#miguel o'hara x afab

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tw: Nsfw, explicit smut, my writing.

This man is sexually insane, seriously, he will fuck you practically every day he can, not many opportunities because of his responsibility as leader of the spider society, but whenever he can he will fuck you without thinking twice.

Miguel is a very needy man even if he hates to show it to you or anyone, he is extremely needy and jealous, seriously, Miguel will fuck you a lot when he's jealous and will be extremely aggressive.

Miguel is also a donor, he loves sucking and praising your pussy with his tongue, if he could he would stay 24h between your legs while sucking and sucking the soft flesh of your pussy, teasing with his lips, tongues and even biting the part inner thighs with his fangs, he loves and will leave you marked, for all to see that you are his and no one else's.

♡He's a fucking walking kink, he likes to try a little bit of everything, some of them being:

Aggressive sex - his favorite when he comes home stressed from his Spider-Man job or when he needs to punish you for pissing him off, teasing or making him jealous, even if it's not your fault, your poor holes won't escape his rage.

Passionate, slow sex - when he feels needy and just wants to slide his thick, needy shaft inside you and move his hips slowly while whispering sweet nothings in Spanish, his native language, while pounding into you at a slow, steady pace. Provocative, Miguel is a very difficult man to talk his feelings about, but fucking him slowly and passionately makes the spider leader loosen up with you.

Recorded sex - Miguel loves to record you having sex, he always has all the recordings he can make of your lusty reactions while you two make love, he feels a strange warmth and relaxation watching your beautiful reactions on video, while working in the spider society, even using their sweet moans to soothe herself as their worked.

"-Look at the camera mi carinõ, I need to get your best angle, smile for the camera while I fuck you" - Miguel spoke authoritatively while positioning the cell phone camera in your pussy, moving the cock in and out, while getting his best angle .

Daddykink - Believe me, Miguel loves being called "Daddy" it's a title of power for him, it's a title that reminds him that he commands you and you are his little submissive in bed and in your couple life, he loves to make you moan in bed and scream calling him "Daddy", "Papi" and "Papito".

Unprotected sex - Spiderman 2099 is a sex freak without a condom, Miguel has enough money and opportunities to buy a suitcase full of condoms for you to use but, he doesn't want to, he'll fuck you skin to skin, for you to feel every thick vein pulsing on the sides of his cock as he thrust the head of his cock into your womb easily, rhythmic strokes and leaving a wet trail between both groins.

He's a great partner, loving when he gets to be, but he has a problem, O'Hara is a jealous and possessive madman.

If he sees you flirting with someone else, whether male or female, especially if it's another Spider-Man, you will suffer the consequences, they will be the lightest: he has a little fight with you in his office, saying he doesn't like it of your closeness with another Spider-Man, or ignoring you for the rest of the day and pretending you two aren't a couple or worst/best of all, fucking you with all the rage and strength he has at the moment, degrading you like a slut .

"-You're just a hole for Daddy to use." Miguel growled, his voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and anger. "This is your purpose - to please and obey me. Remember that, (Y/N), while Daddy fucks your mouth without mercy."

"-You can feel my cock slipping out of your mouth, but this is far from over"

"-I will not release you (Y/N), not until you submit fully to me, until you understand the consequences of testing my patience."

"-That's it, you slut," Miguel growled, his voice thick with the Mexican accent present, as he pulled your hair back and thrust harder and harder without mercy into your pussy.

"-Take every inch of my dick. Show me you're mine, completely and utterly mine, you're just a dick-hungry little whore, aren't you?" -Miguel spoke in a hoarse tone, letting out loud moans that echoed through the walls of the room, while he threw you on the bed and thrust his length into your pussy again with a painful and pleasurable thrust.

"-That's what you were made for, to adore my cock, to satisfy my every desire, you're a whore to Daddy, aren't you?" -Miguel chuckled sadistically as he lifted one of your thighs, rubbing the throbbing cock on your aching clit, thrusting the tip of the cock in and out again to tease you, then ramming it all into your overstimulated hole; "-Take it all, choke your tight pussy on my cock, show me how much you need me, how much you want my dominance (Y/N)."

"-Tu condemned coño es mío."- Miguel continued to speak as he pounded his cock into her soft and tight folds, while you could feel Miguel's balls hitting your clitoris painfully.

"-Go and follow it and make sure you never forget who you belong to."

"-Daddy's going to make you come so hard, my sweet (Y/N)."

"-You're mine to pleasure and possess me in to the pleasure, my little slut, cum on my dick, cum on your Papi's dick."

©𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

[roguelov]

Birthmark

Summary: Miguel discovered something he never noticed before on you: a birthmark, one specifically on your lower back side. At a single glance, a primal feeling started to burn inside of him. And there was only one way to satiate him.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex, doggy style, fingering, pull out/cumming on backside, voyeurism, manhandling, possessiveness, minor blood), some fluff, established relationship

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY

The world drifted away, lost and nearly forgotten, as music poured out of your headphones. The soft luminance of the sun peered through the windows, wishing to greet everyone, to kiss their cheeks with its warm light on this early weekend morning. The simple apartment space was filled with an assortment of things - both the necessary to the unnecessary but well loved trinkets - to call it a shared home.

You weaved around the living room, delicately walking to not to disturb your sleeping partner in the bedroom a short distance away. It was one of those days, a day of waking up and wanting to clean the place. It wasn’t exactly dirty per se, but it was dusty and needed a little more care.

Off in the bedroom, behind the cracked door with the blinds still shut, a body laid sprawled out on the bed - the body of an overworked Miguel. The steady rise and fall of his chest stuttered. The even rhythm broke as consciousness slowly took hold. It wasn’t any noise that disturbed him. No. It was the lack of presence. It was the lack of your warmth, the lack of your arms wrapped around his waist, the lack of your soft breathing against his skin.

He craved it - needed it to always have a well rested night of sleep.

A low exhausted groan tumbled off his lips as he rolled over. He pushed himself up, and hunched forward on the edge of the bed. He sighed loudly. He rubbed the back of his neck at a small stiff ache. The world and all of its sensations slowly poured over him. The first to return was sound. His ears perked up. Out in the living room, you sang quietly under your breath.

A smile cracked onto his tired face.

Standing up, and stretching a bit, he shuffled out of the bedroom. He opened the door, and the world greeted him. Basking in the sunlight, you glowed this morning. He leaned into the doorway, watching you with a loving, tender gaze.

The living room was cluttered with cleaning supplies: a vacuum with its long cords snaking around, a duster tossed onto the table along with a rag and cleaning spray, and lastly an unlit candle for later to fill the air with such sweet aromas. Unaware of Miguel’s presence, you continued to sing softly and only a few words at a time. You moved around with a certain grace, you were guided by the music and bounced to the beat as you cleaned.

Miguel’s smile grew.

How did you become a part of his life? He almost didn’t deserve you, or so he believed. You were a beacon of light and life.

Of love.

He chuckled once, unable to contain his joy.

Still lost in your task, you bent forward, picking up a blanket randomly tossed onto the floor from the night before.

Instantly, Miguel’s laughter seized. Confusion, and something else, settled into his chest.

What -

You, however, stood upright again. His eyes narrowed trying to comprehend what he saw. He definitely saw something, he knew he did. But, what exactly was it? Well, technically he saw two things; two things which made his chest clench and his heart skip just a tad faster. Firstly, you weren’t wearing any underwear underneath your plain cotton shorts. But, there was something else. Something he never noticed before.

And he was intrigued and determined to know.

Walking up behind you, he placed a hand on your hip. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Dropping the blanket, you spun around only for your minor panic to dissipate. You laughed and smiled at him. Your headphone slid off your head and dangled around your neck.

“Well, good morning to you too,” you cheekily said.

“What was that?”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “What was what?”

Miguel’s lips thinned. He turned his head, almost grumbling. His skin started to flush, and he strangely felt embarrassed. A little odd given the few months you had now been living together. “I … I saw something … like - like …”

You raised an eyebrow. Twisting your around, you searched over your body and clothes. “What? Is there a stain somewhere? A hole? A tear?”

“No,” he groaned, rolling his eyes more so at himself. Why couldn’t he say it? “Something here.”

He tentatively reached over. With a single finger, he very gently grazed over one of your bottom cheeks. Your eyes instantly dropped down to his finger. You blinked, still baffled by his odd behavior. You didn’t see a stain, it was just your shorts. Then it clicked. Realization flooded over your features, smoothing out the confused crease between your brows.

You cocked your head, trying to bite back your growing amusement, “Are you talking about my birthmark?”

“Birthmark?” He repeated, confused.

“Yeah, my birthmark.” You chuckled. “I thought you had seen it before, or I at least told you about it.”

Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t recall, but this certainly all felt like news to him.

“I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

“Well, yeah it’s always been there.” You picked up the blanket again. You kept your back to him as you refolded it. “I swore I told you before, it’s why I can’t wear certain things out. If I wear cotton shorts and they ride up, you’ll probably see it. The same goes for certain swimsuit bottoms. And if I wear white bottoms then there is a chance you’ll see it through depending on the fabric.”

As you started to move around again, placing the blanket into a basket beside the couch, Miguel’s eyes dropped. It was as if he was trying to burn a hole through your shorts to see it again - to see it properly.

Something was stirring inside of him, something he didn’t quite fully understand yet. He stepped forward. He wanted to see it, he needed to see it. His hands grabbed your hips, stopping you in place.

