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wyvernest · 4 months

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open arms | fantasy AU

pairing: witcher*!miguel x f!reader

> In Sapkowski's works, "witchers*" are beast hunters who are given supernatural abilities at a young age to battle wild beasts and monsters.

warnings: smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected piv, cowgirl & a bit of missionary, mentions of possible infidelity, slight angst at the end? very slight

summary: miguel returns to the reader after months of wandering the Continent, and she welcomes him with open arms

Every time you hear a horse trotting on the stone-streets of the village, your heart flutters wildly in your chest. Maybe it's him.

Only most of the time, it isn't. It's always just a soldier or a tradesman.

No. His arrival is incomparable . When it's him, the whole village echoes with the deep, steady sounds of his horse's galloping. He never slows down, until he reaches the very wooden gates of the settlement. Comes by with a storm, a strong gust that then leaves as swiftly as it arrived.

And sometimes, you almost wish another monster would start terrorizing the village. Nothing too perilous, of course, but grave enough so that the guards wouldn't try to take care of it. So that they'd wait for a Witcher.

But alas, it stays a dream. He has for sure found some other fairer maiden in the south. Yet you're still here, unwed and long-time devoted to such a cold hearted man.

But how can a cold heart hold you so? How can it make you feel so warm, so adored? Must be some kind of sorcery.

And despite your unfruitful attempts to forget the hunter, on one gloomy evening, you couldn't help but jolt to your window at yet another horse clanking its hoofs on the pavement.

Your heart races. A cloaked man. You can't see his face, but his stature is very telling. It can't be him. He gets off his horse. He enters the tavern across the road.

You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in your chest, mentally slapping yourself for running to see who it is so hastily. You'd almost want to smack him for all the cold months he's made you endure without him, without a single word from him.

But you can't. Whatever’s holding your hand back is stronger than any pale vengeance, it's what made you rush to your window, what now made you run to your bedchamber to pick and choose your prettiest outfit.

It's nearing midnight when you hear a confident knock on your door. Formalities. He knows he could kick the whole frame down in all courtesy and you'd still jump in his arms.

You try to act surprised.

“Miguel!” You tear yourself away from your working table, just for a second before stopping in your tracks.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? And he's come to grace you with the very news of it?

He rushes to you instead; one, two strides and he's across the room with his arms around you. Not with a teary, hearty expression, but with the desperate, deep sigh of a man who had finally filled his lungs with fresh air after being buried in ice cold waters for years.

“I've missed you, I-”

You wanted to go on about how you were first afraid he'd found someone else, then how that fear turned into an image of him falling in battle, but he stopped you.

With his face in his big, warm hands, his lips meet yours in an almost barbaric kiss. If you hadn't had him in other ways before, you'd swear he was a man starved. But you're aware of how patient he can be. Sometimes.

He tries not to break it, but it's slightly difficult with his left hand now down your back and his right clutching your prettiest skirts to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up with nearly frightening ease.

His steps almost shake wooden floorboards of the house as he enters the bedroom, with you glued to his chest.

Your hands are running through his hair, a feeling you've missed so ardently. Your palms, with nothing but the memory of his soft, raven strands in them, used to feel as if whipped with burning lashes, where loving his touch had been.

“I need to have you. Let me have you,” He speaks in your face, his voice dripping with a roughness you've only ever heard from him after a hard won fight, tired yet still potent.

In response, you start twisting your delicate fingers into his collar, as if you could simply drag the garments down from him. Not before a scorching heat blazes in his eyes at your acceptance, he places you on the soft mattress and starts ridding himself of his armor. Pretty light one, you mentally note. Bastard, he knew he'd be coming to see me. Came half ready.

As his tanned body starts coming to the warm light of candles, you study his form. He had changed. His shoulders are bigger, his arms are thicker. As a whole, he looks stronger. Your panties soak at the sight.

He sits on the bed and places you on his lap, pleased with himself, and you suddenly feel as meek and shy as you were the first time he had you.

You feel him heat up beneath you as your lips explore each other in the most tender yet passionate dance you never thought you would need the same way you need air.

The softest of moans echoes in your throat, encouraging him to push your thighs apart over his groin. Hot palms run over your middle to the swell of your ass and back to your shoulders.

The hardening bulge in his pants brushes onto your bare, glistening pussy, and he feels your slickness through the thin material.

You try to take the reins with kisses on his cheeks and neck while slowly grinding on his crotch. He can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“I like having you all over me like this.” he admits as you drop your weight on him, no longer supported by your elbows, relying on gravity itself to mould you together the best it can, two desperate lovers mangled into each other’s limbs like roses sprouting upon the same rod.

