#spiderman 2099 x you

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Fingering, Slapping, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex 

Summary: You didn't forget about her, did you?

A/N: The final part!!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You're fed up!

You're so tired of that miserable woman and her threats about getting you evicted from your apartment with no valid excuses whatsoever! She just gets you so frustrated! It's to the point you can't even think straight with all your anger blinding you. You just seem so angry at everyone lately with your shitty week! First it's your stupid professors and their shitty assignments, then it's Miguel fucking O'Hara and his tendencies to give you the best orgasms of your life and then run away, and now this cranky old bitch who doesn't want to hop off your-

It's just too much in too little time. So rationally, with the clearest thoughts you've had all week, you'll give her something to complain about. And you know exactly the person to help you. You help him, he helps you, after all. Plus, he wasn't paid you back for helping him put away his groceries three weeks ago (no, that orgasm he gave you did not count!)

Your hand throws a rapid succession of sharp knocks at his door, your brows furrowing in impatience when he doesn't answer right away. You huff, instead slapping your hand against the door. You almost fall when the door is roughly yanked open, a shirtless Miguel appearing with a scowl marring his face until his eyes land on you. The anger instantly dissipates into concern, his mind running thousands of different scenarios through his head about the reason why you would be beating down his door so desperately. He opens his mouth, ready to ask when your palm lands flat against his toned stomach, pushing him back into the apartment.

"Need your help." You say flatly as you slam the door behind you.

"My- what? With what?" Miguel asks, his eyes dropping to where your hand is still pressed into his warm skin. He has to fight the urge to grab you by the wrist and force your hand further down.

"Noise complaint."

Miguel is even more confused now, eyes shooting up to yours in surprise. Why would you need to file a noise complaint? He hasn't heard anything obnoxious on their floor or the ones below and above. "About who?"

"Me."

Miguel's head is reeling when your lips crash into his. There is no sweet, calm period, it's straight messy and desperate. Your lips move frantically over his, your hand reaching up to twist the hair at the nape of his neck as you pull his head down. One of you moan- he's not quite sure if it's you or him- when you tilt your head to the side, allowing your tongue to push through the seam of his lips. Miguel's hands blindly grab for your hips, his exhales filling your mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your tongue feels so warm wrapping around his, and his mind floats to how it would feel on his cock. It would be absolute heaven he's sure. Heaven with a high risk of him cumming in seconds like a teenage boy. His mind briefly drifts to the dream he had of you sucking him off, and his dick fucking cries.

His hands shift down your hips, reaching back until your ass is in his large hands. This time he knows he's the one moaning as he kneads the flesh through your pants, pulling you closer against his body. The kiss is sloppy, tongues fighting and saliva coating both of your lips. Your hand, still resting on his stomach, travels up. His skin burns under your touch, enticing and begging to be marked with hickies and bite marks.

You yelp into his mouth when he picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist to keep yourself from falling. Your ass is right above his straining erection, and you can already tell he's bigger, maybe even thicker, than what you've fantasized about all those days ago when you tried to stuff yourself full with your fingers. The train of thought crosses over to something else as Miguel sets you on the nearest surface. He places you on the dining table, and you know that you would be able to see the counter where he first played with your cunt over his shoulder. Your cunt that still has that untouched spot deep within you and you can't fit more than your two fingers into. Your two fingers that are the equivalent of one of his fingers. The fingers that are sliding into your panties.

His mouth parts from yours as his fingers brush over you clit, your hips bucking into his hand. He trails his mouth along your jaw, sucking right below your ear.

"You want a noise complaint?" He asks, his fingers circling your already weeping hole. "Then I'll make sure everyone on this fucking floor reports you."

On cue, you let out a high pitched squeal as Miguel suddenly thrusts two thick fingers into your tight pussy, your walls stretching rapidly to accommodate the intrusion. Your mouth falls open as your hands grab desperately at his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into the skin as he begins pumping his shoulder rapidly. There isn't a single ounce of preparation, your mind splitting in two as it tries to process the rapid pleasure overcoming your senses. You barely register anything besides the way Miguel curls his fingers into your cunt, eyes rolling back as the anger slowly melts into euphoria.

Your moans are loud and candid as you slowly buck into his fingers, head falling back as you take your pleasure from him. It makes Miguel chuckles, it's so easy to make you sing for him. He rewards you with a bite to your neck, causing you to gasp as it ignites a fire in your soul. He laps at the mark, soothing the burn as your thighs begin to shake. His fingers are abusing your cunt with the way they're pushing in and out of your cunt, effortlessly finding that gummy spot that has your toes curling. Your orgasm rips through you as your body jolts and shivers, pretty moans leaving your mouth as your orgasm washes over you.

You're so lost in your high that you don't realize Miguel's fingers aren't inside of you anymore and your lower half is bare. Your shaking thighs closing when a loud slap resonates in the room as his palm makes contact with your sensitive pussy. The most pornographic sound he's ever heard leaves your lips as you register the pain and pleasure coursing through you, glassy eyes staring down at Miguel's new position on the floor as he kneels. He forces your thighs open, eyes dark as he studies your quivering cunt. It's so adorable that he can't resist pressing a tiny peck to your twitchy clit, moaning as he gets a preview of your sweet arousal. It's addicting, and he's finally getting a chance to taste it again. He hasn't stopped thinking about it since that day in your apartment, the taste lingering in his mouth as he jerked himself off.

He pulls away again, giving another slap to your cunt before diving into his meal. Your mouth falls open in a shocked moan as he desperately sucks at your folds, your hands falling to his hair to press him closer. His tongue swipes at every inch of your skin, getting drunk on your sweet nectar and your string of noises. It's so, so sweet. His grip on your thighs tighten, loving the sticky juices that begin to coat his chin as he shakes his head between your thighs. His nose swipes against your cunt as he takes long licks along your cunt, making your body jump. You push him closer into you as you try to pull away, caught between the sensitivity running through your body and the need for more. Not that he would allow you to escape, he isn't quite down with his fill yet.

You cry out when his tongue pushes through your hole, scooping the cum and shiny arousal out of your cunt and into his eager mouth. He moans against you, sending vibrations through your body. Your body is getting so weak, forcing you to slowly lower yourself onto your back on the table. Your legs slowly lift to hang off his shoulders, your fingers knotting in his hair as you slowly ride his tongue. Miguel hums in approval, sticky clicks of his tongue attacking your clit as your body shakes harder. Your back arches as you calm again, riding his face frantically as you squirt over his face. Miguel thinks he could die like this, drowning in your juices as high pitched keens leave your lips.

Your skin feels sticky and gross against his table, your limbs weak and slightly aching from how intense your two orgasms were. You're sure you'll get plenty of complaints now, just as he promised. Your chest heaves with the effort to catch your breath, and your chin presses into your chest to look down at him. Your cheeks flush when his droopy eyes meet yours, his face dripping with your release. You open your mouth in a shy attempt to thank him, but your mouth runs dry when he stands up and his heavy dick lays hard and eager in his hands.

Your eyes can't leave his red, leaking head. He really is big, impossibly thick too. He chuckles at the wide look in your eyes, his hips leaning forward to swipe his precum over your sensitive clit.

"Don't fool y'self into thinking I was done, nena." He grins, slapping his dick against your cunt to watch the way your clit jumps. "Can't let y'go without feeling you gush around my cock."

You whimper when he pushes his tip against your hole, stretching it wider than it has even been stretched before. Your body twists in an effort to get away as he pushes further in, his hands holding your thigh and hip to keep you in place. Your nails try to dig into the polished wood of his table, only a sharp screeching noise being the result of your effort. Miguel pushes you closer to him, enjoying the scream you let out as your cunt swallows his dick to the hilt. Your walls are already pulsating around him, trying to push him out and pull him in deeper at the same time.

Miguel grits his teeth as he slowly pulls his hips back, slowly sinking into your plush warmth. He bites his lip as he groans, eyes focusing on the way he disappears into you. This is far better than what he could have ever imagined, with the way you hiccup moans and your cunt flushes around his length. He's fucked after this, and he'll be damned if he ever lets you leave his bed, or kitchen table, after this.

Miguel leans forward, his forearms planting on either side of your head. His pelvis is flush with yours, and you can feel his muscles pressing down on your stomach. You whimper at the feeling, slightly breathless at how intense everything is. With the new position, Miguel begins drilling into you at a steady pace. Faintly, you register the scrapping of wooden legs against tile, and you only feel slightly bad for his downstairs neighbors. On the other hand, Miguel is too focused on the obscene squelches leaving your cunt as he bullies his cock into you, his mind fogging. Both of you are slightly delirious, lost in the feeling of his dick pressing against your cervix. Miguel is babbling in your ear, gruff promises about something involving a credit card and tuition and tying you to his bed forever that you barely register over your own moans. You think something about a baby might have been thrown into the mix, but you don't quite care outside the need to have him fill you.

Your hands rack raised, red lines down his back as your body jolts with each thrust. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your body burns to the point of being uncomfortable. You call out to Miguel, only to be answered with a rough grunt. Your eyes slowly peel open, taking in the slightly blurred frame of Miguel. If you thought you looked like a hot mess, then you have nothing on Miguel. His hair, damp from sweat, hangs over his glowing eyes, a dark flush covering his face. His lips are parted slightly, heavy exhales leaving his lips as he basks in the feeling of having your walls sucked around him. The sight alone triggers your orgasm, head being thrown back as your walls clamp around him. Miguel groans, his hips stuttering before he's pressing flush against you as he cock twitches with release.

Both of your heavy breathing fill the room, Miguel's body slumped against yours. Your hands slowly trail up and down his back as you both try to calm down, and you whine from both sensitivity and disappointment when Miguel slowly pulls out of you. His hand pushes his limp hair back, a slightly dazed smile on his face as he takes in your body. Your shirt clings to your body from the sweat the two of you have built up, your thighs still open to reveal your abused cunt. Miguel has to look away, too tempted to see how hard he would have to thrust into you to make the table break.

Even with your body feeling heavy, you push yourself up as Miguel moves to turn away. Your body gets a shot of adrenaline as panic courses through you. Your hand snaps to his wrist, keeping him in place. Your eyes are wide as you look at him, and the fear is clear as day. Miguel chuckles at your silly reaction, taking your chin and pressing a kiss to your lips. This one is slower than the last, but just as consuming.

"Relax, gonna clean y'up. That's all." He reassures, pushing your hair out of your face. "Not planning on leaving."

He doesn't plan on letting you leave either, you'll need a place to stay after you get all those noise complaints anyways.

THE END!!!!! Request what you will with these two, I wouldn't mind doing little side stories about them hehe.

#cherry's requests🍒 #girl next door series🚪 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel atsv #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o hara x you

[lazyjellyfish300]

Gentleman part 4🌼💌

AU Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student! Reader

Synopsis: Noir speeds steadily towards your sugar daddy's grand estate in the countryside after rescuing you from the college football game from hell... Word count 6.9k

A/N: I'm so grateful for the support on this fic and others 🖤 thank you for your patience. 🖤🥰🫶🏽 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim btw. 🥰 I put my whole heart into this chapter so pretty pls let me know what you think 😁🥰

CW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(P IN V, FINGERING, ORAL F RECEIVING), SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP (BOSS/EMPLOYEE), POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, OOC MIGUEL, LEGAL AGE GAP, READER IS MID-LATE TWENTIES ISH, MIGUEL LATE THIRTIES, TALK OF ASSAULT, DRUNKENNESS, COMFORT, FLUFF, INSECURE READER, LITTLE ANGST

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

------

You wake up from your nap as you hear the sound of gravel crackling under the tires of the Mercedes as you come up to a long dirt road. Your eyes widen as you approach a tall, ornately crafted black iron gate nestled between two large trees. Noir leans out of the window, punching in an access code and waving a badge with an elaborate two step verification process before the gate opens slowly towards the car with a loud creak and a groan, a small cloud of dust being kicked up in its wake. Noir drives forward, down a long, winding driveway. 

You squint and your mouth falls open at the sight in front of you. Seemingly endless expansive miles of greenery in what appears to be a private vineyard and gardens, the bushes neatly trimmed and groomed with tiny flowers blossoming from the branches, vines weaving neatly in intricate patterns up a gargantuan, ivory colored estate with a black roof and dim lights, a gorgeous stone fountain with teal lights running in the front of it. 

But, Noir makes a right hand turn, traveling down another twin driveway that runs further down, a little deeper into the trees. When you finally reach the end of it, there's a comparatively smaller, but still gorgeous farm style country house nestled in the middle of several tall trees. 

Noir pulls into the garage, your eyes widening at the two fancy vintage sports cars and the two private golf carts parked in the other vacant spots. Noir gets out, opening the backseat door and helping you. You stumble, your vision still chaotic from the leftover booze in your system, holding onto Noir as he coaxes you inside the house. 

Your mouth falls open as you enter the gorgeous home. Polished wooden floors and warm cream colored walls are the interior. You take a deep breath, the smell of fresh linen and florals flooding the house mixed with the crisp air of the trees outside. 

"Welcome to the guest house, madam." Noir says with a hum. "Here, remove your shoes please. All outside shoes except bedroom slippers should be kept in this room." 

He helps you pull off your dirty shoes, leaving them in the mudroom next to the garage door as he brings you further inside. 

There's a huge, beautiful kitchen with a large island in the middle with granite countertops, a large bowl of fresh lemons as the centerpiece, giving an air of zest from the delectable citrus. Your socks gently glide along the furnished shiny wooden floors, reminding you of when you'd slide around the house in your socks as a little kid. 

Noir brings you to the living room, an enormous TV mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace, a couple of candles burning quietly on the mantle giving it a peaceful glow. He sits you on a large, cushy sectional couch that could seat a dozen people with tons of fancy decorative pillows with gray accents, throwing a fuzzy blanket over your legs and turning on the TV to your favorite comfort series. 

"Getting you water and food, miss." Noir gives you a thumbs up as he disappears into the kitchen. "Madge! You here?" 

A faint call comes from outside. You sit up on the couch, craning your neck a little bit. A small stout woman is working in the gardens outside. You stand up, walking to the window, your mouth falling open again as you notice a gorgeous square swimming pool with a connected hot tub, colorful lights illuminating the bottom of it. 

