shaelnark

[shaelnark]

the perfumery of love - miguel o'hara

‧₊˚ summary: reader buys a pheromone perfume, only to forget just how sensitive miguel's elevated senses are to such smells. . .

‧₊˚ nsfw, mdni please!

‧₊˚ word count: 2.1k

‧₊˚ warnings: f!reader, no use of y/n, use of 'cunt' & 'slut', p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks!), degradation, roughish sex, swearing

‧₊˚ a/n: not proofread & written in an hour — forgive me.

The perfume had been an impulse purchase. You’d raised the fragrance strip to your nose, taken a deep breath, and immediately decided you were bringing the biggest bottle on the shelf home. It was the perfect scent, musky and clean with a sweetened edge. When you’d sprayed it behind your ears, on your neck and wrists, you hadn’t even paused to think about the consequences.

The first indicator: Lyla buzzed into your watch to let you know Miguel canceled your meeting for you to deliver a report on the latest anomalies. Not unusual, but shifts in plans without good reason tended to upset him. Something was either very wrong, or he was avoiding you. The second indicator suggested the latter was correct. You’d taken your seat next to him at a debrief, and as if you’d pulled a trigger, he’d immediately hopped to his feet and moved as far away from you as he could to give his long winded speech about not getting distracted while fighting anomalies. Although Hobie and Pav had started muttering in your ear about how it was obviously directed at them, all you could do was think about what you’d done wrong.

“I mean, it isn’t like he’s the nicest guy. He’s moody,” Peter B. says when you air your concerns to him over lunch. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat the empanada sitting on your plate. “You gonna eat that?” At the shake of your head, Peter begins stuffing his face with the abandoned empanada. Around ever bite, he continues, “You probably didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just throwing a temper tantrum. A tantrum that might not even be directed at you.”

You scratch at your temple. Miguel wasn’t close with you per se, but he tended to treat you with niceties that he didn’t necessarily treat the other spiders with. He softened up around you a bit, backed up with testimonies from Peter, Gwen, and Hobie. Seeing Miguel switch up so fast out of nowhere was enough to give you whiplash. “A tantrum about what? I’ve had shining reports and track records with anomalies since he recruited me.”

“You know Miguel, he always needs an excuse for a temper tantrum.” Peter finishes off the empanada, rubbing his mouth. “Maybe bring him an empanada? Cheer him up. See, what I just ate? That just cheered me up.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself. Tapping your fingers on the table, you look over to the lunch line. It’s still going strong, which means there should still be empanadas lying around. “You’re right. He might just be hangry, being such a workaholic.”

“Exactly.” Peter gets to his feet, giving you a soft pat on the back. “It’ll be fine. Just be chill about it.”

Except after obtaining another empanada from the cafeteria and being halfway to Miguel’s office, the less chill you were being about it. You roll your shoulders as you walk through the never-ending hallways. The bad thing about Miguel being such a recluse is that he intentionally put his office as far away from everything else as possible, which gave you just the right amount of time to decide to turn around. Out of spite, you would not be turning around, but you do think about it every ten or so steps as you catalog everything that could possibly go wrong. 

Miguel could throw his desk at you. Lock you out. Yell at you. Start sending you on boring missions fighting an anomaly that was a jar of peanut butter in the wrong place. Stop sending you on missions altogether. Kick you out of spider society. 

He wouldn’t do that, you try to tell yourself as you approach the door, rubbing the back of your neck. You inch the door open. His dais is all the way up, towering above you. You can hardly see the tops of his shoulders in the orange glow of the screens he’s bent over as you crane your head all the way up. 

“Miguel?” you call up, figuring there’s no option to back down anymore. “I brought you an empanada.” You wave the small takeout box in your hand. To both your immense dread and relief, the dais begins to lower. Miguel seems as if he’s just run an entire marathon in an hour. His chest heaves up and down, and there are pearls of sweat on his forehead. “Are you okay?” you ask, brows creasing.

“Am I okay?” he practically barks out a forced laugh at you. He crosses his firm arms over his chest. His eyes are dark and narrow. “No, and it’s all thanks to you. What the hell were you thinking?”

You stand there, squeezing the takeout box so tight in your hand that you’re surprised when it doesn’t simply crack open. Thanks to you? Okay, maybe you’d goofed off with Hobie and Pav just a bit during missions, but it’d never impeded on your ability to rein one of them in and send them back to where they belonged. You doubt cracking one or two jokes is enough to get Miguel hating you. “What the hell was I thinking? More like what the hell did I do? First you cancel our meeting, then you sit as far away as you can get from me during debrief without being in another dimension.”

“I think you know what you did,” he says, voice utterly ragged as he walks up to you. In one blade-thin movement, he pins you against the wall by the waist. You’ve never been afraid of Miguel — not when you first met him, or when he’s lashing out at another recruit. But now, he’s looking at you like something to be preyed upon, his red eyes flashing, fangs bared over the edge of his lips, claws partially out and digging hard into your flesh. “Couldn’t even think today because of you,” he panted.

That’s when you notice it. Miguel O’hara, boss of spider society and the grumpiest Spiderman, has his hardened cock pressing into your thigh. You gasp as you think back to that morning, the spray of perfume on your skin. Pheromone perfume. The cashier had mentioned it as she bagged it, now that you think about it. You look back at Miguel's fangs, feel his claws pressing into your skin, think about all of the times that the lights have been too bright or the smells have been too much. “Oh,” you breathe out.

“Understand, yet?” he snaps, a scowl arcing across his lips. “You smelling like that, all I could think about was bending you over my desk and fucking you until my name was the only thing on your tongue.” With that, your stomach practically drops out of you, your body going hollow with desire. Your breaths don’t feel like enough to fill up your lungs as Miguel kisses you. 

It’s a sort of kiss that bruises. It’s all teeth against teeth, tongue against tongue, and skin against skin as he starts shredding at your spidersuit. One of his fangs cuts against your lip, barely digging in, just enough to draw blood. “Fuck, Miguel,” you whine against his mouth as he lifts you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his. His head goes back, a low groan caught in the back of his throat. “Please,” you gasp when he latches onto your neck, sucking what’s sure to become a hickey into your skin. 

“I’m not giving this to you yet. Todavía no, cariño.” He finishes tearing your suit off of you, leaving you exposed and it in tatters on the ground as he carries you onto the dais. “You’re going to be patient how I was patient for you.” He backs you up against his desk, the small of your back pressed hard into it when he tears your bra off of you. You yelp, his hands going up to squeeze your tits.

When Miguel brushes his thumb against your nipple, he says, “Necesitaba esto.” You moan, head hanging as you watch him touch you. Small brushes and tugs. He leans down, pressing kisses to your neck, chest, stomach. It’s when he takes your nipple into his mouth that your knees almost give out, your thighs burning against each other. Your moan is fragile, spotty. He spins you, slamming you into the desk. He traces small circles into your sides, each touch needling across your skin. 

“Miguel,” you whine, gripping the edge of his desk. “I want you inside of me.”

“Shh, not so fast, hermosa. You take what I give you.” He slips a finger through your wet folds. You shudder as he circles your clit, drawing pathetic noises from you. “You wanted this, didn’t you? When you bought that perfume. Knew it’d drive me fucking insane.” Without warning, his middle finger slips inside you. You clench around him, and he laughs at your desperation.

“More,” you cry out, biting into your cheek to try to keep yourself quiet. For once, Miguel listens, stretching you out with a second finger. He finds the right spot, and you’re sure that he knows it from how you buckle into the desk, eyes rolling back in your head. He curls his fingers, almost striking it again, and then—

He pulls his hand away, licking it clean. He looks smug.

“Miguel!” Whining, you press your forehead flush to the desk. You’re heating up, and if he doesn’t touch you again soon, you might just burst into flames. “Please, please. Miguel, touch me. I want you — need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Te deseo,” he murmurs, running a hand down your back. His suit’s tech slowly vanishes, shrinking down his body into nothing. Your breath stops as you turn your head to look at him, all tan skin and sharply toned muscles. He’s just as big as you imagined, and it feels that way once he finally presses his cock inside of you. 

You moan as he starts slowly sinking all of himself into you.

“Feels… feels good,” you sigh. He continues tracing those circles into your sides, hands rising up your body. He stops at your tits to flick your hardened nipples. When you clench around him, a flimsy groan leaves his lips, which only makes you tighten more. It’s a sound you never thought you’d get to hear.

Once you’re used to him, he starts fucking into you. The obscene noises of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, his hips meeting yours, and your moans rising in the air are enough to drive you insane. “So fucking tight for me… so good for me.” He places himself on top of you, head dipped nose pressed to your neck as he inhales the perfume that started it all. “Sabías lo que estabas haciendo,” Miguel pants as his breath fans across your warm skin. You whine, raising your body to meet his own. It’s enough for you to see stars. “Wearing that shit in front of me. Could smell you from across the goddamn street. Like you were asking for someone to come and fuck you.”

Sweat stings your eyes as Miguel says, “Such a slut, bet you knew deep down I could smell you the whole time. Bet you wanted me to.” He lands a hard smack on your ass, and you yelp, squeezing around him. He rams into you, relentless with his thrusts. “Taking my cock so well, like it was made for you. So cockdrunk,” he sighs, head tilting back as he fucks you.