A faint smile blooms its way onto his lips, his heavy-lidded, crimson eyes inescapably drunk on you. He’s looking at you like you’re his very heart and soul, the last slither of hope for life in a place filled with nothing but death. A reminder for him that his hands were not only meant to break necks and bathe in blood, but to love and hold you, so dearly, so perfectly.

Heart swelling with joy and sincere infatuation, you seal your lips with his, urged by an uncontrollable impulse to taste him as if he’s the oxygen you need to breathe. His lips feel soft and tender as they move against yours, hands naturally snaking to cup his face and hold him in the dearest way you can.

The moment you break away you feel utterly intoxicated. His now rock-hard dick nudges at your pulsing cunt, begging for your attention.

Lifting yourself from him and untangling his sturdy arms from around your waist, you lower your dripping cunt onto his still clothed erection, anchored with a knee on each side of his ample thighs. He watches closely, hypnotised by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your folds without entering you.

He fails to restrain a grunt which you can only mirror with a whine of your own as his dick twitches against your clit, your legs nearly abandoning you at the memory of the orgasms he fucked out of you on the other nights, when he came banging on your door less tired.

Something downright filthy about the picture stirs you further, driving you to submit yourself to his pleasure completely.

He grabs at your hips, guiding their sway, making little to no effort to claim you, having you simply dry hump him for sport while he’s comfortably laying back on the soft cushion.

That only until he finally deems your performance enough to satisfy him, and twists you around, fucking you into his mattress until you're soaked in his come, you imagine.

You grind against him at an idle pace, rising and falling onto his raging boner, beads of precome already staining his pants where his tip presses against its confinement. Placing your hands on his navel, you feel his feverish skin and the trail of coarse hair that disappears below the waistband.

The featherlight touch of your fingers slipping underneath his shirt makes him dizzy and unbearably needy. You start rocking your hips back and forth over the length of his hard cock, using his firm abdomen for support.

His eyes follow your movements, the languid strokes of your hips and the soft bounce of your tits underneath your night dress.

Warm, large hands creep up your sides, skating beyond the dip of your middle and up beneath the cotton of your one and only piece of clothing.

His palms tense just below your heaving breasts, their touch unbelievably addictive. You automatically arch your back to lean closer to him, wordlessly imploring him to put an end to his teasing.

“Take it off, 'wanna see your tits.” his eyes motioning for you to undress and throw the garments anywhere across the room. You feel your face heat up and cunt clench at his bold request.

Without any protest you comply, managing not to halt your grinding while your arms cross over head, disposing of the top while missing the way his pupils expand at the sight.

His hands latch onto your breasts accompanied by a hitched breath of yours, fondling and squeezing them together, veins bulging in his massive arms.

Right when you try applying a tad more pressure onto his leaking cock he grunts, signaling you to carry on just like that. You abuse the newfound weakness, glancing down only to be met with the broad head inching out of his pants with every drive of your hips. It twitches into the snug warmth of your damp folds, a telltale warning that he's close.

You speed up, confident that you may finally witness his climax without the drowning haze of your own. The dream swiftly dissolves into euphoria as he grabs your waist, swiftly switching positions and getting on top of you.

He enters you harshly, and his thrusts are furious. He doesn't need much more to reach his end, as he guides you into raw, carnal bliss, the girth of his dick spasming along your damp pussy adding to the tightening knot in your womb.

The frail bed creaks and trembles under his force, as his head comes down to nestle in the crook of your neck, his whole body nearly veiling you completely.

He comes with a thunderous groan, kissing your neck with tender, wet lips before slipping out and letting himself fall back lazily on the bed.

You're quick to nestle yourself beside him, head on his heaving chest.

“I've missed you.” he rasps, ever so slightly gasping for air.

“Where have you been?” you speak softly, yet you accentuate the question by running your hand over his toned chest, then up by his jaw, hoping it'll break him.

“Everywhere I was needed.” he takes in a deep breath, “Everywhere but here.”

You chuckle, tightening your embrace, as much as you can. Even though you're well aware the whole town will probably throw you dirty looks for months after seeing him yet again enter your house at the hour of the wolf, you didn't care.

You even found it in yourself to feel lucky with his visits. With him. You hadn't given yourself to any other man in town, other than him. But he wasn't from here. And that made him burst with pride.

“You sure you haven't been messing around while I was gone? Am I gonna have to fight a godless bastard for your hand?”

“Have you been messing around?” you ask, with pleading eyes, glistening in the low light. He looks down at you.

“I might have gotten a bit lonely at times.” He jokes, and although something stings you harshly at the thought, you decide to trust him. Miguel was many things, but a dishonorable man wasn't one of them.

You playfully push him away, just an excuse to feel the meaty muscles of his arm and stomach in the process. As if you needed an excuse.

