#only friends fic

[firstkanaphans]

Today, I received my very own copy of Only Friends/Heart in a Cage bound by @mightymightygnomepriest of @moonshinebindery. It is an absolute work of art. I cried for a solid five minutes when I saw it. I know I’ve said this before Rachael, but you don’t know how amazing it feels to see my words in actual print. It’s very much a dream come true and I cannot thank you enough 💕 Look how beautiful, guys!!

#only friends fic #🤩🤩🤩

[chawarin-panich]

look i cant write sandray meta because i dont have opinions about them only feelings so i thought about the above four scenes till the point of being driven to madness then wrote a ray character study fic please read it

#sandray #only friends the series #only friends fic #nani writes #im really dying guys #like im just an open sandray wound #heal me

[blue-grama]

A teeny Boston fix-it fic

Had some feelings about Boston's ending (like everyone on this website), decided to channel them into fix-it fic (like half the people on this website). Please enjoy this missing scene that would have fixed everything for me had they shot it (or something like it). [Edit: A slightly amended version now lives on AO3.] New York, February 2024

The text comes while Boston is enjoying a post-fuck joint at the window of his shitty shoebox apartment in Washington Heights.

“Huh,” he says, passing the joint to the boy next to him and unlocking his phone. The guy takes a hit and blows the smoke out the window, elbows propped on the windowsill. He leans over Boston’s shoulder.

“That’s fucking cool,” he says, and it takes Boston a second to realize he means the Thai alphabet, not the fact that Boston has just received a cordial text from that shithead Mew, of all people.

“Mmm,” he says, trying to process the text. He’s high enough that he feels less relaxed and more stupid, like he’s got to parse each word individually. Mew is thanking him for the photograph he’d sent for the hostel. It looks good on the wall, he’s written.

“Anything important?” the boy next to him asks. He’s blonde, with shaggy, tousled hair, now all the more so for the way Boston had pulled it while he had him bent over his bed. They’d met at a bar not long after Boston had arrived, and now they have a nice little booty-call thing going on. The guy is a graduate student in something Boston doesn’t give a fuck about – biochemistry? bioengineering? – and he probably couldn’t find Thailand on a map, which is fine by Boston because he couldn’t find wherever this guy grew up in on a map, either. He has the vague impression of the middle of the country, something something deserts and corn. They know no one in common and have nothing in common, which is also fine by Boston. He’s learned now not to fuck anyone he might end up liking.

The only problem is that the guy’s name is Nicholas, of all things. “Nicholas or Nick,” he’d said to Boston, when he’d first sidled up to him with the promise of sex in his eyes. “I don’t care which.” Boston has never once shortened it, even though he knows his accent renders the syllables just a little bit off.

“Important?” Nicholas repeats, and Boston realizes he’s been staring at his phone screen for too long. Six weeks ago, even a month ago, when he was lonely and exhausted from operating in English all day, he would have said yes, and maybe could you get out of here, I’ve got to make a call. But now that he’s found his feet and daily life comes a bit more automatically, he’s not so sure. Mew and his sanctimony and Nick and all of Boston’s mistakes are so far away.

“Nicholas,” he says, instead of answering. “You wouldn’t catch feelings for me, would you?”

Nicholas looks alarmed. “Uhh. Look, no offense, because you seem like a cool dude, but I’m super not looking for anything serious right now. I’ve got so much work with school, and I just thought we were blowing off steam—”

Boston can’t help but laugh at his own panic reflected in someone else. “It’s good, it’s good,” he says. “Relax. That’s what I want, too.”

Nicholas takes another hit. “So what, ex-hookup texting you?”

“Ex-friend,” Boston says. “Long story.”

“Oh,” Nicholas says, nodding with the wisdom only half a joint of primo cannabis can confer. “I lost friends when I came out, too.”

Boston snorts. “It’s not that. I fucked his situationship.” He’d learned that word from another hookup a couple weeks back, and he loves it. Excellent fucking idiom. “He got a recording of it and threatened me that he’d play it for my dad –”

“The fuck?” Nicholas says. “Jesus. Dude.”

“What?” Boston says.

“That’s like, deeply fucked up.”

Boston shrugs, feeling half a step behind. “It was my fault,” he says.

“Bro,” Nicholas says. “I think that’s like, a crime.”

Boston can’t quite figure out what to say to that. He’d thought Mew was taking it too far that day, but no one else has ever suggested that Boston deserved any less.

But then, Americans are quick to tell people to fuck off. And Nicholas doesn’t have the whole story.

“He’s talking to me again,” Boston says, showing Nicholas the phone, which he can’t read so why did he just do that? “I tried to say sorry before, but he didn’t forgive me.”

“Do you forgive him?” Nicholas says. “I mean, is that ‘I’m sorry I tried to revenge porn you’ in Thai?”

“Um,” Boston says. “No?”

“Well then,” Nicholas says. “You didn’t ask me, but I’d leave that shit on read.”

Boston blinks at Mew’s text a couple of times. His head is clearing a bit. Maybe he doesn’t need, like, closure or anything. Maybe he’s a dick, but maybe his old friends are dicks, too, and maybe he can just … try not to fuck anyone’s situationship in the future. To the best of his ability.

“Yeah,” he says, putting the phone down. “Yeah, okay.”

#sorry i just needed literally one person to suggest to boston that maybe he'd been wronged too #and for boston to have his character growth not amount to nothing in the last 4 minutes #oh no i'm writing my opinions in the tags #only friends the series #only friends fic #boston only friends #only friends fix-it fic

[jgyapologism]

HELLO A VERY DELAYED UPDATE THIS WEEK BUT ITS HERE! CHAPTER 18 IS HERE!

A lil teaser to entice you:

Sand has been nothing but a steady presence throughout this entire process. The one constant that he can come back to.  But her concerns are not completely unfounded, and Ray supposes that’s what makes it more difficult to hear. He had had the very same thoughts when Sand had dropped him off after the outing; but had been too afraid to voice them at the time.

ENJOY!

(and remember to check the tags!)

#ofts #only friends the series #sandray #ofts fic #only friends fanfic #ofts fanfic #only friends fic #ao3 #raysand #sand x ray #ray x sand

[akkpipitphattana]

enjoy a silly lil sandray/sandboston fic. as a treat

#only friends #sandray #sandboston #my writing #mine #only friends fic

[jenyifer]

BostonRay childhood friend fic Pt4 is out

First cannon event time. Ray’s mom passes away. The fic is from Boston’s POV mostly. I found it too real to write as Ray because I lost someone when I was young as well. I realize reading it back my blueprint of Ray’s house isn’t great. I didn’t realize Ray’s mothers rooms were on the second floor I assumed the parlor was on the first floor and that Ray moved into his mothers apartments AFTER her death so his original room is somewhere else.