There are several rows of fruit trees: apples, peaches, pears, nectarines, and apricots, and a vegetable garden with tomatoes, eggplant, carrots, pumpkin, squash, cauliflower, potatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, and radishes where Madge is kneeling, standing up and brushing the dirt off her apron as she brings a basket of freshly harvested veggies inside. 

"What's on the menu tonight, Mrs. Madge?" Noir asks the jolly cook/housekeeper pleasantly, starting to fiddle with a Rubik's cube he takes out of his trenchcoat pocket as he leans casually against the kitchen countertop. 

"Homemade Tomato Bisque, Copycat Cheesy Wisconsin Cauliflower soup from Zupas, and Chicken Orzo with bread bowls!" 

"Mm-mm! Sounds delightful as always, Mrs. Madge. Just letting you know we have a guest tonight." Noir nods in your direction. 

"Oh!" 

Madge turns to look at you, offering you a friendly handshake. "Pleased to meet you, miss." 

"This is her, by the way." Noir says, holding his hand against his mouth as though he was telling her a secret. 

"Ohhh?! Well in that case welcome, welcome!" Madge bubbles with a huge grin. "I'm so happy to finally meet you. The doctor is quite fond of you...I've heard nothing but glowing things. Please, make yourself at home. Oh, careful dearie!" 

She rushes to your side as you stumble a little, still in a daze from earlier. Noir signals to Madge discreetly that you've been drinking. 

"Ohhh...well in that case we better get some soup in your system ASAP. Come with me." 

She leads you back to the couch, putting each of your legs up on the cushions so you are reclined back, stacking pillows behind you and tucking you in once again, making sure the TV is at a good volume. 

Noir returns with some ice water, and Madge reappears a short time later with a tray with a brimming bread bowl of your favorite soup out of the three she cooked, a slice of freshly baked french bread for dipping, a small bowl of the reddest strawberries you've ever seen, and a small garden salad with the freshly picked vegetables on the side. 

You hum graciously, and thank her enthusiastically, each sip of the divine soup bringing you slowly back to life by the spoonful as you watch TV, the agonizing ache in your head slowly dissipating. 

Noir sits in one of the leather recliners with his soup and his Rubik's cube, eating silently for a bit before he checks in with you. 

"You feeling better, missy?" 

You nod, pressing a finger to your lips as you swallow a bite of the French bread. 

"M-much better...thank you." 

Noir nods, tweaking one of the sides of the Rubik's cube. "You gave me quite the scare back there, miss. Those bastards at the game went too far this time." 

You hold back a shudder, your head pounding at the cloudy reminder. "Yeah....I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of it. It's all my fault." 

"Now..." Noir shakes his head, setting down his Rubik's cube. "It is not your fault, missy. Being assaulted is never the victim's fault. I'm just doing my job. To be honest, you're one of the first girls the doctor has had that have actually treated me like a human being instead of a glorified chauffeur or personal assistant." 

You faintly smile at that, not too keen on hearing about Miguel's exes, but your ego slightly boosted from Noir's glowing praise of you. 

"R-really?" 

"Yes ma'am." Noir says with a hum, taking a generous slurp of his soup. "You are an absolute gem to be around, miss. I think you underestimate yourself and discount your worth too much. The other ladies were usually pleasant in the beginning, but, that quickly wore off over time and I kind of became more of a caddie they could boss around." 

You nod, eyes sympathetic towards Noir. 

"Well, if I ever become bossy or short with you, I give you full permission to say, 'you know what y/n, you're being a bitch.'" 

Noir gives a low chuckle. "I could never refer to you in that way, miss. But, I appreciate it. I'll definitely correct you, but perhaps using a milder way of putting it."

He grins and turns his attention to the screen. "So, what are we watching this evening, madam?" 

"Umm, looks like an older movie, Casablanca, I think it's called?" 

"Ahhh, good taste, madam. I love this one." Noir sets his empty bowl aside, reclining in his seat as he watches the movie next to you. 

"What are you kids watching?" Madge pokes her head in with a smile. 

"One of the greatest romances of all time: Casablanca, Mrs. Madge." Noir hums. "Come on, pop a squat and stay a while." 

"Oh I'd love to!" Madge beams at the kind invitation and smile you offer her, scooting over a bit on the couch as all three of you enjoy your evening movie and warm soup. 

-----

Hours later in the middle of the night, a black sports car rolls in the driveway. The hum from the garage opening doesn't disturb your slumber on the couch as Miguel arrives home. He steps out, rubbing his shoes on the mat before slipping them off and venturing inside, still clad in his dress clothes with a tight dress shirt layered underneath a black cashmere sweater with tight dress slacks that highlighted his strong thighs. 

He does his usual visual scan of his home as he enters making sure everything is in order, giving a warm smile to Madge who's doing inventory in the kitchen. 

"Evening, Mrs. Madge." Miguel says pleasantly, opening the fridge and grabbing a fancy artesian bottled  water. He takes a generous sip, sighing as the cold water wakes him up. "You're not staying too late are you? On your way out soon?"

"Yes, doctor." Madge hums, clicking her pen, setting down her clipboard on the countertop. 

Miguel nods, taking one more sip. "Is she here?" 

"On the couch." Madge nods in the direction of the living room. "Poor thing passed out after dinner. I think the soup did her good after that awful day she had." 

Miguel feels the rage rushing back into his body at the reminder. He had spent nearly an hour on the phone with the campus police and the dean of the university. Justice was going to be temporarily delayed, due to the ongoing investigation that was just opened and your testimony still needed to fill in any gaps. He knew that would be something quite heavy for you to deal with, and the most important thing for you to do now, would be to rest. 

"Her room is ready then, all of the clothes and items I requested have been delivered?" 

"Yes doctor." Madge answers. "Her closet is stocked with all the clothing items you sent me and jewelry , underwear, and shoes. The monogrammed towels and robe are in her bathroom. Fresh linens on the bed in the color you requested. I also made sure each bathroom has enough toiletries. I haven't had a chance to buy all of her beauty and makeup items she said she wanted just yet, since I didn't realize she was coming tonight, but Noir said he can do it in the morning after breakfast. Oh, and a fresh set of pajamas and slippers and her welcome presents on her bed for tonight." 

"Good, good..." Miguel nods. "That should be just fine for now, thank you Madge. I do apologize for all the last minute list of things on short notice but thank you for getting everything together that you could." 

Madge nods with a smile and goes speechless as Miguel slides her two envelopes, both containing checks with several thousand more dollars tacked on than normal. 

"Your payday early." Miguel says with a smile. "Make sure Noir gets the other one for me, will you?" 

"Oh doctor." Madge clutches the envelope to her chest with a sigh. "Bless you...no words just....just bless you so much. I'm so honored to work for you." 

Miguel smiles, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder. "Pleasure's all mine, Madge. Thank you for everything you do for my family and for taking care of my girl tonight. I appreciate your service and your loyalty." 

"Well, Doctor O'Hara you have this old lady's allegiance for life! Of course, of course! Please call me if you need anything. See you in the morning, Doctor!" Madge chimes as she walks out the door, jingling her keys.

Miguel watches her leave fondly then sighs and rolls up his sleeves as he approaches you on the couch, turning on the lamp. The dim, yellow light illuminating the soft burning mocha of his eyes as he looks lovingly upon your sleeping silhouette on his couch. He crosses over to you quietly, sitting down next to you, taking care not to shift the cushions too much under his weight and turning off the TV that was still running. 

You groan a little, shaking your head in your sleep and your eyes flickering open slowly at the feeling of a man's hand stroking your jaw, your eyes elated when you realize it's Miguel. 

"Hi, sweetheart." He whispers, giving you a smile. He leans down, positioning himself over you, inhaling as he pulls you into a tight hug. You feel your body flood with happiness as you nuzzle into his chest, intoxicating woodsy cologne wafting from his neck. 

"Missed you so so much..." You mumble, the cashmere of his sweater tickling your cheek, your tone rasped from sleep. 

"I missed you more, cariño..." He holds you tighter for another moment in silence before he pulls away a little bit, still keeping his face close to yours as he lets you lay back on the pillow, keeping his knuckles underneath your chin. 

"I'm sorry to wake you." He says kindly, eyes raking over you for signs of hurt. "I just need to make sure you're okay." 

You release a shaky breath, your body shivering at the memory. "I...I don't know. I mean, physically, I'm a lot better now...I just..."

Miguel holds your hands in his, occasionally letting his palms brush over your forearms with tender strokes. "It's okay. You don't need to figure out anything right now, cariño...." He gestures for you to come closer. 

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to the police and the dean of the university myself. I will make sure those roommates of yours never come near you ever again." 

You feel a chill down your spine. Even though you were angry and hurt, you felt nervous at the idea of them being punished. Surely now you would forever be blacklisted in their minds, a permanent subject of their torture from here on out, blaming you for their consequences despite them being a direct result of their actions. 

"Miguel, you don't need to do all that..." You say cautiously. "I mean, I really appreciate you having my back and all, it's just, I don't know how I'm going to survive the rest of the semester. If they didn't like me before they definitely aren't going to now..." You shudder at the thought. 

"Let me worry about that." Miguel says firmly, resting both of his hands on yours. "You won't need to worry about what happens next or seeing them again because I'm going to keep you here with me. You'll live here in the guest house until I know for certain that it's safe to send you back to the university." 

"Oh..." You shake your head slowly. "No....no Miguel, I couldn't do that to you. I don't want to be a burden...." 

"Stop."

Miguel silences you with a kiss, releasing a deep sigh, the chill from his bottled water brushing gently against your lips. 

"Eh....sorry...what I mean is, I already have arranged for everything you need to stay here. I would much rather know that you're safe with me than send you back there. And you are never a burden to me." 

Before you can say anything again, he pulls you back in for another kiss, making this one last a tad longer than the first, you feel yourself melt when his hand grabs your waist with the other one holding the back of your neck so you could be pressed a little tighter against him. 

Miguel feels a little fire burning in him, but he knows he needs to be patient, especially with everything you went through tonight. However you feel yourself giving into your desires, the feeling of his lips on yours leaving you with a hungry sensation, having him so close to you and the way he touched you too electric to stop. 

The next time your lips meet, you prod your tongue gently in the open space between his lips. Miguel groans softly, unable to turn you down and opens his mouth, permitting you to explore it with your tongue. His breath is fresh, the unique, succulent taste of his mouth paired with his cologne just steering you further down a road of temptation. 

Miguel is a little flustered, having underestimated that the intensity of the fire burning within you was actually the same, if not bigger than the one inside of him. He chuckles softly with his forehead against yours,

"Now..." he raises one of his hands, laying the back of his knuckles against your cheek, his thumb delicately swiping the area under your eyes. "We should probably get you in bed, yeah?" 

You exhale softly, "Okay." 

Miguel smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips and sweeping you up into his arms without warning. 

"Miguel?" You giggle at the gesture. Miguel smirks as he approaches the staircase, walking up it with you cradled against his chest. When you reach the top of the staircase, you notice the living room where you just were is visible on the other side. Miguel makes a left, walking to the end of the hallway, carefully setting you down before opening the door. 

You feel your breath get taken away as you look at the large king sized bed, a thin white canopy drapes across all four corners of the bedposts, making it look like a luxurious cloud. Across from the bed is a fancy modern fireplace behind a panel of glass with a shiny marble mantle piece and another large television mounted above it.

On the far end of the room are French doors with glass panels covered by cream colored curtains that lead to a balcony with a small bistro patio set with two chairs and a table, perfect for reading or a cup of tea that overlooks the garden and swimming pool. 

Miguel smiles at your reaction, watching you as you marvel at the beautiful room before taking you by the hand to show you the rest of it. 

"Here is your bathroom..." He opens a door that's to the left of the fireplace. Your mouth falls open yet again at the open space, white marbled floors with a counter to match, a vanity with an ornate mirror, a shower with cream colored tiles and a waterfall shower head, an ivory golden claw foot bathtub and a separate water closet for the toilet which came with a bidet. 

Miguel opens the drawers of the vanity and the bathroom sink, showing you where all the toiletries were: your favorite shampoo, hair conditioner, other hair care products you needed, as well as bars of soap that were both scented and non scented depending on your preference, moisturizer, makeup wipes, toothpaste, and a new fancy electric toothbrush that was charging next to the sink. 

"Madge and Noir will have the rest of your beauty products you wrote down by tomorrow morning, as well as all of your medications you need." He says with a smile. 

"And now back to the room..." He shuts off the bathroom light and guides you to the door to the right of the fireplace this time, leading to a walk in closet. 

There's a gorgeous diamond chandelier on the ceiling, the far end of the room has a ceiling to floor mirror, on either side are racks of clothes. Dresses, sweaters, blouses, skirts, pants, even work clothes for school or work and something for every occasion, all matching the descriptions and brands you listed in your contract. 

There's racks with several pairs of shoes on display nearly arranged ranging from fancy heels, to beachy sandals, casual street footwear, and boots. In the middle of the room is a cream colored ottoman sitting bench which is pushed up against one of the biggest jewelry cabinets you've ever seen. 

When you open it, there's several black velvet rows with little LED lights that highlight the pieces on display. There are four elegant Cartier watches, Alex and Ani bangles with all your favorite charms you pre-selected that fit your personality and aesthetic, more Pandora bracelets and necklaces like the one Miguel originally gifted you that you can swap out depending on your mood, Swarovski earrings and necklaces adorning the holders, and a variety of Dior rings in the styles you selected. 

You're damn near in tears from all of this attention, all of this generosity bestowed on you. Turning this night around from one of the worst to one of the best you've had in your entire life. Feeling like you must be in heaven, must be dreaming and not sure what you did to be so lucky. You turn around, jumping into Miguel's arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you...." you whisper, closing your eyes.  

Miguel's eyes widen in surprise at first, but feels his heart melt as he bends down, bringing his hands to the back of your thighs, warmth pooling in his belly when you wrap your legs around him like a koala as he carries you to the bed. He gently sets you down on it. You feel the mattress dip below you gently. You run one of your hands along it, the fibers massaging against your skin.

You can already tell this bed will probably pose a huge threat of making you late in the mornings, with how heavenly and soft it feels. Nothing like the stiff, cardboard, twin sized mattress in your dorms that had been used and recycled between God knows how many users.