"I'd fight any witless whoreson if it meant having you for myself properly."

You fall into slumber soundly, lulled by the soft yet raspy sound of his voice, whispering sweet nothings to you about all the things he would do, if only he wasn't bound by his lifelong duty.

I WANNA WRITE MORE WITH THIS CROSSOVER ‼️‼️

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wyvernest · 4 months

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coming right after the witcher!miguel one👽

Oh my god I saw your requests were open and I love eveything you write<33

I See many fics where Miguel is the one who is jealous, but what if the tables turned and the reader is the one who is jealous, maybe she’s a civilian and she feels like he’d be better of with a spider person who understands his work better? I’d love to see him feel sad that his love feels that way can you tell I like pain lol

Thank you so so much<33 wishing you all the best for your exam! I’m sure you’ll do amazing!

shameless

pairing: bf!miguel x f!civilian!reader

warnings: jealousy, fluff, suggestiveness, public display of affection

summary: you're worried that miguel might be better off with a spider-person, but he is eager to reassure you (and everyone else) that you're more than enough

a/n:thank you and i hope you like it! im thinking of making a part 2 with balcony sex above nueva york let me know if yall would want it<3

divider by @cafekitsune

You are aware of the so called disadvantages of him being your boyfriend.

He is handsome, no doubt. But that means a lot more than being able to watch him work around the HQ, swinging your legs and wondering how you landed him.

It means having unfamiliar eyes linger over him more than you'd be able to tolerate. Flirty looks and remarks thrown at him like he's magnetic, regardless of everyone knowing he's with you.

Even walking through the glassy hallways and cloud scratching towers of Spider Society is a stab in the heart.

Noticing all the single spider-women look him up and down, eyelids heavy with the seconds that passed as they unabashedly stared at his physique; his broad back, the bulky arms and toned thighs, at the way the muscles underneath his suit rippled with every heavy step he took, not letting his weight drop lazily on each foot but rather walking with the energetic strength of a man with insane stamina.

You couldn't stop a venomous surge of anxiety mixed with the most sour amount of jealousy from dripping into your nerves as you met their gazes, seeing how beautiful and charismatic they all were.

How agile and gracious they were, swinging by just to blow Miguel a fleeting kiss.

And you certainly couldn't stop wondering if he'd be better off with one of them. One of his kind. One that would be able to swing alongside him, to practise with him, to accompany him.

One that would understand him better than perhaps you ever could.

You know he loves you, or else you wouldn't be together. But the idea that he maybe even once looked at all the women lining up for him and thought they'd be interesting to try is gutting you out.

And he starts noticing it.

Of course.

He isn't oblivious to how you straightened your back or curled your arms around his when another spider woman passed you with flirty looks or remarks. How you'd shut down and become awfully quiet when you two would get home following one of these encounters.

He couldn't bear to see you unhappy. Some of the times he even felt the sharp sting of guilt poking into his heart, knowing that he was the reason others were upsetting you.

More so, your bond.

You are heading towards his lab at HQ, walking beside him, heart pounding intermittently with anxiety and bubbling anger. Eyes darting around you swiftly, like those of a feral feline making sure no other animal is preparing to jump her and snatch her food from her.

Suddenly, two flowy silhouettes shoot mile long webs far up into a tunnel bridge, only to drop down and swing right past you and Miguel.

Purring out a simultaneous "¡Hola, Miguel! Looking good today!", reaching their hands down to him while boasting perfect balance with their webs tied to their ankles, they disappear into the distanced skyscrapers of Nueva York, with echoing giddy laughters.

Miguel doesn't move his head in their direction, already way too familiar with such interactions, and already too interested in hearing only one particular ¡Hola, Miguel! - yours.

Only your focus isn't on him. Your mind is running wild with how talented they seemed to be, how flexible and enticing. Already imagining him, playfully swinging with them, his force and precision perfectly matching their grace and melodic rhythm.

A dance you could never participate in.

What you also fail to see is the frown on his face as he turns to you, intrigued and finally ready to catch you off guard.

"¿Qué pasó, amor?" (What happened, love?) He leaned into you, dragging you by your arm to stop you behind a glass pillar.

You're hauled out of your reverie, eyes widening in panic as you think of something less pathetic and embarrassing to say than the truth.

"Hm? Nothing, I just think they're nice to look at." You motion with your head the direction the two women swung in, clarifying. "Everytime you bring me here, it's all so … breathtaking." You internally wince at the excuse, pulling the best poker face you could muster.

He takes a deep breath, annoyed but patient.

"You know you can tell me anything." He assures you, voice low and whispered so as not to embarrass you in front of the spiders passing by. He is aware that the place isn't the most fitting for the conversation, but any other time he'd tried to coax it out of you, you dismissed it with a "It's nothing. I'm just feeling off today."

