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tusks-and-claws · 11 months

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The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know."

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible.

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart?

"You're right," you said, finally.

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous.

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied.

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?"

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window.

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-"

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?"

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence.

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in.

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet.

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response.

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them.

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious.

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply.

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between.

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused.

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level.

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him.

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling.

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel."

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were.

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door.

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart.

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering.

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it.

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant, full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him.

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well."

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good.

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible.

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands.

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back.

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy.

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear.

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into."

"Do it," you said again.

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock.

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening.

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him.

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight.

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that."

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded.

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him."

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #my writing #smut #mdom #i've crawled out of my hole for a new fic hi hello #i'm obsessed with him #this wasn't really beta read so my b if there are typos #trying out the new fic format that i see all over the place #someone on ao3 was kind enough to suggest some different words inn spanish so i've edited to include those #i'm not a native speaker so i'm open to suggestions #love you guys #also the ao3 link broke but it should work now lmaooo can you tell i published this at midnight #hold onto your shorts because i edited the spanish again lmao

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timeskip · 2 months

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Gon and Killua's relationship is so. Here is Killua's first friend and he is light itself and Killua hates himself in comparison to him. Here is Gon's first friend his age and being with him reminds Gon that the journey should be fun and they should be kids. Gon doesn't know that Killua hates himself in comparison, he just sees Killua as a friend who gets flustered and shuts down at compliments--but he doesn't know why, he doesn't REALLY understand the lack of love Killua has had his whole life.

When it comes to how Gon sees Killua, it's easy to forget how much Gon doesn't know... He knew Illumi, he knew "I want to be friends with Gon" and he knew Illumi's reaction to that ("you are incapable of friendship") but he doesn't linger on it. There's an anger and protectiveness that lights Gon up from within even that first time he saves Killua, a part of this radiance that Killua clings to and also believes he's not allowed to have near him. This love, this familiarity, Illumi's promise of betrayal that Killua and Gon are both aware of but which Gon has stopped seeing as important, it's something that Gon has accepted. He doesn't think about it, because why should he? Killua is with GON now, they're friends now, they don't have to think about the fact that Killua used to be told he was incapable of that.

(And to a degree, this is part of Gon's emotional repression technique to dealing with problems he can't immediately rush down and Fix, and he won't think about that until it snowballs into something unignorable.)

And Gon loves Killua and feels safe with him, and he protected Killua from his family. That's not to say he isn't aware that the Zoldycks are still dangerous, or even that Killua doesn't still have effects of them raising him, but Killua never shows that to Gon. He never talks about Illumi's voice in his head or the idea of betraying his friends. He hides his habit of running. And, when Gon sees it in action, when Killua knocks him out and runs and Kite dies, Gon accepts it because Killua's agency is important to him, because Gon expects (perhaps unfairly, but he's also. 12. He's allowed to be a little dumb) for Killua to protect Gon, because if there's anyone who can stop Gon it's Killua. He lends Killua his back--he trusts Killua to watch for danger and things Gon can't do. He trusts Killua even to knock him out and run. He won't blame Killua for being (in Killua's own eyes, and the eyes of the adults) a coward.

This is the acceptance that makes Gon bright to Killua, but it's also something so profound about Gon trusting someone this much, not immediately rushing ahead and wanting to do his own thing and being stubborn about it to the point of anger at Killua. It's easy to forget how much Gon trusts Killua, even when he pushes him away and hurts him during the confrontation with Pitou. Even then, Gon stopped for him! Even though it hurts, even when he's spiraling, even though he was leaking aura, he stopped.

Because Killua is still Gon's friend. Even though (from Gon's POV) Killua has no idea the emotional weight of this--even though fighting Pitou was Gon's responsibility, not Killua's--Gon still listened. And then he makes sure that he's going to head forward alone, because in that moment he can't stand how calm Killua is being. How Killua could give forgiveness for what Pitou is doing to Komugi, because--like with Illumi--an injustice has been committed and something must be done. Can't Killua see that?

This is the thing; Gon has given his acceptance of Killua in full. He has given no such thing to Pitou. I don't think this is that weird, Gon is still forming his morals and to him Killua is! his friend!!! He loves Killua!!! He wants him by his side, an unspoken wish for him to come with him in the palace invasion!!! But there's always been a way out for Killua, the knowledge that Gon met Kite first, that Kite gave him his dream and this isn't Killua's fight. But Gon fails to see that where he put Kite on a pedestal that's only driving Gon deeper down, Killua has put Gon on a similar pedestal. They're hurting each other and Gon never meant for Killua to get in this deep; he must know that Killua is here for him and not Kite, but there's no way he knows just how much Killua sees in him. He just doesn't know, doesn't realize, doesn't think about how important he is to Killua. In some small way, Gon sees this friendship onesided, just like Killua does.

#hunter x hunter #700 words of incomprehensible analysis at midnight 🥳#gon freecss #killua zoldyck #hxh #killugon

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