i can imagine him in the middle of a groove and then he gets caught
PROBABLY NOT SUPER IN LINE WITH HIS CHARACTER BUT I LOVED TO THINK OF IT. SUPER GOOFY,,,
that record player giving him the spirit of dance !!!!
@greensagephase
CW: descriptive talk of kinks & body stuffs, pure smut and lewdness, sex, more sex, and my darker hcs at the bottom.
You’ve been warned :-)
Oh Miguel where can I even begin
Tall, strong, and handsome. In his younger days he’s buff and muscled, peak physique with dark brown hair and a smooth complexion. Thick brown hair slicked back, every chiseled part of his face visible to everyone around him.
When he’s an older dilf he’s got a little bit of a dad bod, still buff but he’s still got it. Hair still slicked back and dark brown eyes that could melt your heart.
Sure he’s stoic and comes off as crabby and rude but we don’t care :3
I never see any tomboy representation so I like to imagine his type is a strong willed tomboyish type of woman. Does it matter how she looks? No! But me personally I like to think he loves women with short hair, an attitude, and boyish mannerisms.
It doesn’t matter how tall you are— he’s always taller. You could be petite or curvy and he’ll still toss you over his shoulder and make you beat at his back to put you down.
Now into the NSFW 😏
Miguel, the thick man he is, has a fat cock— just difficult to stretch to his size. It’s not impossible but somehow it feels impossible when it’s stuffed in those guts mmmhhhh and it goes so deep it’s delicious
His dick stands proud at 7 and a half inches long, and is thick like a mf. I like to imagine he’s uncut and it’s slightly darker than the rest of his body. Thick veins that you can trace with your fingers or your tongue, his cock swollen and slightly redder at the tip than the rest of the member. Tilts downwards for the best gspot stimulation and slightly tilting towards the left…
Don’t think his sack won’t do anything because when he has you bent over in doggy the way those nuts hit the clit is so !!!
In bed he’s dominant and mean, having you helpless in his arms while he makes you a whining, whimpering mess under him. Soft dom, only a hard dom when he’s had a bad day at work or is pent up and angry.
He will fuck anywhere, anytime, and he has a ridiculous amount of energy. It’s actually unfair how he can go round after round without getting exhausted. Both of your sweaty bodies laying on the bed, you’re sore and used and you feel him stiffen and slowly push back into you, kissing you to hush your whines as he quickly picks up the pace again.
Predator/prey dynamic 😋 as a vampire he loves marking you up and leaving hickeys and love bites everywhere visible and invisible. He’s yours and you’re his, his precious little mami.
Service dom 100% AND a praise kink that drives you wild. Showers you with praises as he bullies his thick cock into your pussy. He loves to make your orgasm, never having the heart to deny you the pleasure of cumming for and on him.
“Mi nena, you’re doing so good taking it all, mm, t’so good amor,”
“Give me one more, baby, jus’ one more cariño, don’t cry just let me use this perfect pussy tonight…”
Breeding kink. Round after round of rough fucking and he’s still not done— being his universe’s spiderman gives him an unfair amount of stamina during sex— filling you over and over with his seed until you’re slightly bloated and dazed.
And when you get pregnant he’s all over you, showering you with love and affection for the baby in your belly. And he has a deep carnal desire to fuck you deep and sensually while you’re swollen with his child, his mouth latched onto your leaky, milk-engorged tits.
My Darker Headcanons below!
CW: somno, CNC(?), free use, more edgy fantasy but not necessarily dead dove do not eat (idk)
Turn back now, you have been warned
I fantasized that Miguel just wants to take reader captive & use them as a toy, to fuck senseless even if they’re whining and protesting and clawing at his back it’s just so hotttt
You’ll beg and whine and plead for him to go easy, take a break, and he shuts you up with passionate, sloppy kisses before he cums deep inside you. So deep, you’d think he’s trying to get as much of it as possible directly into your womb.
And he’ll fuck a baby into you trust me, he’ll be so happy that he can’t help but give you more after the birth of your first baby, just a few more, he loves stuffing his loads into you and seeing you slowly grow his baby.