Fans of Bodyguard Ter I’m very sorry but he has to self sacrifice himself for Boston and Ray. Having him leave made me cry but I needed Boston to transform into his cocky independent self without a healthy parental figure around. Both Boston and Ray will now be… like the only friends versions we know. Going forward

Well I’m sad from this part so let’s enjoy some hugs for our two boys they’ll get in the future from their soulmates

Okay for the next part I have two fics currently written but I’m debating posting one at all. It’s one where Ray takes care of Boston when he’s drunk (fun but is it necessary) Or the final part will be about a ill fated party at Boston’s home that destroys Ray’s trust in Boston changing Mew into his emergency contact.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends #bostonray #Boston x ray #only friends Boston #only friends ray #ofts ray #ofts Boston #ofts fic #only friends fic #Jenny’s fic

[technicallyverycowboy]

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: เพื่อนต้องห้าม | Only Friends (Thailand TV 2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Boston/Ray (Only Friends Thailand TV), Minor Boston/Ray/Nick Characters: Boston (Only Friends Thailand TV), Ray (Only Friends Thailand TV), Nick (Only Friends Thailand TV) Additional Tags: Hook-Up, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Riding, Sex As Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Suicide Attempt, friends???? with benefits Summary:

In his memory, Boston appears out of fucking nowhere. Ray was leaning against the bar with an empty glass in his hand, then someone was standing so close he could feel the heat pouring off their body. “Another round for us,” Boston said, though Ray didn’t know he was Boston, just that he was electric and had beautiful hands and smelled like sex.

Ray and Boston's hook-ups over the years.

OH MY GOD it’s finally done,

#only friends #only friends fic #bostonray #my fic

[boozles]

Fic Masterpost

you can find all my works on ao3 ♥ i'd also like to direct you all to my fic recs ♥

The Sign

i'd meet you (where the spirit meets the bones) phaya/tharn - 1127 words - teen & up - (lost love series) notes: includes mild dubcon

Once the Naga Prince is asleep, always so deeply after a day of battle and taking what he wants, that is when Wansurat will slip away into the night. That is when she will seek her reprieve.

oh my wrists are weak but if i could life your body phaya/tharn - 2291 words - explicit (lost love series) notes: mentions of past life dubcon

There’s always a tell when it happens, when a memory returns. Sometimes it’s just a vacant stare, or a triple blink, but there are times when Tharn just smiles or sighs, and Phaya knows he’s remembering something. Tharn is lying beneath him, his legs loosely wrapped around his waist. Phaya can still feel the little shakes, the quivers still ringing through Tharn’s body, coming down from his orgasm. Phaya holds himself up with one arm, using his other hand to hold both of Tharn’s wrists to his mouth. He’s pressing his lips softly against the soft flesh of his lover’s wrists, something that Phaya has discovered that Tharn not only seems to find calming, but he actually enjoys it himself. It’s like kissing his lover’s heartbeat, like he can feel each little thump against his lips.

you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve phaya/tharn - 1658 words - unrated (night shift series)

It’s a set routine that Phaya has fallen into over the last few months that he knows should feel odd but really, it brings him comfort. It makes him feel productive, like he’s actually helping. He knows he isn’t, knows that nothing actually helps in this situation, but he’ll that that false sense of security over the alternative any day.

Only Friends

you think i'm a heartbreaker (but inside you wonder) nick/boston - 2414 words - explicit

Nick swallows and he knows he needs to stop, he knows he needs to hit the breaks and delete the damn file but soon enough he can hear the two men clambering into the back seat and he can make out the sounds of Top’s belt buckle hitting the floor of the car. There’s the sounds of kissing, wet and hot, and deep moans emanating from both men. This continues for a few minutes before it gets to the part that Nick hates most. OR Nick jerks off to the audio of Top and Boston

The Eclipse

fifteen minutes akk/ayan - 3069 words - explicit

Ayan sits back on the bed and fixes his shirt, which Akk hadn’t realised he’d been in the process of removing. “Blowjobs?” Akk knows he needs to try and play it cool. He knows he’s going to fail, miserably, but he has to try. “Uh, yeah. Blowjobs.” Ayan raises his eyebrows and pouts his lips. “Blowjobs.” “Yup.” Akk leans up on his hands, looking all around Ayan’s bedroom. Anywhere but his boyfriend’s face. “They’re…uh, fun.” “So I’ve heard.” Akk nods, and he just knows his face is a bright shade of red and he really wishes he had a better control of the words that come out of his mouth. “Uhm…do you…want…one?”

catastrophe khan/thua - 2263 words - general

The reason he’s here – wishing he was anywhere else – is that Khan needs to report Thua for everything. For the banner that caused havoc. For the online threats. For literally burning an effigy of a Suppalo student. For stealing from another student. All of it. And Khan is fucking broken. He doesn’t want to. The fact is if Thua were to walk up to him right now and ask him not to report him, Khan would probably thank him then drag him off for a stern telling off (hopefully followed by the warmest cuddle and make up kiss?). Unfortunately, it’s on Thua’s orders that Khan is here.

touch kan/thua - 5747 words - explicit

It’s almost the end of the school year, and Thua is still a virgin. He’s been accepted to his choice of university, has secured a dorm room, a part-time job and he is still a virgin. Something about that makes him sad.

more than okay akk/ayan - 4560 words - explicit

“I won’t hold back anymore.” He means it. He won’t hide anything anymore. He’ll kiss Akk, he’ll hold his hand, he’ll touch his face, feed him snacks, tie his shoes, brush his hair from his face, he’ll never hold back again from all the little things he wants to do. Ayan leans up, one leg hooked over Akk, and holds himself over him. He touches his hair, gently, gazing into his face, the face that he’d fallen for the first second of his first day at that damn school. Akk allows him to caress his face, watching him so intensely, and doesn’t flinch when Ayan leans down to bring their mouths together. It’s chaste, at first, almost innocent, and Ayan feels like his very soul is on fire. Soon enough, he’s straddling Akk, pushing the kiss deeper. He’s waiting for resistance, and he’s okay with that; he’s waiting for Akk to tell him it’s time to stop, they should wait, he’s not ready for anything more than this. However, that isn’t what happens.

Love In The Air

and the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love prapai/sky - 776 words - general

Sometimes Sky fights back, will push him away and cry out. Sometimes he cries his name, and Prapai feels his whole chest shatter. Tonight is one of those nights. “No,” Sky mumbles, and he pushes against Prapai’s chest. “Please…no…” “It’s okay,” Prapai shushes. “It’s okay, Sky-“ “Please…” Sky pushes again, eyes closed, still in the grip of slumber. “P’Gun…help…”

#pinned post #fic masterpost #fanfiction masterpost #my fic #only friends fic #the eclipse fic #love in the air fic #bl fanfic #the sign #the sign fic

[elliebirdwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: เพื่อนต้องห้าม | Only Friends (Thailand TV 2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sand/Top (Only Friends Thailand TV) Additional Tags: Hate Sex, kinktober 2023, Angst, Light Angst

#my fic #only friends the series #only friends fic #kinktober 2023

[melodydrifts]

we rhyme because we breathe only friends | nicksand | 1.5k

🔆 cuddling and humping and frotting oh my 🔆 sleepy cute handjobs 🔆 roommates kiss too, you know

✨ archiveofourown.org/works/55016935

#only friends #only friends fic #nicksand #sandnick #my posts #my fic

[firstkanaphans]

A Soft Place to Land

[A SandRay deleted scene from Only Friends, episode 1]

Sand looked over at the boy who had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the middle of the bathroom floor and sighed. What the hell had he gotten himself into now?