Truth be told, he had his suspicions. He is by no means unacquainted with the ways of women, and without a single condescending bone in his body when it came to you, he wants you to spit it out so you could talk about it. So he could untangle the knots in your heart, the doubts about him and your relationship.

"I know." You reply shortly, something in you dying to snap out and tell him everything, but instead, you shut it down at the last moment and decided to leave it at that.

"Then why don't you?" He looms over you, unintentionally, but you start to feel utterly cornered. Your heart is drumming out of your chest, and you are more than certain he can at least hear it. His face reveals his disappointment, however hopeful and attentive he wants to seem.

And just like that, your fronts break down.

"I'm - Don't get me wrong," you trail off, not looking him in the eye. You feel his warm breath fan over your forehead, getting dizzy from the sudden proximity. "I love this place. All the work you put into it.." Your eyes meet his for a fleeting second. "But sometimes it reminds me of how different I am.", You pause, waiting for a response. When he doesn't interrupt, you continue, "How I don't fit in,... here, beside you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He looks almost pissed, as if you had told him he doesn't fit in. As if he was the one that didn't fit you.

"I mean I'm not … them. I'm not a spider."

"I'm aware of that." he retorts, ironically. "When did that stop me from loving you?". His tone is scolding. He is trying to maintain an unaffected demeanor so you would keep talking, but inside, his heart cracks at your words.

Your face heats up, surprised.

"It's not that." You have to actively stop yourself from leaning into his body and hiding into the warmth of his embrace, so that maybe all the jealousy and worry will wash away. But he deserves an explanation, now that you've admitted your feelings. "They know a side of you that I can only imagine. How it feels to be…like you."

His face softens, full of love and pity.

"I'm the odd one out here." You spit out, frustrated with his silence. "I can't give you everything they can!"

"I don't want what they have." He answers quickly, sincerely. You find it hard to believe, even though he's never lied to you.

To you, he's perfect. He deserves everything. Everything he could get.

And you're not enough.

"Escúchame." (Listen to me) He leans closer into you, his breath hot on your face. "Estoy enamorado de ti." (I'm in love with you.) "I only need you to be happy."

You finally meet his gaze, full of consideration and fondness. You pray to whatever god hears you that he means it, because you're too far gone in your love for him to go back now.

"What will it take for you to just relax and stop being jealous, hm?" He whispers, smugly and amused. It's clear that he's flattered with your sentiments and possessiveness, but wants to nonetheless fix your issues.

You feel yourself getting immersed into the scent of him, his body heat radiating onto yours. You don't quite know the answer yourself. He grabs your waist right above your hips, sending shivers up your spine. Pulling you closer to him, he moves his head to your ear.

"What if I kissed you right here, right now? Let everyone know that I love you, and only you."

Miguel was very clearly overjoyed with the excuse to show you some public affection, especially if it meant having you so flustered and pliant beneath him.

"Would that make you feel better? Knowing they'll be the jealous ones now?"

You nod, more or less consciously, lifting yourself up on your tiptoes almost reflexively.

His warm and eager hands on your waist strengthen their grip, lifting you further up against his body as your feet lose contact with the ground, your chest meeting his. His lips are soft and tender against yours, dancing in a slow, passionate kiss. With your eyes still closed, you hear a few gasps near you in the hall; some happily amused, some offended.

But you don't care. All you care about right now is how he's tilting your head to the side with one of his palms at the back of your neck, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

You continue to make out without a care in the world, just for the whole Spider Society to receive a much needed reminder that Miguel O'Hara is taken.

His hands knead the supple flesh of your lower back, making your hum softly into his mouth, your own arms curling around his neck in a vicious hold.

When you least expect it, you feel one hand descend swiftly, leaving you no time to react as he grabs at your ass hard, so hard you jolt up against him, eyes snapping open in shock.

Without moving his hand, he presses his nose to your pulse point, exhales sultry on the sensitive skin.

"I have another idea."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o hara

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wyvernest · 4 months

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how do yall feel about this⁉️ (im nervous)

EDIT: POSTED‼️

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wyvernest · 4 months

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happy new year's!! your works are amazing! wish you a happy 2024 and thanks for your writing!

thank you 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

#already have something in mind for the next fic #sorry for the hiatus #happy new year

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wyvernest · 4 months

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RAAAAAAAAH

You thought I was done?...

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse

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wyvernest · 4 months

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HAPPY CHRISTMAS 🎄 🎁✨✨✨✨

THANK YOU SM!!🤍🤍 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE !! 🤍❄️

#asks #<3

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wyvernest · 5 months

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same fr

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader

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wyvernest · 5 months

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imagine how easy life would be if we could just-