MOVED TO @seratopia
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy
miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you
this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!
Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much.
Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later.
For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes.
Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)
Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy.
“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.
“No.“
“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask.
“Jess.“
“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“
“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter.
You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go.
“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes.
Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place.
Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head.
“Whipped.“
“Shut the fuck up.“
. . .
Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core.
Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.
“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area.
“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“
Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman.
“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit.
“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips.
Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face.
“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is.
“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“
Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...
Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you.
Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms.
“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream.
And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem.
“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out.
“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars.
���Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“
Miguel then leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time.
Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close.
“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy.
You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.
And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”
“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“
He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out.
“Aw, crap.“
“Finally.“
You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”
“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“
“One of literally thousands!“
“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“
“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“
Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.
“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters.
“When?“ You ask.
“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster.
“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.
“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.
“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief.
He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head.
15K notes
·
View notes
Midnight Pals: Souper
[at unicorn fuck club]
JRR Tolkien: tonight we've got a special story from everyone's favorite fantasy writer
GRR Martin:
CS Lewis:
Peter S Beagle:
Hans Christian Andersen:
L Frank Baum:
Tolkien: whoops shouldn't have said that ha ha
Tolkien: i mean, you're all winners in my book
Tolkien: but when i say everyone's favorite fantasy writer
Tolkien: i mean terry practchett
GRR Martin: oh yeah that's fair
CS Lewis: yeah fair
Peter S Beagle: fair
Hans Christian Andersen: yes yes of course
L Frank Baum: that's fair
Terry Pratchett: hello unicorn fuck club today i've got a story about a wizard who is - get this - actually very bad at his job
Tolkien: oh ho ho! terry my boy, you've done it again!
Pratchett: there's also girl dwarves
Tolkien: [suddenly stone-faced] i hate this
Pratchett: but first
Pratchett: all this story telling is hungry work!
Pratchett: do you happen to have anything to eat around here?
Tolkien: are you talking about...
Tolkien: having
Tolkien: a
Tolkien: feast?????
Brian Jacques: [squeaking incomprehensibly in rising excitement]
Tolkien: why, terry, my boy, what an idea!
Tolkien: instead of merely DESCRIBING a feast, we'll have one! huzzah!
Martin: huzzah!
Lewis: huzzah!
Jacques: [squeaking] i use a mercury head dime as a serving platter!
Pratchett: no no nothing so fancy as that
Tolkien: eh?
Pratchett: i was more thinking along the lines of
Pratchett: soup
Tolkien: soup?
Pratchett: yeah just a big bowl of heart soup right about now would just be the best thing
Pratchett: oo i just love the sound of it!
Pratchett: think about it: no work... no worries... no failures... no waste... when you serve maggi homestyle soups, the finest money can buy yet priced reasonably within your budget
Tolkien: interesting! tell us more
Pratchett: maggi soup! es ist echt ausgezeichnet!
Pratchett: how often have you had this problem
Pratchett: say, you're on a budget but you have to feed your hungry hungry boys
Tolkien: oh man i have been there!
Tolkien: more times than i can count!
Tolkien: but terry
Tolkien: i need something substantial and nourishing for my hungry boys. can maggi soup satisfy?
Pratchett: ahh jirt my friend, maggi soup does more than satisfy!
Pratchett: as the good people at maggi say, "kartoffelsalat volkswagen fahrvergnugen lebensraum!!"
Tolkien: What's that sizzling sound I hear?
Pratchett: Get up! It's soup and eggs, my dear!
Martin: What can I cook without much fuss?
Pratchett: maggi soup would tickle all of us!
Lewis: What's a lunch that's good and quick?
Pratchett: Hot Maggi soup mix does the trick!
Pratchett: mm mmm! i tell you, nothing's as good as a rich bowl of maggi soup! buy some today! eat it with someone you love!
Neil Gaiman: something's not right here
Gaiman: of course the power of imagination is infinite, friends
Gaiman: but in all the worlds in all the multiverses of possibility, i cannot imagine one in which terry pratchett shills for soup
Pratchett: [sweats] nein, nein, ich bin der echte terry pratchett!
Gaiman: if you are in fact, the real terry pratchett
Gaiman: and not an imposter
Gaiman: like the imposter sandman hector hall in The Sandman, vol. 2: The Doll's House
Gaiman: then you won't have any trouble telling a joke
Pratchett: [sweats] ein witz? du magst ein witz?
Pratchett: [sweats] i mean ha ha of course i can tell a joke
Pratchett: i am the real terry pratchett after all
Pratchett: [sweating intensifies] and you all know me, i'm a real spaßvogel
Pratchett:
Pratchett: a-are you sure you wouldn't all rather just have some soup?
2K notes
·
View notes
Ok so i have this fic idea where reader and mig are from different universes and reader is a scientist and one time mig and her get drunk and start talking about the multiverse and suddenly they are on the topic of what would happen if people from different universes had a baby together. (You see where i am going with this...) they end up drunkenly fucking and saying it's for "research" because they can't admit to themselves that they are in love. If this request is too complicated feel free to ignore. Thank you in advance cherry!! I hope u have a marvelous new year!! 💕
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Oral Sex, Mentions of Animal Testing (for science), Breeding Kink
A/N: Thank you, love! I hope you're well!!!
You know there is a process.
And you know this isn't it.
There are supposed to be hypotheses and written out procedures. Dependent and independent variables, a control group. Fucking hell, you should be experimenting on fucking mice. You should be limiting the margins of error, should be going with the most direct, straightforward pursuit for results.
And yet...
You don't stop Miguel when he pushes you back onto the couch. You don't pause or even really think when he's pushing your pants down your legs, placing kisses along the skin as he goes. You lift your hips to aid him when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, shivering when his warm breath fans over your exposed sex. If this experiment was in any sense proper, you would get straight into it. Cut out all the unneeded steps. But you can't help but pull his head closer to your aching core, craving the way his warm tongue laps at you. If you weren't already drunk, you would be drunk on this feeling alone.
But god, nothing has even been more satisfying than doing the work. You know the data would be void in a real experiment. The trials bleeding into each other hardly make for adequate data, but the way you beg him for more is involuntary. It feels too good, to have him desperately thrusting into you. It makes your mind numb, and everything you know about your life's passion is erased. The only thing that fills your head is the words Miguel grunts into you ears, promises of fucking a baby into you. Vows to make you bloated with load after load of his cum. That all it'll take is one of his orgasms to make it happen.
You guess that is a hypothesis in itself: Miguel O'Hara can get you pregnant with just one orgasm.
Too bad he's too desperate to find out if that hypothesis is correct. Because he doesn't stop at one. No, he keeps going. One after the other with no breaks in-between. But you guess that's to be expected, he is a man of science himself. A passionate one at that.
He's almost crazed in the way he overstimulates himself. Sweat beading in his hairline as he grunts down at you, watching the way he creamy cock slides in and out of your abused pussy. You've lost count of how many times you've come alone, but you know based on the way your body shivers and jolts that it's far more than you've ever had before. It's almost painful now, the way your next orgasm rips through you and shatters your soul again. You let out strangled breaths as you fight through the aftershocks and the continued pleasure of Miguel's cock slamming against your cervix. You swear you black out before he finally stops, your eyes and mind groggy as he pulls your hips flush against his as he spills into you.
You can feel him trying to push deeper into you as he pants ruggedly, his cock twitching against your walls until he's milked dry. Even when he's done filling you, he stays connected. He collapses onto you, breathing in the linger smell of sweat and sex on your skin.
"Got to make sure it takes."
Well, does the process really matter if you get the desired result anyway?
Part 2
1K notes
·
View notes