Ray was a mess—and not the artfully tousled, slightly tipsy mess he was used to bringing home from the bar. No, Ray was an actual mess. The type that would benefit from a stint in rehab and a therapist that wasn’t attracted to men. Sand couldn’t believe the boy had been planning to drive. Did he have a fucking death wish? But then again, most people who drowned their sorrows in alcohol usually did and who was Sand to judge? Sometimes the world was cruel to rich people, too.

He looked around the room, searching for a sign. Should he go through the trouble of moving Ray off the bathroom floor or should he just let him sleep there? Sand preferred him unconscious, if he was being honest, but it seemed cruel to leave him alone on the cold, hard tile. Especially since the room was starting to smell. So, summoning all of the goodwill he had left in him, he pushed Ray off of his shoulder and stood.

“C’mon, you lightweight,” he said, having to hold Ray upright so he didn’t just collapse into a ball on the floor. “Let’s get you up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Ray grumbled, swatting him away. Violently. Sand had never wanted to smack another human so much in his life. His patience was officially shot. 

“Get up,” he snapped. He wasn’t asking this time. He grabbed Ray forcibly under his arms and lifted him. 

“You’re mean,” Ray said, but once he was standing, he didn’t immediately collapse back to the floor again. Sand counted that as a win.

“Do you think you can make it to the couch?” Sand asked. It was less than twenty feet away—you could literally see it from where they were standing.

“I’m not a baby. Of course I can make it to the couch.” But all it took was one step before Ray was teetering dangerously towards the floor. Sand rolled his eyes and caught him before he could actually fall.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said and then threw one of Ray’s arms around his shoulder and led him from the room.

“I don’t need your help,” Ray whined. But despite his words, he accepted it. 

When they reached the couch, Sand tossed him onto it unceremoniously. He planned to just leave him there to fend for himself, but then he watched as Ray curled up with one of his pillows as if it was a stuffed animal and Sand’s goddamn heart got the best of him. He couldn’t just leave him like this, pathetic and alone, covered in his own vomit. Even Ray deserved a little bit of dignity. So, he sighed and turned towards his own bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Not that Ray cared. He had already fallen back asleep.

Sand emerged from his bedroom a couple minutes later with a change of clothes in hand for his new drunk friend. 

“Ray,” he snapped, tossing them onto the couch next to him. Ray didn’t so much as move. “Are you dead? Jesus Christ.” 

He sat down on the couch next to him and began pulling off his shoes, which looked like they probably cost more than Sand’s rent. Ray began grumbling and kicking his legs as if this was some great inconvenience to him personally, but he was too drunk to be able to put up any real fight. Sand was able to restrain him easily. 

“Now your shirt,” he prompted, forcing Ray to sit. He had to lift him three separate times before he stayed of his own accord and by then he was glaring at Sand as if Sand was the one being difficult. “Come on. Arms up.”

Ray raised his arms dutifully and Sand stripped him of his shirt. For a second, he thought Ray had finally decided to participate in his own care, but once the shirt was off, Sand glanced up to find that the look in Ray’s eyes had changed. It was darker now, charged with something Sand couldn’t quite name. It gave him pause.

“You like what you see?” Ray asked, his eyes scouring Sand’s body as if he was seeing him for the first time. And although Sand would deny it if anyone ever asked him, there was something there. A spark he would much rather ignore.

“You’re covered in vomit,” he said, shoving the new shirt down over Ray’s head. He'd meant it to be a sort of punishment for even daring to ask such a thing, but he wasn’t prepared for how cute Ray would look emerging from the other side with his hair all rumpled. Ray was like a wet cat, feral but endearing despite his temper. This had been a very bad idea. 

Sand released Ray before his brain could get any stupid ideas and then tossed the shorts he had brought him into his lap. “Here. Do the rest yourself.” But as he moved to get up, Ray stopped him by reaching for the front of Sand’s pants and Sand was so surprised by the sudden display of coordination that it took him a second to realize what was happening. Ray was trying to take his belt off.

“What are you doing?” Sand snapped, prying Ray’s hands off of him.

“I’m undressing you,” Ray said as if it were obvious. “You take my clothes off, I take your clothes off. That’s how it works. Have you never done this before? I’ll be gentle.” Then he leaned in and bit the lobe of Sand’s ear.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sand snapped, pushing him away. Then he stood, knowing Ray was too drunk to follow.

“I thought you said you wanted payment?” Ray snapped as if what he was offering was equal in value to a fifteen minute drive into town and a safe place to sleep. As if maybe he had offered it before. The thought made Sand feel sick to his stomach.

“I know where your mouth has been, so no thank you” he said and then threw the shorts at him again. “Now finish getting dressed. I’m going to get you something to drink.” Ray’s face lit up at the suggestion. “Something non-alcoholic to drink. God, you’re a mess. Do you know that?”

He made his way into the kitchen and poured Ray a glass of water. By the time he returned, Ray was dressed, sitting up on the couch looking much younger without all of the trappings of wealth adorning him. It was only then that Sand noticed what shirt he had picked out in the dark. “Poor Boy,” it read. The choice hadn’t been intentional, but it made him laugh.

“Ironic,” he said, pointing at the shirt.

Ray looked down at his chest, going crossed-eyed as he tried to decipher the words. “What does it say?”

“It says you're cute,” Sand lied.

“Really?” Ray asked, preening.

“Really,” Sand said and then passed him the glass of water. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” Ray asked, sniffing it curiously as if he thought he was being poisoned. 

“Water,” Sand said. “Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.” 

Ray looked like he sincerely doubted this, but he took a few hesitant sips anyway. Sand kept his hand held under the glass the whole time, scared Ray might drop it. Ray lowered the glass after drinking less than half.

“Nope,” Sand corrected, raising it to his lips again. “The whole thing.”

Ray grumbled out a half-hearted protest, but he was actually fairly good at following directions when you coaxed him enough. Within a few seconds, the rest of the water was gone.

“Good boy,” Sand teased, taking the glass from his hand and setting it down on the coffee table. Ray grinned, flattered by the praise, and despite his annoyance, Sand couldn’t help but feel something at the sight of him, drunk but happy. So instead of facing those feelings, he pushed him back down onto the sofa. “Sleep. I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

“Fine,” Ray grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and clinging once again to Sand’s pillow as if it was the only thing holding him together. Within seconds, his breathing began to slow. Sand watched him from the doorway, wondering who he was sober, but it was a pointless exercise. Eventually, he shook himself from his stupor and turned towards his room.

“Thank you,” he heard Ray mutter from the couch. Sand paused, surprised by his sudden bout of manners, but then Ray added, “Mew.”

Sand rolled his eyes. Of course Ray thought Sand was someone else. Of course he did. He shut of the lights, went back to his room, and tried to sleep, but instead, he lay awake for hours thinking about the boy on his couch. He tried not to dwell on what that meant.