“Yes!” you whimper as he pulls out before slamming back into you. “‘M close, Miguel!” Your moans are getting louder, needier. You swear you hear Miguel whimper above you as your cunt tightens.

“Yeah, you gonna come for me?” Miguel’s thumb starts rubbing your clit, other hand still at your tits. He smacks them, squeezes them. It’s a combination of it all, him hitting your g-spot until your vision blurs, his hands roaming your body, heady words hanging over your head, his warm cum filling you up, dripping out of you, that makes you come. You shake from the intensity of your orgasm, cunt still desperately clenching, as if it’s trying to keep its hold on his cock. He groans, “Good girl. Feels so good.”

You keep hanging onto the desk as Miguel hangs onto you, panting, laying kisses all over your neck. You swear you feel him smile against your skin as he breathes in your perfume again.

[shaelnark]

﹒𝐗-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 | 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝟏﹒

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pairing: dilf!Miguel O'hara x babysitter!fem!reader

Summary: In a AU where his marriage doesn't work anymore, he spends time away from his house. In turn, his 'wife' hired you to keep watch over Gabriella. But soon, a infatuation bloomed between someone who you couldn't have.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI. infidelity, mentions of divorce, age gap(19-31), drinking, no use of y/n, oral(f receiving), p in v, mating press, praising, slight breeding kink if you squint, not proofread uhh thats it i think

w/c: 3k

You stood outside in the cold night, the sounds of crickets and other sorts of bugs in the night kept you from silence. It was cold, body shivering as you held your jacket close. Your breath was visible, the cold nipping at whatever skin was left exposed. Your body was flushed from the drop in temperature, winters air cruel. You were absolutely freezing. Yet you stood outside, watching as Miguel counted a stack of 10 dollar bills.

“40.. 50… 60..” The man mumbled, fingers sorting through the cash, “ 70.. 80, there.” 

His hands moved to your own, placing the cash in your shaking hands. Fingers find themselves delicately sorting through the cash, double counting. Miguel Looked down at you, watching as you re-counted the cash.

“That’s the agree amount, right?” He tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes-” *You nod, putting the cash inside your purse.

“Then that’s your pay, I hope Gabriella wasn’t too much trouble.” He gave himself a small chuckle, putting his wallet away.

“It was nothing, really, she isn’t any trouble at all, sir.” For some reason you just couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching his every movement. You felt your body almost become warm against the weather, heart beating faster than it was before. Christ, you couldn’t get more embarrassed on the inside about it though. A crush on your boss’ husband? Really? Even your friends poked at you for that.

“There’s no need to be modest, I know she can be a handful. Kids got so much energy that she doesn’t know what to do with.” 

His hands shuffled back in his wallet again, pulling out another 20, “There’s an extra 20, ‘cause I know,” Handing you the bill, giving a small playful wink.

His eyes happen to wander your body, looking at how you shivered and tugged your jacket closer, freezing hand putting the 20 with the rest of the cash. There was a slight twinge of guilt for having you outside when it was this cold. Muttering something to himself in spanish before he headed for his front door, turning back to you.

“Would you like to come in? I don’t want to leave you in the cold.” The offer felt a little weird, out of place for him. I mean he wasn’t your boss, his ‘wife’ if you could call her that was. But hey, practically the same thing, right?

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking up at him. The offer was still a little strange.

You two didn’t really talk much besides work and a few personal questions, but those were usually 2 minute conversations before you were on your way. Still, none of that stopped your eyes from looking at Miguel whenever you had the chance. It was a stupid crush, really. He was a married man with a daughter, plus he was older than you by a long shot. 

“It’s no worries, I’d rather have someone to talk to while I drink much rather than drinking alone.” Miguel opened the door, holding it as you entered inside.

“Thank you.” You nodded, taking off your coat.

You tried your best not to let your emotions get the best of you. All he needed was someone to talk to, nothing more. Yet your mind couldn’t help but wander with thoughts that, even if you were being interrogated, would never say out loud. 

You settled yourself in on a nearby chair, watching as Miguel walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whatever he was drinking, you couldn’t read the bottle, not from a totally different room. Soon enough he walked over to the couch, sitting down with his glass. 

“Will your wife get mad that I’m still here?” You asked, still a little hesitant. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll be gone for a long time,” His hands held his glass, taking a sip from it before setting it down, swallowing the liquid, “That’s how it’s been since she met her yoga instructor.”

You tilted your head, confused at the situation. You knew from what you were told that there was a rough patch in their marriage, but didn’t expect to be greeted with cheating.

“Aren’t you mad?” Mumbling a little, still hearable though. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You quickly ducked your head, looking down in embarrassment for asking such a question.

Miguel let out a sigh, taking another swig of his drink.

“No, I’m not mad. Our marriage isn’t what it was, so we don’t really care about who sees who.” Taking another drink of the alcohol, the liquid running down his throat.

You moved your head back up to look at him,mind running wild with that. I mean, if they don’t care who sees who, you could make your move? But still, weird. He’s technically your boss, and still married, and with a kid. You’re just the babysitter, someone trying to make money for college. 

“Nevermind. What about you, how is college coming along?” He asked, trying to change the subject from that of his now broken marriage.

“Rough, barely making enough with as many jobs as I have to pay tuition.” Leaning back in your chair, hands balling up in your lap.

“Hope every penny is worth it. Everyone where you’re at is probably struggling too, don’t get in a fuss over it.” Miguel's eyes looking over your frame once again.. Eyes looking at your thighs for maybe a moment too long before looking back up at your face.

“I know I know, but some people are just so care free, able to go to parties while I’m wondering if I’m gonna be able to stay at college.” You whined, upset about the financial situation  you were in.

“Some people are just better at hiding it then others. I struggled in college, even being financially stable now, I was in student debt too,” Miguel sighed, “Look the message is a struggle always has a solution… 7 years of fatherhood and I still can’t give any good dad advice, if you can call it that.”

Miguel found himself getting another sip of his drink, getting up to get another glass full.

“You should relax though, don’t stress too much. Never does any good.” He’d tell you from the kitchen, refilling his glass.

“I’m just worried I’ll never get anything done if I don’t hyperfocus, forget what I need to do because I get too caught up with free time.” Your thoughts were racing, your worries about your current life situation flooding out of your mouth. 

“No no, get what you need done too. Just don’t let it take over your down time. You’re young still, a whole life ahead of you.” Walking back to the couch, taking a seat again as he took yet another drink, “You got a boyfriend?” He asked, nonchalantly, no hesitation.

“No,” You mumbled, a little embarrassed. 

“No?” Miguel Repeated, “I’m surprised.” “Why?” You turned your head, a puzzle expression painting your face.

“Cause you’re a young, pretty girl on campus, and no varsity jacket has come to take you away?” It sounded almost as if he was joking, teasing you for it. But he meant no harm.

“No, not yet. They already have themselves a girlfriend or something.” You sigh, sinking back into your chair. 

“Yea times have changed, but, there’s probably a guy out there waiting to say the right things to you.”

How you hated that sentence. Another guy. You wanted Miguel, deep down you wanted him, but you couldn’t have him. Not at this moment, at least. Not only could it put you out of a job, but complicate things. And what if his wife catches you? He said that she doesnt care, but what if she cares that the person she employed is sleeping with her husband? I mean, why would she? Their practically divorced anyways. Or maybe you’re just thinking too much. Your body tensing up. 

“I have my eye on someone, actually. Just having troubles about it.” You confess, looking down, kicking your feet.

“Oh you do? That’s rare. And troubles? Yea, I get that… Okay, what’s he like?” He questions you, sitting upright and fixing his posture. 

“He’s older,” You start off, hands shaking a little. Were you really about to do this? Tell him how you feel? I mean the doors open for you to tell him, it’s only a matter of how he’ll react. 

“Older? Like his senior year?” Miguel took notice of how tense you were, gaze softening a little. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No.” You bluntly respond.

“Okay so not that old, I hope he’s nice to a sweet girl like you.” Miguel offered a faint smile, leaning back into the cushion. 

“He has a kid-” You usher out, mouth speaking faster than your mind.

For a second, Miguel is taken aback. That old? Seriously? 

“Has a kid? At that age?” I mean, for anything it could have been a toddler kid, no way a full kid at that age he was thinking of. “Well.. as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He took another swish of his drink.

You gulped, body shaking as you tensed up, mind feeling dizzy from the whole situation. “No he’s not my age, what I mean is-” 

But you were quickly cut off, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Yea, I got the hint.” Miguel looked at you, face stone cold as he held his glass. 

“Listen, uh, I’m flattered, really. But uh, that would be weird, right. I mean, that would be taboo even. I’m too old for a sweet heart like you. Don’t you have anyone on campus you’d rather be with?”

His expression was stone cold, and you sunk back into your chair. Not you really regretted yourself for telling him this. How you wish the ground would just swallow you whole right now, or simply pass away on the spot. 

“No, I just- I can’t get my eye off you and-” Quickly shutting yourself up, biting your tongue. You swore you were biting hard enough to draw blood, mentally cursing yourself for making this a conversation. He was right, Miguel was too old for you. But yet here you were, admitting those stupid feelings that you should have never brought up in the first place. 

