew he had to find a way to confess his feelings to her, even though the odds seemed against him.

One day, as fate would have it, Miguel managed to track down a dimensional rift that led him to y/n universe. Determined to seize the opportunity, he mustered up all his courage and entered the portal.

Emerging in a world unfamiliar to him, Miguel found himself in the heart of the city where y/n patrolled. He awaited her arrival As soon as she appeared Miguel's heart skipped a beat.

"Y/n!" he called out, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and hope.

Y/n paused mid-air, looking around to locate the source of the voice. Her gaze fell upon Miguel, and recognition flickered in her eyes. Descending gracefully, she landed in front of him.

"Miguel? What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Taking a deep breath, Miguel gathered his thoughts. "Y/n, I traveled across dimensions to be with you. The first time I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. Your strength, your bravery, and your unwavering commitment to justice... they've touched me in a way I can't describe."

Y/n studied him intently, her masked eyes revealing a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Miguel, this is unexpected. We come from different worlds, different realities. How can this be?"

Miguel's eyes met hers "I don't have all the answers, Y/n. But what I do know is the connection I feel towards you. I've fallen for you, and I can't ignore these emotions any longer. You inspire me to be a better person, to fight for what's right. I want to be by your side, no matter the challenges we may face."

y/n remained silent for a moment. "Miguel, this is a lot to take in. Our lives are intertwined with dangers. But I can't deny how I feel about you, even across dimensions. there's a reason our paths have crossed."

Hope surged through Miguel as he heard her words made him feel seen and understood. Y/n raised her hand to his cheek and kissed him on the lips knowing what she was doing was wrong but she didn't care.

[miggyyyyohara]

deeper, daddy...