You jokingly rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. He was certainly handsy this morning.

Was it handsy, or needy? Needy, yes. But, it wasn’t in the sweet innocent way you initially assumed. He wasn’t needy in the way he always wanted to close by, or comforted by having you in his grasp.

Oh no, you greatly miscalculated.

You snorted, “Can I help you -“

A gasp left your lips. Miguel had forcibly grabbed the bottom fabric of your shorts and yanked it up. His eyes immediately locked onto the birthmark - the very obvious birthmark that was nearly centered on your one cheek.

There it was. Plain as day.

You twisted your upper body, and quickly latched a hand around his wrist. Now, it was your turn to get flustered and embarrassed. “Okay, okay, you saw it, can you let go now?”

His eyes flickered up.

Oh. Oh no.

Your breath hitched, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

His usual crimson eyes - the color of crisp ripe apples in the height of a chilly autumn, or the color of a bright lush rose given in secret to a lover - was gone. His pupils were blown wide, the darkness overtaking the lovely shade of red. They were black like the shirt of a priest who you should be praying with; they were black like the night where no one can see what sins were unfolding.

His thumb pressed firmly into your ass, into your birthmark.

“Miguel,” you whispered softly as your heart ticked faster and faster.

He dropped his head, nuzzling his face into your neck. His lips slowly brushed over your neck. You shivered. Ever so slowly, your initial surprise melted away. You lolled your head to the side, granting him more access. He always had this effect on you. One look, one touch, and soon you were putty in his hands.

Oh, he was losing himself. He didn’t know why, but this discovery riled him up. Maybe because this was like a secret, a secret only he was privy to.

His lovely little secret.

He groaned softly. His heart beat faster as he fell into this near animalistic passion - a primal frenzy. His talons slowly came out. He couldn’t - and wouldn’t - hold himself back any longer. One of his talons scraped over the birthmark.

You gasped at the minor spark of pain.

He smirked, and began to teasingly kiss your neck. A pepper of butterfly kisses that quickly shifted to heated opened mouth attacks as he bit and sucked on your now sensitive skin. He cupped your ass, giving it a rough, hard squeeze.

“Mine,” he murmured lowly into your neck.

One word.

One simple word.

And hell - all those forbidden yet heavenly sins locked away - was unleashed.

It happened all so quickly. He yanked you towards his chest. Lips collided. Tongues swirled together, drawing out beautiful sounds from each of you. Hands roamed over every curve and muscle. You were desperate for each other. You both always stoked such burning desires, such all consuming fires.

The next thing you knew, your shorts were pulled down and kicked aside along with Miguel’s sweatpants. You were immediately bent over the couch as Miguel finally slipped his cock inside your dripping folds.

You tried to hold back the obnoxiously loud cry of pleasure. Your forehead buried into your folded arms, which was supported by the backside of the couch. Your nails dug crescent shapes along your biceps.

Miguel sighed, tipping his head forward. He was panting heavily, unable to control him. God, you always drove him into such a state. He couldn’t think, he could only drown himself in the overwhelming and wondrous sensation of you. His hands happily - and downright couldn’t resist - kneaded and played with your ass. He squeezed harshly, and watched as your pliable fat pooled between his needy fingers.

Good lord.

He soon swore a string of curses under his breath in Spanish. He wanted to roll his eyes back. He wanted to completely lose himself. But, he also wanted to watch. So, he did. He watched hungrily as he pounded into you. Most importantly, he watched his thumb continue to dig fiercely into your birthmark.

A moan hummed in the back of your throat.

His eyes sparkled with such sinful delight. It was like a secret button. His secret button. His talon teasingly traced the shape of it. Then his thumb pushed further into your birthmark, enjoying the sounds you were making. He shuddered. Fueled by your responsiveness, he felt his fangs elongate as he moaned. Oh, he wanted to bite it, he wanted to mark it. Dare he say, he wanted to carve his initial into it.

His.

All his.

He gripped your hips harshly, digging his talons into your skin. Small pricks of blood swelled up under his deathly grip. Bruises and sores would most definitely appear later. He picked up his pace. It was sloppy and ruthless. The sounds were so loud, and so delightful: his hips slapping into your ass, his thick cock pummeling into you, his low groans mixing with your more high pitched ones.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, letting out a muffled whine. You buried your face into your arms, trying to silence how loud you were becoming. Desperate and needy, you soon grinded back into him, meeting his pace.

Miguel hissed, “Ah, cariño, nuevamente. Again, do that again.”

You obeyed without hesitation. You pushed back into him, moaning as his cock stretched you further. Your walls greedily clamped around him, sending him into a frenzy.

He moaned, and nearly slumped forward. He paced one hand on the backside of the couch, keeping himself upright. While, his other hand wrapped firmly around your hips. His hot breath fanned over your sweaty neck. Growling, he was furiously humping into you.

Your eyes rolled back. Fuck. You loved when he was like this, when he used you. You loved when he let himself go. And the best and worst thing was you wouldn’t last much longer. He was deliciously relentless.

You moaned, “Miguel -“

“I know,” he gritted his teeth. His voice rumbled near your ear. You shivered. Your walls fluttered around him. You were quickly nearing your end. And he knew it. “Let go, please. Oh, please, let me feel it.”

He uprighted himself, and gripped your hips again. You tried to match his pace, you tried to keep up, but you couldn’t. He mercilessly pounded into you. He moved your hips for you, he knew what you wanted and needed.

And that was it.

In a few more thrust, you cried out, gushing around him. Miguel swiftly pulled out. You whined. Yet, two of his fingers quickly plunged back inside. Your disappointment melted away as you moaned out again. Your mind went fuzzy in absolute pleasure. He kept pumping into you, overworking you. You squirmed as your legs began to shake.

“Miguel,” you mumbled, almost like a sob.

“Shhh, I know, I got you.”

With his other hand, he started to pump himself. Feeling you around his fingers, hearing your whines and delightful wet noises of his fingers slipping in and out of you, seeing your body shake with overstimulation, he spilled all over your backside.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you weakly hissed out.

He laughed once, a short breathy laugh. He pulled out his fingers. He paused for a moment, admiring your juices covering his fingers: the way it dripped down, the way it glistened in the light, and oh the way could feel his mouth water at the thought of tasting it.

And he had a little idea. An idea which had been stirring since the beginning.

He wiped his fingers clean over your ass, directly over your birthmark.

You groaned softly, still slumped forward over the couch. You focused more on trying to catch your fleeting breath. Your body still buzzed from the wondrous aftermath. Sighing deeply, you closed your eyes, thinking it was finally over.

Until something swiped across your ass. Specifically, Miguel’s tongue. Miguel licked up once, and cleaned up yours and his cum over your birthmark. He moaned at the taste. And, for an extra measure he teasingly, and gentle as he fangs would let him, nipped the birthmark.

Your body jolted at the sensation. A loud, almost pornographic, moan fell over your lips. “Jesus Christ,” you hissed.

He chuckled.

Miguel carefully stood you up, and turned you around. With still shaky legs, you completely fell into his chest exhausted. He wrapped an arm around your waist to support you. His smile softened, seeing the state he had brought you to. With his free hand, he gently cupped your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You hummed softly, and gave him a tired lopsided smile.

“Let’s clean you up,” Miguel whispered. His finger traced down your cheek, and along your jaw. He tipped your chin up. His lips brushed over yours again. His sweetness then vanished. A devious smirk crossed on his lips. His hand fell from your waist, and squeezed your ass again. “I’m still not done with you yet.”

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Wash Day 🫧🚿

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!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😭)

- Blue 🧼

[l1tw1ck]

The Fall of Spider-Man

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc!villain reader

🕷️ Word Count: 1,897 🕷️

AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Lingerie, Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Crying, Corruption, Creampie, Nipple Play, Pregnancy Mention, Stockholm Syndrome (Kinda?)

Miguel’s eyes shoot open. He immediately analyzes his surroundings. He’s tied up and on the floor. He can't see anything but he can tell he’s wearing lingerie. He feels sick. His first instinct is to try and get out of his restraints but no matter how hard he tries, nothing happens. He’s powerless. How? Why? When? Where the hell is he? He looks around the dark room, stopping to look at a door. There's light coming from behind it and he can hear movements. Footsteps. Getting closer and closer.

“You’re awake! Good morning, Miguel.” You smile, turning the lights on before walking towards him. “How are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” He asks.

You give him your name. “The person who's going to defeat Spider-Man once and for all.” You grin. “Although my methods are a bit unconventional.” You chuckle.

Miguel keeps his mouth shut, waiting to hear what you have to say next. Your confidence scares him. It's not like he's never met a confident villain before, it's honestly less likely to meet an insecure one, but your confidence is scary. You know something he doesn't. He knows you're dangerous. He always chooses to fight but everything inside him is screaming to run away. It's not like he has the choice now though.

“Pretty soon, you’ll be my beautiful husband and the father of our children.” You kiss his forehead. His heart drops. “But first, I’m gonna have some fun with you.” You kneel down and caress his cheek. He grimaces in disgust. “Let me give you the play by play.” You push his lacy red panties aside. “First, I’m gonna play with this pretty pussy of yours and give it a lot of love.” You rub his clit. “Then, once I’m done, I’m gonna slide my cock inside of you. I’ll make sure to go real slow, make you feel every inch of my cock.” You bring your fingers down to his entrance and push two of them in.

“Yo- you're sick.” He spits on you.