“But what about your parents, certainly they wouldn’t approve? Hell, Dana would have a fit if she smelt your perfume where it doesn’t belong. Let alone knowing her divorcing husband is with, uh..” Miguel sighed, slumping, hand on his elbow as he clenched his glass so hard he could probably break it if he wanted to. 

Miguel sat back up, chugging the rest of his drink down before setting the glass on the coffee table, beckoning you over to him with his finger. “Come here,” He told you, almost as if it was a order. 

Within what feels like minutes of you moving through the room, air thick with tension as you make your way over to him. Yet no sooner does he have you sitting under him, frame tower over yours. 

Both of your lips were practically glued to each other, tongue exploring each others mouths as his hands felt up your body. You couldn’t help but feel his up too, hands tracing over each and every one of his well toned muscles. 

Miguels hand moved under your shirt, grabbing one of your breasts. His hands fondled the soft skin of your tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You let out a whine, muffle by the kiss. You felt your juices start to form a puddle in your underwear already, thighs clenched together to give your clit some friction. 

When he finally pulled away, eyes looking at yours. Christ this was wrong, but there was no stopping now. Miguel kissed down your neck, taking off your shirt. He kissed your breasts, sucking on them too. Making his way down your stomach, gently biting as if to mark it, hands working at your pants, tugging the material down and away. Getting on his knees infront of your legs, hands pulling them apart by your inner thigh. 

His eyes took a moment to look at your cunt, how pretty it looked, how your juices were moving past your slit. His eyes moved black up to you,

“You sure about this, Corazón?”

It was without hesitation that you nodded, opening your legs more, almost presenting yourself to him. Miguel quickly became fixed on your pussy, tongue licking a stripe between your leaking folds, tasting your sweet arousal. 

“Taste so sweet.. Didn’t take you for someone who likes older guys.” He mumbled against your clit, sucking on the bud. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he moved you closer to his face, burying himself in your cunt. 

He licked and sucked on your clit before moving down to lick your juices from your folds, tongue moving inside your soft walls. Miguel was eating you out like you were his last meal, arousal coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. You just tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough of it, groaning in your pussy, tasting you like you were some sort of desert. 

Miguel kept eating you out, noises almost sounding pornographic. He took in every moan and whine that left your mouth, feeling how his cock hardened just from the thought of being inside you next. You were so tight on his tongue, walls squeezing and contracting. You felt your orgasm approach, stomach tightening into knots. It wasn't long as he sucked on your clit, juices gushing out of your slit as your back arched, Thighs squeezed around his head as he kept licking up your juices, hand squeezing your ass. After a few more licks, he moved his head up , leaning over you again as he unbuttoned his pants and removed his boxers, cock springing free. 

“This is what you were after the whole time, isn’t it?” Miguel cooed, grabbing your legs to fold them up, knees practically meeting your chest. 

He lined his tip up with your entrance, slowly sinking himself in. It was a tight fit, almost too tight, sinking himself deeper into you. You whined and moaned, hands holding at his thigh.

“Ease up for me, pretty girl.” Miguel moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing the swollen tissue as your walls slightly eased up, taking the advantage to put himself balls deep inside of you.

He let out a groan once you clenched back down on him, hand moving back up to hold your other leg up. You looked up at Miguel through lidded eyes, mind clouded with lust. God, did you feel so full. His tip was prodding at your cervix, a vein gently pressing against that spongy spot inside of you. 

After a few seconds, his hips started moving. A fast yet not too rough pace. His hips snapped against your skin, the faint sound of clapping as well a few curses under his breath mixing in with your moans. Fuck, he was in too deep, and you were already cock drunk. Your hands found their way to his head, pulling him in for a heated kiss. 

Your noises were muffled in his mouth, the squelching sound of your pussy getting stretched out by him taking up the noise. How good it felt to finally have Miguel's cock in you, how many times you dreamed of this, touched yourself to the thought, yet the real thing was even bette.

“Good girl, taking me so well.” Miguel Praised, forehead touching yours, looking at how your pupils were blown wide, legs gently shaking. You couldn’t help but clench around him from the praise, letting out a mewl as you moaned again. Your second orgasm was building up already, and fast. 

“ ‘m so close-” You moaned, the pleasure feeling almost too good then it’s supposed to. This was so wrong, yet, it just felt so right.

“Go on, come for me, be a good girl and listen, hm?” He’d whisper, pace picking up slightly.

Miguel felt his own high approach, letting out a groan as he trapped your lips in a kiss again,the grip on your legs getting slightly rougher, pace getting rougher too. His dicktouched all those special places inside of you, juices coating his thick cock and dripped down his balls, some dripping onto the couch too.

Before you knew it, you were both coming. Walls tightening around him, practically milking Miguel dry as thick, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. For a few moments, you both stayed like that, coming down from your high. 

The reality then set in of what had just happened. His hands moved away from your legs as he pulled away from your body, eyes looking at your pussy, how he dripped out of you.

“Sorry-” You mumbled through your panting, body hot from the adrenaline, eyes looking down at the small mess.

“No it’s okat- let me uh, let me get a towel..” Miguel replied, fixing his boxers back on. He was only gone for a few moments before coming back with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess. Miguel folded the towel, gently placing you on top of the soft material.

The rest of the night was a blur, head reeling from the events. All you remembered was eventually landing in his bed, laying next to him. Miguel was fast asleep next to you, and you laid awake. All you could do was try and process everything. You slept with the person you had a stupid crush on, but also slept with a father, with a (almost non) married man. Oh you weren’t supposed to do that. What about morals? God this was such a stupid thing. You put your feelings over thought, and now, you were going to land yourself in such a difficult situation. Falling in love with someone who you couldn’t have.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @deputy-videogamer @its-paprika @yuuuumii @buggiecrawls @l0vedi3n @projectdreamwalker @urbimom @chshiresins @1tsk1tty

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[shaelnark]

﹒𝐗-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 | 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝟏﹒

← previous | next → | ﹗𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹗

pairing: dilf!Miguel O'hara x babysitter!fem!reader

Summary: In a AU where his marriage doesn't work anymore, he spends time away from his house. In turn, his 'wife' hired you to keep watch over Gabriella. But soon, a infatuation bloomed between someone who you couldn't have.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI. infidelity, mentions of divorce, age gap(19-31), drinking, no use of y/n, oral(f receiving), p in v, mating press, praising, slight breeding kink if you squint, not proofread uhh thats it i think

w/c: 3k

You stood outside in the cold night, the sounds of crickets and other sorts of bugs in the night kept you from silence. It was cold, body shivering as you held your jacket close. Your breath was visible, the cold nipping at whatever skin was left exposed. Your body was flushed from the drop in temperature, winters air cruel. You were absolutely freezing. Yet you stood outside, watching as Miguel counted a stack of 10 dollar bills.

“40.. 50… 60..” The man mumbled, fingers sorting through the cash, “ 70.. 80, there.” 

His hands moved to your own, placing the cash in your shaking hands. Fingers find themselves delicately sorting through the cash, double counting. Miguel Looked down at you, watching as you re-counted the cash.

“That’s the agree amount, right?” He tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes-” *You nod, putting the cash inside your purse.

“Then that’s your pay, I hope Gabriella wasn’t too much trouble.” He gave himself a small chuckle, putting his wallet away.

“It was nothing, really, she isn’t any trouble at all, sir.” For some reason you just couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching his every movement. You felt your body almost become warm against the weather, heart beating faster than it was before. Christ, you couldn’t get more embarrassed on the inside about it though. A crush on your boss’ husband? Really? Even your friends poked at you for that.

“There’s no need to be modest, I know she can be a handful. Kids got so much energy that she doesn’t know what to do with.” 

His hands shuffled back in his wallet again, pulling out another 20, “There’s an extra 20, ‘cause I know,” Handing you the bill, giving a small playful wink.

His eyes happen to wander your body, looking at how you shivered and tugged your jacket closer, freezing hand putting the 20 with the rest of the cash. There was a slight twinge of guilt for having you outside when it was this cold. Muttering something to himself in spanish before he headed for his front door, turning back to you.

“Would you like to come in? I don’t want to leave you in the cold.” The offer felt a little weird, out of place for him. I mean he wasn’t your boss, his ‘wife’ if you could call her that was. But hey, practically the same thing, right?

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking up at him. The offer was still a little strange.

You two didn’t really talk much besides work and a few personal questions, but those were usually 2 minute conversations before you were on your way. Still, none of that stopped your eyes from looking at Miguel whenever you had the chance. It was a stupid crush, really. He was a married man with a daughter, plus he was older than you by a long shot. 

“It’s no worries, I’d rather have someone to talk to while I drink much rather than drinking alone.” Miguel opened the door, holding it as you entered inside.

“Thank you.” You nodded, taking off your coat.

You tried your best not to let your emotions get the best of you. All he needed was someone to talk to, nothing more. Yet your mind couldn’t help but wander with thoughts that, even if you were being interrogated, would never say out loud. 

You settled yourself in on a nearby chair, watching as Miguel walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whatever he was drinking, you couldn’t read the bottle, not from a totally different room. Soon enough he walked over to the couch, sitting down with his glass. 

“Will your wife get mad that I’m still here?” You asked, still a little hesitant. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll be gone for a long time,” His hands held his glass, taking a sip from it before setting it down, swallowing the liquid, “That’s how it’s been since she met her yoga instructor.”