Miguel smiles, leaning over you to hand you his housewarming gift neatly packaged in a gorgeous gift basket tied with a red bow. Silk pink pajamas monogrammed with your initials that matches the robe in your bathroom, with fuzzy white slippers, as well as chocolate, sparkling champagne, bottled water, mints, Burt's Bees Chapstick, lotion, and some healthy chips.

"Here..." He pulls out one more bottle from the gift basket of room spray, giving a small spritz to the bed.

"For your pillow." He grins.

"It's lavender and vanilla, a nighttime medley. I use the same kind for my daughter, Gabi, on her pillows... It's helped her stay calm and sleep much better at night. Let me know if it helps with your headache." He lovingly strokes your cheek, setting the spray on your bedside table.

"You can put anything you'd like in here." He opens the bedside drawers of the nightstand. "There's a Kindle and iPad for your personal use. They are yours to have. My mother wanted you to have her Kindle because she went and bought herself a new one for Christmas." He chuckles.

"But this one is still extremely nice. Feel free to download whatever books you like to read on it. I trust you not to go too crazy." He winks.

"There's also tissues, allergy medicine, some melatonin, vitamins, spare chargers if you need them, the remote to the TV is also in here, along with the one that controls the temperature, lights, and humidifier. I just ask that you be conservative with the temperature changes. Usually around 70-72 degrees is more than comfortable for this room."

He brings his hands to your thighs, his smile gradually melting, eyes going a little half lidded as he runs them slowly up and down.

"Anything...else I can do for you before I let you go to sleep, love....?"

At this point, you don't care about your headache. You just want him. Right now. After receiving this absolute princess treatment and pretending to ignore all of the lingering tension between you two, it felt more than right to spend a little more time with him tonight. The dim lights and the luxurious room and mansion in the middle of his countryside property was just pushing you closer and closer to him by the minute.

"You're not staying with me...?" You whisper, a faint tease to your voice.

Miguel gives you a shadow of a smirk, letting his hands run a little further up your thighs, coming to very gently grip over the curve of your ass.

"I'll be in the room across the hall..." He says gently. "But..." He leans his face closer to you, lightly pressing his forehead against yours. "I can stay with you, if you wish."

You exhale softly as you feel his hands start to knead the plump flesh. "Yes please..."

He smiles, his eyes closed with his forehead still pressed against yours. He softly lifts your chin with his fingers, bringing your face to look at him. The look he's giving you could pretty much make you fall in love with him instantly.

Soft, silky orbs of the most decadent chocolate brown lovingly staring back into yours, with the faintest hint of hunger, something seductive and fiery that he was holding back behind them. You were more than curious to find out.

His lips part and he leans in, softly leaving his breath in your mouth, his lips barely ghosting over yours,

"Dime exactamente todo lo que quieres... ahora." He purrs.

You moan softly, tangling your fingers in his hair, making him sharply inhale more oxygen to his lungs, your body language pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"Miguel...."

"Tell me....exactly, everything you want me to do, right now, beautiful....." He repeats, his voice hovering above a whisper. "I won't break the rules unless I have your clear, absolute consent...." He runs both palms against the side of your neck.

"Hmmm...? Dime, cariño...." (Tell me dear)

You feel your face get hot, biting your lip as you look up into his beautiful face. "Stay with me tonight..."

"And...?" He whispers with a smile, tickling your cheek.

"Make love to me..."

Miguel feels his body practically light on fire. He knew damn well that's what he was hoping for but hearing you say it out loud just made his excitement triple by the minute.

"Yeah....?" He stops smiling, biting his lip as he gently and ever so softly squeezes your cheeks between his fingers.

"Want me to fuck you, pretty girl....?" A lustful switch activates in his brain. He clenches his teeth hungrily.

"Please..."

He leans in, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you groan and let your head fall back, giving him more access to your throat and chest, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He nuzzles his face into you, full lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands run up and down your shoulders and arms.

"Have you done this before, my love....?"

"Mmm..." Your face is warm again as you nod slowly at him.

"I-I have..."

Miguel smiles, leaning in to kiss you passionately, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hand grasping your chin, holding you still so he can make it deep, a subtle demonstration of his claim over you.

"Have you ever been with a man like me?" He asks softly.

You exhale carefully, voice slightly quivering. "N-No...."

He hums at this, a little smugness in his tone. "Well...if you're still sure, baby.... I'd love to show you....what it's like...to be with me. I'll show you just how a pretty thing like you should be treated..."

Your body is on the verge of exploding. "....Yes.....?"

"Yes, lovely girl..."

He smirks as he gently rubs his nose against yours, pausing for a moment when he notices your jacket. It's not in line with the usual style of clothes you wear. His brow furrows curiously as he tugs at it with his fingers.

"Whose is this?" He asks in a low tone, a slight hint of sternness.

"Oh-um..." Your face gets hot. "T-the guy at the game. Made me wear it. I was freezing. I'm, I'm so sorry...I should've said no...."

Miguel feels a slight annoyance at this, but he keeps his voice low, keeping a handle on his emotions for your sake. "You know my rules cariño..."

You bite your lip, stressed that you've upset him and killed the mood completely. "I know, I know, I'm so sorry Miguel...."

Miguel hums, slowly starting to unzip the jacket. "I know you are, baby...." He pauses as he watches the zipper coast downwards, letting the anticipation build for a moment.

"S'alright...." He breathes slowly, brushing his lips against your ear.

"S'not your fault, my dear..."

Without warning he rips the jacket off of you. You squeak in alarm, he holds you tightly against him, his hands gripping your waist hard, fingers digging into your skin as he ravenously attacks your neck and bare shoulders with his lips, nipping at them with his teeth.

"From now on...the only clothes that I will rip off your body...are the ones I buy you. Not any other man's. Understand?"

He takes your cheeks between his fingers, roughly bringing your gaze up at his, the silk brown of his eyes now gleaming with fire.

"You're all mine..." He whispers.

You shudder and moan softly, when you feel him grip your clothed pussy, the attention to the ache you felt all night long for him finally being satisfied with the warm grip of his hand.

He seems to take notice of your neediness as well, smirking as he moves his hand softly against your sex, his voice reducing to a purr with satisfaction at your weakness.

"See....you enjoy this yeah, my dirty girl...?"

He works his palm into a steady caress, the heel of his hand hitting against your clit. You let out a little whine.

"Shit....so sensitive....so weak to my touch...." He licks his lips, eyes drinking in every little shudder your body makes, coming to rest on your breasts.

"Miguel..." You're fighting to keep your eyes open, the pleasure coursing in your veins making them heavier than usual.

"That feels soooo good...."

Miguel smirks even wider, leaning in and continuing his trail of kisses on your neck, pausing to suck on your skin.

"Yeah....? Mmm good..... You deserve to feel good, cariño. Let me make you feel good...."

He lays you back on the bed, his hands dance underneath your shirt, another moan leaving your lips as the warmth from his palms make contact with your skin.

"Can I take this off, angel?"

You nod numbly, lifting your body and arms as he removes your shirt. He removes his sweater as well, unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway before he gets distracted by the goddess in front of him.

Miguel groans at your bare upper half, leaning in to lick and suck his way down the middle of your chest in the valley between your breasts, affectionately motorboating his face in between them and flicking your nipples with his tongue, leaving the sensitive buds perky before he coasts down to your soft stomach.

"Mmmm..." You arch your back, biting your lip as you give in to your own burning desire, letting yourself caress your breasts with your free hand while he indulges.

He chuckles against your skin, admiring how you're taking charge of your own pleasure, his eyes looking up at you from where his cheek is laid against your stomach, leaving soft kisses.

"That's a beautiful sight..."

He rubs his cheek against your stomach, pressing another soft kiss into it. "It's nice watching you enjoy yourself, baby. You drive me insane...."

He gently slides his fingers underneath the waistline of your pants.

"Open your legs..." He whispers.

You breathe deeply, letting your hand run softly, slowly down your body, giving your breast another tender squeeze on the way down, easing your knees apart.

"Lift your hips..."

You obey, your breath shuddering as he pulls your pants off your body, followed by your panties.

"God..." He groans. " Such a good girl...your pretty pussy's already wet for me...."

You gasp quietly as his fingers trace the top of your sex until they gently circle around your clit, softly pushing against it, as though it were a switch, your back arches and your mouth falls open, Miguel groaning above you.

"S'alright, beautiful...let me get you ready for me..."

He starts to softly, softly rotate two thick fingers inside your pussy, already wet with want, greedily welcoming any penetration as your walls envelope them, the soothing pitch of his voice arousing you, encouraging you to stretch yourself wider.

Miguel is impossibly turned on right now, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt and release his large cock from his boxers, allowing his aching length to flop against his stomach, angry tip blooming with precum already.

"Mig-"

He interrupts you with a soft kiss, making out with you passionately as his fingers curl and scissor within you, soft whimpers you leave behind in his mouth as your tongues slide and massage against one another.

He pauses and removes his fingers, the feeling within you empty for a moment as you catch your breath, but not for long as his mouth surrounds your pussy, his arms locking around your upper thighs as his tongue starts to lap up and down.

You pant, gazing up at the ceiling then down at him as you struggle to prop yourself up a little, your pretty lips open in a mixture of shock and pleasure as you watch him greedily lick and eat your pussy to his heart's content.

He moans at the taste, letting his tongue circle in a repetitive motion up and down as he nuzzles his face a little deeper into your warm cunt, your wetness transferring onto his whole face and nose as the tip of it prods at your clit.

You shudder and moan loudly, eyes shut as all you begin to focus on is the overwhelming wave of pleasure as you grind on his face, the way you can practically feel every creamy drop leak out of you and into his mouth as you fall apart underneath him.

No man has ever made you feel this damn good before. Never made you feel so womanly, so worshipped before tonight.

You lose yourself to the sensation of his tongue curling and rolling inside you, massaging and lingering in the plush spots that make your toes curl and flickers of light erupt your vision, letting yourself be completely vulnerable in this moment, alone, with him.

He studies you carefully, mind imprinting which angle of his tongue causes you to shudder the most, which soft spot inside your pussy makes you whimper the most desperately, memorizing your body as if it's a Bible as he continues eating you out on top of the master bed.

"That's it, almost there for me..." He licks your arousal off his lips, pussydrunk before reassuming his position.

"Dios, baby...those stupid little college boys can't make you feel this good, can they.....?" He smirks as he continues to lather your pussy with his warm tongue.

"N-No....only you baby...."

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel your body turn to mush as your love seeps out of you, the sweet, sweet peak of arousal overcoming and absolutely wrecking you, sending shockwaves of overwhelming pleasure all through your mind and senses, lying there out of breath as Miguel pants, his soft stomach and dark happy trail with slightest hints of grey peppered in covered in a thick gloss of his beautiful sweat, a dazzling, satisfied smile on his face, pecs shiny and proud as his chest heaves up and down in simmering heat.

He peels off the rest of his shirt and clothes, leaving himself naked before you, the warm glow of the room making him look so godly, so entrancing under the scarce light as he positions himself above you, gently nudging your legs apart with his knees.

He leans in close, kissing you, your lips breaking apart a little from a sharp gasp you let out as you feel his fat tip massaging between your folds, the fullest part of the curve dipping in slightly, an agonizing tease.

"Miguel..." You whine.

"Cariño...?" He answers innocently with a smirk, as though he's completely oblivious to how much he's torturing you with not filling you up with his cock all the way.

"I need you..."

"That so, baby....? I'm enjoying this though...."

"Please..."

"I love hearing you beg, baby. It's so sweet..."

"Please, please fuck me Miguel..."

"Mmmmm...."

You both moan in sweet unison as he slides inside you completely.

"There...." He pants, hooking your thigh over his hip, squeezing it as he grips the headboard with the other. You cry out loudly for him, running your hands all along his dense muscle. His pride, ego and lust swelling as you admire and feel his strength, letting yourself become so submissive and cockdrunk underneath him as he snaps his hips lewdly against yours.

"Fuck!!....so amazing....Miguel....need you so badly..."

He cradles your head delicately in his hands, slowing down his thrusts, dragging his clock slower and deep within you, letting you really feel every inch.

"I know baby, I know...M'right here, baby..." He groans loudly as his cock strokes against a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

".....bet no man's ever fucked you this good hmm...?" He smiles as he pants above you, toying with your bottom lip as he continues thrusting slowly.

"Bet I can make my pretty baby so needy for this cock after tonight...."

"Oh....." You groan, closing your eyes as your lips meet in a hot sweaty kiss.

"N-Nobody has fucked me like you do....n-never felt so good in my life..."

"Oh...tell me more, you sweet thing..." He slowly tilts his head, caging you below him as he continues to slowly fuck you, the space between you more intimate.

"I wanna feel all of you....all the time..." You feel your eyes water, the vulnerability of the moment pushing you to confess your deepest feelings, the chemicals and hormones between you to driving you to spill the innermost contents of your heart.

"I...I don't deserve you. I feel so lucky.....I don't understand what you see when you look at me. I'm so addicted to you....your body, your voice, your laugh, everything...."

Miguel's eyes soften, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Oh cariño...but you do deserve me."

He leans in, pressing soft kisses, every word he speaks carries intention which swiftly translates into more passion in his hips as he begins to fuck you faster and faster.

"You enthrall me....you entice me....drive me crazy just thinking about you ever since the first day you showed up in my office..."

He buries his face in your neck, holding onto your hips.

"Know what I had to do after you left cariño....? Had to fuck my fist and think about you because you drove me so damn crazy..."

You pant, your eyebrows knitting when you feel another knot twisting itself in your stomach, preparing to snap.

Miguel groans, gently pressing his hand against the small bulge in your stomach, doubling your pleasure as he fucks you, edging himself closer to his own blissful end.

"You consume me....you're perfect.....you're mine, all mine. Sweet, sweet girl...."

You grab his face, kissing him passionately, he moans eagerly into the kiss, your sweaty bodies completely engulfed in the other.

"M'close...." He murmurs. "You are too, aren't you beautiful....?"