You wipe your cheek. “I didn't give you permission to speak, or spit.” You slap his cunt, earning a moan from him. “Watch yourself, Miguel.”

He looks at you angrily but doesn't say anything, too ashamed of the sound he just made and too afraid of the consequences to do so. You push your fingers in and out of his cunt, giving Miguel unwelcomed pleasure. “You like that?” You smirk, moving faster. He bites his lip to silence his moans. “I know you do. Even if you try to deny it, your body doesn't lie.”

He hates this so much.

“And then, I’ll pick up the pace. I’ll fuck you rough and hard. So rough that you won't be able to think. So hard that you’ll cry.” You push your fingers all the way in and thumb his clit, moving your fingers inside of him absentmindedly. He tries to fight against the pleasure but it's no use. He’s going to come.

“I’d love to see you cry.” You grin. He’s not going to cry. He might do a plethora of shameful things tonight but one thing he isn't going to do is cry. He refuses to. “I know you think it's impossible but it's not. And I can't wait to see you break.” You punctuate your last word with a hit to his g-spot. Miguel gasps, hips raising in the air as he squirts. Miguel looks down at himself in shame, cheeks burning hotter than a flame. He’s never done that before. He hates that you're the reason it happened. “Oh Miguel…” You let out a sharp breath.

You move in between his legs and dig into his wet cunt, slurping up his slick before tonguing his sensitive hole. Miguel squirms around in protest. Why does this feel so good? He wants to curse you out but he's worried about what you’ll do if he acts out. He feels terrible and so fucking good at the same time. He wants to kill you but he also doesn't want you to stop. He rolls his eyes back and squirts again, feeling extremely exhausted.

You pull away and stand up, stripping down to nothing. Miguel looks at your cock in horror. That's not going to fit! He desperately tries to get away but he can't do much in the position he's in.

“You’re really boosting my ego, Miguel.” You chuckle, kneeling back down and grabbing his waist. You pull him close to you so his thighs are on yours and your shaft is right against his cunt. “I’m going to enjoy this.” You look at him like the 5 star meal he is. You move him so that his pussy is sliding up and down your length, bringing the both of you pleasure.

He bares his fangs, showing you how angry he is without speaking. “Aw, you don't like this?” You frown, faking sympathy. “Or is it that you want something else?” You grin. “You want me to fuck you, is that it? You want me to finally fuck you?”

Miguel shakes his head rapidly. You move him backwards, just enough for you to be able to make an easier entrance. You point your tip against his clit, smearing pre cum over it and sliding down in between his folds. You tease him with your entrance, you're gently thrusting into him but only the tip is entering him. He can't stand the feeling. You eventually stop and slowly push your cock inside of him. You weren't exaggerating when you said he’d feel every inch of you. You’re practically tearing him apart with the way you’re stretching him out. You bite your lip, thoroughly enjoying his pussy. “I think I’m in heaven.”

If you’re in heaven, then Miguel’s in hell. You slowly slide in and out of him, reveling in his wet warmth. “That's right baby, sit back and take it like the pretty little slut you are.” You place your hand over the bulge of your cock on his stomach, enjoying the way it feels as you move and how sexy he looks with his tummy bulging. “You’re doing so good for me, you know that? Doing so well…”

He doesn't want to be good for you. He doesn't want you to enjoy this. If he wasn't afraid of the consequences he’d curse you out. You rub his clit gently, causing his breathing to turn shallow. “I wanna feel you come..” You mutter. “Come for me, baby.”

He grits his teeth, trying to stop himself from giving you what you want but it's too difficult. He can't hold back. It all feels too good, his pussy feels way too good, he can't do anything to prevent this. He shuts his eyes and comes, walls fluttering around your length. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel. You may be prickly but at least you know how to follow orders.” You caress his cheek. He turns away from your touch. “Even after all that…you're still trying to keep up this facade?” You pull away and turn him onto his stomach. “You won't be able to pretend any longer, Miguel.” You raise his ass in the air and plunge your length fully into him. He gasps. Miguel doesn't even get a minute to adjust to the new position thanks to you suddenly pounding into him. He rolls his eyes back, letting out uncontrollable moans as you fuck the shame out of him. He can barely think over the explicit sounds of your hips snapping against his ass and the loud wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of his sensitive pussy. You're going too fast for him to even try and act like he doesn't like it. He’s always had a thing for being treated roughly and you're fulfilling his need for it. You pull on his hair, causing him to let out an almost scream-like moan as he squirts.

“Fu- fuck-” He feels tears welling up in his eyes as you continue fucking him through his orgasm.

“‘M gonna give you the child you always wanted, Miguel.” You fuck him even rougher than before, chasing your orgasm. Tears flow rapidly from Miguel’s eyes, as if there was a blockage that contained all his tears and prevented him from crying all these years. He sobs, crying loudly as you overwhelm him with pleasure. It feels good but it's too much, he can't handle it. He loves it but he needs it to stop. “Ah, I love hearing you cry..” You slow down your thrusts and dump your load inside of him. Miguel uses this break to finally catch his breath and calm down.

“Aw, was it too much for you, baby?” You coo, rubbing your hand down his back.

Miguel nods. “Ple- please..” He whimpers.

You pull out and turn him around. You pick him up and sink him down on your cock. You place your hands on his waist and kiss his cheek. “You’re so pretty when you cry, you know that?” You caress his face gently. He sniffles, not sure how to feel about that. You press your lips against his, kissing him slowly and sensually. Miguel reciprocates the kiss, following your tongue movements and subconsciously grinding down on your cock. He feels a little less stimulated than before. He feels like he's about to have an orgasm that’ll never come and somehow it feels good. He doesn't know how he feels about you now but you make him feel good, and thanks to the current state of mind he's in now, that's all that matters.

You pull away from the kiss and pepper kisses down his throat and to his chest. You undo the clip in the middle of his bra, causing the two cups to separate and reveal his breasts. You latch onto his nipple, sucking it gently while your hand goes to pull and twist on the other one. Miguel whimpers in pleasure. His nipples are so sensitive, he’ll definitely come from this. “mmh..” Miguel grinds down harder as he orgasms, his pussy clenching and unclenching around your length. You pull away from his nipple, your saliva dripping down the brown bud.

He still despises you but he knows he'll be stuck with you from now on. He’ll eventually learn to love you.

Miguel turns on the radio as he starts cooking breakfast. The reporter talks about all the crime going on in the city and he doesn't seem to care, even though he’s back to normal and completely autonomous, he has no intention of going out to fight. He wants to stay home with you. The Spider Society’s been trying to contact him but he's ignored all their calls. He only leaves the house for dates and groceries, why would he go anywhere without you? He loves you so much, he wants to stay by your side as much as he can. Nobody seems to understand it but he doesn't care to explain it to them. Peter B. and Jessica have been trying to convince Miguel to come back and many spider people have tried to kill you but to no avail. He doesn't want to come back, especially not when they're trying to kill his beloved. He’s perfectly content with where he is now and he can't wait to have his first child with you.

[blughxreader]

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

[tarjapearce]

Heathens (Pt. 1)

Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun!Reader

art by @maxro_art on IG (Her Deliverance AU is ❤️❤️🤌��)

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If you're sensitive regarding religion, please don't read this. Masturbation in holy places, explicit language, wet dreams, Female anatomy, oral ( F receiving) Gentle Dom Miguel, Corruption kink, overused tropes cause yeah, a tinge of yandere undertones if you squint, mutual lust, Not Proofread ~

Summary: Father O'Hara had a little lamb ~

A/N: Another for the Miguelverse ~ Reblogs and comments are much appreciated c:

Main Masterlist

From all the places you could've find solace from war, The house of God was the least of lieus in your list. Not that you had a choice.

Family long gone after unsuspected explosions decimated your town, followed by constant tragedies such as losing friends along the way either by enemy and merciless hands or sickness. In the end, it was only you. You had outlived them all despite your short age. And now, they lived crammed up in your memories.

Happy, smiling and very much alive. Sometimes you'd see familiar faces on stranger's bodies. Grief had slowly nested within your soul and when all hope seemed lost, the chapel had saved you from what surely would end up in your premature death.

The blackest of black matched the crispest white you had ever seen, they were all donned in their beatific robes, prayer beads dangling at every gentle step they did. And there it was, epiphany unfolding itself before your experienced in horror eyes. It was your call.

All the answers to your laments and aching heart were sent as them. Nuns of the Mistbourne Parish. A church located in the outskirts of a now rundown by conflict Nueva York. The church that now played a major role in taking in as much people within their sacred walls, before they could be dispatched to a more adequate place.

Without hesitation, you had joined. And now, six years later you still remained with them. Early twenties had settled right for you as a nun. Ever devoted, compassionate, and diligent.

As time went on, the main city was reconstructed, burying it's dark tragedy under freshly built towers, hiding the pain under the rugged carpet full of concrete and wire homes, like nothing ever happened. Like if war had never stepped upon it and gave it a much needed renewal at people's lives expenses.

But no matter how many changes time brought, life in Mistbourne's Parish remained the same. Untouched by the technological advances from the outer world. There was always something to do, as simple as it was. And so far, you've been satisfied with it.

The only alterations worth of mention was your holy family expanding.

A new couple additions to the staff. More sisters, an eighty percent of them were beyond fifty. You were the youngest, their child. After all some ended up raising you within the house.

And him. The new priest.