Definitely into the free use kink or even somno…
When he comes home from a rough day of being spiderman, he sees your soft sleeping body in one of his shirts and he can’t help but nestle behind you, pulling his half-chub cock out and lazily dragging it between your folds. You wake up to the feeling of him pushing his fat cock inside you, and he covers your mouth before you can make any noises.
He’ll sink his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck, groaning as he hears your soft muffled cries, stretching you around his girth and slowly rutting inside those slick walls.
Or for free use maybe you’re spiderwoman from a different universe and he sees you and he can’t help but feel horny and aroused seeing you in your spidersuit but you love being bratty and misbehaving… also goes back to the predator/prey dynamic
He’ll track you down and corner you in a dark alleyway, throwing your small body on the ground, tearing off your suit and having his way with you, rutting into you and forcing you all the way down on his cock while his claws dig into your skin. Your helpless moans and cries go unheard as he groans filthy words in your ears, snarling at you to shut up and take it.
And when he’s done he’ll leave you to pick yourself up, of course after giving you feverish kisses and love bites to your neck to remind you that you’re his and only his. But he’ll leave you, pussy swollen and his cum gushing and pooling between your legs, thighs twitching and body trembling from the orgasms he ripped from you.
Oh but I’d still give him a bit fat sloppy kiss :-)
warnings: a little hurt! & comfort, a lot of fluff, miguel being extremely soft and affectionate, miguel speaking Spanish? the usual
summary: miguel comforts you after a very rough day
Truth be told, today was awful. The kind of day that makes your head swim in all the worst kinds of thoughts.
As you enter Miguel's mansion, you're quick to frown following the realisation of his absence. Another rough anomaly, you think. Just great.
You feel like a toddler that's been promised the most beautiful cake at the end of a tiring, horrible day only for the time to come with no cake.
You've been looking forward to the comfort of his embrace all day long. Ever since you've received that terrible news, wasting all your mental energy simply by thinking about it and all the ways you could or could not fix your problems.
Entering the bedroom after an undeserved shower, you let yourself fall face first into the mattress, succumbing to your worries and seemingly irreparable issues. Frustration and dismay boiled in your chest, almost suffocating.
You don't know how long it's been until you hear the familiar loud thump on the tall windows of the first floor, no doubt another careful landing of Miguel's on the thick glass, followed by the ever so funny sound of his talons scratching into the rough outer walls of the house before pushing the translucent door open.
You gather all that's left of your power to jolt out of bed welcoming him with an aching yet open heart.
His firm footsteps climbing up the stairs quicken at the sound of your own, and before you know it, you are reunited.
"Siento llegar tarde. Te extrañé, mi vida." (I'm sorry I'm late, I missed you)
He extends his arms for you to jump into his embrace, but you're stunned. Your love for him suddenly explodes along with all the sadness that's filled your being all this time, and you break down.
He's so sweet. Even when you're upset, he manages to cheer you up and take your mind off everything else with just a look and barely a few words.
Tears stain your cheeks as you approach him slowly with watery eyes, bumping your head face forward into his chest, arms cuddled tightly against him. Your gentle sobs are muffled into his suit, occasionally interrupted by sharp, quiet inhales.
"Bebita", He coos, affectionately and full of sweetened pity, disappointed and heartbroken with your evident sorrow. He wraps his arms around you and lets you cry into his chest, knowing that words aren't necessary anymore.
You can talk later, tell him about it all. Now he needs to get you out of the pit you've sunken into, full of confusion and misery.
Walking you back to the bedroom, he places you softly on the bed, and before you can figure out what he's planning, he wraps the white blankets around you, efficiently rendering you unable to move.
You don't fight against it, the soft sobs fading into a slight amused smile.
"What are you doing?" You speak impossibly quiet and gentle, watching him gather the materials together with unnecessary focus, as if he was working in the lab with millimetric utensils. You giggle at the sight, and his heart grows warm at the sound.
He looks at you, smirking without answering. You shuffle in the thin cocoon, finding a comfortable position for your wrists. Finally, he ties a knot with two joined corners and moves to hover above you.