You tilted your head, confused at the situation. You knew from what you were told that there was a rough patch in their marriage, but didn’t expect to be greeted with cheating.

“Aren’t you mad?” Mumbling a little, still hearable though. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You quickly ducked your head, looking down in embarrassment for asking such a question.

Miguel let out a sigh, taking another swig of his drink.

“No, I’m not mad. Our marriage isn’t what it was, so we don’t really care about who sees who.” Taking another drink of the alcohol, the liquid running down his throat.

You moved your head back up to look at him,mind running wild with that. I mean, if they don’t care who sees who, you could make your move? But still, weird. He’s technically your boss, and still married, and with a kid. You’re just the babysitter, someone trying to make money for college. 

“Nevermind. What about you, how is college coming along?” He asked, trying to change the subject from that of his now broken marriage.

“Rough, barely making enough with as many jobs as I have to pay tuition.” Leaning back in your chair, hands balling up in your lap.

“Hope every penny is worth it. Everyone where you’re at is probably struggling too, don’t get in a fuss over it.” Miguel's eyes looking over your frame once again.. Eyes looking at your thighs for maybe a moment too long before looking back up at your face.

“I know I know, but some people are just so care free, able to go to parties while I’m wondering if I’m gonna be able to stay at college.” You whined, upset about the financial situation  you were in.

“Some people are just better at hiding it then others. I struggled in college, even being financially stable now, I was in student debt too,” Miguel sighed, “Look the message is a struggle always has a solution… 7 years of fatherhood and I still can’t give any good dad advice, if you can call it that.”

Miguel found himself getting another sip of his drink, getting up to get another glass full.

“You should relax though, don’t stress too much. Never does any good.” He’d tell you from the kitchen, refilling his glass.

“I’m just worried I’ll never get anything done if I don’t hyperfocus, forget what I need to do because I get too caught up with free time.” Your thoughts were racing, your worries about your current life situation flooding out of your mouth. 

“No no, get what you need done too. Just don’t let it take over your down time. You’re young still, a whole life ahead of you.” Walking back to the couch, taking a seat again as he took yet another drink, “You got a boyfriend?” He asked, nonchalantly, no hesitation.

“No,” You mumbled, a little embarrassed. 

“No?” Miguel Repeated, “I’m surprised.” “Why?” You turned your head, a puzzle expression painting your face.

“Cause you’re a young, pretty girl on campus, and no varsity jacket has come to take you away?” It sounded almost as if he was joking, teasing you for it. But he meant no harm.

“No, not yet. They already have themselves a girlfriend or something.” You sigh, sinking back into your chair. 

“Yea times have changed, but, there’s probably a guy out there waiting to say the right things to you.”

How you hated that sentence. Another guy. You wanted Miguel, deep down you wanted him, but you couldn’t have him. Not at this moment, at least. Not only could it put you out of a job, but complicate things. And what if his wife catches you? He said that she doesnt care, but what if she cares that the person she employed is sleeping with her husband? I mean, why would she? Their practically divorced anyways. Or maybe you’re just thinking too much. Your body tensing up. 

“I have my eye on someone, actually. Just having troubles about it.” You confess, looking down, kicking your feet.

“Oh you do? That’s rare. And troubles? Yea, I get that… Okay, what’s he like?” He questions you, sitting upright and fixing his posture. 

“He’s older,” You start off, hands shaking a little. Were you really about to do this? Tell him how you feel? I mean the doors open for you to tell him, it’s only a matter of how he’ll react. 

“Older? Like his senior year?” Miguel took notice of how tense you were, gaze softening a little. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No.” You bluntly respond.

“Okay so not that old, I hope he’s nice to a sweet girl like you.” Miguel offered a faint smile, leaning back into the cushion. 

“He has a kid-” You usher out, mouth speaking faster than your mind.

For a second, Miguel is taken aback. That old? Seriously? 

“Has a kid? At that age?” I mean, for anything it could have been a toddler kid, no way a full kid at that age he was thinking of. “Well.. as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He took another swish of his drink.

You gulped, body shaking as you tensed up, mind feeling dizzy from the whole situation. “No he’s not my age, what I mean is-” 

But you were quickly cut off, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Yea, I got the hint.” Miguel looked at you, face stone cold as he held his glass. 

“Listen, uh, I’m flattered, really. But uh, that would be weird, right. I mean, that would be taboo even. I’m too old for a sweet heart like you. Don’t you have anyone on campus you’d rather be with?”

His expression was stone cold, and you sunk back into your chair. Not you really regretted yourself for telling him this. How you wish the ground would just swallow you whole right now, or simply pass away on the spot. 

“No, I just- I can’t get my eye off you and-” Quickly shutting yourself up, biting your tongue. You swore you were biting hard enough to draw blood, mentally cursing yourself for making this a conversation. He was right, Miguel was too old for you. But yet here you were, admitting those stupid feelings that you should have never brought up in the first place. 

“But what about your parents, certainly they wouldn’t approve? Hell, Dana would have a fit if she smelt your perfume where it doesn’t belong. Let alone knowing her divorcing husband is with, uh..” Miguel sighed, slumping, hand on his elbow as he clenched his glass so hard he could probably break it if he wanted to. 

Miguel sat back up, chugging the rest of his drink down before setting the glass on the coffee table, beckoning you over to him with his finger. “Come here,” He told you, almost as if it was a order. 

Within what feels like minutes of you moving through the room, air thick with tension as you make your way over to him. Yet no sooner does he have you sitting under him, frame tower over yours. 

Both of your lips were practically glued to each other, tongue exploring each others mouths as his hands felt up your body. You couldn’t help but feel his up too, hands tracing over each and every one of his well toned muscles. 

Miguels hand moved under your shirt, grabbing one of your breasts. His hands fondled the soft skin of your tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You let out a whine, muffle by the kiss. You felt your juices start to form a puddle in your underwear already, thighs clenched together to give your clit some friction. 

When he finally pulled away, eyes looking at yours. Christ this was wrong, but there was no stopping now. Miguel kissed down your neck, taking off your shirt. He kissed your breasts, sucking on them too. Making his way down your stomach, gently biting as if to mark it, hands working at your pants, tugging the material down and away. Getting on his knees infront of your legs, hands pulling them apart by your inner thigh. 

His eyes took a moment to look at your cunt, how pretty it looked, how your juices were moving past your slit. His eyes moved black up to you,

“You sure about this, Corazón?”

It was without hesitation that you nodded, opening your legs more, almost presenting yourself to him. Miguel quickly became fixed on your pussy, tongue licking a stripe between your leaking folds, tasting your sweet arousal. 

“Taste so sweet.. Didn’t take you for someone who likes older guys.” He mumbled against your clit, sucking on the bud. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he moved you closer to his face, burying himself in your cunt. 

He licked and sucked on your clit before moving down to lick your juices from your folds, tongue moving inside your soft walls. Miguel was eating you out like you were his last meal, arousal coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. You just tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough of it, groaning in your pussy, tasting you like you were some sort of desert. 

Miguel kept eating you out, noises almost sounding pornographic. He took in every moan and whine that left your mouth, feeling how his cock hardened just from the thought of being inside you next. You were so tight on his tongue, walls squeezing and contracting. You felt your orgasm approach, stomach tightening into knots. It wasn't long as he sucked on your clit, juices gushing out of your slit as your back arched, Thighs squeezed around his head as he kept licking up your juices, hand squeezing your ass. After a few more licks, he moved his head up , leaning over you again as he unbuttoned his pants and removed his boxers, cock springing free. 

“This is what you were after the whole time, isn’t it?” Miguel cooed, grabbing your legs to fold them up, knees practically meeting your chest. 

He lined his tip up with your entrance, slowly sinking himself in. It was a tight fit, almost too tight, sinking himself deeper into you. You whined and moaned, hands holding at his thigh.

“Ease up for me, pretty girl.” Miguel moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing the swollen tissue as your walls slightly eased up, taking the advantage to put himself balls deep inside of you.

He let out a groan once you clenched back down on him, hand moving back up to hold your other leg up. You looked up at Miguel through lidded eyes, mind clouded with lust. God, did you feel so full. His tip was prodding at your cervix, a vein gently pressing against that spongy spot inside of you. 

After a few seconds, his hips started moving. A fast yet not too rough pace. His hips snapped against your skin, the faint sound of clapping as well a few curses under his breath mixing in with your moans. Fuck, he was in too deep, and you were already cock drunk. Your hands found their way to his head, pulling him in for a heated kiss. 

Your noises were muffled in his mouth, the squelching sound of your pussy getting stretched out by him taking up the noise. How good it felt to finally have Miguel's cock in you, how many times you dreamed of this, touched yourself to the thought, yet the real thing was even bette.

“Good girl, taking me so well.” Miguel Praised, forehead touching yours, looking at how your pupils were blown wide, legs gently shaking. You couldn’t help but clench around him from the praise, letting out a mewl as you moaned again. Your second orgasm was building up already, and fast. 

“ ‘m so close-” You moaned, the pleasure feeling almost too good then it’s supposed to. This was so wrong, yet, it just felt so right.

“Go on, come for me, be a good girl and listen, hm?” He’d whisper, pace picking up slightly.