The tallest and bulkiest man you've ever seen. As much as staring was considered rude and borderline a sin, it was unavoidable to do so, when his rusty brown eyes fell upon you. Their color unique, like he was. Never in your life had you seen someone like him, or another man besides the butcher and the guard. He had definitely been a regular man before coming here.

The soft weary expression lines in his sharp countenance revealed his own fair of lived experiences.

He towered over you, crisp white dot on his black rimmed neck line, parading his status with modest pride, and golden praying beads dangling on his narrow hips, you held yours while asking forgiveness for keep staring.

"Father."

Father O'Hara. In his mid thirties, broken family also torn by war, wearing his vows in the shape of a ring on his right hand.

"Sister"

His voice deep yet gentle, like a lullaby. His steps took him away to his own residence. The rectory outside the church.

It made sense as to how some workers were renovating it in the past few weeks. The parish last priest had been sent off in sacred duties, only to realize later that he had killed a man. Cops and detectives surely made a show out of it.

Dark times, according to Sister Lianne, one of your mother figures. But now, Father O'Hara had taken his place, erasing all traces of the previous man with concise and pithy actions.

He took his role seriously. Said masses on sundays, visited the sick, baptized people; but his most popular feat was to hear the confessions. The most intimate secrets revealed to him by either your fellow sisters or people from the town that came to expiate their sins in hope to be forgiven.

You'd sometimes run into each other, bumping casually in the narrow wooden floored halls, you'd often apologize, only to reciprocate a polite smile on both ends. He'd sometimes help you out by carrying things a bit too heavy, or you'd help him out lighting up the altar for his speech.

Yet, his hands in one occasion took an accidental taste of your body dimensions underneath your beatific robes, while preventing you from falling down the stairs. He'd scold you for being careless and carrying things that obscured your sight.

After many sorries on your behalf, you returned to the cells and went straight to your own dorm, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

His hands felt burning upon remembering the dents of your form, the curve of your waist and certainly the warmth that irradiated from you, so so close from his.

Unexpectedly it had brought memories from his past. His old life where he'd have his lovely and temporary companion for the night impaled deliciously with himself before war and hell broke loose. Before he was forced by the subversives that raided his town to create a new fake identity in the spot as they heard him speak spanish or fight a war he hadn't started, much less would end. And so, his life as Father O'Hara begun.

Odd enough, the sudden and thoughtless choice had granted him peace after witnessing so many terrors his fellow human could be capable of. His need of help has always been stronger than anything and when he finished licencing some sacrifices were required.

Poverty vows weren't an issue since his previous life had been modest yet good enough to go by. Little difference between his current lifestyle.

The obedience vow took him a little longer to fully yield. But he accomplished it to a T, just to avoid more trouble. He faked it until he made it.

His chastity vow had been a quite the challenge to perfect, but no matter how much the temptations paraded before him in the many parishes he was assigned to, he didn't give in. His libido had been sapped out of his body, like a campfire after completing it's useful cycle.

Not because of his brand new sanctity invested by holier-than-thou elders, but rather a broken mind full of grievance and other negatives that always haunted him. The gunshots and bombings too fresh in his mind.

It had been years since he touched someone in a way that wasn't holy. Since he had provoked things in someone else that clearly would make him go under the laicization from the clergy without second guessings.

Until he held you the other day.

Both of your eyes too enraptured in eachother that had sent an igniting spark to his spine. Reviving all those inactive nerves he thought his existencial toll severed long ago. His eyes had gave a brief rake over your face.

Wide and round eyes staring back, both in awe and surprise straight into his soul. Nose flaring softly just like your mouth, whose bottom lip trembled at the little erratic breaths your lungs exhaled upon being in physical contact with a man for the first time in ever, while cheeks bloomed with a not so discreet flush. And your body heat.

Jesus all mighty.

It was dangerously tempting. For a brief moment his past self had taken over, but quickly vanished upon hearing steps. Earning you to fix your crucifix and cowl nervously and him to fist his hands to refrain himself to take another taste and fix his collar and cassock.

To his conclusion, the robes you wore did not match what was underneath. He noted much, but having you wear that loose habit only fuelled his now active and sinful imagination. An opposite from your habits' purpose.

Priest life was hard, and the Celibacy vows were his biggest damnation. Mind often plagued with 'I shouldn't have done this.' 'This is ridiculous' 'Fucking idiot' 'Why did I even lie about this?' But even so, priesthood was better than ending up dead or mutilated by mines somewhere in the battlefield, in the middle of a war he didn't started, much less would end.

Government later was forcibly recruiting all those men, be them widowed or married. It didn't matter. War wasn't for him. Neither Priesthood.

But he'd bear it. He'd bear it until he was put in another parish church full of older and witty ladies he'd definitely wouldn't lust after.

----

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

The sweet voice behind the confessional punctured walls, perked up his ears. He had memorized a lot of things, your voice included.

"I... I haven't confessed in weeks. But it grows me concerned that... my mind is somewhere else."

Silence. You were met with silence as expected, it also encouraged you to keep talking.

"A man has flooded my thoughts and no matter how much I try to occupy myself, he's there. Leading me to temptation and sin."

A man?

His brow quirked as he slanted over the little wooden division between you, to hear better and take a peek on your face. The only men he could think of was the guard, the butcher and himself. The only men inhabiting the same area as you.

"How does this man tempts you?"

"He... He visits. In my dreams I mean and..."

A low 'forgive me, God' echoed in your stall. His throat dried and his hands rested on each side of his knees, gripping at the fabric of his pants.

"He does things I know I shouldn't partake in... But, it feels too real."

"You sound scared. Does it frightens you?"

"Very much so. But it is a strange sort of fear, Father."

"What kind of fear then?"

It took you a long pause to muster

"A fear of him stopping his visits in my mind."

He gulped.

Your hands took the crucifix and held it tighter, "For him to stop doing such sinful things to me, even in my dreams."

"Have you sinned in the carnal affairs?"

"N-No. I would never. I've never engaged in them, Father."

His groin twitched, as a hand raked over his scalp. A shaky breath that was forced to come out in silence. Only when he thought you couldn't be more innocent, there you were proving him wrong.

"Ever?"

"I promise to you with my life, I've never."

"I must know" He wetted his lips with his tongue, "What kind of things does this man does to you?"

"W-What?"

Your spine straightened up instantly, eyes wild, staring another hole into the already punctured division. Cinnamon color in his skin, the only brief glimpse you managed to see. But even so, his gentle yet cornering voice brought you down from your initial jump.

"I need to know, so I can dictate a penance."

The flush on your cheeks returned, burning bright upon remembering the all too lucid dream you've been having about your secret man. That, even though visited frequently, you still didn't know his face, just his body as it smothered yours wholy in a constant merciless and scorching rut.

All what you remembered was him feasting between your legs like a starved man. His hands maneuvering your soft mounds to then give a gentle squeeze.

"His hands are the ones that bring the sin, Father."

"Explain yourself"

His voice was sultry, buttery rich and smooth on the other side of the stall. A subtle order. To your dismay, that same demon had a similar voice tone. Alluring, speaking to you in a foreign language it had you mewling and asking for forgiveness every time you remembered, cause you had begged the faceless man for more.

"He touches and... t-tastes places I shouldn't allow no man to delve in." With a thick gulp you continued, "His tongue is... marvelous."

His eyes widened for a second as his hand hovered over his crotch

"Marvelous?"

"I feel the biggest sinner by admitting this. Please, do forgive me."

"Accountability is part of the process."

He tried to sound as professional as he could, but little did you know his mind was torturing his already crumbling resolve with such vivid details. Celibacy wasn't a problem, until now. Hearing such sinful words coming from such a unsuspecting thing like yourself, a virgin that is, made his old self to re-emerge.

Disguising himself as a sheep, while he fought through his holy learning years to tame his wolfish appetite.

There were plenty of ewes in the flock , but so far the only one that made his mouth water was you. A perfect little lamb. And now, this. We're you set to making him break his vows?

No. You weren't. He was reaching his limits to break celibacy and you were just having wet dreams about someone that definitely made him wonder about your past life. A past lover? No. Not even that. A possession? A demon? No. Definitely not.

He had heard things whenever on lunch duty. Mindless talk that revealed more to him from others and you than they intended to. You, a nun. Picked up from a ravaged village nearby and raised within  the nuns, meaning, you had zero idea of what pleasure meant.

He believed, but wasn't a complete blinded idiot to faith. Your body was asking for physical and forbidden relief. Just like his.

But again, the golden band around his right hand not only forbid but also was the perpetual reminder of what was a stake.

"I know, Father. But... this man has such power over me that has pushed me to sin. He... he has pushed me to take such vulgar matters in my own hands."

Maker's mercy

His cock twitched harder and he was unable hold back and gave a firm  squeeze while biting his lip to quiet himself at the long forgotten and heady pleasure that was drowning his body in an alarming rate.

As if done of being fed lies and a quick and sloppy handjob for ages. It was disgusting how easy was to sin, how well his body ached and reacted to such stimulus. How effortlessly his old habits had caught up to him.

He was the one that needed a penance now, cause he couldn't shake the image of you spread with your legs wide open, naked, sliding your fingers in between your weeping folds. You'd certainly have your mouth shut or lips bitten to avoid having anyone hear you.

He had closed his eyes while his jaw clenched, occasionally sweeping his tongue over his lips to keep them moist.

"Say it. Say your sin."