#oops my hand slipped #only friends the series #only friends fic #sandray #sandray fic #sarah writes things

[magic-owl]

I don’t believe in gatekeeping at all but if you flat out admit to me that you’ve consumed little to ZERO of the canon media and have gotten all of your information based off of reading fluffy fic with woobified characters, I will not be taking ANY of your fandom opinions or meta seriously

#i will clarify: you’re more than allowed to have fun! write all the fic you want and play in the sandbox! #but do NOT ever act like you know what you’re talking about lol #‘canon is Wrong and i’ve only read fanfic so that makes me an expert on these characters uwu’ #STOP IT NO #one of my friends thought i shouldn’t kick the beehive #but i’m ready #owl blabs

[nerdpoe]

Vlad meets Lex. He realizes some things.

Vlad meets Lex Luthor at a gala, and Lex is schmoozing hard.

Lex has heard about Vlad's weirdass business deals, knows something isn't right, and he want whatever untraceable power Vlad's got at his disposal.

Lex has done his research, and knows that Vlad got the equipment for cloning, but that no child was ever announced. So Lex starts bragging, going on and on about Kon and talking about the kid like he's a Thing.

And Vlad, listening to this, has some unfortunate realizations about how he was treating Ellie.

So Vlad excuses himself and does some digging of his own, and holy shit do the dead have a lot to gossip about regarding how Superman used to treat the boy, and Vlad...doesn't want to be compared to either of those buffoons.

He's better than both of them combined.

And he's gonna prove it.

He's gonna be the daddest dad that ever dadded.

He'll be way better than Jack, and if he's a better father than Jack then Daniel and Jasmine and Maddie will follow! He just has to learn how to be a good parent.

Easy.

He proceeds to buy every parenting book he can find, and signs himself up for parenting classes.

Ellie, minding her own business, feels a shiver go down her back.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #vlad's obsession has switched from wooing maddie with money to wooing her with good parenting skills #redemtion fic #vlad slowly starts to have his obsession switch from maddie to just being a good father #ellie fuckin books it #various justice league members have seen a dracula-esque man chasing a white haired kid through their cities #the only one who could have feasibly done anything was J'onn #he read teh general vibe of “LET ME FATHER YOU” and decided to leave it alone #he did tell batman though #maybe he and that strange dracula meta can bond #the man could use more friends

[fiendishartist2]

guy who doesnt dance x guy who will drag you onto the dance floor

#theyre so sillay :3 #i need to find irl ace attorney friends bc ive only met like 1 person who really knows what it is ToT #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #ace attorney #apollo justice #klavier gavin #klapollo #i put them in fancy little outfits bc they're at an event or smth idk #i just like making fancy outfits lol #i want to redraw my old pre 7 yr gap designs bc that fic still lives in my mind and i want to do smth for it #its: the phoenix and other early birds #and its SO FUCKING GOOOODDDD #if you like apollo and you dont mind his aa6 backstory you'll love it i promise <3 read that fic okay bye :D

[jgyapologism]

here it is again!! another update to my sandray fic - hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone. it's a fun one yall (full of goodbyes and reunions and suffering galore).

please read and share, kudos and comment :)

#only friends the series #ofts #sandray #raysand #sand x ray #ray x sand #only friends #ofts fic #only friends fic #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #tw addiction #tw alcoholism #just read the tags on ao3 before reading please!!! #ofts ray #ofts sand

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Wash Day 🫧🚿

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader

summary: Miguel offers to wash your hair because wash days can be a lot, mischief ensues.

content warning: 18+ MDNI, lots of fluff and banter, talks of marriage/proposal, lovey dovey!miguel, head scratching + massaging, p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾, healthcare is expensive and so are babies), just the tip at one point, cussing, subby + service-like miguel (he does start to enter a daze that is similar to a sub drop, but it's not really that and the reader checks up on him immediately), needy!miguel, creative use of miguel's talons, kissing, hickys, a little hair pulling, manhandling, cunnilingus, fellatio, squirting, slight edging, praise kink, breeding kink towards the end, mentions of cum, overstimulation, a little aftercare, reader is a bit of a tease, miguel is a bit of a brat, more references to cats than I thought, no use of y/n

credit for the art/dividers: Me! (+ illustrator and canva)

a/n: This is my first fic that I am posting on here! 🤠 This one has been in the works for a while, but I am happy with the result. This story is written with a black reader in mind, but it's very inclusive minus the hair situation, so anyone can enjoy the story. There is one unrealistic part that NONE of my natural brethren would ever allow, I beg you to just go with it. 😭 I also used a little Spanish in here, to my Spanish-speakers, if anything is wrong, just let me know and I 'll change it right away!

I also imagined the shower to be one of those fancy walk-ins like this or this but big enough for two, because in my mind, Miguel is stacked in the money department as well.

word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

To all my sub Mig lovers and fiends! Love ya! 🩵🪮

It was finally time for the day you’ve been putting off for about a week now, the taxing Wash Day.

Normally, you would drag this day out because you knew that once you started, you had to keep going until your hair was done and either ready for the bonnet or the hood dryer. Although today, you were lucky because you had a braid appointment the following morning, so that meant just a simple wash and a blow-dry. You were even luckier because your boyfriend, Miguel, was more than happy to wash your hair for you.

“I know how tired you get afterwards and I just want to help make the process easier,” is what you remember him telling you last night in your sleepy, whiny state.

Now, here you are the next day watching his eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips pouted in a crooked M as you guide him to the old faithful: the kitchen sink.

“Why are you giving me that face? You said you were gonna help,” you chuckle at his expression, watching as his eyes turn to your hair supplies littered across the counter.

“No, no! I still want to help. It’s just that,” he picks up your wide-tooth comb, running his fingers over the teeth, “I thought we were going to be in the shower.”

You look at him, a little dumbfounded at the statement. You didn’t mind washing your hair in the shower, you did it all the time, but what was the point of getting you both wet?

“I just thought it would be easier for you this way,” you reply, pulling the faucet from the sink and waving it around in an attempt to hype up the situation. “I’ll bend my head in the sink, and you’ll wash it that way. Or! You can hike me up on the counter and I can lay down with my head over the sink. That one’s a little less comfortable for me, but it gives you more than enough room to maneuver.”

“Hm,” he grunts, eyes going from you to the counter, then right back to you. “That’s fine and all, but what if my back starts to hurt from bending for too long.”

You just stare at him, unamused. If anyone would be in pain, it would be you.

“In the shower, we can stand together and I can see exactly what’s going on. Plus, you can wash my hair too,” he continues, pulling you flush against his chest, comb forgotten. He starts to rub your hips in a slow motion. “Let’s make it a date.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re not that old to where your back can just give out like that,” you quip, leaning back from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Secondly, you expect me to believe that the Spiderman is unable to wash someone’s hair in this sink.”

“At 6’9? Absolutely.”

“Touché.”

Truthfully, Miguel was a bit turned on after spending the last 20 minutes watching you completely melt under his hands from scratching your scalp.

It was such a simple task but all of your sighs and whispers of “right there” and “harder” had him internally groaning.

When it was finished, you were up off the floor easily and blissfully unaware, while he was left with a few of your shedded curls covering his clothes and pre-cum threatening to seep into his underwear.

So yes, while technically the shower was the best option for him, he really wanted to ignite that same reaction from you again. It was addicting.

You reach up on your tippy toes and squish his face to give a quick peck to his lips. “Fine, fine! Quit your puppy dog eyes, we can go to the shower. Just let me pee first.”

Step 1 of Miguel’s master plan was already successfully underway.