Miguel felt his own high approach, letting out a groan as he trapped your lips in a kiss again,the grip on your legs getting slightly rougher, pace getting rougher too. His dicktouched all those special places inside of you, juices coating his thick cock and dripped down his balls, some dripping onto the couch too.

Before you knew it, you were both coming. Walls tightening around him, practically milking Miguel dry as thick, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. For a few moments, you both stayed like that, coming down from your high. 

The reality then set in of what had just happened. His hands moved away from your legs as he pulled away from your body, eyes looking at your pussy, how he dripped out of you.

“Sorry-” You mumbled through your panting, body hot from the adrenaline, eyes looking down at the small mess.

“No it’s okat- let me uh, let me get a towel..” Miguel replied, fixing his boxers back on. He was only gone for a few moments before coming back with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess. Miguel folded the towel, gently placing you on top of the soft material.

The rest of the night was a blur, head reeling from the events. All you remembered was eventually landing in his bed, laying next to him. Miguel was fast asleep next to you, and you laid awake. All you could do was try and process everything. You slept with the person you had a stupid crush on, but also slept with a father, with a (almost non) married man. Oh you weren’t supposed to do that. What about morals? God this was such a stupid thing. You put your feelings over thought, and now, you were going to land yourself in such a difficult situation. Falling in love with someone who you couldn’t have.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @deputy-videogamer @its-paprika @yuuuumii @buggiecrawls @l0vedi3n @projectdreamwalker @urbimom @chshiresins @1tsk1tty

©clockmax 2023 ━━━ do not repost, copy, or translate my work.

[shaelnark]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬? | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have a bad habit and miguel finds a solution —a begrudgingly in love miguel deals with his gf’s oral fixation. 1k. requested here

cw mildly mature themes/love bites. mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel knew when he passed you his hand that you'd start some weird shit like this. You withhold for a while, but eventually his fingertips end up by your mouth. You brush them against your lips absent-mindedly. He knows you like the feeling, knows you draw an unconscious comfort from being able to chew on something, and he's not interested in demonising you for something you can't help. 

What he can't abide is your using him like a dollar store chew toy. The second he feels your breath against his fingers, he pulls your joined hands down into the gap between your thighs on the workbench and warns, "Don't." 

"Sorry, Miguel," you say, blinking back to attention. 

"Can't you chew on a pencil like a normal person?" 

"Sorry," you say again, not really sorry. Miguel's not really mad. "I forget that it's you." 

He likes the sound of that, even if he's still disapproving. It's hard to be mad when the level of trust you have for him extends so far, the comfort he gets from your mere presence reflected in you and your lack of shame surrounding a bad habit. Miguel sighs and goes back to his sketching. You squeeze his hand twice and do the same. 

If you can't bite him, you'll bite yourself. It starts with your nails and stretches to your cuticles. You've hurt yourself doing it before, and Miguel doesn't want to see you do it again. He winces at way you nibble your skin.

"Could you cut it out?" he asks. 

"I'm not doing anything." 

"You're trying to start the next apocalypse." 

"It's not hurting anyone," you insist. 

"It's hurting you." 

You let go of his hand to take the computer mouse, dragging and dropping a file from the first monitor onto his. He doesn't bother opening it. It's some flirtatious drivel or tech he doesn't want to deal with,  undoubtedly. 

"It's okay," you sing-song quietly. "You're such a worrier."

He thinks, Fine. Leaves you to your work, gets on with his own, and tries not to worry about your poor fingertips. Ten minutes become an hour, and he forgets what you'd been squabbling about, distracted by work. You drop file after file onto his screen until he gives in and opens one, finds a note drawing done with a jagged cursor of him, he assumes, frowny-faced with a bright red heart drawn around himself. The majority are the same, though the first one you sent him is Miguel with a smile, his cartoon version captioned, "secret softie :3". He puts a couple in his files and the rest in the recycling basket. 

He's retrieving the ones he deleted guiltily when you hiss. He checks on you from the corner of his eye, and notices the little red line of blood building in your cuticle. 

"There's actually something wrong with you."

"Ouch," you murmur, waving your finger around. "Stings." 

"I told you." 

"D'you have a bandaid?" 

Miguel doesn't have a bandaid in the workshop. His first aid kit is half nano tech, half traditional wrap around bandages, all overkill for your surface wound. He takes pit on you and your crinkled face and pulls your hand toward eye level to inspect the damage. You've pulled the cuticle skin up toward the bed and torn skin that should be left alone, blood quick to congeal in the air. He should've just let you bite him. 

"Idiot," he says, and kisses the side of your hand. "Don't do it again."

You grumble at his name calling but seem otherwise appeased. It's not long before your hand is going back to your mouth, but you must remember his demand, choosing to tuck your hands between your thighs. You squirm in your seat and can't focus on your work. 

Miguel thinks, Fuck it. 

"Alright, come here."

You wheel your chair closer.

"What, I have to do all the work?" he asks, holding out his arms. "Come here." 

You stand and slide between the desk and his legs. His thighs are big, and your own press to the top of the desk from the lack of space. You put a hand on his arm curiously. 

"Kiss me," he says. 

You lean in quickly and kiss him. A tentative thing where you're usually confident laying one on him. 

"What was that?" he asks. 

"A kiss?" 

"Kiss me properly," he says. He bracelets your elbow in a big hand, a soft touch to reassure you. "You've wanted to all day." 

You have the decency to pretend (albeit weakly) that he's wrong. "Whaaaat? Who told you that?" 

Miguel sighs and takes your face into his hands instead. He takes in your expression slowly, your eyes, your pupils like black dimes, lashes kissing in the outer corners as you look down to his mouth. You bite the inside of your lip and he loses it —Miguel tugs you against his chest and kisses you firmly, hand at the small of your back and pulling urgently upward in an attempt to bring you closer. 

He can feel the little line from your own biting on your lips as he presses against the seam of them, and he doesn't know what he's going to do with you besides kiss you: he won't let you chew on him, no matter how nice your mouth is. He'll just have to kiss you until you can cope. 

Or you could always bite him in other places. 

"Wait, wait, I can't breathe," you say, pulling away. 

Miguel works his fingertips under the back of your shirt, feeling the slope of bare skin there absentmindedly. "My bad. How's your compulsion?" 

"Wanna play vampires?" you ask. 

He laughs and leans away from you, a feigned disapproval. "Wanna play get a grip?" 

"Grip on your neck?" you ask. 

"How about I bite you? See how you like it." 

You pull your knee up, socked foot digging into his thigh as you lay your cheek on his collar, straining up every time you want to kiss his neck. You press sweet, chaste kisses into his skin, seemingly unbothered by the pretzel-like position you've twisted yourself into. 

"You act like I'm a chair."

"You told me," —kiss, kiss— "to sit here, Miguel, I don't know what you want from me." Third kiss, then a fourth. 

He tamps down goosebumps and gives up. "Can you chill out while I work?" 

"... I can keep kissing you?" 

"Do what you like. I need to finish this net." 

You lounge. Miguel struggles to keep it together, but at least you aren't biting your nails anymore. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3

[shaelnark]

spiderverse twt links<33

WARNINGS : NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, f!reader, the links are literally p#rn, proceed at your own risk, there's also peter x miguel soo yknow

CHARACTERS: miguel o'hara, peter b parker, hobie brown, spider noir

miguel o'hara

♡ miguel fucking your pretty throat and holding your head till you're almost choking on his cock, his thighs shaking as he shoots his cum down your throat- knowing damn well you're gonna be a good girl and swallow for him, "Fucking choke on it, baby.." "S fucking good for me.. taught my pretty girl so well.."

♡ brain empty only miguel rubbing your pussy while he's snapping his hips up at you, snarling when he feels you clamping down on his cock, as you squirt messily, but oh he's not stopping yet "Thaaat's right.. That's. fucking. right," "Fucking cum for me now, baby"

♡ miguel playing with your pussy till you're clamping down on his fingers, gushing prettily as you cum, and he's barely holding himself from bending down and tasting your sweet cunt, his hard cock pulsing each time you tighten around his fingers, and he so badly wants to replace them with his cock, but he reminds himself to be patient 'cause he also just loves to see you fall apart like this:(

bonus miguel fingering you again (he's obsessed)

peter b parker

♡ peter + side fucking while you're facing himmm. he gets to have you pressed up against him, fucking into your pussy, and he gets to see your face? oh, yeah he's sold. gets SO fucking pussy drunk it's insane, "'h my God, baby- you're so fucking pretty- pussy's so pretty too. Doing so good for me, ah-" just can't seem to stop thrusting into you, coming in you over and over again

♡ peter thrusting his hips up to no use- literally humping the air as you kiss him, your hands running up and down his body, and he's whimpering, so so happy that you're even letting him cum that he doesn't even care that you're not touching his cock<33 "You're gonna make me come, baby... mmffuck yes, please-"

♡ peter humping the bed cause he misses you sooo much:( that's it that's the post

hobie brown

♡ hobie loves when you're on top of him, but that doesn't necessarily mean he lets you control the pace. he just loves pushing you down on his cock as he bucks his hips up, chasing your tight little pussy, as you mewl above him sweetly, "Cunt's suckin' me in, love, Christ-" "Greedy lil' thing, ain't ya?"