He commanded in a voice that had your cheeks flustered and your pearly nub a throb. His hand half squeezed half stroked over his clothed groin. Swollen and needy cock begging to be set free and properly taken care of.

"I..." A dry gulp and your hands went to your crotch, begging your nature to behave. Cheeks impossibly red.

"I've enjoyed touching myself after dreaming a man... f-fucks me, Father."

The word 'fuck' coming out your delicious looking yet pure lips, had his teeth gnawing at the insides of his cheek, self control harder to keep under the leash. It barked, howled even demanded for more explicit details.

Instead, he sighed quietly and cleared his throat. The sudden noise had you gripping the skirt of your habit in shame.

Miguel didn't say much besides the prayer of absolution and a couple of more prayers as your penance. The same right hand that was squeezing his cock was now being kissed by you, to confirm your forgiveness. Plump, warm and soft lips caressed his ring finger.

And once you were gone, his hand took control on its own, slid under his soutane to stroke himself. If you felt like a sinner, he was the devil himself.

The vice like grip in his own cock made him shudder, sensation foreign yet so welcoming after years without it. A little whine escaped past his gaping mouth, exhaling pecaminous breaths as he stroked like teenage boy that just discovered masturbation for the time ever. Sloppy, desperate and wet motions echoed in the now sullied stall.

He fisted his hand tighter, thick fingers coaxing a much needed release, hips rutting into his choking hand. Quiet whimpers and an array of curses flew out his mouth.

His flushed tip swayed and shook under his own rough ministrations while his jaw clenched, he clawed at the chair when hot and thick spurts of his cum dribbled down his hand and wrist before time; pooling in the hollow of his palm while earning a gutural growl that dissolved into a shaky whimper, as he curled against the wooden and punctured wall for a brief lapse of seconds to regain his composure.

"Fuck..." He had to lay against his chair to keep the light-headedness at bay, drowning in his own made pleasure, panting like he had run a marathon for hours.

He shouldn't have lied back ago. And  definitely shouldn't have become a priest. He was soiling their already tainted reputation. His old self was back to stay.

He cleaned up his hand under his robes to then leave to change. He was given a glimpse as you were picking up some harvest in the orchard while he was making his way back home.

---

Window's glasses echoed with the soft rain. The parish has been quiet during weekdays, but busy for you. As winter approaches the harvest must be picked, the grains sorted and the meats stored.

You saw Father O'Hara less and less, and when you did, they were mere glimpses. He was as busy in meetings with other priests, or preparing for the mass that was now given twice a week.

If you weren't in the garden or the laundry, you were in the choir.

Lingering yet brief gazes chased each other. He had heard some nuns speaking about him, some had wonderful things to say, saying that he had been one of the most efficient priests the church has had.

Others mentioned between hushed and bashful whispers about his physical condition and how they caught him go for runs at crack of dawn a couple of times.

And you, just wanted to go to confession again and ask for forgiveness. Not to spill the advantures you had in your dreams with a man that oddly resembled like Father O'Hara, but to unleash your heart's desires to wonder what was beyond the parish.

It was your life, all you've ever known so far. But one of those trips to the city during a beneful visit to another location, had left you amazed. How could a world so different like yours could be considered bad and straying?

But again, vows. Your vows bound you, and once broken, there was no turning back. But right now all that mattered was to get to the dorms. The rest was out in another visit to the city, you were to stay to finish your tasks in the kitchen.

Weather changed so abruptly that one moment you were taking the last basket of vegetables inside, to then run for the dorms to seek refuge. But they were far and the only thing in sight was Father's O'Hara rectory.

It was either getting a terrible fever from the cold and unforgiving rain or ask him to lend you an umbrella to mitigate the glacial numbness spreading through your body. Another reason you barely went out during these days, rains in the countryside were merciless.

Miguel was tending his own garden when the rain begun drenching. Even more when the thunders broke the peaceful white noise. He removed his soutane and shirt off leaving his inner vestments free, but the desperate knock on his door made his undressing ritual to stop.

While quirking an eyebrow, he approached the door and opened it. Eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, soaked through your bones. lips blue and shivering from the cold.

"P-Please-"

"Jesus. Come in."

He ushered you in, then rushed to get a towel. A frown in his face deepened upon hearing your teeth clatter, clothes stuck to you like a second skin.

"C-Can I... borrow your... u-umbrella?"

Without much though he smoothened the towel against your face, drying it.

"An umbrella? Really?!"

A vehement shake of your head, while trying to get him off you.

"You're freezing cold, the dorms are too far for you to leave. Don't be stubborn."

"I... I don't h-have clothes."

You mumbled through rattling teeth while your eyes darted hazily over his naked torso. He sighed.

"Unbelievable. You're freezing to death and you're worried about clothes. Get them off, I'll put them to dry."

He grumbled while taking more logs into the fire to what would be his living room. If it wasn't for the glacial and biting freeze that refused to leave your body and the foggy thinking in your brain, your cheeks would be beyond red. Crimson even from such simple act.

A weak nod you gave. Your hands stopped bracing your shivering body to focus on removing the cowl and headdress. Releasing through shaky motions your soaked hair that wasted no time to stick on your face and neck.

The next was your crucifix, and praying beads, the tempo you removed them could make a slug to easily win the race, this alarmed him greatly. He had seen what hypothermia did, way before turning himself into this holy persona.

Without much thought, he peeled off your habit that weighed you down.

"Qué mierda más pesada" (Such a heavy shit)

He held you by one arm as he removed the outer layer off. Your eyes drooped and he gave you a little shake.

"Hey, hey, look at me."

Eyes concerned raking over and it dawned on you. Those eyes, the same beautiful and unique eyes were the same that visited in your dreams.

A difficult gulp rolled down your throat as Miguel kept undressing you while grunting. Wet clothes were a pain in his beatific ass. Shivering dicreased, but your lips remained blue, a new shade of purple drawing over them.

"I-It's so cold" You mumbled through laborious breaths.

"Course it's cold. You're soaked! What were you even doing?"

The way he scolded you felt like someone you've known for years was giving you a lecture. So casual, homey, normal. It was Miguel O'Hara speaking, not Father Miguel. The ever gentle and patient man you've been helping.

"Jesús bendito, con cuánta cosa te vistes." (Holy Jesus, so many layers.)

He murmured while pushing you to his chest as he removed the dress that covered your underwear. It felt like a heatless body had been thrown over him, but the warmth irradiating from him felt heavenly. Your form instinctively nuzzled your head on his chest. He had to stop to gulp at the sensations

Even though his mind slapped itself, His couldn't help but wander over your shivering and weak body.

"W-Wait"

A small dark patch hovered above the joint of your legs. Taut peaks followed by lovely areoles ever standing and shivering under the flimsy white fabric of a short nightgown that proved even harder to remove since it clung to you like a second skin, refusing to abandon your body.

He peeled you off of everything despite your protests, but was sufficiently prude to not look over your naked form. A minute too slow and it would be late. Like the young boy in his arms, that had died out of cold once the subversive groups arrived in the forsaken town, they had forced him and the rest to go through a frozen river. He made it, but the boy didn't.

His mind wasn't in the tip of his cock.

That will come later.

But his brain had only one single purpose right now. To keep you alive but for that he needed keep you warm.

Despite the recklessness of his actions, he pulled a freshly folded duvet around  while pulling you ontop of his chest and sat together near the fire. Hands moving to dry your hair as much as he could. Your skin was full of goosebumps, frosty to touch, that relished into any source of heat available. His torso, the duvet and the raging bonfire made your head spin.

It felt like his hands, rubbing some life back into your arms while he shielded your body, embracing your form with his torso and limbs. Like a paramedic on duty. Your cheek smooshed against his solid chest, it made him shudder with your own coldness but eventually the body heat treatment would be effective.

"Sorry" it was all you managed before your teeth shuddered again, and his fingers caressed your neck, placing a new wave of delicious heat on your skin.

"You'll be fine."

Your body was slowly but surely returning to it's temperature. Miguel remained there, basking you within his body, fingers gingerly caressing as much cold skin as he could under the duvet. Even his breath provided a little heat. Your erratic breaths collided against his skin, earning a discreet shudder from him.

You had drifted off to limbo, trying to sleep a bit, but unable to completely do so. Not when a man, the Parish Father nonetheless, was holding and nursing you back to an acceptable temperature with his own.

"Father O'Hara..."

Miguel's ears perked up upon you mentioning his name.

"It's Miguel."

He mumbled while drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The fire and the duvet had kept you toasty to curl even more towards him. Teeth no longer clattering.

"Thank you, Father."

"Stop."

His eyes rolled in annoyance, as his hands stopped caressing your skin to then rub his face.

"Stop calling me that."

"But that's your-"

"I don't like it."

He grumbled while looking down at you.

"Call me Miguel."

"I can't do that. Feels too disrespectful."

"I'm not Father O'Hara here, understood?"

You nodded

"Are you cold?"

"I am. Not as before but yes. Has it stopped raining?"

His own smell was making your mind a puddle, some of that fragrant incense remained etched on him.

"No. Just got worse."

You sighed while resting your head on his chest. Heartbeats a mellow lullaby.

"I'm sorry for all of this."

"You were cold and soaked." He pointed dully and bored.

The duvet was brought closer to your chest while staring at the flames. Fingers tracing a lazy and mindless pattern in his abdomen.

"I was picking up the last batch of harvest when rain poured on me."

Your toes curled in as a soft breeze flickered the fire and he tilted his head to watch you closer.