He started to pick up your supplies, reading the ingredients out of curiosity. Today you were trying a new line of products that was making huge waves online. He remembers seeing how excited you were when the package came in. You had barrelled into the bedroom in a squealing frenzy, and had it not been for his spider senses listening out for you, he would have jumped from the way you threw the door open.

Even though it was another line of products that would fill up the bathroom cabinets, your giddiness rubbed off on him, so he was ready to see results.

“Baby, come on! I’m ready!”

Miguel quickly huddled up everything from the counter and made his way to the bathroom.

He walked in to see you standing next to the sink, birthday suit on and your hands reaching up to push your hair from your forehead.

Heaven-sent were the first words that came to mind. Here you were, standing in the steam of the bathroom just for his eyes. He couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.

You turned to look back at him, mirth in your eyes, “Mig, come on, the water’s running.”

He didn’t even comprehend the sound of the water hitting the tiles, he was so zoned in on you.

“I’m coming, I was just…admiring you,” he replies, moving to prepare for the shower.

“There’s no way you’re eyeing me up right now. I look a little crazy,” you say, turning back towards the mirror.

“Querida, you could be rocking a spiked mohawk right now, and I would still have the same reaction. You’re beautiful no matter how your hair looks.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering at his words. If you didn’t have to get ready for your hair appointment tomorrow, you’d stop everything then and there to love on your boyfriend.

For now, you settled on helping him out of his clothes, a smile growing on your face. You pulled his shirt up as far as you could reach, then let your hands roam over his chest, watching the goosebumps that followed behind. You kept your fingers walking down to the waistband of his pants, lightly scratching at his happy trail.

His stomach twitched in response to your touch, hands itching to pull you closer.

You placed your hands at his sides, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, slowly tugging at the bands. You stepped forward to get a better leverage, breasts pressing against his torso.

His breaths were coming out in short beats, not wanting to disrupt the spell that you put him under. He looked down at the closing space between you all’s bodies because if he looked up at your eyes, he’d stop everything and take you right there against the counter.

But the shower. He was supposed to make it to the shower. Which was in an area by itself. In the next room. With your hands roaming everywhere, he wasn’t even sure if he could even make it past the toilet.

His eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands back up his thighs, a deep breath building in his lungs. Like this, he was really able to tune in on both the heat of your body against his and the lingering touch of your hands. Hyper-focused on you and you alone.

Then he heard a loud slap.

His eyes bucked back open, body rigid as the sting came back in waves on the side of his ass.

“Come on, we’ve got heads to scrub!” you said, voice as clear as ever.

He watched you twirl towards the shower, his mind muddled from your switch to playfulness. Had he read that all wrong?

He looked down and sighed at the sight of his dick, half-hard at what could have been.

All he could do was stagger out of the clothes that pooled at his ankles, grab the hair products, and waddle to the shower.

You were already halfway under the spray of the shower head, head leaning back, waiting for the water to completely soak through the layers of your hair.

Miguel came up next to you and detached the shower head, bringing it closer to your scalp, careful not to get water in your ears.

“So first, we have to use the scalp scrub shampoo,” you say, grabbing one of the taller bottles and unscrewing it. “Just take this in your hands first, lather it, and work it into my scalp.”

You pull his left hand forward and squeeze some of the liquid in his palm.

“Is this enough?” he asked, noticing the little amount you put in his hand.

“Yep! A little can go a long way, baby,” you say, turning around to him, trying to determine how you would reach the top of his head.

Oh, how Miguel was so well acquainted with that phrase. Especially after this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing with him all day.

You faced him as he placed his fingers on your scalp, beginning to move in circles, spreading the shampoo in several sections.

“You can add a little pressure. I can take it,” you mumble out, almost low enough for Miguel to miss it.

So he does. He starts to scratch at your scalp, remembering that this is an important step. For your hair of course, not his plan.

“Ugh, that feels so nice,” you sigh, trying not to sway under him. “I should have had you do this sooner.”

Miguel thought so too. Here you are, head leaned back, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. He kept scratching at your scalp, your head nodding along with the motions.

“Can you scratch over here, please?” you ask, pointing at the right side of your head, eyes squeezed tight to not let any soap fall in them. Even after all of your teasing, you were still so cute in this moment. When Miguel complied, you showed your gratitude by groaning out a quick thank you. With a long sigh, you placed your hands in front of his chest, fingers balled up in loose fists.

“Does it feel good?” Miguel knew the answer, but he had to play along. “You want me to move anywhere else?”

“Yeah, could you just-” you leaned your head over, mindlessly guiding Miguel’s hands. “Right there, baby.”

You brought your hands up to grip at his wrists, needing something to hold onto. Miguel felt insane.

To curb the feeling, he quickly leaned down and kissed your forehead. His head was overloaded with the sound of your voice and he had to keep himself composed.

You looked up at him, eyes big and wide at his affection. He kept making you feel warm doing such mundane things. You purse your lips, silently begging for more.

Miguel brought his soapy hands to the water to quickly rinse them off, then placed them on your cheeks and leaned down again to kiss your lips.

One. Two. Three pecks and you were giggling.

Four. Five. Six pecks and you were on your tiptoes, arms crossed behind his neck.

Seven. Eight. Nine pecks and you were turning your head, opening your mouth for more.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve kisses and you were in his arms, feet off the ground, biting at his bottom lip.

By the thirteenth kiss, you were pulling your head back, staring into his eyes, grabbing at his nape.

“We still have to wash the shampoo out,” you say, watching as his eyes linger on your lips.

“We can do that,” he mumbles, still holding you close.

“Are you gonna put me down?” you ask, tone a little cheeky.

He snaps his eyes up at yours, eyebrow raised. “Are you gonna finish what you started?” He started to move one of his palms down your back, taking a thigh to pull around his waist, and placing his mouth on your jaw.

“Nuh uh, O’Hara,” you chide, pushing against his chest and wiggling to get him to remove his embrace. The water smacks against the tiles as you jump down, one calf still in Miguel’s hand.

“O’Hara?” Miguel scoffed, playfully pulling at you again and tickling your side. “I’m not sure who that is, but maybe you forgot how to say baby, mi vida.”

You laughed at him, finally calling out his bluff, “No, because my baby said he would help me wash my hair, and right now he’s being bad and trying to distract me. So, until you finish, it’s O’Hara.” You folded your arms and tilted your head to the side, daring Miguel to counter your words.

He dropped your leg and muttered out a gruff “fine” with his lips downturned. Two could play at this game and if he wanted to distract you, he just had to turn up the heat.

He grabbed for the shower head and started to rinse the thick shampoo from your hair, carefully weaving through the locks.

“When do we detangle it?”

You started to smile again, happy at his verb usage. He really does listen to you when you talk about your hair.

“When we put on the conditioner, but you can start a little now while the water’s running on it. Need the brush?”

“No, I’ll just use my fingers for a little bit.”

You turned your face back to him, shocked that he remembered another technique.

“You’re gonna finger detangle, ba- I mean, O’Hara?”

“Yes I am, corazón. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a great boyfriend that knows what his girl needs.”

You squint your eyes, wary at his words. “Uh huh, I bet you do. If you know so much, what’s next?”