He interlocks your fingers together as he fucks you harder than before. Your back arches, legs shaking, struggling to keep your voice down, fighting to lock down your concentration on that one area that he keeps hitting so perfectly, pushing you dangerously close to the edge, dead set on falling off of it.

The heat in your core dials higher and higher, to the point you're practically screaming. You continue to hopelessly moan and pant, letting him hear your sweet chorus of pleasure as he continues plunging his cock in and out of your cunt.

Soon, a sea of arousal leaks out of you both, painting your lower stomach in his salty white ropes, his mouth open in shock as he gently coaxes any remaining cum from his cock, tenderly kissing you for several long moments, his body frozen above yours.

The blinding emotions of such an intimate experience nearly causing those three little words to slip through, practically screaming to be said, but he holds back for now, instead a warm look of adoration all across his face as he kisses you some more, a soft hum of satisfaction you purr quietly into his mouth as you return his kiss.

After a relaxing wash underneath the heavenly soft waterfall showerhead in your master bathroom and him lovingly massaging cleansing soap all over every sensitive inch of your body, you were tucked in his arms in your clean pajamas as he dimmed the lights with his remote, pressing one last loving kiss against your temple.

"M'right here, cariño....get some sleep...."

The hold that tiredness has on him is so strong to the point that he barely hears the quieted words you mutter in response before he's rendered unresponsive by the spell of sleep.

"I'm in love with you..."

Before you're gone as well, your hearts syncing in quieting rhythm alongside one another, the faint sound of crickets chirping outside your window in the peaceful countryside.

----

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[naeverse]

Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

      🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles. 

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

     🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present? 

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?" 

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile. 

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being. 

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo…" He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned. 

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..." 

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind. 

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze. 

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him. 

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone. 

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state. 

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body. 

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.  

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only: 

"Gosh, I've missed you..." 

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted. 

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged. 

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out. 

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more. 

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made. 

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him. 

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him... 

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him. 

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride. 

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms. 

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust. 

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll. 

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him. 

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…” 

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful. 

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet. 

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words. 

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close. 

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid. 

“I love you, Miggy.” 

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it. 

“I love you too, Querida.”  

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved. 

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side. 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

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#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara #the blue panther #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel #miguel x fem!reader #miguel 2099 #miguel atsv #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut

[guilty-pleasures21]

Serendipity & Chance

I will only be posting once a week until I have all my chapters finished or until I've finished the first book (if I decide to split it into 2 books 🤔). After that, I'll try to post more often.

Warnings: mentions of abuse.

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

Prologue

     He hugged his knees to his chest, sniffling to himself as he huddled in the corner of the empty stall. A stray tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away quickly, wincing when his fingers brushed across the open cut on his cheekbone. He was fine, he was safe: no one would come looking for him in the stables. He just needed a moment to get his emotions under control, then he could return to the house and act as if nothing had ever happened - just the way his mother always did when it came to his- when it came to the Baron. A flash of movement caught his eye and he glanced up to find the curious gaze of his neighbour peeking at him over the stall. Her lips formed an ‘o’ when she noticed his puffy eyes and she disappeared for a second only to open the stall door so she could sink onto the hay beside him. 

     “Miguel? What happened?” She reached up to brush his wavy brown locks away from his face, then sucked in a breath when she saw the cuts and bruises littering his skin. Miguel turned away from her and hugged himself tighter, not wanting her to see him in such a state, and she ran back out of the stall. She returned not long after, however, this time carrying a basket full of what he guessed was medical supplies. She lowered herself to the ground again, her traditional pink Punjabi outfit wrinkling beneath her knees, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, then she began patching him up silently. Miguel flinched every time she dabbed her herbal mixture on one of his cuts, and though she’d pause to give him a sheepish smile each time, she’d continue to work on it anyway. Finally, when she was done, she set her basket aside and turned to face him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

     She placed a hand on his knee, rubbing it gently as she waited for him to process his thoughts. Miguel released his tight hold on himself and sighed, relaxing a little as the fruity smell of her floated through the air and reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

     “It was the Baron,” he finally revealed, still refusing to meet her gaze. X leaned over slightly, trying to catch his eye, her features scrunched up in confusion. 

     “Your father?” she questioned. Miguel’s features hardened and he shook his head quickly. 

     “He’s not my father,” he replied fiercely, pulling his knees back to his chest and clenching his fists in anger. “At least, that’s what I found out today.” 

     His mind replayed the hateful words of the Baron, yelling at him about being the illegitimate half-breed b*stard of some pompous nobleman who had had the bad fortune of being seduced by his immigrant mother while she’d been working as a maid in his household. His chest tightened at the reminder that the past fifteen years of his life had been a lie, and he curled into himself as his injuries started stinging at the memory of the Baron’s open palms and broken bottles. His neighbour wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight, and he felt the tension start to ease from his body as she ran her fingers through his hair. They sat in silence for a while longer, then X piped up from beside him. “My brother’s making briyani today. We could ask Gabe to convince your mother to let you come over?” 

     She finally released her hold on him, sitting back to look up at him and wait for his response. Miguel slid his gaze over to her, thinking. 

     His mother probably wouldn’t object considering the fight she’d just been in with his- with the Baron. She’d always dismiss her sons whenever she was upset, locking herself in her room after her husband had retired to his chambers with yet another bottle of liquor. But she’d always been more amenable to his brother’s suggestions than his own - probably because his brother was apparently the only legitimate child she’d ever had. He nodded at X and pushed himself to his feet, but hesitated, not ready to return home just yet.

     She stood up beside him and waited patiently for him to make a move. But he was probably too afraid to go home given what had just happened. She let her gaze trail over him again and her heart constricted at the sight of all the violent blemishes marking his skin. She reached forward and took hold of his forearm to give him a reassuring squeeze. “Wait here, I’ll go find Gabe.” 

     He let out a sigh of relief at her suggestion - at her understanding - and nodded in agreement. X gave him a last sweet smile, then ran off to go find his brother while he waited there, glad that she’d found him in the stables.

Next chapter

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[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel imagine #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #across the spiderverse fic #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman imagines #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 smut

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #yandere miguel ohara #spiderman astv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider verse #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman x reader

[fangswbenefits]

Frustration

Summary: Miguel’s desire for you has been taking a toll on him, and he really has no other option…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Masturbation. Sexual frustration. Obsessed Miguel. Inspired by this ask + gif.

* ˚ ✦ Part 2

There you were.

His walking and breathing torment.

You had been plaguing his every thought, and you didn’t even know.

He had lost count to the amount of times he had drained himself thinking of you. Oftentimes, more than once a day.

But his frustration was reaching new heights.

His eyes followed your every move through the orange floating screens in his living room.

You were pacing across sector 13’s warehouse in the middle of the night, working on some new tech. Of course you were. You were just so sweet and generous, and had offered him a helping hand.

How he craved that helping hand to relieve him of his sexual tension.

But for now, he got to watch you from a distance, as he lay sprawled on his couch, a heavy frown setting on his face.

Your fingers moved gracefully from one piece of metal to another, inspecting them carefully, and Miguel vaguely wondered if they would be this attentive while touching his cock.

One hand came to tap the screens so he could zoom in on you.

He had discared his suit for casuals before getting some rest, but he couldn’t help himself.

He had to watch you.

Leaning back with a groan, his cock strained almost painfully against his pants, but Miguel wouldn’t dare touch himself just yet. He needed to train himself to last longer without caving in.

You were absolutely on the task at hand, teeth digging lightly into your bottom lip.

He almost gave up right there and then, but balled his fists instead at his side.

If only you knew how hard he was for you. How much he craved your touch and attention.

A grunt escaped his parted lips as his cock hardened fully, the first beads of precum wetting his skin.

He was so ready for you…

His eyes were glued to the screen, roaming along your body. Your shirt was covered in grime and oil and the neckline was so low that if you were to bend over, he’d be able to take a glimpse.

“Come on…” he muttered under his breath, yearning for that reveal of skin that would tip him over.

You dragged a piece of cloth across your neck to wipe off the sweat, and he scowled deeply.

With him, you wouldn’t need to bother with that. He’d take care of you… he’d wash you clean right after devouring you whole.

His hands itched to set his cock free, but he needed more from you.

You were such a sweet and helpful girl.

Surely you could give him more, right?

He waited… and waited… patience slowly draining.

“Por favor…” he growled almost desperately.

The moment presented itself with you bringing a bottle of water to your lips, eagerly quenching your thirst.

A few droplets dripped down your chin, neck and finally soaking through your shirt.

He had waited for too long and had reached his breaking point.

Even though a part of him felt ashamed to resort to this, he just couldn’t find another way to deal with his frustration.

He brought one hand to rest on his crotch and ran his thumb along the underside of his strained cock, immediately hissing.

Resting his head on the back of his other hand, he felt the frustration taking over him as he knew there was no other way now.

Your bra was visible enough through the shirt for him to picture having his cock placed right in between your breasts that he would squeeze to add more friction.

Lazily dragging the zipper down, Miguel slipped his hand in to finally easy the tension.

His cock curved slightly, strings of precum dripping from the tip and he let lout a shaky sigh of relief.

You were suddenly smiling at something.

Or someone.

Who wasn’t him.

He narrowed his eyes in search of the source, but couldn’t find it.

Jealousy flared inside him like wildfire, coursing through his veins, as his fingers wrapped around his cock.

Why were you, his sweet girl, smiling? You should be right there with him, and he knew you’d gasp at his impressive size and at the realisation of how you made him feel. He’d take his time to make sure you felt comfortable enough to eventually touch him and let him touch you.

His fangs were now protruding in anticipation.

Would you let him graze them across your heated skin? Would you let him lick your neck? Would you let him make you his?

He’d be so good for you…

Miguel started gliding his hand up and down painfully slowly, precum rolling down his knuckles.

You were now fanning yourself with your hand and his hips bucked instinctively.

“Sí, cariño… so hot…” he said in between moans, fucking himself relentlessly.

He increased the grip around his cock, knowing fully well your pussy would squeeze him tighter than this.

It would be a miracle if he managed to last long inside you. He’d want your first time together to be with you on your back, so he could watch your face twist as you struggled to take all of him. He could picture perfectly in his mind how your lips would quiver and how he’d promptly comfort you, reassuring you that he would take it slowly.

His eyes fluttered shut, as he kept fucking his hand, wet sounds adding to the pleasure.

He pictured you riding him, soft moans escaping your lips as he guided you up and down.

Another broken thrust.

Deciding that he needed more visual guidance, his eyes snapped open as he watched as you tapped on your watch.

The one on his wrist beeped and Miguel groaned in pure frustration.

He considered not answering you, but…

“Hey, Miguel,” your sweet voice came through and it took all of him not to burst.

“Hey.”

You were pacing nervously. “I… think I fried the chip. I’m sorry… I thought it’d handle the added voltage.”

So fucking sweet…

He halted his strokes momentarily, inhaling and trying to steady his breathing.

“Say something…” your voice was low. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” he managed to say, cock twitching at the innocence in your voice.

How could he ever be mad at you?

“Huh… well, I know it’s late… but if you want to come…”

Bad choice of words…

Because he did want to come… deep inside you.

“… or not! You can take a look tomorrow,” you added rapidly with a nervous laugh, and Miguel had to bite the back of his hand to muffle a moan.

“You okay? You sound… breathless…”

Look at you… so concerned with his well-being… he’d love to leave you breathless.

He exhaled slowly. “Yes. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great,” he said, slipping into his tendency to praise you. “You’re really good.”

“You think so? I mean, you’re the expert here… I’m still learning.”

He dragged the pad of his thumb across the tip, feeling the

“You’re so good,” he nearly moaned out.

“It means a lot coming from you,” she chirped happily, unaware of how close he was. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Bye~”

You were visibly excited on the screen in front of him, and it was evident you had enjoyed his praise and approval.

His sweet girl always so eager to please.

That was enough to bring him over the edge.

He tapped his watch right away, feeling the unstoppable wave of an orgasm flush through his entire body at once as the first streaks of cum shot out, landing on his pants and lower abdomen. He rode out his pleasure with messy rolls of his hips, fingers squeezing out as much cum as possible.

A loud growl erupted from his throat and he did allowed the overwhelming sensation to completely take over.

By the time he came down from his high, breathless and swear rolling down his face, Miguel realised he would have to eventually do something about this. The amount of cum pooling at his lower abdomen was impressive and he knew it was all going to waste.

Unless he made you his.

Part 2

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x reader

[murdrdocs]

BUT YOU'RE NOT MINE. miguel o'hara

description. if you're not his to have, why do you look like the one he has loved? why do you spread your legs and whine and moan for him?

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, DUBCON & CNC ELEMENTS (it's complicated fr), SMUT 18+, slightly angsty but mostly filfthy smut, fem!reader, massive size kink, dacryphilia, p n v, oral (fem receiving), animalistic miguel (fangs and claws included), possessive miguel, reader is a variant of miguel's late wife, reader's miguel is dead, slight dumbification, power play, cervix kissing, brief mention of paralyzing reader unwillingly, told from miguel's pov (still 2nd person), creampies, like 3 spanish pet names (author does not speak spanish)

wc: 5.5k+

fanart creds to @shuploc

→ kinktober masterlist

He stalks his prey from the window. 

The house looks the same. There’s not much dust anywhere, there’s still four seats at the kitchen table and the still slightly cluttered island, the couches are the same worn in set. He can’t tell what the floorboards are like from outside, but he figures that there’s still the scratches from young Gabriella, or the times he dragged his luggage across the living room instead of picking it up like you wanted him too. 

He wonders if the kitchen has the one mixed matched knob on the furthest left cabinet like his house does. He remembers the time he underestimated his anger fueled strength, leading to the custom made knob being ripped off the wood. He remembers how upset you were for a second, mourning the loss, and then the flare of lust in your eyes as you looked at him. 

You look the same. 

A little thinner, clothing a little more muted than before, but you’re still you. 

Even though he knows you’re not the woman he married. 

And he’s not the Miguel you married. 

But you’re still his wife. 

He notices you wear your wedding ring, the band accompanying it, and he notices you’re wearing the necklace he got you for your first anniversary. So much is the same that he finds it hard to believe he’s in a different universe. He’s finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

But the confusion on your face when you open the door quickly reminds him. 

