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He has a breeding kink and he fucks y/n for hours on end

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — addicted + miguel; one shot

cw: nsfw, smut, established relationship, dialogue heavy, unprotected sex, breeding! kink, softdom! miguel, afab! reader

an: i love how as a fanbase we have collectively decided that this man has a massive breeding kink!! thank you for the request <33

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

“quiet, baby,” miguel’s deep voice whispers, looking down at you as he towers over, hips thrusting in and out of you like there’s no tomorrow. “don’t wanna get caught now, do we?” he purrs, gently smoothly down your pretty hair with his large hand, it slowly coming down to tip your face up to look at him.

the callouses tickle your chin, strangely adding to the sensuality, and you can’t help but whine, it’s building like a fury in you, the knot tightening and not coming undone. you try to say his name, too much of a struggle though, even to bubble out his nickname, and when you do try, it just comes out as a random spew of incoherent language only decipherable as moans and whimpers.

“yeah, baby? what is it?” he looks so good like this. lazy smirk emphasising his soft dimples, the shine of his fanged canines and the sultriness of his voice. his pretty chestnut hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead, humidity volumising the locks and heaving them down so that he looked like he just came out the shower, all steamy and smelling so good.

but you know how miguel can get ahead of himself. how you’re ‘too much’ and he just ‘can’t help it’ when he’s balls deep inside you. the way he looks at you when peter babbles stupid babyish words with mayday and times when he randomly says things like ‘solana sounds like a pretty name for a girl, don’t you think?’ so it’s your responsibility, despite the eyes-rolling-into your-skull feeling of his dick inside you, to prevent an…accident.

“miguel. pull out.” you just barely sound out through swallows of saliva from how good he’s bruising your pussy.

he benignly chuckles: “i’m not sure if i want to, baby.” he groans at the tightening of your pussy, cursing in spanish about the feeling.

“you feel way too fucking good, and you’d make such a pretty mama,” he rubs your belly and coos at you with only your helpless hums of the prefix syllable ‘m’: gibberish to anyone— but miguel’s not just anyone. he’s quick-witted and reads you like a book and he knows, in your own fucked-out, drunk-on-sex way, you’re trying to say his name. so he indulges.

“say something, baby,” he kisses you passionately with cognisance— “i know you wanna fucking say something,”

his hips slam into you so harshly, it makes your heart jump up and down in your rib cage: so fierce.

“miguel…”

he bounces you up further into him, hands stretching the plushness of your ass.

you lull your head over his shoulder, it’s too heavy to keep upright, and your lips graze his ear, your sweet moans pumping blood through him faster and thicker than anything ever could.

he softly speaks, eyes darting to his lower left corner, “what is it? what do you need, honey?” unlike his earlier cocky manner, there’s a genuineness weaved in his tone.

your moans only hiccup as a response, the up- down oscillation stirring arousal in your womb, low and deep, clouding your mind.

he comes straight out with it, fervour in his lilt, “you want me to fuck a baby into you? mmm? is that what it is?”

he bucks his hips into you so suddenly and your eyes squint shut and your breaths divide into shorter, more frequent inhale-exhales and so desperately do you voice a meek: “yes.”

so lovingly does he kiss your cheek, the soft pop finalising his thorough ploughs and he comes ropes, gelling up your velvety, plush insides.

he rubs his hand against your belly like before, presses into it and doughs the flesh, prideful with what he’s accomplished.

“you feel that, baby? you can almost see it.” he kisses your neck then your lips, nourishing the tiny little scratches he left nipping your skin earlier.

he thinks a few smooches is enough but once he starts he can’t stop, he can’t fucking stop. your lips against his just remind him of how much he’s in love with you, how he bleeds for you, thinks of you. how it all feels like a dream even while everything around him is tangible. your soft lips, your cinched waist, the slope of your neck, and the absolute heaven of you sucking him in just so good.

“look at what you do to me.” he reminds you through firm kisses.

“i know.” you kiss back, hands toying with his hair.

“i want it again. i wanna come in you again.” he lowly breathes, like confessing a sin: addicted.

you rub your nose against his cheek and your lips find his ear again, whispering in oh-so-sultry ways: “okay.”