“We shampoo again. Rinse. Then it’s conditioner and detangling, just like you said.”

You hummed, internally ecstatic that he actually did know the answer. “Another point for you,” you say, turning back around as Miguel places the shower head back on the hook.

Miguel smirked. He listened to you, he really did, but he also made sure to watch over 20 videos about washing coily hair while you were sleeping. You didn’t have to know that though.

His high was short-lived when you bent over to grab the next shampoo. He grabbed at your hips, watching as the swell of your ass aligned against his front. He pushed his head back and breathed in deep. How unfair.

You leaned back up slowly, turning the bottle around trying to fish for any specific directions.

“This one is a hydrating shampoo. It says you can just put it on my hair and just work it through.”

Miguel repeated the same shampooing process, although this time with less scalp scratching and more scalp massaging. You were once again in bliss at his ministrations, like a cat who couldn’t stop purring.

“O’Hara, you really have a way with your hands. Super relaxing,” you say with snickers underlining your voice.

Miguel just reached for the shower head, ready to rinse for the second time. “This guy sounds like a real catch. Too bad he isn’t here.”

You just laugh at how sulky he sounded, ready to grab the conditioner.

“Well, is there a Mr. O’Hara here? I kind of need him for this last step.”

Miguel stopped in his tracks.

You really didn’t understand how much he wanted to make you his wife. In fact, he started planning the proposal to a T after a year of you all being together. He started to dream about a future with you after the first couple of dates, despite how often he had to tell himself to slow down. It was terrifying yet thrilling how much you left an impression on his life.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara.

Mr. O’Hara.

Mrs. O’Hara.

Miguel bent his head in your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, face burning from his running thoughts.

“Y-you can’t use that against me. You know how I get,” he said petulantly, voice softened in the juncture of your neck, drowned out by the pouring water.

“And how do you get, baby?” you ask, reaching over to run your fingers through his damp hair. You tugged lightly at the root causing Miguel to hug you tighter and groan against your neck.

As hot as the water was, the heat of your body against his left him burning. The angle was weird so he couldn’t exactly rub up against you, but he could kiss along the surface of your shoulders.

He started to slowly press kisses down your neck, moaning as you tilted your head to give him more space. He stopped to linger at the top of your shoulder, taking in a small amount of skin. After he was happy at the mark he left, he opened his mouth a little wider, canines grazing against your skin.

You reach to pull his head back up, resting his jaw on your shoulder.

“Focus, Mr. O’Hara, it’s only one more step.” You say these words lowly right next to his ear, pressing your lips on his tragus then pushing his head up to kiss against his jaw.

When Miguel stood up fully, you could see the dazed look in his eyes. Staring closer, you noticed they were a little dewey.

You had to bring him back down to Earth. You couldn’t have him lost in this steam.

“Hey, baby look at me,” you even your tone and angle his face towards yours. “Are you alright? Do we need to sit down?”

You wait for his eyes to find yours, searching for discomfort.

“No, I'm fine. I’m ok, sorry,” he says, leaning into one of your hands, wrapping his hand around it for extra support.

“Positive? I know the water is really hot so if you need to step out and cool down, then that’s fine. I’ll help you settle down then come back and finish up by myself,” you say, adamant in your words.

“No! No, no. I’m really ok. I’m so cool and calm right now that it’s crazy,” he replies, frantic at the thought of leaving you in the shower. “Hand me the conditioner.”

You look at him again, tickled at the change in condition. All you could do was sigh, twist the cap off of the conditioner, and pull the inner lid off.

He dabbed two fingers on top of the cream, scooping a small amount off of the top. “A little goes a long way, right?”

“A little does go a long way.”

“Can you turn around, please?”

You comply, placing the conditioner in a corner.

“If you need it to lather a bit more, just add a little water,” you remind him.

He began to work the conditioner through, going from the root to the ends. The results were quick and he could see your curls begin to sprout. He started to thoroughly pull his fingers through, working out any leftover tangles. He got to a bigger knot and held the section of hair in one hand, and carefully combed through the knot with the other.

You were feeling peaceful until it dawned on you: you never gave him a comb or a brush to work with.

“Hold on, baby what are you using to take the knots out with? Do you have a comb?”

Miguel placed one of his hands in your face and pushed his talons out, like a cat showing its claws off when you press the center of its paw.

You panic, remembering that they can tear through people and metal, “Um. I don’t think using these bad boys on my hair is the right way to go.”

“Tranquila, mi amor, I got it. I’m using the dull side, see?”

He put a tuft of hair in front of your eyes and showed the process of him detangling while talon-less, then working out the final tough knot with the side of the talon, turning his hand sideways to avoid cutting your curls.

As a result, the section was completely detangled, allowing him to run his fingers straight through the thick strands, and the curls springing back up once he was finished. Plus, from what you could tell, there was no breakage.

Color you impressed because Miguel was pulling out all of the stops today.

“Alright, just. Be careful.”

“Always.”

“If you jack up my hair, Lyla will have to place Jess in charge permanently.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stand, arms placed under your chest, waiting for Miguel to finish. Subconsciously listening to the pattern of his breaths and the sound of his talon going through your hair.

“Ok, that’s it. Do you want to wash my hair while this sits?”

Such a smart boyfriend.

“Yeah just let me go ahead and finish this shower while you get your hair wet.”

Miguel stepped back to get under the overhead shower head, letting the water fall on him like rain, watching you as you began to lather body wash on your net sponge.

You were scrubbing away at your skin getting into every crevice, peach fragrance filling the air.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, but look where that’s gotten him so far. Almost kicked out of the bathroom.

You were just as stubborn as he was, no, resolute.

He admired it, especially when you gracefully brought him down from clouds that were his own fantasies.

Focusing back on you, he stared openly as you folded your body in half to reach your ankles causing everything to be on display.

A normal person would put their foot on the ledge to reach below. You were definitely fucking with him.

He watched as you pulled the net sponge across your body, leaning up as the languid movements of your hands pulled the net side to side.

He was glad that the water drowned out his harsh breathing.

You finished off your shower, working the detached shower head over the soap, clearing up your skin.

You brought the shower head lower, making sure that there was no bubble left behind.

When you held your ass to help the water pass all the way down the back of your body, Miguel jumped to hold the base of his cock, softly groaning at the picture you were painting.

He lifted his face up and pushed his hair back, in hopes that the stream could help him clear his mind. But, the water was hot, all it did was make him lightheaded at the thought of you.

“Miguel? Come over here so I can wash you too.”

Miguel tottered over, looking down at your body, shining after all your thorough work. You were placing soap on a pair of exfoliating gloves you had bought for him, lathering them together once you were satisfied with the amount of soap.

You got to work on his body, starting at the shoulders and moving in circular motions.

Miguel stared in silence, hoping you would put an end to this charade. But you continue to be meticulous, covering every inch of his upper body. Lifting his arms when you wanted to. Moving him around when you wanted to.

In this moment, he felt like a ragdoll, letting you do whatever you pleased.

You squatted down to do his lower body, eyes laser focused, not missing a spot.

All Miguel could focus on was your face so close to his dick that was twitching in anticipation. You just ignored it and continued to rub the rest of him down. Miguel wanted to cry.