It takes a while for you to calm down from the hysterics. He makes you your favorite tea, marveling, because this is the same, too. He rubs your back when you start to inch more towards him than away. He coos in your ear lovingly, calling you the sweet pet names that you always responded to. 

And when your cheeks are dried just enough, Miguel’s lips are on yours. 

He meant to lead more up to it. He didn’t even think he came here for this. But you smell like you and you look like you and you feel like you and Miguel just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You stall in the kiss, freezing against him, but Miguel continues. He knows you love him. He knows you’re as eager to see him as he is to see you. And he knows you want him as much as he wants you. 

You kiss him tentatively at first, and Miguel slows to let you set the pace. He follows your lead, gently connecting his lips with yours, a hand rising to cup your cheek. He slides his palm towards your head to stick his fingers tips in your roots, digits separating around your ear. It’s shocking almost, how his hand envelopes your entire cheek; fingers spread close to your eye all the way down to your jaw. 

And it’s with this –– and your hands going to his shoulders –– that Miguel realizes just how much bigger than you he is. He almost dwarfs you in comparison, having both stature and structure over you. 

The thought makes him animalistic. 

He groans into the kiss, his other hand cupping your other cheek, and he can’t take it slow much longer. He kisses you aggressively, noses smashing together before he tilts his head, and even then his nose digs into your cheek. 

You hum, slightly apprehensively, and Miguel feels your eyebrows furrow. Your hands lay over his, and he thinks you’re going to push him away. He prepares himself. 

But you don’t. 

You keep kissing him, movements still slow so you don’t move in time like you should. 

But Miguel’s forgiving. 

He takes one of his hands away to slide it down your back, rough palm rubbing against the worn in fabric of your crewneck. It fits you a little big, Miguel remembers from when he came in, and he wonders if it’s his. The him from here, smaller due to the lack of necessity to go out in a Spiderman suit. 

The envy that he feels makes him aggressive. This time he growls. 

Miguel fists the back of your shirt, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer, and it’s with this movement that you pull back. 

He chases your lips, and you let him kiss you once, twice, and Miguel goes for a third time until your lips pull from his with a smack. 

“Miguel …” you say, voice uneasy, a little shy. Not like his wife but he remembers that you’re not his wife. 

He’s instantly apologizing, fear rising in his chest. “I’m sorry. Am I too much?”

Your smile is soft and comforting. Miguel quickly feels at ease and he suddenly wants to cry. Just the effect you’ve always had on him. 

“No. You’re never too much for me. I’ll always want you. Always.” 

And that’s the same too. His eyes soften for a second, widening as his eyebrows lift. He searches your gaze for the look, the one that tells him you want this, that this is where you want the night to go. Because he doesn’t know if that’s what you mean. 

But you smile gently, you nod, you bite down onto your bottom lip, and Miguel knows. 

His body engulfs yours. 

You lay there, small in structure, but also in nature, too. You look shy, timid, intimidated by the large man above you. Which does nothing but hardens the prominent length between Miguel’s legs. 

He likes that he has this above you. He likes that your safety, your pleasure, your comfort, all relies on him. 

Most of all, he likes how your legs spread for him, even though your mouth says something different. 

“Miguel, I don’t think we should do this. You’re not my husband, you—“

“I’m not?” He dips down, teeth nipping at your neck. It’s just his front ones this time. He licks the spot, kisses it. “Am I not your husband?” 

Your head shakes and your hands go to his shoulders. 

“N … No. You’re not my Miguel. You’re not the father of my child.” 

Miguel hisses and his chest flares with anger. He didn’t need the reminder, not at a moment like this. He fists the sheets beside your head to calm himself, but when he nips you this time, it’s with his sharp canines. It’s not strong enough to pierce your skin, maybe not even strong enough to sting. 

You suck in a sharp breath anyway, realizing you did something wrong, and you’re quick to apologize, leaving Miguel to shut it down. 

“Don’t apologize, cariño. Just be good for me, yeah? Let me feel you.” 

His free hand slides down between your legs, forcibly cupping your mound, pushing the heel of his palm into the area where your clit resides. You hiss, your back arching, but your hands push at Miguel’s shoulders. 

“Mig, this isn’t right, this isn’t—“ but he’s cutting you off, tired of hearing your excuses. 

His lips kiss at the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks, his mind racing with how soft your skin is, and how thin the layers truly are. If he wanted to, he could easily sink his fangs into you, claiming you forever. 

He considers the thought as he chooses to gently press his lips into your skin instead. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Missed you so much, beautiful. I need you.” Your sounds are soft, little breaths, almost mewls whenever Miguel sucks harder in a spot. 

It’s all music to his ears. It does nothing but fuels his desires more and more. He wants you louder, he wants you to whine and cry for him. 

And Miguel has always been determined. He’ll do anything to reach his goal. 

His middle and ring fingers separate from the rest on your mound to press between your lips, the pinky and pointer fingers spreading them so his middle fingers can settle between. 

Your mouth falls open. 

Miguel can tell when he hears the clearly audible breaths you let out that sound a lot more like panting than breathing. 

“You still make those pretty little noises, too, yeah?” He pulls his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you head on, brown eyes searching yours. If he’s reading you right, he’s noticing it all. There’s shock, some guilt, maybe a tiny bit of fear, but Miguel can clearly see the arousal in them. 

He can’t help but smirk, smug and overconfident as he tilts his head. “I wanna hear everything, okay? I need to hear how good I make you feel.” 

He leans down, forehead pressing against yours, and you’re so warm, nearly sweating even though Miguel has done absolutely nothing to bring you true pleasure. Your eyes close while his stay open, and Miguel takes a second to admire just how gorgeous you are. 

He takes in all of the similarities; from your eyebrows, to your eyelashes, to your nose, to your lips. But it’s beside your lip that he notices something not right. You have a scar, deep enough to be visible, clearly healed, but it’s there. His eyebrows furrow, he gets possessive, he gets angry, because you weren’t protected. You’d gotten hurt, and he knows that if he were here, the Miguel above you not the other one, this wouldn’t have happened. 

So when Miguel presses his lips to yours, it’s soft at first. Gentle for a few moments as he tries to communicate the fact that this Miguel, while he might not be your husband or the father of Gabriella, is willing to be your protector all the same.

He wants to be more gentle with this entire ordeal, but you start to kiss him back and he loses it again. He starts to devour you, face a little scrunched as he pushes his lips against yours, moving with a pressure and pace that overwhelms you. 

Your smaller hands fist at the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material up at his shoulders, pushing at them but Miguel barely even moves. Miguel understands that your reaction comes from the way he’s attacking your lips, but the more illogical part of his brain reasons that you want his shirt gone, so he pulls back long enough to yank the fabric over his head with one hand. 

It’s thrown off and into one of the clean corners of your bedroom, Miguel’s eyes quickly taking in just how clean the room is. He notices the lack of anything belonging to him, save for an old pair of sneakers that sit in the vicinity of his shirt. 

Sadness overtakes him for a second, but then he hears your soft “wow” and he turns back to you. Your eyes are tracing his exposed body, taking in his physique. Your hands reach out, hovering over his biceps before they rest fully upon them. It’s amusing to Miguel, the way you squeeze the area and your eyes widen more. 

Your heart starts to beat faster, Miguel can hear it in the silence of the bedroom, and when your eyes look at his again, he sees a bit of fear in them. 

He tries not to have a positive reaction to the emotion, but he can’t help it. He’s entertained, thinking of how you’re finally realizing that Miguel is bigger than you. So much bigger. He can do whatever he wants at this moment, and you have to take it. 

He doesn’t know if you’re aware, but you fucking whimper. You sound like a terrified pet, facing danger inescapable to them. 

Miguel reaches his free hand out, cupping your cheek just as his occupied hand starts to rub up and down your slit. Your lips part, your eyebrows push together, and Miguel smiles. 

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.” 

You know the code word, Miguel made sure of it before you reached the bedroom because he would never hurt you. Not if he could control it. 

You just stare at him. Not saying anything. And Miguel subtly feels your hips shift to push further down, more into his touch. 

He takes it as his go ahead. 

He sits back on his haunches, all six feet and nine inches of him, his chest rising and falling with shallowly taken breaths as he eyes you beneath him. 

Stripped of your shirt and shorts, wearing nothing but a clearly loved bra and a pair of printed cotton panties. There’s no manufactured bow in the center of them, and Miguel briefly wonders if you still have those. He thinks back to how you’d always pull them out for date nights, or nights where Gabriella wouldn’t be home, and when he’d comment on them, hinting that you were surely expecting something, you said nothing, gently smiled, and turned towards the bathroom. 

Miguel doesn’t realize it, but he’s gotten lost just staring at this single garment. Your wiggling hips breaks him out of the trance and he slips his thick fingers beneath the elastic waistband of your panties and he starts to pull them down your legs. 

The movement is awkward, a product of your refusal to work with him. Your legs are spread too far, you won’t close them enough to let Miguel slide your panties down, it fucking frustrates him. He’s holding back a growl, his lips clamped shut in a thin line so he doesn’t snarl. 

“Baby, just close your legs a little, let me–” but his words are cut off as Miguel grips one side of your underwear with both hands, and then the fabric is broken into two. 

A sharp gasp from you and your legs clamp shut. But Miguel’s not having any of that. His hands, palms rough against your soft skin, grips your knees, muscles barely flexing as he easily pulls your legs apart. 

He briefly wonders if the lack of resistance comes from your own personal will, or if he’s just that much stronger than you. Either thought has Miguel feeling a little dizzy, his blinks slowing as your opened legs reveal a slickened cunt. 

Pretty, glistening with your juices, evidence of how much your body wants him. He starts to salivate a little, his enhanced nose picking up on the aromatic scent coming from you. 

Miguel barely realizes that it’s happening, but suddenly he’s leveled with your cunt and his breath is fanning against the most sensitive parts of you. 

You jump, moving a little further up the bed and away from him, your escape futile when large hands drape over the tops of your thighs, pulling you back to him and pushing you down into the mattress simultaneously. 

Miguel’s sure that the sound that escapes from your mouth would’ve been a whimper if he hadn’t decided that now was the time to lick a long stripe from the lowest point of your cunt, to the clit. 

It’s slow, a little torturous on his end, but it’s worth it with the reaction you give him. 

Mouth dropping, eyes widening as your eyebrows attempt to meet in the middle, your hands fisting the sheets, your hips trying to pull away from him and get closer at the same time. 

How reactive you are does nothing but excite Miguel. 

He launches forward, head burying in your essence, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep inhales. He gets lightheaded for a second, the dizziness coming back, but he reminds himself to breathe when his nose bumps against your clit and he hears you take a deep inhale. 

What follows is Miguel O’hara behaving in a way that can barely be akin to a man, more akin to a beast, as he tries his best to devour you. The sounds are sinful; Miguel’s saliva combining with your wetness, his tongue uncoordinated as it plunges into your walls and comes back out to slurp the surrounding area. 

This isn’t his best work, and he wants to correct his technique to bring you more pleasure, but he can’t get enough. He’s like a man starved, attempting to consume a meal as if someone’s waiting to take it away from him. 

Briefly, he’s reminded that someone could take this all away. He can’t stay for long, or else your universe could collapse. He shouldn’t be here in the first place. But his greed, the very thing he’s displaying now, brought him here, completely on selfish desires. 

Guilt attempts to cloak his being, but you whine and Miguel’s right back in it. 

He lifts his mouth to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks, once, twice, flattens his tongue to swirl the bud around, and then he bares his teeth, turns his head to the left, and his right fang gently connects with the sensitive nerve ending. 

A little gasp comes from you. “Fuck,” you whisper, and Miguel wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing.

It’s a positive reaction, he figures, so he does it again. And again. And one more time before he has two fingers plunging into your walls, inching further in even as you heave. 

“Not used to this, are you? Your little fingers haven’t been cutting it. Need something bigger to fill you up.” 

Miguel lifts himself again, arm going to rest beside your head, body hovering over yours once more. 

You don’t say anything, but Miguel’s fine with that. The pads of his fingers are deep inside of you, they’re massaging your walls, curled and reaching for the spot that Miguel still hasn’t forgotten. He finds it after a little too long, and you try to stifle the sound by biting onto your bottom lip, but Miguel can see the pleasure. 

It shows in your wide, pleading eyes. In your raised eyebrows. In your flared nostrils. 

He smirks, proud of himself, and pays special attention there. 

“That’s it. There it is. ‘S all the same.” 

He kisses your cheek and his fingers slowly pull out, only to thrust back in, finding the area of that spot over and over again. It has you mewling, your legs spread, your body clearly enjoying it even though you pretend the opposite. 

“Mig, Miguel, please, I … I’m, it’s all…” You’re saying so much but so little. Little jumbles of words that preface something that never comes. He can’t tell if you’re begging him to keep going or to stop. He doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to. 

Not with the way you’re so obviously close. 

One of your hands fling to wrap around Miguel’s wrist, and he fucking laughs when he sees that your pointer finger and thumb is miles apart, on opposites sides of his wrist. 

“Don’t know how you’re gonna take this cock, baby. So fucking tiny beneath me. ‘M gonna split you open.” The words are whispered in your ear, meant as a warning, maybe even a promise, but it feels borderline threatening coming through his bared teeth. 

Your head turns away from him, your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re practically intelligible when you say, “‘M close.” 

It’s like Miguel’s been presented with a goal that could alter everything. He needs to make you come, this time being the first of many tonight. 

He has a thirst that can only be satisfied by feeling your walls squeeze and flutter around his fingers. 

He kisses your temple, his fingers speed up, and he’s encouraging you. 

Not even a few moments later Miguel’s fingers are constricted. His hand lifts with your hips, his ears drink in the sounds you let out; little moans and huffs of air that you’re clearly trying to keep hidden. Which Miguel is fine with for now, because he knows in due time you’ll be screaming around his cock, not even aware of the sounds that you make as you reside in complete ecstasy. 

You’re barely calmed down, the occasional twitch still in your legs, before you’re looking over at him. 

He stands off to the side of the bed now, eyes on you as his thumbs dig into the elastic of his gray sweatpants. He tugs them down, watching your eyes trail down his body. He exhales, abs flexing with the breath, and your eyes get just a little wider. 