"Now I'll have to explain why there isn't enough corn."

"We'll go by. It's ok."

"Are my clothes ready yet?"

A snort that  would be translated into an 'Are you kidding me?', your brow furrowed.

"You'd be lucky if they get dry during the night."

Another defeated sigh. But a sudden thought however made your cheeks burn faintly.

"D-Did you see me naked?"

"No."

Oh.

There was a silent pause before you spoke again. Curiosity tempting.

"Have you seen other women naked?"

He huffed playfully while pushing your hair away from your lovely and sweet face.

"Yes. I was a regular man before all of this."

His fingers curled up in his hand, morphing into a lazy fist

"Do you miss it?"

"Would be a liar to say if I don't."

"You... You've had sex before?"

He chuckled while with an open palm, took a taste of your skin, deliberately roaming your lower back. You shuddered.

"I did. Plenty of times."

Your audible gasp made his eyes droop hazily in a smirking grimace.

"I was told it felt marvelous."

You looked up at him and he pulled your chin upwards, he really had to keep his restrain under a leash to not take you here and there, instead, he cupped your face and hovered his lips over yours

"Do you want me to teach you, Sister?"

He was the demon. The very same one that visited in your dreams and left you a soaked mess. A little too late you'd noticed that he wasn't wearing his vow ring. It was placed somewhere else you truly couldn't care less at the moment.

You only nodded.

"Use your words, dear"

"Please", you gulped, "Teach me."

It was in that moment that he sealed your lips with his. Your first kiss ever. Chaste and sweet at the beginning that slowly turned into this obscene display of his mouth assaulting yours with his tongue in between gentle licks and bites of his lips.

A shaky whine then a whimper escaped your throat upon feeling his hands skimming down your spine. He only let you go when you tapped out for air.

"How often am I on your mind, pequeña?"

Finally the demon in your dreams had turned into a reality. Eyes were closed, unable to look at yourself melting under his touch. Nipples perked against his chest.

Plump and hot lips caressed yours but they stopped. Hands pulled you upwards, Miguel turned you around so your back was now colliding with his chest.

"You're still cold."

Cheeks grew impossibly red while he slowly peeled off the duvet out of your body, leaving you bare before him. You gulped as he moved your hair to a side and slowly kissed up and down your neck.

His hands were unable to resist any more and cupped your mounds, like in your dream. Calloused palms, rough against soft breast.

"Qué maravilla. Is this how your dream goes?

Legs smothered together, a little strip of hair etched to your pubic mount. He hummed in appreciation to then part your legs above his. Cunt pulsing at the coolness of air brushing past it.

Both of your legs dangled ontop of his as you remained nested above. Your heart beat at the playful moves his middle and index finger pulled on your nipple as his free hand darted over the joint of your inner thighs. You could feel him trembling underneath, the restrain made his breath hitch.

Your own turned erratic once more as he slid three fingers in between your folds. A shy Ah escaped your lips while he used two of them to part the outer labia

"Look at that, little one. Is that what you touch when thinking of me?"

Drunk eyes darted between your legs and his skillful hand, the engorged and pearly clit peeked out as one of his fingers flickered slowly. Focusing the right amount of pressure in it that had your moans shaky. He paused to adjust his fingers as they caressed and rubbed as much flesh as they could.

Mouth etched to your ear. Deep and needy breaths fanned behind you

"So so pretty. Look at that"

He made a show of his fingers coating themselves in your slick. One of his digits hovered over your entrance, slowly it disappeared inside. A muffled groan echoed in the void space

A wet and shlicking sound came from his ministrations, head unable to move, too enraptured into watching him sliding in and out. Skin bloomed with a new wave of goosebumps as his tongue licked your neck and earlobe, rewarding you for taking one finger deliciously, that he licked up clean before going back to rub at your clit.

"Want to add another?"

A breathless and hissing yes.

You didn't know who was with you right now since Father O'Hara couldn't. Your brain still refused to believe they were the same man. One preached and talked mass every Sunday, the other had your head spinning while his fingers explored your insides with such gentleness it only increased your whimpers and need for something more and bigger within you.

"Does that feel good, Hm?"

A dumb nod while more escaped your mouth repeatedly

"More?"

"Please!"

How could he deny to such petition? Even most when you were gripping him so deliciously and pulsating with every stroke he delivered in, grazing at your sweetest spot.

"Like this?"

He increased the tempo and your breath hitched, hips moving to meet his fingers aiding them to reach deeper and deeper.

Breaths turned into short and shallow pants, blood rushed to your cheeks. One of his digits pushed past between your lips meeting your moist muscle that wasted no time into kissing it. All you could hear was yourself and your weeping pussy that demanded for more.

But they weren't enough. Brain was sent into an override when the climax washed over you. All the pent up need and lust drowned you. Strong pulsations dictated the contractions that trapped and milked Miguel's fingers. Mind split in two in a shattering and core shaking spasm.

Mouth gaped, eyes heady and drunk with blind hot pleasure, body convulsed while an array of mumbles and clumsy curses flew out of your mouth to finally end with a delicious quivering cry.

"It's okay, shh, it's okay, pequeña." He cooed you through it while kissing your neck. Heart pounding in your ears.

It took you a moment to breath properly. How could you have missed this? How could you remain so ignorant to this? Alienated from something you were often told it was dirty and condemning.

He had only touched in the right places and you were melting. But why stopping there? You knew he also wanted you, his hard on pressing over your lower back, begging to set free.

"M-More"

He shook his head with a proud smile

"Can't do that, preciosa"

A capricious whine came through your throat, "Why not?"

"Cause, as much as I'd love to take you until you recite the bible backwards to me, you know what could happen."

"You don't want me, then? Why stopping now?"

"Far from that. And we must be discreet. Wouldn't want you to be whipped by Sister Lianne."

He took your hand and kissed your wrist. While his other limb pulled you closer to him.

"I am the only one that shall leave marks on you, my dear. Is that clear?"

"Yes, but-" He took your chin in a gentle but firm grip.

"Is that clear?"

You nodded with a pout.

"Lay on the bed."

"What? "

"Lay on the bed, so I can taste you."

Miguel could fulfil that fantasy. With Bambi-like steps you pushed yourself up and walked over his bed. Plush surface welcomed your body under a creak.

"Spread them."

Toes curled up for a second before spreading them open. Clit already tingling with a foreign yet needy sensation.

He kneeled before you, like he did every day he worshipped the Lord. But this time it wasn't God, but you. Nose nuzzled over your inner thighs while taking a whiff of your scent. Tantalizing and so alluring for his own senses.

Slow and deliberate kisses were placed above your flesh, the strip of hair that decored your pussy, to finally sink in between soaked folds.

The mewl you gave only made him feast upon you. Hands grope the sheets by instinct as he spreaded you further.

His tongue lapped and curled at your hole, slurping it without refrain and inhibitions. Devouring it like it would be his last meal.

Your dream had felt too vivid, yes, but this was completely different. This was in a whole new different level. His corruption had tainted your soul and it was gladly welcomed into your arms.

Legs twitched and shook while your head was thrown back, chest heaved with shallow breaths, unable to breath properly as his tongue was set into fucking your drooling hole.

The way his tongue fucked, dribbled and guzzled your cunt had you mewling and moaning the filthiest things you didn't think possible you could get out.

Good was an understatement, heavenly was a measly word to compare what you felt like. It was maddening and he gave you no rest.

Have you ascended? No. He just wrapped your supple thighs around his head, preventing you from squirming too much, holding your hips in place as his sloshing and assailant mouth gave you no rest.

You hadn't recovered completely from the other orgasm when a new one had approached. Lurking around your senses.

His name was moaned, over and over and when your hands were done of clinging onto the sheets, you held onto his hair. Silky and smooth chocolate locks slid under your fingers.

Eyes peeked over you, and he had to pause for a moment to squeeze his cock. Aching and weeping for him to let him free and make you his. But that would come later.

That would come much later when he had more leisure time and when he'd get protection. As much as he wanted to wreck your snug cunt, he didn't want you to be whipped and shamed like another nun was when the higher ups found out she was pregnant by an outsider.

"Miguel"

His name on your lips rich and tasty, like him.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance to immediately go for your clit. Plump lips pursed and captured the engorged nub. While his hands pushed your legs up and folded them, giving a complete access to your pulsating pussy.

He slurped and souped while his tongue teased. Wet laps sent jolts through your spine each time he tasted you.

Too much. Too good and too soon, yet he didn't stop. He shook his head like a mad dog subduing it's prey and that move alone had you gushing over his mouth. He quickly gobbled it all down.

You whined, cried and blabbled, even tried to pull his head away but he delivered you a last stroke with his tongue to then lick his lips clean.

"Please"

You mumbled through blown breaths as he watched you with a lust blown glare.

What had he done out of you?

"Greed is a sin, my dear."

What had he created?

"But if you're good enough, the wait will be worth it."

His little lamb was so willing for him, aching to be tainted, corrupted even more. And his task was to banish such whims.

He'd given you a taste of what laid ahead. A promise of a much unholy reward if you followed this path with him. But your resolve had been made the first time you came.

He'd be your first and last. There wasn't any need for another to teach you what he was compliant to demonstrate.

You'd be his to fuck. His to tame and corrupt.

You'd be his.