You were touching everywhere, slowing down on his inner thighs and ass causing his knees to shake.

You held him steady by gripping the back of his thighs and finally looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.

Your eyes traced him all the way down to the gift that was in front of you. You parted your lips and let your tongue brush against the tip, watching as spurts of pre-cum escaped. You couldn’t have that. You leaned forward a little more, taking the head in completely, and allowed yourself a few more licks and a suck before you let go with a pop, watching the thin trail of spit grow as you leaned back.

Miguel whined in frustration, a cloud of desire fading so quickly.

“Amor, why did you-”

You quickly jumped up and rested against him, arms wrapped around his waist and hands lightly groping his butt.

“I didn’t even wash your hair yet, silly,” you quip, chin nuzzling against his sternum. “Now, go rinse off and sit on the bench so I can reach your hair.”

Forget wanting to cry, Miguel might actually do it.

He was so, so hard.

After the soap was gone he trudged to the bench, glancing over at you washing the conditioner out of your hair.

“I could have washed it out for you,” he protests, half bothered by his situation and half annoyed that he let it blindside him from the main point of this shower.

“It’s ok, baby. You really helped me out a lot today and I’m thankful. I’m also making sure you don’t drop to the floor right now, so hold on for me,” you reply earnestly, chuckling at the look of frustration slapped across Miguel’s face.

You bring over the hydrating scrub, some conditioner, and the shower head, and stand in between his legs, ready to start.

Miguel looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, undeniably in love and unbelievably aroused.

You started to unscrew the scrub, making sure to part his hair down the middle.

“You’re using your products on me?” he asked, confused at your actions.

“Just the shampoo. I don’t think this conditioner will do you any good, but for the most part, the line is pretty inclusive. Ain’t that neat?”

“Mm-hm,” he responded, cheeks squished against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs.

“Look forward, for me, baby,” you say, starting to spread the shampoo on his scalp.

He just hummed and groaned in the safety of your torso, while you scratched at his scalp and pulled the shampoo to his ends. He started to kiss and nibble at any skin he could get his mouth on. His grip was getting tighter and he felt a stutter in your breaths.

“Lean back so I can rinse this out.”

He placed his chin on your stomach again, eyes full of hearts.

“I’m almost finished, I just need to put your conditioner on.”

Miguel hummed once more as you placed the conditioner at his ends first, then scrunched his hair up, careful not to mess with his scalp. Mindful of his wavy, curly hair texture like he was for yours.

His wine eyes kept staring at you, as if you were the 8th wonder of the world. You felt heat in your face, an accumulation of the almost boiling water and Miguel’s full attention.

He was simply grinning, face wet and tinted from the water.

“You’re so cute,” you say, rinsing out the last of the product.

“Only with you,” he replies, still trying to make you look into his eyes. “Can you come closer?”

You set the shower head down and run your hands through his strands, “I feel like I’m already as close as it gets.”

“Not really,” he said, swiftly sitting you on his lap like you weighed nothing. “You could always be closer to me, cariño. I can think of many ways to make that happen.”

You finally allow yourself to indulge in his shenanigans. Leaning your forehead on his, you open your mouth to say, “Is that why you were so adamant about getting in the shower? To get as close to me as possible?”

He looked from your eyes to your mouth, “No?”

You bring your hands from his hair to his neck, “You know you can’t lie. In fact, you’re like, really bad at it.”

“Fine. It was partially because of that. How did you know?”

“Like I said, you can’t lie and neither can your face. You’ve been pouting ever since I let you scratch my head and especially when I wanted to wash my hair in the sink.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Kind of,” you say, a laugh twinkling off your lips. “I can always tell when you want me.”

“Yeah? And what am I telling you right now?” He starts to move your hips, placing his erection right under you, grinding your lips against him.

You close your eyes, a flame beginning to blossom within you, “I guess that you need, fuck, you need me.” Your clit was throbbing against his length as he dragged your body back and forth.

“I do, bebé, I do,” Miguel was moaning loudly, melting at the feeling of your pussy finally warming him up. He moved his lips to yours, desperately trying to have more of you, gripping your hips even harder.

“Baby, s-slow down,” you say in the midst of his kisses, trying to put your feet on the bench next to him to gain some sort of stability. You knew he was pent up, but he was moving so frantically, you were scared he might slip off.

“Te necesito. Please, just-” Miguel cut himself off with a groan in your neck, grinding your slit along himself faster. He started to kiss down your chest, finally getting to your breasts, and gliding his tongue along the wet skin. He took a nipple into his mouth, allowing himself to suck.

The flame from before was starting to grow, “Miggy if you keep going, I’m gonna cum.” He was just starting and you already felt everything coming to an end.

How were you so close, yet he was the one who was riled up?

“Miguel, I’m-” you hold on harder to his neck, eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh huh. C’mon, give it to me,” he encouraged, staring at you, eyes cloudy.

You break above him, a scream crawling from your throat, hips stuttering in his hold, and liquid leaking onto the floor.

“Oh my god,” your mind was hazy, reveling from how quick you came, but mostly at how needy Miguel looked.

“Was it good?” he asked, hugging your body as he switched angles, dragging his body closer to the edge of the bench, letting your feet fall to the floor. His voice was whiny, desperate, wanton. “Was I good for you? Did you feel good?”

You brought your mouth to his temple, movements shaky and heart still thumping, “You were so good for me, baby. So good.”

He sighed, breath leaving his lungs as if what you told him was a matter of life and death.

“Then use me,” he leaned back, hands pressed against the seat. “Use me, however you please.”

You stared at him, a little stunned but fully immersed. When you brought your hand to his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was moving. You brought your mouth to his once more, a thumb on his chin pushing so that lips could part. You kissed him deep, making sure to direct his focus there while you placed your knees on the bench.

Sitting just above him, you guided your sex to his, allowing his tip to barely kiss you. You wanted him, yearned for him inside of you, but not yet.

You slid his tip past your slit, only edging it in partially, then rubbed your pussy up and down the head, allowing yourself to open up.

Miguel moaned into your mouth, hands curling into fists as he felt your walls close around the top of him. He started to move in tiny thrusts matching your rhythm.

“Nuh uh, baby, it’s just me right now, remember?” You break your kiss to reprimand him, bringing your hand from his chin to his stomach, and stopping all movement.

Miguel could only cry out and nod, upset at the loss of your body devouring his own, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going. I’ll be still, cariño, please.”

“Good. There he is, my sweet baby,” you say, voice a prime example at how much Miguel begging for you was affecting you.

You start back, ass moving with a bit more force. You lean to press a long kiss against his neck, losing yourself in the sound of him barely inside of you, his groans a lovely melody filling up the room.

“You feel amazing, Miguel. So big, and you’re only giving me so little,” you pant in his ear, knees starting to hurt from how hard the tiles were.

“It’s all for you. Just for you,” he gasped, twitching when the sounds of your juices got even louder at your constant movement. “Mi amor, please, can I hold you?”

“Always, baby.”

Internally you chuckled, you never told him he couldn’t touch you, you just followed his plea to use him like a toy. He was so pussy drunk, he forgot the parameters he set for himself.

He wrapped his biceps around you, your arms folding behind your back in the process, but that didn’t stop you from riding out the high that was another orgasm.