But when his sweats are on the floor, and he’s stepped out of them, your eyes are low, lidded not just from the directional change, trained on the way his cock is straining against the stretchy fabric of his briefs. 

He steps closer, hand cupping your cheek, head dipped as he looks at you. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” A phrase he’s uttered frequently to you in this setting. Usually a wicked smile, and eager hands is your response. 

Now, you tilt your head, assumingly letting the words translate in your head, and Miguel realizes that it’s really been a while since you’ve had your Miguel. 

When you understand, your hand reaches out to his boxers, but then it stops midway. 

Miguel nods. “Come on, don’t be shy.” 

Then your nails scratch at his lower abdomen, beginning to stick under the elastic. 

“There you go.” His eyes turn down, watching his crotch, watching your hand disappear beneath the fabric. They flutter shut when you wrap your hand around him. 

The first touch is always the best for Miguel. He shudders, the feeling translating to a shaky breath. 

He wants to keep his eyes closed, basking in the feeling of you starting to timidly stroke him, but he feels eyes on him, and there’s nothing Miguel loves more than your eyes. 

So he looks down at you, he watches you as your hand trails to the tip of his cock, thumb smearing the precum along the circumference to give you better slip. 

Your hand glides up and down the expanse of Miguel’s cock, feeling him up, working him slowly. 

It feels nice. But it’s not nearly enough. 

Miguel takes the liberty to pull his briefs down his hips, the garment meeting the same fate as his pants. 

Your hand is still around him, but your grip falters just a bit when his cock springs free. 

Miguel watches your eyes size him up, taking in the sheer length and girth of him. 

He can already predict what you’re going to say before you go. 

“Miguel. It’s not gonna fit.”

The fear returns to you. It shines in your eyes, flares in your chest, scrapes up your limbs and leaves goosebumps in its trail. 

His head shakes. “It’ll fit, amor. I’ll make sure it fits.” 

He wants the words to soothe you. He hopes the words will soothe you. 

But as he situates himself between your legs, as he arranges your legs to lay over his, as he starts to line himself up, you look even more fearful. 

You’re clenched tight, it’s showing in your entire body, so Miguel rubs his thumbs along your hips, and he gives you what he thinks is a comforting look. He hasn’t been able to contort his features into that look for a while now, and he’s sure that he’s out of practice, but it works.

Your eyes set on his face, they roam over his features, then they lock onto his eyes like meeting a target. 

There’s an unspoken agreement for him to proceed. 

So he does. 

You’re tight. Miguel knew you would be, but it’s still slightly unexpected. He can’t help but hiss as the head starts to breach. You’re tight. 

“Baby. Let me in. Breathe.”

You try to do so, but it’s like no matter how many calming breaths you take, you get tighter as Miguel continues to push. 

It gets to the point where Miguel has no choice but to keep going, hoping that his attempt at soothing words work as he buries himself to the hilt. Miraculously, it’s only then that you relax, the feeling of loosening alerting Miguel of the change. 

He looks at your expression, satisfied to see your features slack, starting to morph into pleasure once more. 

He starts to move, slow drags out and even slower pushes back in. 

They’re intended to allow you room to adjust, to cease your whines and provide you comfort, in an alarmingly discomforting situation. Miguel thinks it’s working. You go mostly silent, he wrenches his eyes closed in pleasure, but they peel back open whenever he hears sniffles. 

It’s impossible for him to continue holding back when you look at him all pretty like this. Tears streaming down the sides of your face, pooling in your hair, salty liquid sticking your eyelashes together as you blink pathetically up at him. 

Something tugs at him, telling him to give it his all. 

So he does. He takes what he wants. 

He takes what he deserves. 

His snapping into yours with a force that sends you up the bed each time. He refuses to let you off the hook like this, hands gripping your hips, your soft and supple skin pinched between calloused fingers. You whine, crying out desperately as you push at Miguel’s hands. 

He doesn’t let up, believing that this is the only way to keep you close to him. Even if it hurts. 

He gives you some reprieve, however, taking away one of his hands to slide up the back of your thigh. He hooks your limb over his hip, encouraging you to dig your heel into the dimples at his lower back. It’s something the you that belongs to him would’ve done, and there’s a split second of fear in his chest as he anxiously waits for you to do it now. 

Whenever you do, the heel of your foot pressing into the skin right above his ass, he snarls. It’s unfiltered, an accident, but it’s real and raw. 

His claws come out and they swipe at your skin accidentally. A gasp from you, then a wince, alerts Miguel of the mishap, and his heart stops. His hips stop. He’s hurt you. He’s done the thing he swore he never would. 

You look at the bleeding cut, then at him, and Miguel doesn’t see hurt in your face. Instead, you pull him closer, arching your back, pushing your hips into his and grinding as best as you can against him. 

You go from stoic and pliant to untamed, your own nails digging into his forearms, your hips lifting off of the bed in what should be an unattractive motion. 

Yet there’s nothing that you could do that could be unattractive in Miguel’s eyes. 

He’s sworn to love you forever, despite the Universal difference. 

He licks his lips, and with the motion he feels his fangs. Sharp, pointy, ready to plunge into whatever flesh he can reach. He once again considers it for a second, sinking his teeth into your thigh and rendering your limbs useless. Keeping you stuck to the bed for him to use and abuse however he’d like. 

But you’ve been behaving so well tonight. So he finds no need. 

Miguel angles his hips differently and you whimper, the sound sweet and small and soft from you. It resembles a “hng”, tailoring off into a gasp towards the end that has Miguel grunting in response. 

“Acting like you’ve never been fucked like this before.” His voice is rough, lacking any romanticism in the tone. He could barely care less.

“Maybe you haven’t. Has no man taken you like this? This sweet, supple body, left unused for this long. You know that’s not your purpose. You’re wasting your potential, honey. This is what you’re made for.” He punctuates his statement with a piercing thrust, hitting a spot that makes you gasp sharply. 

“Made to give men like me pleasure. Not many can take what I can give, but you can, right?” You nod eagerly, seemingly attempting to prove your agreement by taking a deep breath and relaxing your cunt around Miguel enough for him to slide just a little deeper. 

He smirks, hand reaching to your tit where he strokes your nipple with his thumb. “Such a good girl. Probably make a good little housewife too. Maybe I'll stick around. We could do this more often. Get this tight little body to take me 24/7 until it’s second nature. I can feel her struggling around me. Pussy’s too tight. Hasn’t had a big cock to fill it in a while. But that’s alright, we can train her. She’ll be as good as new in no time, yeah?” 

It seems he’s fucked you too good, beyond any verbal or nonverbal responses from you. Instead, you’re a mess of whines and groans. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling at the corner just before it fills over and slides down your chin. It doesn’t bother you, or you have more important things to focus on, because you let it glide down until it sits in your clavicle. 

Miguel’s ego inflates as he watches you fall apart like this. Earlier tonight you were the picture of perfection; a neat outfit, a neat home, your emotions and responses polished. But you shed all of that for him. Because of him. 

In his mind, there’s no greater honor. 

Especially whenever he slides his hand down to your clit, flicks your bud one, two, three, times, and then your back arches as your orgasm travels through your body. 

He sees it start in your loins first. Your pelvis rocks against his ferociously, and then it stops, twitching every so often as your orgasm travels to your limbs then. Your legs lifting, hovering on either side of Miguel and twitching sporadically as he continues to fuck you despite your feeble hands pushing at his shoulders. 

He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and he knows what’s best. He knows your body better than you do. He knows you can handle another. 

He knows you need another. 

So he continues. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, and starts fucking you to a second round of completion. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, your body tensing as you brace yourself through the pain. But Miguel tuts. 

“None of that, baby. Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this way.” It takes you a second. You huff, your eyebrows push together. 

Miguel rolls his eyes. He lifts one hand, taps your cheek with enough force to have your eyes snap open, and then he grips your face. “I said: Look at me.” 

You do as told now, fear flashing through your eyes, and Miguel grins. He likes the power. He likes this feeling. 

“There you go. That’s it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now give me another. Just one more, my love.” 

He’s so deep within you, your arousal leaking out around him, giving him access to the uncharted parts of you by virtue of providing absolutely no resistance. There’s possibly the easiest slip and slide happening between the two of you, Miguel’s cock entering and exiting your cunt rapidly, shallow thrusts that reach mere inches away from your cervix each time. 

Each drive into you prompts a sound, a gasp or moan or just a force of air from your diaphragm. They spur Miguel on, the vigilante adjusting your leg over his shoulder just a little, his chest almost parallel to yours as he forces himself deeper and fucks you harder. 

“C’mon, baby. When you’re ready, just let go for me.” 

He’s close at this point, too, but he absolutely refuses to cum without you clenching around him.

His wish comes true just a few thrusts later. This orgasm builds longer, your walls starting to flutter a few moments before your moans crescendo. 

“There we go. There we––” His words are cut off short as his orgasm pushes through his body. His balls twitch, his hips stutter, and he’s shooting warm ropes into your fluttering cunt. He can feel his claws come out and pierce the fabric of your mattress, but he doesn’t think about how he’ll replace it yet. Instead he focuses on this feeling. 

The euphoria taking over every fiber of his being as his hips automatically piston into you a couple of times as your cunt greedily milks him. It’s not until he has none left that he pulls out of you, his cock steadily softening, creating a sensitivity that has Miguel wincing. 

You’re silent except for a few breaths and Miguel mirrors your state. 

You both lay there, staring at the ceiling, and Miguel looks over at you after what could be anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. 

You’re already looking at him, smiling softly. He smiles, too, his features getting softer whenever your hand raises and cups his cheek. He places his hand over yours, body relaxing when he feels your wedding ring. 

“I’m glad you came back to me,” you say, voice earnest and honest. 

Miguel pulls you into his chest.

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #migueltobr! #miguel o'hara x reader #miguelsworld! #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099

[miguelspriscilla]

fucking rcd!miguel in the back of his car after he won a race

“Oh—fuck..”

Miguel grunted as he continued pounding into you deeply from behind. His eyes staring down at your ass, the small-spaced car covering the sounds of squelching and skin-slapping. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust, your fingers digging into the center console where you were forced to lay on as your best friend fucks you roughly in the back of his car.

This is how the night usually ended after Miguel won a car race. It all started during a sleepover at your house when you suggested the idea, giving him motivation to actually put more effort in the competitions. So after these races, the car would be parked by a cliff nearby the city while the two of you fuck round after round—not stopping even when you were on the verge of passing out.

“You like that, nena? Tell me.” His lips curving into a smirk, both of his hands gripping on your hips tightly. You squirmed, feeling his hard cock still thrusting into your tight, spongy walls.

“Y-Yes..I love it so much, Miggy!” you moaned breathlessly, the cute noises you were letting out were only bringing Miguel more pleasure.

“Fuck, I love when you call me that..”

You responded with a sweet smile before feeling him suddenly hit that sweet spot of yours, your face contorting with pleasure once again. “Please, Miggy! I want you to cum inside me!” you beg without hesitation, your knuckles turning white as your hands move to grip the center console instead. “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Your chants only encourages Miguel to set a relentless pace, driving his cock into you so roughly to the point the tip kisses your cervix. Pornographic moans leaving your sweet lips as Miguel reaches over to grab a handful of your hair to pull you back, forcing your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the leather material of the console, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper.

“You drive me crazy..never wanna leave this sweet pussy..” Miguel darkly chuckles, just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself wanting to stop, you felt yourself reach a climax that had you seeing white spots in your vision, moving your back closer to your best friend’s chest. Your face completely stained with tears and drool while shuddering as your legs shake— Miguel felt you continue to clench around his cock.

“Oh Miguel!” you mewled, Miguel watches a white ring of your sweetness cover his cock and it leaves the man almost falling apart on top of you. He groaned into your neck with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, his cum filling you up as you moaned at the hot sensation.

As your best friend continues emptying himself inside your cunt, both of your chests heaving heavily with a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. You were completely fucked out, not one thought in your pretty little head while you stayed still.

Suddenly Miguel’s phone began going off, as if it knew when to start ringing. He seemed to forget to shut it off before he impatiently jumped your bones. He gave your butt a harsh slap, laughing when you responded with a loud whimper before he reached to his race car jacket to grab his phone from the pocket.

“Damnit!” Miguel rolled his eyes, looking at his phone screen and it read, ‘Dana.’ His girlfriend. As much as he didn’t want to answer, he still clicked the green button. As soon as he held his phone to his ear, he slid his now soft cock out of your pussy.

“Aw! Come back, Miggy!”

“Give me a sec, nena. It’s Dana.” Miguel murmured, hearing you continue to protest for him to stick his cock back in but instead he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit as he waited for Dana say whatever the hell she wanted to talk about at 1am. “Hey— Dana..right now isn’t a good time.”

“Yeah you must’ve been sleeping! But..I just missed you.” Dana replied affectionately through the other line. She seemed eager at the fact Miguel picked up.

Though he didn’t match his girlfriend’s enthusiasm, his focus remained on you. Resting himself on your back, using his tongue to finally explore your drooling mouth while listening to Dana talk endlessly about her day, how much she misses Miguel, and how she wished she could have attended the race to see him win.

Your knees still prompted on the car floor, slowly aching from how long you stayed in that uncomfortable position as you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of your best friend’s cock. You swore you could fall asleep from the boring conversation Dana was basically having a conversation with herself. You never liked her, she was obnoxious and passed herself around way too much. But the feeling was mutual between the two of you, she never liked how you and Miguel are so close..Dana has suspected most of the time that you were both hanging out— you were sucking his cock at the back of his car.

Miguel mindlessly nodded at whatever Dana said, humming against your lips until he pulled away and watch you lay your head, pouting your lips. “Mhm..mhm..yeah?” Miguel shrugged, not paying attention at all. He was watching the mixture of your juices and his cum oozing out of your pussy, the scene was absolutely breathtaking, literally. He couldn’t breathe right as he watched your fluids drip down your thighs and onto the carpet, staining it but Miguel didn’t care.

Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly— surely Dana had catch that. “Hey Dana, I’m kinda busy right now. Let me call you back in 20 minutes?” Miguel interrupted his girlfriend during mid-conversation. His eyes trained on your leaking hole, watching as more of his cum spill out of you, the feeling making your body shudder once more.