He scans all the features of your face, the glistening skin of your flushed cheeks, your softened eyes and agape mouth, ready to protest.
"Now wha-!" you attempt to speak, interrupted by his mouth on yours. He places an infinitely loving smooch to your pout, all anxiety clearing like clouds swept away by cool winds on a summer morning after a midnight thunderstorm.
When he moves away, all warmth and breath is stolen from you. Before you can clumsily chase after his kisses in your confinement, he picks you up and shuffles over to the headboard, placing you on his lap.
He holds you with a hand wide spread on your upper arm, your head comfortably nestled in his elbow pit. His other arm is draped across your waist, affectionate and protective.
"Mira lo guapa que eres." (Look how beautiful you are)
He kisses your forehead, another unhurried, lingering smooch. "I can't bear to see you like this, bebita." He kisses both your cheeks, his warm breath fanning over your face making your eyelids grow heavy with cosiness and adoration. You feel at home, safe, in his strong arms and under his ever loving touch.
"I'll take care of you." A kiss to your temple. Another on your cheekbone. "I'll take care of everything." More kisses around your mouth, and one to your right eye that finally lets a giggle erupt out of you.
You struggle against the cotton cocoon, wanting to free your arms and grab his handsome face in return. His hold tightens around you.
"Tranquila." (Relax.) He moves his head to the crook of your neck, placing a wet kiss below your jaw, making you instantly melt into his heated embrace, almost instinctively. He inhales deeply, leaning his temple against yours.
You close your eyes, content and finally serene.
He nuzzles his nose in your pinky cheek, resuming the pecks. "Nothing is worth your smile. I'll travel through any universe, however far, to destroy anything that's troubling you, mi reina."
He finally gives in and kisses your soft lips, making you sigh gently into his mouth.
You feel your entire soul pour into his, a fresh mountain stream slowly flowing into a fresh, sun enlightened pond. Almost chest to chest, you feel his heart speed up, in sync with yours.
You wouldn't ever want to have it any other way.
divider by @cafekitsune
a/n: HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT!!! i still cant believe i couldn't find a pic for the cuddling position i was describing but anyways i hope it's clear enough 🫠🫠🫠
Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.
Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.
A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.
It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.
It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.
Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.
The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.
So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.
Christ, he hates this city.
By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.
You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.
It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.
Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.
He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.
No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.
With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.
Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.
Shit.
His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.
Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?
The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted.
Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.
He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.
New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe. And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.
His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.
A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.
Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.
Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.
Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock. He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.
You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.
Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.
Oh fuck it!
Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.
You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.
He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.
His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.
He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.
And fuuuuuck.
He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.
God you feel so fucking good.
Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.
Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him. All of it telling him the same thing.
He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.
You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.
He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.
Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.
Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.
He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.
Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.
He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.
Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.
"Miguel."
Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.
"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"
"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.
He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"
"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."
"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.
"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."
It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.
He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.
"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."
He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.
"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."
The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.
"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"
You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.
"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."
You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.
He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.
No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.
You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.
"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.
Pleasure that only he can give you.
"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.
"I'm right here."
You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.
"Fucking you."
It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.
"Making you come," he bites out.
You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.
"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.
Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.
Fuck, you're coming.
"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…
"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."
Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.
If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.
And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.
It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.
This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.
And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.
But that’s not happening tonight.
Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones.
He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.
Miguel is out of patience.
Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.
Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.
Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.
You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.
Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.
His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.
"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"
"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.
The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again.
He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.
"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.
Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger. He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.
"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"
Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.
It's why he needs to protect you.
Always.
Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–
You make a negative sound, shaking your head.
"No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."
He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.
Your. Fucking. Panties!?
Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?
"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.
"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.
With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.
"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"
"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.
The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.
Fuck, he has to move.
He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming.
Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.
Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.
More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.
He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.
"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you."
He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you.
He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours.
You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.
This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.
It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.
No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.
The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body.
You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.
"You're getting me new panties."
A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.
"Sure, nena."
"And coffee in the morning," you add.
He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.
"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.
Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.
Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?
He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.
You nod into your pillow.
"Mmhmm."
He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.
The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep.
The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him.
He’ll keep you safe.
Always.
Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!
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