♡ gjdfkgjdkgj yeah yeah yup yeah. no yeah. YEAH. HOBIE jerking his cock while you're riding his face??? "Like that, lovie, mmf ride m'face harder-" his words are muffled against your drenched cunt, and he's slurping it all up greedily. 'nd then almost coming when you're riding him, thinking it's so unfair that you stopped- and he chooses to chase after you, start fucking you from behind, head tilted as he stares at where you're joined, slack jawed, squeezing and slapping your ass for good measure. "S rude, love, leavin' me like tha'. Not that rude now, are you, pretty?"

♡ very very very rare BUT when it happens it's absolute *chef's kiss*, pretty boy hobie thrusting his hips up to meet the pace of your hand, his pants and moans are so pathetic and it's so cute, and he's being so obedient for once:(( just sitting there taking what you give him- "FFuck yeah, love," "Ah just like that, you're s'good oh-"

spider noir

♡ shower sex with noir:(( where you're both just so infatuated with each other, stopping your kissing just for him to rub at your pussy before sliding his cock in, both of you letting out moans at the pleasure you're getting. he literally can't keep his hands off of you<33 "So God damn beautiful.. you're perfect, honey.." "I can't stop- Christ, you're tight,"

bonus :')

♡ mm he loves letting you take control once in a while, just absolutely losing himself when you tease him, showing him just what modern vibrators can do(LMFAO), he's moaning so sweetly for you as well, pretty boy just wanted a break:( "S-slow down a bit, Jesus christ- y're gonna kill me,"

♡ he loves to rub your pussy over your underwear so much, he's drooling at the sight, making sure to circle your clit as well, "Oh, honey... 's there something you want, hm?" "Look. at. that."

miguel x reader x peter

♡ um yeah.

miguel x peter

♡ ♡ ♡ i had to 🤭

here's the loml since i couldn't fit 4 pics together:c

[shaelnark]

Idle Hands [Miguel O’Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x bratty wife!reader

❛ type | drabble

❛ summary | you’re a little bit of a show-off.

❛ tags | size difference, mostly fluff and cheese, a bratty reader, gif credit to original poster, slight overprotectiveness, an argument about a ‘dress’, just a kiss!

❛ sy’s notes | My obligatory bratty reader story. Just a light drabble to break up work on another chapter I’ve been working on. A few translations: Mande: Yes? (formal), Otra Vez: Again.

His little wife was a show-off, he was not. 

Not intentionally. There were some things about himself he could not hide: the fangs, talons and claws, vivid organic webbing, brawny body, and other… glaringly obvious attributes. Attributes that he could not easily suppress. Now you, on the other hand–

“Miguel~” you sang in that wonderfully sing-song voice of yours. It was followed by the tapping of your feet running into the lab. Oh, here we go. He didn’t acknowledge your entrance with anything more than a well-placed grunt as he ran through lab reports with a shuffle of his hands. He had things to do. Things that didn’t include… distractions. “Miguel!”

“Si! Yes, what?! What do you need?” he slammed his hand down on his desk and threw you a look. You paused before him and fiddled with the bottom of your dress. You never came into the lab just to see him— because you knew how much work he had to do. You came to tease him. 

He knew this was another one of your bids for attention. You always finished the tasks he threw at you quickly and efficiently. From the looks of it, you were indeed done with what needed to be done and here to harass him like the brat you were. He made a note to give you more work. His forehead grew with a line of tension as you pouted your soft, kissable lips at him. Then,  as he brought his hand to the back of his neck to massage his sore muscles, he turned around. Not this again. Not now.

Keep reading

[shaelnark]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[shaelnark]

hey guys i haven't even had a chance to see atsv yet i just know spoilers and i want this man biblically, i'm talking carnally, i want him in a way that hurts feminism, i want to bring the whole damn movement down so i can be his stupid little housewife and raise his damn kids so i can watch him be happy and then also get railed into losing every brain cell i have

anyway here's some abo headcanons, they include spoilers for the movie/his backstory probably because idk what is and isnt a spoiler because i havent seen it yet.

also this one works a bit differently than my normal layout, it goes SFW and then dips NSFW and ends with more SFW but they're all clearly labeled!

Reader is written gender neutral with they/them and the nsfw section has afab and amab sections, but since I'm Nonbinary and AFAB that's probably how it's gonna come off for most of the reading, just to warn you!

Miguel O'Hara x Reader N/SFW ABO Headcanons

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k words

Content Warnings (tell me if I miss any): Dubcon, ABO, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic behavior, Omega reader, Alpha Miguel

For these headcanons we're gonna exist in a weird liminal space where Gabi is like, five to six or so and he brought her home with him or some shit idk man I just think he's a hot single father anwyay, also this is assuming omega reader because i think it's hot

if anyone wants a version where Miguel follows more canon and he still lost his kid and came back you're free to request that too i love that shit, just for this specific one i wanna raise his damn kids so-

SFW

Alpha, big alpha energies.

Miguel is the type of guy who's pretty obsessive with what he claims as his, I would honestly say borderline yandere vibes without fully delving into it - his mental state in this au/situation is also a lot better since he still has his daughter, so he's genuinely a lot less "feral" than he tends to get without her, even though in this we'll say he did almost lose her.

So when he claims someone, he's going to be damn sure he means it.

This ones a bit of a general headcanon but he doesn't really have a type when it comes to the people he likes, other than he needs someone who's interesting to him. Whether it's because you're hotheaded, or even keeled, whether you're snarky or sweet, he just needs something for his brain to latch onto.

Not a love at first sight guy but he is an "obsession I can't place" kind of guy.

Miguel has really enhanced senses when it comes to scenting, so it takes some damn strong suppressants and scent blockers to completely block him out... which if we're pretending reader here is falling with the abo trope of "hiding being an omega" (which we are because I love tropes) is just what gets him obsessed. Clothing and perfume that masks your scent, suppressants and scent blockers, and a confident attitude are all enough to throw most people off the (forgive my pun) scent.

But not Miguel.

His spider DNA has the animalistic side to it that fucks with his hormones regardless, makes it easier for him to pick up on the pheromones that even most attentive alphas can't, he's damn near a personal lie detector with how smart he is and how attuned he is to what his nose and instincts tell him, even when he's using serums to keep the more feral urges at bay.

He can only get a whiff of you, fainter than most betas, and it drives him fucking insane knowing he can smell something but he can't figure it out. He can't place it, and it nags at his brain. He can smell a whiff of flowers, or sugar, or something undeniably citrus (depending on what you headcanon your own smell to be) but he can't place it and he hates that shit.

Ends up pulling some traditional alpha shit and he can't even help it, starts trying to crowd you until you kick him in the shin or Peter B or Jess shoos him away. He has to figure out what it is, he has to know.

It only gets worse when he brings Gabi in (a babysitter fell through) and you end up butting your way in to play with Gabi and Mayday, delighting in watching them for the day instead of whatever you were supposed to be doing. They're both so cute and sweet.

Gabi smells primarily like cinnamon and a bit like dewey grass - she's not old enough to have presented yet, but her basic scent, unaffected by the secondary gender hormones, is simple and sweet, reminds you of a summer morning.

She takes after her father in that regard - Miguel smells *warm* and a bit musky, like trees and cinnamon and, a bit like a camp fire. A small tinge of oil, when you pick it apart, and you can't tell if its from the lingering scent on his skin after fixing a broken machine nobody else could, or if that's part of his natural scent.

(Mayday smells like marshmallows, and carmel, funnily enough)

When you take care of Gabi and Mayday, your scent lingers on their skin, mixes and twists in a way that Peter B can't notice but Miguel can. It's all he can do not to be a damn freak and pick his baby girl up and sniff her hair to try and figure out why she smells like that (not in a creepy way, to clarify because there are some freaks on here, but in the same way a dog gets baffled by smelling you use a new perfume, or in the way of when you pick your kid up and go "WHY DO I SMELL CANDLES ON YOU WHAT WERE YOU DOING")

He almost can't stand how his head swims when he watches you pick Gabi up and gently throw her up in the air a bit, watching you let her climb onto you while you're distracted just like Mayday does. Soothe her tears when she accidentally breaks a toy because she's still learning to control her super strength.

He doesn't know that he wants you either, not until long after he's already manifested feelings. Doesn't realize how protective he is, doesn't realize how differently he treats you. He doesn't realize he's lingering in your area just long enough to make sure he can fill his nose with the faint scent you give off.

He assumes you're a beta - not that it mattered to him, really. Miguel would just as soon marry another alpha as he would a beta or an omega, as long as it's you.

He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got a piece of your clothing in his hands, holding it in the dead of night up to his nose. A scarf or a glove or a jacket you'd leant to Gabi during the day and she'd spilled her juice on it and he'd taken it home to wash it.

He can smell his daughter's scent, louder than life, so familiar he could have a handful of pepper thrown at him and he'd still be able to wrap his arms around her and move her out of harm's way in the direst of straits.

And then there's yours, linger, mingling with his daughter's scent, and it's the parent of his child.