“Actually let me call you back in the morning, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!!! IVE BEEN CONTEMPLATING ON POSTING THIS FOR 5 DAYS NOW. PLEASE PLEASE IM SORRY ITS BAD I JUST LOVE MIGUEL😭

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel smut #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #atsv

[cherryredstars]

omg hold on i love you so much i hope you are well. so i was sleeping peacefully in my bed today and suddenly this came to mind and i found myself on the floor.

it doesn't necessarily have to be sub Miguel, but i NEED NEED NEED a reader who has a sex stamina higher than burj khalifa. so miguel gets frustrated and overstimulated by the time its over, whining and trying to push her off of his lap type of shit because its his 4th or 5th orgasm. BUT HE WON'T, YKNOW WHY? BECAUSE HE IS HORRNY. BECAUSE ITS SEX AND IT IS GOOD SEX LIKE GAD DAYMMM

thank you

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, A Second of Fingering

Summary: Who is he to deny good sex?

Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)

He doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

He’s surprised that he can even cum still. You’ve been at this for hours, greedily milking his cock and mewling at him. It’s fucking amazing. It’s like some shit his teenage mind would jerk off too. Some bizarre porn video concept. Except, this is real and he’s more of a mess than he thought he would be. 

He started out on top, fucking your desperate pussy until tears flowed from your eyes. He has the scratch marks on his back to prove it, raised and red. But after his second orgasm and your fourth, you still wanted more. But he was so tired, deeply satisfied as cock almost went numb from pleasure. But you looked so sad, giving him that cute little pout that he can never say no to. So, to summarize, his own weakness is to blame for his current situation. 

You’re desperately bouncing on his cock, no signs of slowing down. He’s flat on his back, moaning and groaning as he tries to get a steady grip on your hips. His cock is on fire, overstimulated and tired. It’s creamy with your combined cum, making loud squelches everytime you impale yourself on his dick. You won’t shut up, mouth dropped open as you scream and moan. Miguel is approaching his fifth orgasm, and he doesn’t know if there will be much cum left in him to fill you up with. 

“Fuck, fuck, mi querida, let up. Gonna actually milk me dry if you don’t fucking stop.” Miguel whines, his hand moving to press on your stomach in a weak effort to push you off.

You shake your head and whimper, holding his hand there with both of your own. You use your hold as leverage, still moving up and down on him. Miguel moans out when he can feel where he makes your skin bulge, his orgasm rushing down his spine. You’re whimpering out ‘please’ over and over again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finish. He feels the way your walls flutter and squeeze around him, earning a dying groan from him as it triggers his own release. 

His hips buck up weakly, spurting the very last drops of his cum into you. Both of you are panting, Miguel’s cock begging to be freed from your vice grip. You rotate your hips, softly mewling when his cock skims over your g-spot. Miguel protests as you work his cock, trying to hold your hips still to stop you. 

You lean down and kiss him, that hungry look still in your eyes, “So, so good, Miggy. That felt real good.”

Miguel can only hum in agreement weakly, his head thrown back against the sheets as he tries to regain himself. He gasps as you get up, slowly removing yourself off his cock with a soft pop. Miguel’s cock is semi-hard when he hits his stomach, still coated with cum. He can feel it softening further, his cock throbbing from overuse. 

Suddenly, you gasp loudly. It echoes off the walls, a sharp and unexpected noise. Miguel’s head shoots up to see if you’re hurt. 

Miguel groans when he sees and feels what had you gasping. You’re still hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips. Cum fucking flows out of you, finally being able to escape your flooded hole. It’s white and thick, running down your thighs and forming a puddle under you. It splatters on Miguel’s skin, and his cock jumps and hardens at the sight. Miguel lets out a tired sigh, grabbing your hips and stuffing a finger into you. You cry out, face blissed out as he fucks the cum back into you. 

“Fucking minx, you’re insatiable.” He grumbles, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the skin of your thigh. 

You whimper, quickly turning it into a scream as he seats you back onto his raw cock. His cock stings, fighting in protest. His body is tired and he’s sure he only has dry orgasms left in him. But he doesn’t seem to care, especially when you instantly start riding him again. It feels good, so good. Real good. He falls back into his weakness again, whining and cursing. 

He’s just a man after all, and what good man passes up on pornstar-level sex?

#cherry's requests🍒 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader smut #miguel atsv

[lazyjellyfish300]

Mom and Dad are Getting Along💐🖤

Miguel O'Hara x Fem Wife!Reader

Synopsis: just a quick fluffy fic picking up a few months after your Valentine's Day fight on Mother's Day, seemed like a good way to tie this all up, might write more about y'all in the future but shelving this for now🫶🏽💐🖤 Word count: 961

Mom and Dad are Fighting on Christmas

Mom and Dad are Fighting on Valentine's Day

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all my fellow mamas.🫶🏽🖤

CW: Minors DNI, mentions of sex but no smut, pregnancy, nausea, fluff

------

Miguel hasn't had a day off in what feels like years. Technically, it's been 3 months, but to you it feels like longer than that. It was May. The kids were almost out of school, the sun hung in the sky a little bit longer, the sunsets were more colorful. It was that time of year where you felt like you could breathe a sigh of relief, a time of year where the temperature felt comfortable and you could sit on a park bench and watch the kids chase each other while Anthony did his best to keep up, shaking your head with a smile as you adjusted your sunglasses, looking up at the vibrant cyan sky which was scarce of any clouds.

The Valentine's Day makeup sex was a success, and a beautiful baby girl was on her way with a due date of November 7th. 

You were enjoying entering this "honeymoon phase" of your second trimester while it lasted, especially since you knew the heat could be quite a pain to deal with when it came to a pregnancy that lasted during the summer. 

You didn't carry her, but Gabi was born at the end of June, Marcus was born in August (that one was the most brutal in terms of the heat), and little Anthony was born in May just before things got too uncomfortable. You finally started liking food again, having been fortunate enough to dodge any major morning sicknesses with your two prior pregnancies.

The nausea came with a vengeance with this little girl. Even taking a bite of food or a gulp of a drink that was too big would have you dashing to the bathroom, knuckles shaking in a fist until eventually you felt Miguel's fingertips graze your neck, soothing you in a low tone as he massaged your nape and dabbed it with a cool washcloth until the unpleasant feeling passed. 

But oh, Gabi and Miguel's excitement was something else. They held each other in a fit of giggles and tears while Marcus stared with his mouth in the shape of an O at the pink insides of the gender reveal cake, and little Anthony was too busy shoveling it into his mouth with his frosting covered fists. 

Miguel had been wonderfully attentive and more sensitive to your needs this time, picking up the slack and shepherding the kids while you rested, taking the liberty of picking up Anthony who insisted on being carried everywhere since you were on doctor's orders to watch how much weight you were lifting. 

Now, it was Mother's Day. 

Miguel carefully traces the faded wrinkled marks of your belly that was starting to shape into more of a rounded bump, like he's sculpting a pattern, the side of his cheek pillowed so softly against your breast, eyes lazily locked on yours, the lulling haze of sleepiness threatening to take him completely, but not before he utters sweetly to you words of adoring appreciation, 

"Y'know I love you..." 

"Mhmm....?" You weakly hum, the threat of sleep and the steady rhythm of your heart beating in your chest in quieting tempo as long as the weight of your husband stays pressed against your body on the verge of delivering you back to slumber as well, your true home outside of the physical walls of the one you were currently laying in alongside together. 

"Mas que nada..." (More than anything) He whispers, fighting the soothing urge of sleep to lean over you instead, bringing his face so closely to yours, one of his fingers tracing your features, pausing as it completes a circle along your face in timing with the pace that the sweet words tumble from his lips. 

"Just need to tell you thank you....for carrying my children......for being the beautiful mother and glue of our home..."

He presses his lips to your forehead, any worries you had completely dissolving at once. 

"Ah....I love you, sweetheart...." You coo softly.

A small thump down the hallway accompanied by childish giggles of Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony, already wide awake on a peaceful Sunday, excited for Bluey and Mickey shaped pancakes and waffles that Miguel promised them for Mother's Day Breakfast. 

"I should go get the kids..."

But Miguel holds you down with his weight, he chuckles and shakes his head, you should know better that today is your day off, lifting your chin to press a lingering kiss into the little space he creates on your bottom lip as he lovingly drags it down with his thumb. 

"Let me enjoy my wife for a little bit longer..."

And you certainly couldn't deny him that, letting all of the heat and warmth between your two bodies soak for several more precious moments as you lay together as a couple, peaceful space you create just from holding each other for a little while longer. Pausing just for a bit where age and the cruel passage of time and the demands of the day can't disturb you, escaping to a space where you're just husband and wife, the years that already have came and went seemingly unimportant as the tender love between you two burns brighter than ever. 

A mild ember in the form of a fleeting glimpse and shy small talk at your high school reunion years ago that could fan into a wildfire, burning the world in its wake when it came to the physical manifestations of your love in this bed you laid in together.  But for now you just allow your mind to only indulge of thoughts of your dear husband as he holds your wrist to his lips and presses his forehead against yours, all the while the soft giggles of your children echo throughout your quiet home. 

----

@leonsbimbogf @thatone-writer

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #Spotify

[sunflowersteves]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

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

Either way,

He loves..

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

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

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

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

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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

masterlist

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

It drove him fucking insane. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

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

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, smut, lactation kink, breastfeeding, Cunnilingus, kissing. MINORS DNI!🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After you gave birth to your first daughter, Miguel spends the night admiring the changes that motherhood has done to your body.

The apartment finally hushed after hours of crying and whining. You finally put your baby to sleep, rocking her gently in your arms.

You gently placed her in the crib, taking one quick glance at her peaceful expression. A testimony of your growing family and your shared love with Miguel.

Her cheeks were plump, and she had crimson eyes and talons that mirrored her father’s features. However, she didn’t have the ability to control when they appeared— usually she was excited or agitated— so you would often have to give her mittens in public.

You checked the baby camera was fitted properly and the temperature of the room was okay before dimming the lights and exiting the nursery quietly.

There was a sense of solace that shrouded you as you made your way to the bedroom.

It had been two whole days you were home alone while Miguel was probably in another dimension. It was hard to predict when he'd come back home and the longer he was out, the more your heart yearned.

But the feeling quickly vanished as you saw a familiar figure outside your bedroom window.

Miguel swung into the bedroom balcony with his web before opening the balcony door to step inside. He had his full suit on but as soon as he was inside the bedroom, his mask fizzled out.

It had become a routine for him to use the balcony to get in the apartment rather than the front door to avoid getting spotted.

He ran a hand over his disheveled hair before his expression softened when he saw you. You must’ve looked exhausted because he was approaching you with caution.

“Hey you…” you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

He leaned in to kiss you deeply, making up for all those hours you were separated.

He pulled back from the kiss while still keeping his arms around you. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah she’s asleep. Do you wanna see her?”

“In a bit,” he said before lifting you up in his arms briefly and placing you on the bed.

This caught you by surprise.

“Mig…”

You didn’t expect him to be this handsy with you as soon as he came home. But you weren’t complaining.

“You look tired, amor. I hate leaving you alone for so long,” He said, a tenderness in his voice. His hands ran over the thighs, feeling every inch like it was his first time touching you.

“It’s all part of duty though, right? I know you always come back.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek, sealing your words.

“I missed you. Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to feel you.” He murmured, his lips grazed over the curve of your neck.

You could feel his hands hiking up under your shirt before removing it completely. His neediness, as well as his swift movements, added to your heightened libido.

“I missed you too Mig,”

You weren't wearing a bra so your breasts, that were swollen with milk, bounced with every movement you made.

“So full…” he kissed along your chest, deliberately avoiding the nipple while caressing your sides. He couldn’t get enough of you and being separated from you for this long only made him more desperate for your presence.

“Are you gonna start rambling about how a woman produces milk?” You arched your brow inquisitively when you noticed him inspecting your breasts. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss his biology rants.

Miguel didn’t talk much unless he needed to, but when he did, you would cherish every word that uttered from his mouth.

“I am now…” he swiped his thumb over one of your nipples, making you hiss. You were more sensitive now so you were very responsive to his minimal touches.

“Your body has developed glands and structures inside of your breast which are full of milk ducts.” As he explained this to you, some of the milk seeped out from your nipples. You shuddered in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry…that happens sometimes. I should’ve pumped out the milk before…” You said apologetically. You tried to slip off his grasp but he had a tight hold on you.

“What a mess…” he commented before giving your breast a gentle squeeze, watching more of your milk leaking down his hands.

Heat reached your cheeks as you noticed the way he was staring at the milk in fascinating.

You hissed again from his grip he had on your breast. You knew you had been hyper lactating but it was hard to predict when the milk would leak out like this.

Miguel moved his hands from your breast and over to his mouth and lapped up the milk that spilled over his knuckles.

You felt a wetness pool your panties as you watched him taste your milk. There was something enticing watching your husband drinking your milk straight from your body.

He then leaned into your breast again and inhaled your scent deeply. “We can’t let this go to waste,”

You didn’t need to think too deeply about what he meant.

Before you could even begin to speak, he licked one of your nipples, cleaning off the mess before latching his mouth around it.

The sudden sensation made you arch your back further into his mouth. You gripped onto his broad arms as he continued to suckle on your breast.

You soaked in the way he was completely indulging in your milk, his cheeks hollowing in with each suck.

You could feel your milk seeping through your nipples and into his mouth as he took his fill greedily.

After a while he released your nipple, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were half-lidded.

You were too stunned by what had just happened and the words lodged in your throat. Miguel took your silence as an opportunity to reach for your lips and kissed you passionately.

You could taste the sweetness of your own milk from his mouth as he swiped his tongue over your lips. He pulled away, leaving you dazed.

“Did you enjoy that?” You finally asked.

“I did, we should do that more often,” The corner of his lips curved up. “But tell me, what hormones are responsible for lactation, hm?”

Again, he was asking a question and expecting an answer from you when you were dizzy with bliss and could barely speak.

It was definitely on purpose because it amused him how much of a mess he made out of you.

You tried to process his question and articulate an answer, even though you knew it was only going to feed into his ego.

“Hm…prolactin…oxytocin…” you breathed.