---

Taglist:

@plumplumpurin

[o4i0n]

do u guys think miguel gets hard if ur nice to him ., miguel nation what do we think 

reblogs, comments & likes r highly appreciated !

it’s not like you being nice is anything out of the ordinary—if anything, it’s one of the things that comes the most naturally to you and what others notice whenever they catch you around. your care comes in the form of small, gentle reminders, shared smiles when your eyes meet another’s, or asking how things are when you pass by someone else to make simple conversation. nothing special, really, but it’s sweet. 

miguel o’hara thinks that it’s too sweet, but it’s more of a ‘him’ problem, if anything. he’s not even supposed to be this worked up over something as careless as your hand brushing against his shoulder to let him know that you’re there for him that’s coupled with a chipper ‘bye!’ thrown his way before you turn around and leave, but he is. every time you leave him be, the throbbing ache that settles between his legs grows a lot heavier, and he knows that if he deals with it, it would just make things worse. 

it’s not like he has any plans to stop, though. he may be growing tired of the countless times he’s caught himself thinking about you, the image of your pretty self occupying his mind so much that he swears he sees you even when he closes his eyes, but the scenarios that he’s so keen on turning into a reality make the job a whole lot easier. there may be a twinge of guilt that crosses his mind after he spills into his hand once he’s done fucking himself raw into his fist, but he tries not to thinking about it too much. even when you’re not there, you’re still assisting him in some way. 

which is why he thinks that the universe is playing one massive, fucked-up prank on him when you chose the worst time to drop by his office—that dark, secluded area away from everyone else that he considers an office, anyway—and get greeted with the sight of him biting down on his fist while he furiously ruts into his hand in an attempt to get off. the need that emanates off his body is palpable; no matter how fast he’s stroking himself or how desperately he’s letting his fingers swipe over his leaking tip as pre-come trickles down the remainder of his length, he still can’t come. right now, the sounds that he’s making have more emotion than in any of the words he’s spoken to you, or to anyone, for that matter. it doesn’t make it easier that he’s suddenly terrified of how you’d treat him after seeing that spectacle of pure desperation on his part once he notices you’re there. 

but you, being you, are nothing short of understanding. when miguel asks you to leave (well, he kind of shouts at you because you were never supposed to see anything like that), you’re so caught up by what you saw that you stupidly offer to help him out, your voice and demeanor taking on your trademark shyness. 

miguel is many things, and you know him to be an incredibly efficient man. everything that follows is a blur, and you end up sprawled out on his desk, your clothes haphazardly tugged out of the way so that he could take up up on your offer. 

“you’re too fuckin’ nice,” he whines, wasting no time to peel away your panties and drag his fingers over your entrance. it almost sounds like he’s complaining at the fact that you are the way you are, but he doesn’t say anything. as his fingers curiously prod at your pussy to spread you nicely for him, his free hand is wrapped around his cock, dripping with his own arousal as it lays heavy in his fingers. 

a soft whimper slips out of your lips as he toys with your body, and it’s only sinking in now that you’re not sure if you can take all of him. but he needs help, right? he needs to feel better, so you keep your legs apart for him while he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit. 

when he hears that, it takes all of his self-control to not sink his cock deep into your sweet little cunt right then and there. “i just—s’too much for a guy to take,” he mumbles, trying to push his tip past your soaked folds, because he’s so nice to let you off easy for now since he knows he’s big. “i never know if you’re teasing or not.” and it’s true; the way you tread so carefully and so gently with everyone, especially with him, makes him wonder whether or not this is your way of being coy. “it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you.” 

miguel doesn’t know where all these words are coming from because he knows for a fact that he’s not all that open with anything, much less with things this personal. however, there’s something about the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes and being completely exposed in a way he’s fantasized about for so long that it sends him reeling. 

you’ve been so nice for him, going above and beyond for something you don’t even need to do; of course he needs to return the favor by making you feel good too! it’s only fair, after all, that he shows his very specific way of thanking you. 

the moment you give him the go, he slides right into you, your wetness and his pre-come making it easier for him to finally feel what it is he’s been dreaming about for so long. he can’t stop the low moan that escapes him when he feels your warm walls enveloping his cock, your pussy so accommodating and welcoming, just like you. he’s so relieved that it’s not his hand that’s making him feel this way anymore; immediately, he wants to bottom out, to bury himself so deep inside you that he’s positive his tip nudges against your cervix. he never thought that you’d be so kind as to let him fuck you, and he’s so eager to draw out all those sounds and reactions when you let him take you. 

he pushes in deeper, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit because he knows it’ll make you whine. “don’t think i can control myself, pretty girl,” he groans out, all the sensations hitting him like a ton of bricks, and he’s resisting the urge to move right after as you’re adjusting to him. you’re equally as fucked out as miguel and he’s not even all the way in yet. “i won’t stop until you’re crying for me, okay?” 

first time dabbling into smut writing so please be kind nyahaha also if there r grammatical errors no there aren't haha wdym

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Intercorrelated

Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 29: Cream Pie

Summary: You've had a bad day.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader has tattoos on their legs, kissing, teasing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral, fingering, swimming pool adjacent smut, reader works at Alchemax, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2244

You sighed, annoyance bubbling along your veins, threatening to boil over and overwhelm you. Tears pulsed at the back of your eyes, trying to fight their way to the surface. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

The experiment had failed. Fine. These things happened. But Stone giving you a fucking public dressing down and all but promising to destroy every scrap of research you’d gathered? Yeah. Not so fine. 

You pushed open the door to the swimming pool. It was on the upper levels, part of the built-in gym in the Alchemax building. It was always empty this late, everyone who stayed at this time was either working on their own experiments or had accidentally fallen asleep in the carpark. The pool was the perfect place for you to wallow just a little bit. 

The door swung shut behind you, enclosing you in the smell of chlorine, and you were just a few steps into the room when you spotted him. Miguel-fucking-O’Hara. Mister 6 foot-fucking-9 and ‘Oh, I would never have any experience blow up in my face.’ 

You sighed. 

It wasn’t Miguel’s fault that you’d had a shit day. But you’d quite like for him to piss off out of the pool so you could lay down on the seating at the edge of the room and contemplate your life choices so far. 

He was doing laps at a practically insane speed, gliding smoothly through the water. Another thing he was annoyingly good at. Prick. 

As he reached the wall of the deep end he turned, intending to do another lap, but paused when he noticed you standing on the side, just at the edge of the swallow end. 

You swallowed, skin prickling under his gaze. You didn’t want him to think you’d come in here just to gaup at him, but it wasn’t like you could just jump in and swim in your work clothes. Fuck.

You marched with purpose towards the middle of the pool and hastily pulled off your socks and shoes, leaving them fairly neatly on the side, before you rolled up your trousers and sat on the edge. You dipped your feet and calves into the water. Temperature wise it was surprisingly pleasant. 

You assumed that maybe O’Hara would have the common decency to ignore you, continue his lengths until he finished his workout. Something any normal person would have done. 

Anyone else certainly wouldn’t have slowly swam towards you, barely making ripples in the water with their smooth strokes. 

He stood up in the pool, not quite directly in front of you. He didn’t say anything at first, though you could see him watching you out of your perpetual vision. Slowly he ran a hand through his hair, pushing errand strands away from his eyes as droplets ran down his temples. 

There wasn’t much hope that he’d ignore you and your slightly red looking eyes now.

“You okay?” 

Why the fuck was he like this? All calm words, with that stupid low voice of his and big doe eyes. 

“Fine.” 

He hummed, not sounding like he believed you in the slightest. He sank back down into the water a little, lifting his legs up and spreading his arms out so that he could float in a sitting position. 

“Why are you sitting on the edge of the pool, in your work clothes?” He asked deadpan. 

“Why not?” You somehow managed not to grimace at your childish response. It wasn’t like O’Hara would understand anyway, he was oh, so, perfect. 

To your surprise, Miguel smirked slightly at your response. He watched you for a moment before pointing at your leg. “I like your tattoos.” He said matter of factly. 

“Yeah?” A brief smile flashed across your face and you angled your left leg out of the water for him to see it clearer. “You’ve seen them before.” 

“I know.” He nodded and looked closer. “They’re pretty..” 

“Thanks.” You tried to fight down the heat that spiked along your skin. You cleared your throat, “erm, do you have any?” Despite how many times he’d been inside of you, you’d never actually seen him as naked as he is now.

He shook his head. “Not a massive fan of needles.” His stupid little smile was infectious and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. 

Miguel held your gaze for a moment too long, the action almost hypnotising. There was a slight upwards twitch to his lips for a second before he moved a fraction closer and stood. It was almost as if he wanted you to get a good few of the water running down his smooth skin and- no, you were just being silly now. 

He touched the outside of your calf with the tips of his fingers, a ghost-like touch that made you shiver involuntarily. Lightly he traced the outline of your tattoo, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in concentration. “What do they mean to you?” He asks softly. 

“Erm,” your voice cracks a little as if you hadn’t spoken for a while and you swallow, gulping down air. “Lots of things…” 

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, the tips of his fingers still gliding across your skin. 

“This one is… erm, well, sort of a memento mori, I guess.” 

He smirks, one eyebrow raised. “You guess?”

You pull a face at him for a second. “It is.” 

He smiles, going back to looking at the tattoo. “Morbid.”

You’re about to retort back when his fingers slide higher, slipping further up your calf. “What about this one?” He says softly again, his voice low and deep. 