“That’s right, keep going. Úsame, take what you need,” he requested. He was itching to dive deeper into you, not wanting your pleasure to end.

You threw your head back and whined high with Miguel’s name on your tongue, gushing out your release for a second time.

“Fuck.” Miguel was still holding onto you, legs taut in their position. He swerved your pussy across his length, listening at how wet you were.

You laid your head on the tile above Miguel, relieved with its slight coolness and trying to slow down your rapid heartbeat. Your hips kept bucking as an aftereffect.

You didn’t get that much of a cool down before Miguel was at it again, finally sliding his dick in until he bottomed out.

The two of you let out long moans in unison, a harmony that wasn’t unfamiliar to your apartment.

In this position, your face was back in front if Miguel’s, eyes watery from the sensation of him filling you up.

“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” Miguel cradled you, trying to get as comfortable as he could, despite the impossible position he put himself in.

Lifting his hips off of the bench, he held himself up by his back pressed against the tiles.

Before you could even ask him if you all should move to the floor, he knocked the wind out of you, holding you up as he slammed into you.

“Miguel!” you shout, clamoring for anything to grab onto after the impact had you knocking forward.

“I got you, I promise. Won’t let you fall,” he heaved out, words spilling out as fast as his hips were snapping.

All you could do was mutter out words incoherently, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass reverberating off of the walls. Your eyes finally let go of the tears they were holding, overwhelmed by your state of being.

“What’s that, mi amor?” Miguel cooed at you, licking off one of your tears and kissing your cheek. “Can you feel me? Is it too much?”

“I, ngh, I,” you could barely get your words out, your brain turning into mush after each thrust. Miguel kept going, humming as he spread kisses around your face.

“You gotta answer me, baby. I need to know,” he whispered.

“I’m trying,” you respond, voice cracking from overuse. You were still peeved at his composure. “I thought you said, oh my god, you said you didn’t want to hurt your back.”

Miguel just pursed his lips, eyes clearing up for just a second, “I didn’t. And I’m not going to, super-healing, remember?”

“That’s-” your sentence was cut off by Miguel hiking you up and smacking you back down in time with one of his thrusts.

“Shit! Do that again,” you sob, thoughts coming to a stop.

“Yeah?” Miguel tried his best to keep his eyes on you, but you were squeezing so tight around him that his eyes kept rolling.

“Yes, Miggy. Right there, that spot. It’s so,” you were drooling at this point. “It’s so much.”

Miguel kept it up, glad to be hearing those words, proud of himself for igniting you.

You held your head down, body wound tight, “I think I’m gonna cum. I’m close.”

“Again?” Miguel asked, heart fluttering at you falling apart on his dick.

“Yes, baby. Don’t stop,” you say, voice wavering.

Right as you felt your body beginning to let go, Miguel halted and sat back on the bench.

“No, no, no. Why did you-” You were cut off by Miguel grabbing you and placing you on your shoulders, pussy in his face.

He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in where his cock once was swirling in and out, sucking at your folds. He starts to hum as if you've fed him his last meal, causing your orgasm to come in waves.

“Oh!” you shout, thighs quivering around his head, one hand gathering a fist of hair and the other pawing at the wall. Miguel was lapping everything up, holding you so that you couldn’t even think of falling.

“Ok, ok,” you say, mewling as he kept you in place while your hips shook. “S’too much.” He finally let’s go, placing you back in his lap.

“Did I do good?” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly now that he catered to you. His face was a mess, evidence of you all down his neck.

You kissed his nose, giggling at his need for praise, “Yes, baby. You did amazing. Fantastic. Perfecto.”

He was practically vibrating with joy, kneading at your thighs.

“But Miggy, there’s still a problem,” you say, holding his face with both hands. “You still didn’t cum yet.”

You watched his face flit through several phases: ecstatic, worried, then hungry.

“Can I keep going?” he asks, hands starting to roam again.

You simply nod and try to prepare yourself for him moving you around again.

He sinks back in slowly, careful of your sensitive body. You try your best to move, hips working in circles, hands holding onto his thighs. You couldn't help but to squeeze onto him, despite how tired you were.

“You look so pretty,” Miguel mumbled.

“Bet I would look prettier if you finished. Inside.”

That fired him up even more. He started to help you to bounce up and down his length, teeth gritted. You held your head back, eyes scrunched at the feeling of him inside again.

Then he started to whimper, a telltale sign that he was close.

“Can you say it again, please?” he said, moving to stand with you in his arms.

“Say what?” you ask, exhausted yet in awe that he still had so much energy. “That I want you to cum inside? Fill me up?”

You could feel him twitch inside of you, mind hazy at the thought.

“Shockingly, no. My name. Porfa, mi vida. I need to hear it.” He was still holding you as he pounded away, eyes never leaving yours.

You’ve been saying his name the whole time, so surely that can’t be it. Then, it dawned on you.

“Let go, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, mouth right next to his.

And so he did. He bent over, hands gripping your sides as he snapped his hips frantically, groaning into your mouth as he kissed you hard. You could feel him seeping inside you, hot liquid filling you up.

You clutch at his shoulders, feeling your hold slipping from how wet his skin was from the shower and the heat. You cry out again, body sore from all of fun and sensitive from overstimulation.

Miguel finally let up for what felt like hours, standing up straight and pulling you off his dick. He hissed at the feeling, angling your body parallel to his so that everything could fall to the shower floor.

You lay your head on his shoulder tiredly, grateful that he was still carrying you.

“That’s going to mess up the drain. You should have just let it stay in me until it took,” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his breath hitch at your words. “Or until I got to the toilet or something.”

He brought you both back to the bench, “You're on the pill so stop teasing me about that.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t live out your breed-”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, mi amor,” he says, pecking your lips to stop you from continuing. “Now let's clean you up. Again.”

He reaches for the shower head and checks the temperature. Humming, he aims the spray at your lower area.

You jump and yelp, “That’s so fucking cold!”

“Bébe, it’s literally warm. I just checked!”

No wonder he was about to die in the steam, “You know how hot I like my showers, and that’s ice cold right now.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s not burning, but we have to clean you up,” he said, trying to console you. “I’ll warm you up later.”

You look at him and there’s this playful look on his face. “No,” you say, just the thought of doing this again making you sleepy.

You eye his body up and down. “Maybe later.”

He just chuckled and finished up.

An hour later, the two of you are dry, blow dried, and comfortably laid out across the couch with baking competition shows queued up on the TV.

You look up at Miguel from your position on his chest, cheesing from ear to ear.

He feels you staring at him and looks down, eyes warm. “What?” he asks, watching your face light up.

“Nothing. I just love you,” you say, unable to look away.

He kisses you, heart keeping a steady beat, “I love you too.”

I hope you enjoyed reading! 🩵🩵

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

(And did anyone catch my Beyoncé Cécred refs?? I have no idea how brand names work with fics so I just stuck to nameless descriptions😭)

- Lauro 🧼

#love lab fics 🧫 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel x black reader #sub miguel o'hara #sub miguel #x black reader #x black!reader #afab reader #x black fem reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #seriously though can I say brand names in fics? #i love miguel so much i could do a backflip #my friends are only mildly concered