A grin formed on his lips, both from the state you were in and the satisfied answer you gave.

“My sweet and clever wife,”

His praise made your stomach flutter.

He hands reached over to the waist to remove your pants along with your panties, leaving you bare on the bed. As you lied on your back, you could feel his dick pressing against your clit through the digital suit as he crept closer.

He tapped on his watch and his suit pixelated away, revealing his chiseled body and his throbbing cock. The precum that was seeping from the tip was too tempting. But you forced yourself to stay grounded before you lost control in your lust.

“Miguel, I’m not on anything,” your voice was sharp with caution.

It had been too long since you both did anything intimate. Even during your pregnancy, you were focused primarily on your health and making sure your pregnancy went smoothly.

But as much as you yearned to feel Miguel inside you and the friction from his dick, you were smart enough to hold back.

You knew that you were more fertile after you gave birth, with an increased level of oestrogen, making you more susceptible to get pregnant again.

The last thing you wanted was an unexpected pregnancy when your hands were already full looking after your 5-month-old daughter.

Miguel kept his gaze at you. “You are breastfeeding,”

Your clit was throbbing, desperate for his touch. But you weren’t going to cave in.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Miguel lowered himself to reach for your thighs and dipped his head lower until he was facing between your legs. All you could focus on now was his exhales fanning on your soaked cunt.

“I guess we could find an alternative tonight…”

You couldn’t fully process his statement before you felt his tongue drag over your folds. The sudden contact made you clamp your legs around his head.

You reached over and ran your hands over his hair.

He knew that area was more delicate now after you gave birth. You could feel him trying to be gentle with you while eating you out.

It made your heart stutter.

But even if he was giving you a soft treatment, your senses were still firing and you could feel heat building up in your core.

“Miguel…” you moaned lowly.

He hummed against your core in response, sending a tantalising vibration through your spine.

He was trying not to flicker his tongue too deep into your cunt to avoid hurting you. Every juice that was leaking from you was quickly licked off by him.

Between your thighs, you could see him looking back up at you, watching your reaction while drinking up his fill of you and coaxing your orgasm.

It’s been a while since your pussy had any attention, causing you to be pent up with tension.

You came sooner than you anticipated, most likely from how sensitive you were. You arched your back with a long moan. Everything that squirted from your cunt was licked off from his tongue.

You were limp on the sheets, drenched in the afterglow. Your legs released their grip around Miguel's head as he pulled himself away from you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was a sudden sound of crying coming from the next room. Your daughter had woken up.

Miguel got himself off the bed. “I’ll get her, you stay.”

You nodded mutely, giving him the chance to bond with your daughter after two days of being without her.

He left the room but not before putting his sweat pants on. You, on the other hand, were left on the bed to catch your breath.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @ghost-lantern @ultravioletrayz @lazyjellyfish300 @xxsugarbonesxx @zg0nuwa @laysmt @club-danger-zone @farrowroyale @hwasoup @da-h0manb3an @animequeen4 @francesca-the-1st @montyrokz @s0fia4 @f1-hoff @alyeskathewave @princesatracionera @ssleepycenzi @coyfesh @chrishy973 @ginanet @ilovetaquitosmmmm @twistxdx @pxtched @flordelalunas @nommingonfood @fairywitch2000

#★— ayrus writes #♦︎— spicy #❤︎ scientist husband ❤︎ #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara spiderverse #miguel o’hara fic #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse

[magnolias-make-me-happy]

warnings: dirty talk,smutty smut,miguel o'hara

just watched across the spiderverse nd now i'm feral so enjoy my lovlies <3 (also peep the titanic reference)

No thoughts just this image of slow, nasty sex with miguel o’hara, his hips rocking into yours at an agonizingly slow pace. He's got his head in your neck and his arms wrapped around the back of your head holding you as close as humanly possible to him “that’s it cariño, such a good girl” he groans in your ear, his heavy panting warming your neck as he ruts into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the heavy feeling of pleasure permeating the room. “m-miguel” you manage to get out in between pants, your hands squeezing and clawing at his back leaving red lines in their wake “fuck” he hisses and you feel his fangs graze your neck sending a shiver down your spine, you gasp and arch up into his chest “shit miggy, so good” your words seem to slur as you toss your head back into the pillow as much as you can

as your hands slide down to his lower back to push him in further, miguel pulls away just enough to lean on his elbows “mírame mi amor” he purrs. You struggle to open your eyes but when you do you’re met with what you believe is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen

miguel’s hair is stuck to the skin of his forehead, pieces sticking up in odd places from being yanked on, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth is slightly open with the most sinful grunts falling from his lips, and his body is covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. that coupled with the sight of him rocking into your body is enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Jesus he looks like a god

He fucks like one too 

Miguel’s eyes are searching your face, memorizing every gasp, every contortion of pleasure, he loves nights like this. Where all that can be heard is the sound of your little whimpers and gasps of his name, where all he can feel in his entire being is the wet, warm pull of his cock inside of you. He gives one particularly hard thrust and it jolts you slightly up the bed “jesus! fuck-mm” the breath feels like it’s being knocked out of you as you approach that feeling of complete euphoria that only miguel can give you, his hips change pace and suddenly every thrust is almost impossibly deeper than the last. His hand slides down your body until it hooks under your knee and pulls your leg around his waist, as your legs lock around his back a growl rips through his body 

“se siente demasiado bien cariño” he rushes out in a pleasure filled groan, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss. It’s wet and sloppy and feels so good as his hips continue to slam into yours, his pelvis catches your clit and you break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning “ah-por favor miguel” he hangs his head to rest it against your shoulder, he lets out the most toe curling laugh “pobre bebé” he says in a mocking tone “puedes tómalo hmm? i know you can, such a good fucking girl for papi”

His words go straight to your core and you clench around his cock as he grunts “sí papi, make me cum” you whine “un poco más mamí, then you can cum all over this big cock yeah? I know you want it, tell me” miguel picks up his pace, the wet squelching sound filling the room “mierda, hear that? this pussy loves my thick cock, practically pullin’ me back in” tears start to roll down your eyes as you feel that burning fire in your stomach begin to flood all over your body “please miguel, m’so close i can’t-” you trail off as you get lost in the drag of miguel's cock, you can feel his thrusts getting rougher and his breathing quicker and you can tell that he’s close too 

“tell me you want it, baby” he breathes from above you, “fuck! I want it miguel please, wanna cum” your body feels like jello, all thought escaping your brain until there's nothing left but miguel. “cum” he orders, your pussy contracts around him while that band finally snaps, your legs shake and your nails dig into his sides as his hips continue to snap into yours, riding out your orgasm. he moans and speeds up his unforgiving pace “coño, buena chica,tómalo, tómalo” he captures your lips in his, his moans muffled as he spills into you, warmth spreading throughout your lower body

Miguel slips onto his forearms, his muscles taut and body absolutely covered in sweat. You roam your hands over his body, soothing him. “you’re trembling” you whispered, he offers you a lazy smile “i’ll be okay” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding “so are you cariño” he says as he opens his eyes, you smile up at him. This beautiful greek sculpture of a man lying above you “yeah well that’s because i was fucked within an inch of my life so, whose fault is that” he respondes with a shake of his head and a small smile on his lips as he presses soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly slides off of you and heads to the bathroom

after a minute you can hear the water running, miguel appeared in your shared bedroom doorway “wanna take a bath with me mamí?” he holds out a hand for you to take, you beam at him before you start to make your way out of your bed only to realize something. “uh miguel?” “hmm?” 

“i can’t move my legs”

Translations:

cariño: sweetheart/dear

se siente demasiado bien: feels too good

por favor: please

pobre bebé: poor baby

puedes tomarlo: you can take it 

un poco más: just a little more

mierda: shit

coño: fuck 

buena chica: good girl 

tómalo: take it

#smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman smut #atsv miguel #oscar issac fic #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 imagine #spiderman 2099 x fem!reader

[fettuccin-e]

So Good

Kinktober Day 17: Praise Kink

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, fingering (r!recieving), praise kink of course, Miguel has a filthy fucking mouth, shy!reader, miguel going feral because of course he does (w/c: 1.2K)

A/N: Back on my Miguel bullshit for my Kinktober catch-up of course. I cannot help it when he is so big and broad and sexy okay??? Anyway enjoy him goin' feral for his girl for 1k words hehehe (For the month, I have been following this list from flightlessangelwings!)

He first noticed it after a mission, and cursed himself for never seeing it before. 

It had been innocent, tugging you close to his side as you both walked through the portal back to HQ, whispering a “you did good out there,” into your ear. Innocent enough.

But you had practically squeaked, your eyes looking anywhere but him, nearly pulling out of his grasp. Miguel saw how your thighs clenched together at the compliment, and it takes everything in him not to take you in the hallway right then, bury his face between them.

He doesn’t. He opts for filing it away in his mind, saving the information for later, somehow knowing that it would be important.

You both hadn’t been together for very long then, still in the trial stage of this new beautiful thing between you both. He was still hesitant to kiss you then, you had still been hesitating to go to his apartment with him.

But Miguel watches, waits, and of course, gathers more information. Starts complimenting you more on missions, in the office. Tells you what good work you’ve done, how you look so pretty in the new dress he bought you. It makes you fluster nearly immediately, your gaze pinned to the floor as you smile shyly, and fuck, those gorgeous, gorgeous thighs clench together every time. Taunting him.

Finally, after months of watching, waiting, he gives in.

He’s got you spread out beneath him, practically sobbing as he fucks you deep on his thick fingers. You loosen up so easily for him, desperate for it, your slick fucking dripping around his hand. Finally, after so long waiting to tell you exactly what goes on in his mind when he has you like this,  he lets himself speak aloud.

“So good, hermosa, taking me so well,” he murmurs, and watches as your eyes fly open, a strangled moan flying from your lips. He can’t help the smile that plays at his lips. “You like that baby? Like hearing how good you are, how perfect you sound when I’m playing with this gorgeous pussy?” He can fucking feel the way your cunt clenches around his fingers with his words.

“Fuck, oh my God, Miguel-” you gasp, but you can’t seem to help yourself as you grind your hips towards Miguel’s hand. He adds another finger, stretching you wide to take his cock. “You- you can’t just-”

Miguel growls, leaning forward to nip at your jaw with fanged teeth. “Oh baby, of course I can. I can tell you how fucking good this pussy feels around my fingers, how it’s going to feel even better around my cock. This little cunt gets so wet for me, doesn’t she?” You whine wordlessly, and Miguel grinds the calloused pads of his fingers into that sweet spot that makes you fucking scream for him. “Answer me,” he snarls.

“Yes! Yes, ‘m so fucking wet, need you to fuck me so bad, Miguel,” you cry, humping your hips desperately into his hand, chasing your orgasm. 

“Come on, sweetheart, soak my fucking hand,” he says, deep and dark, his eyes trained on the way your entrance leaks around his fingers. He reaches a thumb up to rub hard circles into your clit, and chuckles darkly when you let out a shaky moan with your orgasm, clenching around his thick fingers and somehow getting even wetter.

“So fucking pretty when you cum for me,” he mumbles, and your eyelids flutter shut, trying to breathe through the aftershocks.

Miguel pulls his hand out of your gaping entrance, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking your slick off his fingers. “Tastes so good, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine softly under your breath, completely at a loss for words.

Leaning down, he licks into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself as he notches the thick, leaking head of his cock to your entrance, pushing in, in, in.

Like every time you take him, it’s so much, and you gasp into his mouth as his cock reaches so deep inside, spreading you wide enough that you fear you’ll break.

“I know, amorcita, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it?” he whispers against your lips as he pushes in to the hilt. "You’re taking it so well for me though, baby, so fucking good for me.” 

He can’t help the groan that wrenches its way out of his throat when you clench around him like a vice, moaning high in the back of your throat. His hips move of their own accord, pulling slowly out of you before he shoves himself back in, and it feels like he reaches even deeper.

“God, Miguel-” you moan, “it feels so good, you feel so big.” And Miguel’s vision blurs at the edges, his eyes tingeing red at your words.

He loses himself to it, the way your cunt squeezes him every time he pushes inside, hot and tight and fucking maddening. You claw at his shoulders every time he presses deep, grinding the tip of his cock into your cunt while overwhelming pleasure sparks up your spine.

He wraps his strong arms around the small of your back, tugging you up into a nearly impossible arch as he fucks into you like a goddamn animal, your head pressed back into the pillows. “So fucking perfect,” he snarls, and God, he’s not even talking to you anymore. His eyes are unfocused, wild, unable to focus on your face or the sight of your swollen pussy as you take him over and over and over. But he doesn’t stop talking. 

“Fucking perfect, beautiful girl, taking my cock so goddamn well. My fucking girl, so good to me with her perfect pussy, feels so good, Dios, necesito este cuerpo constantemente, mi nena, mierda-”

Your head swims, blood pounding in your ears as he takes and takes and takes. You feel tears fall down your cheeks, choked moans forcing their way from your lungs.

Your orgasm rips through you without warning, without buildup, your body just locking up and electrified like a livewire as you soak his cock, his thighs. 

“Good girl,” he rasps. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

“Shit- Miguel-” you keen, but he only shushes you, nearly hissing through his fangs, as he pushes as deep as he can into your body, pumping you full as his cock pulses inside of you. It’s fucking everything, pure bliss, and you both tremble through it together. He lowers your hips slowly back down to the bed, keeping himself buried deep inside while you quake through the aftershocks.

Time passes, but you can’t tell how fast it does. Only that you try to match your breathing together, Miguel wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Fucking perfect,” he whispers, but you’re too fucked out to respond.

He pulls out slowly, rolling you to your side, and plastering himself to your back. You can hear the way he breathes you in, and you settle into his warm body.

“Got a thing for compliments, baby?” he murmurs into your hair.

“You ass, I was trying to be subtle about that,” you admonish, but you can’t help the way you smile.

“Can’t hide anything from me, sweetheart,” he chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back. You tilt your head to the side, and Miguel leans to meet you in a kiss.

“I’ve still got my secrets, O’Hara,” you mutter against his lips, and Miguel grins.

“If you say so, baby.”

#oh miguel with your tortured soul and big dick #let me fix you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 smut #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse smut