It's not, it's not the woman who birthed Gabi, it's not the woman who contributed to making her. It's you, the only other person he ever wants near his child in that capacity. And it's intoxicating. It's infuriating. It's overwhelming because the full breadth of his own emotions is so strong as he realizes what he's been doing. And he can't even tell you because he holds himself to a specific standard, a specific code of ethics, and even though he wants to risk it all just so his hindbrain (both alpha and spider and his own human instincts all mingling in one) can have his little loves all wrapped up in his arms, safe where he can protect them.

He only just has the strength to wash the piece of cloth and return it. It takes everything he has not to cling to it, to make a pretty little nest to protect his family in, webs and pillows and fabric, a basis of protection so you can properly make it your own and -

He controls himself, and returns the scarf the next day, leaving it on your desk because he can't bear to look you in the eyes.

The days struggle by, a stark contrast to his normal snark, to lingering in your space and snorting and rolling his eyes. To being by your side more than he normally is. It's disheartening, it makes you feel rejected, and he knows it.

But he doesn't stop, this tension that can cut through the air lingering. Even Gabi and May notice it, the older girl frowning and the younger fussing when the two of you are in the room together.

And then your heat happens.

(brief bullet point break because there's a limit to how much you can have in one bulleted section on tumblr and I don't remember what it is but I'd rather just break here)

You've been on suppressants and scent blockers for years now. Being in your line of work (whether you headcanon this as a spiderperson version of you, or a different kind of superhero, or a civillian all working in the society) it's necessary. Omegas aren't rare but they're not the majority of the population like betas are. In Nueva York, it's a coin toss if you'll be fought over in the streets like some prize to be won, or if you'll be coddled like a child who can't figure out what's best for them.

It's half safety half preference at this point, from your original universe's standard (before it had burnt to cinders before you), and this one's. Your suit, your meds, and your behavior, they're all meant to mask and confuse.

But you can only make it so long on the prescription you've got, the long-lasting shots that were more reliable than a pill. The scent blockers go first - not by design, but by chance. You'd been giving yourself lower doses since you'd wound up in Nueva York, supplementing it with deodorants and lotions swiped from stores and hospitals that could afford to spare the supplies when you can't buy it covertly. But you'd still been low in comparison to your suppressants.

You shower more frequently, lather yourself with soaps and deodorants and lotions of different scents and ones that have blocking effects, and for the most part it works. You can't quite fool Gabi - too smart, too tuned in to your emotions like her father could be. She's got a sharp nose, and she wrinkles it when she can smell how confusing your scent is. She asks questions, and you can't lie your way out of it, but you are able to bribe her so she's distracted long enough that she forgets the question. Miguel notices, when he picks up Gabi, but he can't quite figure out exactly what's wrong, and you leave so fast (he assumes with the tension that lingers between the two of you) that he can't figure it out.

You're so certain you're in the clear.

But then your shots run out, and even you can't get more without a prescription. And while your health information would never go through Miguel, you know that the medispiders have to go through him or Lyla for any heavy duty things like suppressants, because they have to be resourced more carefully.

And your last doctor, although wildly shady, and incompetent, and operating out of an apartment, was right about one thing - suppressants will rot you from the inside out if you're not careful. If you don't let a natural heat occur, it will only be worse in the long run. (Although you suppose he probably had a greasier, grosser reason for telling you that.)

And rot you from the inside they have - all your natural reactions to a heat, all your normal bodily functions don't work properly, when confronted with something they haven't seen in years. You know within seconds of your suppressants flushing out of your system what's going on. You're still in the pre-heat phase of things, and you feel like you're dying. You aren't, and you know you aren't, but you feel nauseous and feverish and incoherent within an hour tops. Only long enough to let you panic and send a text to Miguel that you can't watch Gabi like you'd planned. That you're going out ad you won't be back awhile. You leave your phone in your room, when you pack your bag and head for the nearest somewhat reputable hotel that you can afford. You brace the door with the dresser, explicit instructions left for the front desk to, under no circumstances, contact you for the next week.

You get an order of pre-made meals to slap into the fridge, water and juice and all sorts of drinks and things shoved haphazardly inside once the bot brings it in through the window. You're barely coherent enough to retain control to crush the landline, rendering it inoperable, before you barricade the rest of the room.

You're definitely not in control when you nest, blankets and pillows and clothing all thrown haphazardly around as you go fully out of your gourd.

You're damn well out of your mind by the time you would have normally realized the card you were using was in Miguel's name.

(another very brief line break in this portion for drama but also so I don't hit any limits)

Miguel is pissed when you leave so suddenly.

Sure, he's been avoiding you, and sure, you aren't actually together, but you're his damn it. You don't know it, and sure, he's not going to acknowledge it out loud until something happens, but you can't just leave him and your child and his child who loves you high and dry like that!

It's laughably easy to find you, to find the hotel you've checked into. He doesn't even wait to figure out the reason you left, he's so quick on his honestly kinda toxic bs.

Gabi is left with Peter B and Jess for a bit, and Miguel is honestly so smug that he finds you so fast. You were so sloppy about it. So quick to leave that even though you left your phone behind, in a moment of clarity, you barely bothered to take back streets. You used his own damn card he'd given you to pay for the hotel for two weeks, and to order food.

If he weren't half out of his mind with concern and anger about how quickly you left, he'd be angry you used the card without asking like you normally did.

(His hind brain purrs with it though, knowing he's provided for you)

He doesn't know what did it. Miguel genuinely doesn't know what he did to earn your ire in such a way, but he can guess. He doesn't think it's how cold he was, in the beginning, but he isn't sure that it's not how he'd warmed up to you. How, when he'd let his guard down without realizing it, that he'd flirted with you. Had that made you uncomfortable? Had every 'innocent' brush against you turned you against him? Certainly, it could be his absence, his sudden coolness and stonewalling. It could be how he refused to look at you, when you were in the room. Tried to hold his breath after he'd realized what he was doing.

He doesn't really listen to Lyla when she tries telling him things. He heard where you where, found out the room, and swiped a key before Lyla could finish talking about vital signs and behaviors. She knows to set his alerts to emergency only for the foreseeable future, because she's figured it out much quicker than he has, and she figures she'll at least spare herself the trouble. Gets Gabi set up with Jess for the night, and is on her way so she doesn't have to deal with what's about to go down.

He's surprised by the dresser in front of the door, when he tries to get in the first time. It's easy for him to move - he just lowers his center of gravity and pushes his way into the room, slamming the door shut before he can inhale.

The hotel room is nice, with a kitchenette and a small entry area with a couch and a television. The bedroom is just tucked out of sight. Exactly what he expected when he'd heard the hotel's name - he'd never been, but he recognized it.

And it's when he inhales, that he realizes why.

Your scent hits him hard and fast, chokingly sweet in the back of his throat in a way that makes his hindbrain roar. His pupils blow wide, and if he didn't have such a strong self control, he'd have torn the damn door off its hinges looking for you.

He remembers, in that moment, why he recognized the hotel. It was one that was best known for its handling of customers in heat and rut.

NSFW INTERLUDE

(We're gonna start with general headcanons and go back into the specifics of the scenario in a sec but it's all relevant fjasdkl;)

Miguel is a Dom-leaning switch, he prefers to be in control as often as possible, regardless of whether he's topping or bottoming. Nine times out of ten, he wants to fuck his partner until they're an incoherent, babbling mess, because he enjoys the power and control it gives him, enjoys the dynamic of it.

As he gets more comfortable with a partner, he's more willing to accept the idea of subbing, enjoying it more when he has someone he trusts behind the wheel, so to speak.

(Because yes, Alphas can be subs too - that's a whole thing I could get into and might if someone asks)

And Miguel, even normally, is already a possessive guy. He's needy, and stakes his claim, and when we're talking about abo Miguel?

Sheeeeeesh

The moment he scents you in the air, the moment it clicks in his brain that you're going through a rut or a heat, it goes straight to his dick.

He damn near loses it, fighting not to tear the door off its hinges as he stalks to your room. Your scent is so strong in the air that even though he knows he should turn around, he still at the very least wants to make sure you're okay. So the sight of you, face down, ass up, fingers pressing into yourself, he almost loses his damn mind.

His pretty little wife/husband/spouse coworker, his crush, is an omega. It's almost too good to be true, and he can feel his fucking fangs extend, his mouth watering as he stares at you. You're too blissed out to even realize he's there, slick dripping down your thighs like a fucking faucet... and his name is on your lips.

He could cum untouched, could die a happy, happy man after seeing this.

He has dignity, and self control though, even as the force of your hit heats him. He's genuinely concerned, a moment later, his instinct to breed to claim tampered down by his need to care.

You cling to him, hazy, feverish, and incoherent. You beg him to claim you, to mark you, to fuck you. Miguel wants to, he does... but he instead kicks his shoes off but otherwise stays fully clothed, his cock so hard it hurts as he grabs the closest bottle of water, and an ice pack, and climbs into your haphazard nest with you. He probably should have left by now, but instead he seats you against him, your back pressed to his chest, and he presses the ice pack to your forehead, ordering you to keep it there as he makes you drink water, sip by sip.

You whine, and beg, and squirm, but you obey.

He fucks you on his fingers, once he's gotten some water into you. Hard and fast, leaving you breathless, tense, until you cum all over his fingers, oversensitive as he fingerfucks you into another one, and another, arms like steel wrapped around your waist as one hand pounds into you, the other wrapped around your dick or circling hard on your clit. It's not enough to genuinely sate your heat, but it's enough to help. And he doesn't trust himself to put his own mouth to use - barely trusts himself to speak, even though most of what he growls into your ear is, strictly speaking, complete and utter nonsense as he's caught in the moment. Every time you cum, he praises you, telling you how good you are for it. How sweet you look, with tears streaming down your face, cumming so well for him.

When there's enough coherency for you to have a conversation (but not coherent enough to be mortified), Miguel is able to get the rough gist of the situation. He really can only piece together that the heat is going to be a strong one, that it came fast, and that you had panicked. There's a confession, to be had there. He agrees to help you through your heat, but only under the condition that you're his.

It's toxic, and of dubious consent at best, but he'll pull as many orgasms out of you as needed to keep you coherent enough to talk to him. He's helped an omega through a heat or two, and he knows what he's doing. He's not exactly clearheaded himself, in making the decision - but he does make sure that this is truly what you want before he proceeds.

When he's sure that it's not just the heat speaking, that you truly do care for him, that you want him to stay even after your heat has subsided, he allows himself to indulge.

Sympathy ruts are common, and it builds slowly inside of him as he indulges in his instincts. Holding you, kissing you, pressing his fingers inside of you over and over and over again until you pass out. He keeps you wrapped up in the nest, adding his shirt to the mix while you sleep, but not trusting himself to completely strip quite yet.

Miguel is an attentive alpha.

(While you sleep, he excuses himself from the nest to call his daughter, to assure her everything will be okay, and he just explains simply that you'd gotten sick, that you needed him for a bit, and that he'd be back once you were feeling better. He promises to call every night, and he works out a schedule with Peter B and Jess in the meantime.)

(When you overhear him, voice so soft, so protective, so gentle, it half makes you want to swoon, and half want to climb on his lap and fuck yourself stupid on his cock until he fills you up so you can give his daughter a sibling.)

This man is going to spend a good majority of his time pre-sympathy rut fucking you open on his fingers and his mouth. He wants to make sure you're ready, wants to make sure he can enjoy this for as long as possible.

By the end of it, he makes sure to fuck you, nice and steady, a hand on your throat and his lips on yours. He makes sure you're nice and coherent for it. He wants to make sure you remember it, when he claims you. When his (fucking horse cock, the dude's packing like ten to twelve inches which is great for my chubby bitches like me) dick fills you up so full that you're almost certain you'll break, hiccupping and sobbing as you keen and wail, the nest below you soaked as he fills you up. His fangs sink into your neck and you cum, right then, his hands grabbing your thighs so hard he's sure it will bruise. He fucks you through your orgasm, knot catching until it slips inside. He rubs your clit/tugs on your dick as he finally knots you, making sure you cum just one more time for me, cariño.

normal Miguel definitely has a claiming and breeding kink, so it's fucking intensified by ten when he's omegaverse Miguel... let alone when the man's subject to his rut. You'll be covered in scratches and bites and hickies by the time you're both coherent enough to function properly again.

Which... for Miguel, is a solid few hours of coherency at a time.

For you? You're only ever coherent in short bursts, and it's like the peak of your heat constantly for almost the full week.

This next bit just mostly borders on nsfw/has some nsfw parts so i'll put it at the end here before going back to sfw

Like I mentioned before, Miguel is a very attentive alpha.

He's going to fuck you seven different ways in an hour with his superhuman stamina, but he's also going to make sure to actually take care of you.

He makes sure you drink electrolytes and water in equal measure, makes sure you eat, and sleep, and he bathes you himself, carrying you into the shower and keeping you pressed against him as he massages your muscles and washes your hair and body with a soft cloth, using completely unscented soaps and shampoos so it doesn't overwhelm you. Presses bandages to your scrapes and bites so you'll heal faster. Cool cloths and ice packs and fever reducing medicine.

He finds he has to bribe you, during this time, even for the most basic tasks like eating and drinking, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having to plug you up with his cock just to get you to eat wasn't hot as hell. The fact that you need him so badly you'd rather forgo basic necessities... it's addicting. Granted, he doesn't actually let you - he's got enough control that he can make sure you're taken care of in all regards.

Back to SFW time!

After your heat itself passes, you're subject to the suppressant sickness that comes with it. Your fever has broken, but you're still nauseous and dizzy and fatigued as your body flushes everything out of your system.

Miguel is beyond pissed when he finds out why you're still sick.

It's reckless to not even have a natural heat once every six months, let alone taking your suppressants so solidly that you hadn't had one in years. If he'd known, he'd have said consequences be damned and would have bitten you the moment he walked through the door, and taken you to the hospital.

He doesn't care how embarrassed you are, when he packs all of your things back up into the sealable bags, and dresses you in his own clothing. He's almost out of his mind when he takes both of you back to HQ - only just remembering to take back corridors to the medic so they can check you over properly.

You've then got two spider people who are pissed, as the medic rants about how dangerous that was, how stupid it was that you did that, instead of just swallowing your pride and letting them help you control things. They order you on house arrest for a full month, to make sure your body can recover properly. No suppressants, no scent blockers (at least the medical kind) for a couple years, and only medicine that's medically necessary, and even then it has to be monitored more carefully.

Miguel lets the Medispider tear you a new one for a moment while he steps into the hallway, giving you privacy and space to figure things out with the doctor while he catches up with Gabi.

When you're done with the Medispider, it's not a question on if you're staying with Miguel or not - you really don't have a choice in the matter, he tells you. When you're recovered, you can decide if you want to move in or not, but until then he was going to personally keep an eye on you.

Gabi, who lacks the complete understanding of the why and the how behind it all, is just glad that the person they've been trying to scheme their father into confessing to is actually going to live with them. (Even if only for about a month.) She grins smugly when she realizes you smell like her dad.

Miguel lets you have pick of the house, when he carries you back to his beautiful, cozy suburban home. He leaves the proper tour up to Gabi, as he carries you both, letting Gabi tell you about everything excitedly. You stay in his bed (you two had claimed each other, and although Miguel does give you the option of your own room... you'd rather die than lose the comfort that comes with being around your mate.)

Miguel cooks properly for you while you stay with him and Gabi.

No more prepackaged meals, he sneers, instead making you chicken noodle soup from scratch, with bone broth and lots of vegetables. Breakfast every morning before he takes Gabi to school, tucks you in to sleep while he pops into the HQ to check on things. He's out of commission from missions while he cares for you, but he still makes sure things go smoothly. He's home by lunch, sometimes bringing you fast food instead of cooking so you can have your fill of a greasy burger or fries or something to sate the part of you that needs something unhealthy and indulgent. Holds you in his lap while you both eat, watching TV on the couch.

He finishes his work and goes on emergency-only mode when it's time to pick up Gabi from school. He tucks you into the passenger seat if you feel up to it, buckling you up himself and pressing a kiss to your lips, even though he doesn't need to. He knows you can buckle yourself up, and lets you do so when you insist, but it makes him happy to know he's taking measures to keep you safe.

He does force you to take a blanket with you, just in case though.

When all three of you get home, he makes dinner, sometimes with Gabi helping him, sometimes you, sometimes just himself. He has a pretty wide range of foods he ends up making, but it's primarily because they're foods he likes, or Gabi likes, and he learned to make them. He's a good cook, overall.

It's the best work-life balance he's had in a long time.

When you're better, he all but begs you to stay.

And god, how could you say no to him?

(Also for those who it matters for, if you do end up pregnant from the Heat Adventures he obviously loves kids and would love one with you, but if you don't feel ready/don't want to have kids other than Gabi, he absolutely respects it, and will talk about options with you. Granted, he'll be disappointed, but at the end of the day it's not something he CAN'T move past. Discusses birth control options with you almost immediately when the two of you get intimate again.)

[shaelnark]

…

[shaelnark]

i’ve fixed up my path patterns for the spring 2021 update to mallow’s dream address! enjoy, likes/reblogs/credits are always appreciated if you plan on using them (optional, of course!)🌸

mushies, fallen leaves, tiny flowers, and moss patches with a base color that can be used with other patterns that match the original path design created by @Demin2_mori on twitter (MA-6647-9230-4716)

[shaelnark]

cute code set by cailey

[shaelnark]

a beautiful kitten was born somewhere 5 minutes ago just to meow meow 🚶‍♀️…… think about that

[shaelnark]

me if using yaoi cgs to enhance my posts was illegal

[shaelnark]

the devil works hard but I work harder (Vote here!!)

[shaelnark]

People who switch pronouns in songs to no-homo the situation are so funny. The idea literally never even occurred to me as a kid. Couldn’t be me. I am a woman scorned. I am a man who had his heart broken. I am a guy who hates his hometown. I’m a country boy, I’m a city girl. I’m a slut. I’m addicted to cocaine. It’s a song, man.

[shaelnark]

hey man, nice insincere uquiz. i like the part where you said it only took 20 minutes to make, if you said any longer we might thing you cared or something. I like the hostile tone and the part in the pick a song lyric question where you say how lame these kind of questions are, not in yours though, your taste in music is super good. not that you care or anything, I can tell you don't bc of how aggressive and demeaning my results were, it really hits hard. You're a stone wall in this, you're not projecting anything at all about yourself because the ironic and detached writing style hides it so well

[shaelnark]

Chainsaw Man ED2