“It’s…” you shiver again as he delicately strokes your skin, his touch maddeningly distracting. In all honesty, you should snap at him, push him away, get him to stop touching you. This was inappropriate, this was unprofessional. But it’s not like that has stopped you before.

“It’s?” He repeats, not looking up at you as he continues caressing higher, sliding up to your knee and over the top of your rolled up trousers to your thigh. 

Your breath catches in your throat, all possible thoughts and words dissolving from your mind in an instant.

Miguel smiles ever so slightly, still looking unwaveringly at your leg. But he can hear the little gasp of air escape your lungs. 

He lets the quiet hang for a moment before he speaks again, his voice even lower than before. “Why do you have so many?” 

“I… I like them… they make me happy.”

He hums again, but this is a satisfied sound. “They’re beautiful on you.” 

You swallow. “Thank you.” 

“You’re beautiful.” He smiles and you forget how to breathe. “And smart, Stone’s a fucking idiot.”

“You heard about that.” You mutter, ignoring the first part of his sentence. 

He nods and hums. “He’s fucking unprofessional. And a dick.” 

That makes you laugh and he smiles. “You ignored what I said.” 

You pause, frowning slightly and his grin widens.

“You’re beautiful.” He repeats, stressing the words. 

You swallow and shift a little, your mind working in overdrive. “Erm… thank you.” 

He chuckles kindly and you wince, putting your hands over your face and groaning.

“I mean…” 

“I know what you mean.” He repeats, he steps closer his hands on your knees and lightly presses as he moves between your legs. 

He softly strokes your cheek, leaning closer as his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” You mutter, mesmerised. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, a cheeky edge to his voice as he places a gentle kiss to your lips. 

For a second you freeze, practically forget how to react. But then you press closer, leaning against his wet skin, the water seeping into your work clothes. 

You feel him grin, but it’s not in a slimy self-confidence - it’s happiness. 

Before you really know what’s happening, Miguel has you on your back against the floor, tugging off your trousers and panties and putting them on the side. 

Part of you is sure that you should be at least vaguely protesting. What if someone else walked in? The other part of you is sure that if you’re going to get fired for the failed experiment, you might as well go down a legend as the researcher who fucked by the company pool. 

Miguel sucks your clit into his mouth as he pushes two of his large fingers inside of you, groaning as you arch your back and whine softly. 

“Hmm, god you taste nice.” He mutters, curling his fingers and swirling his tongue around your clit before he goes back to sucking. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” 

He pulls his fingers out quickly, putting his hands on the side of the pool and lifting himself up and out of the water completely. 

He shuffles you back a little, so that he can kneel between your legs and helps you to pull off your top. The material is barely over your head before he has his thick cock in his hand, already lining up with your entrance. He pushes in gently, even though he knows you can take him now, still as gentle as he was when you first started this little game. 

He grunts in your ear as he bottoms out, sighing as your walls squeeze and pulse. “I didn’t expect to cross the pool off my list.” 

You snort, “You got a list of places you wanna fuck?” 

He grins at you. “Mentally.” 

You giggle, “Nah, you’ve got it written down, probably a spreadsheet somewhere.”

“Who told you about my spreadsheet?” He teases, leaning up a little so that he can rock into you slowly. 

You spread your legs a little wilder, raising your hips to match his rhythm. 

“Maybe I can,” he tries to keep his voice as calm and controlled as possible, but you can hear the strain in it. “Actually take you out somewhere first? We could eat then fuck? In a bed?” 

You bite your lip, trying to match his even tone. Another part of your game. Whoever broke and moaned first lost, and so far, you were on a winning streak. “What, is that on your list too?” 

“I’d like it to be.” He groans softly. 

“Oh, was that a moan?” You grin.

He shakes his head rapidly, “You must be hearing things.” 

“Fuck,” you swallow as he changes the angle, pressing the head of his cock repeatedly against your g spot while he rubs his pubic bone against your clit. 

“Was that a-”

“No.” You give him a look and he grins. 

“Let me make you dinner.” He breathes, the strain starting to show in his voice.

“So desperate to get me to your house?” You tease.

He gives you a soft look, his eyes dark. “You know I am.” 

You falter, that wasn’t what you were expecting. Every time in the past you both fucked, usually in his offices on suite, he’d been light-hearted. Kind, but teasing. This was just a way to blow off some steam, a fuck and see you later. Now he sounded more like… like…

“Come on,” he grins, and sinks wonderfully deep. “How about a wager?” 

You nod. 

“You moan first, I get to take you home and fuck your brains out in my bed?” 

You swallow down a cry. “What do I get if I win?” 

“What do you want?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

You pause, lost his expression. “For you to take me home and fuck my brains out?” 

“Oh, very good.” He grins and quickly leans down to nip at your neck, his hips hypnotising as he rocks and rolls, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. 

You squeeze his shoulders, shivering and shuddering as he moves expertly, the pattern to make you fall apart practically embedded in his bones. 

He breathes deeply, pressing his lips close to your ear and then moans deeply at the exact moment he grinds down against your hips. You gasp. 

“Looks like you won again,” you can hear the glee colouring his voice, “Guess I’ll have to try to make you scream at home later.” 

You groan, “Miguel…”

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” he rocks faster, groaning at the wetness between your legs, how your pussy flutters around him and sucks him impossibly deeper. “Be good and come on my cock.” He hisses, his muscles tensing. “Before I fill you up completely and-”

Your back arches as you cry on, pleasure erupting along your nerves as he pushes you over the edge. Colour explodes behind your eyes, dances along your skin as you sink and float at the same time.

He thrusts twice, his moans rising as he follows you into bliss, coming hard and deep and, true to his word, filling you completely. 

He kisses you hungrily as he comes, his hips slowing as he sucks on your tongue and then nuzzles into your neck. 

You both breathe hard as the sweat on your skin cools. “You’re not worried about Stone are you?” He asks softly. 

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but it’s clear you are.

“Don’t be.” He kisses your pulse point. “He won’t talk to you like that again.” 

You wriggle a little so that you can look at him fully, Miguel smiles up at you. “How do you know that?” 

“I can be intimidating you know?” 

That makes you laugh kindly, “You’re too sweet for that.” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I have my moments.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[springtyme]

I come to humbly ask if we can please have some Miguel smut? I just really need to be fucked silly by a big strong man 🥺

𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐈𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ♡

Thank you for the request! Sometimes you just need to be fucked silly by an almost seven foot tall guy, and that’s valid

Miguel O'hara x afab!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: Smut (18+, mdni!) Language. Lingerie. Biting. Thigh riding, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, cream pie. Miguel picks up the reader, possibly a bit of a size kink (reader's height and body shape isn't mentioned, but Miguel is 6'9 and very big and buff) No spoilers for the movie.

Despite you and Miguel being deeply in love and living together, it’s not much you get to see him.  

You had wanted to surprise Miguel by waiting up for him. And you had tried, you really had, but at last, you had lost the fight against sleep as the hours went by and your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. You had started to snooze off on the couch in your and Miguel’s shared living room a little while ago. 

You know why he does what he does, how he feels like he has a duty, and no matter how much you miss him and how much you worry about him when he’s out there, you’d never ask him to stop. You love him, and you love him even more for everything he does and all the sacrifices he makes to fulfill that sense of duty he has. You really, really love him, but you also miss him. 

You know how much he secretly despises himself for all the nights you have to fall asleep without him, and all the times you wake up to an empty bed too. 

That is why you wanted to surprise him tonight. You wanted to give him a good time, to show you how much you love him. 

To, hopefully, help make him feel a little less guilty about not spending as much time together as you both wish you could and to give him some, much-needed, stress relief. 

You had spent your evening cleaning the apartment. After that you had awarded yourself with an extra long soak in the tub, letting your mind wander as you had scrubbed and lotioned your body. You have actually had this night planned for a few days, and you had even gone out and gotten yourself some new lingerie for the occasion. A beautiful lacey set with matching garters, which you had slipped on after your bath.

It had been a while since you had felt as sexy and confident as you had after looking yourself over in the full-length mirror of your bedroom before you had wrapped your favorite satin robe around yourself and gone to the living room to wait for Miguel to come home. 

And you had waited and waited and waited. 

You are now curled up on the couch, your consciousness floating in a hazy state between wakefulness and sleep. Just as you are about to fully doze off, some kind of sound pierce your mind and you slowly gain a little of your perception back. ‘The door’ you think, it was the click of the front door you heard. The sleepy fog is slowly lifting from your thoughts. And just as you remember what you had planned and what had happened you open your tired eyes to be met with a tall figure towering over you.      

“Mig..?” You croak out, before letting out a little surprised shriek as you’re suddenly being lifted from the couch as Miguel scoops you up in his big, strong arms.  

“Sorry, querida, didn’t mean to wake you.” The familiar baritone of Miguel’s voice is hitting your ears.  You want to protest, he might not have meant to wake you but you hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the first place.

This is not how you had planned for him to find you when he came home. You had meant for him to step into the living room where you had lit candles, and in your dream scenario you would have scattered a few rose petals on the floor leading to the bedroom, but you had settled with the candles. You would have greeted him with a crooked smile while slowly untying the belt that holds your rope in place. But you had fallen asleep and he has now instead walked in on you sprawled out on the couch, and not in a particularly sexy way. Your plan gone completely down the drain. 

“Why don’t we get you to bed, sweetheart?” He says, already on his way toward the bedroom with you in his arms.     

“No, no, I’m not even tired,” you protest. It might sound like a lie after he just found you knocked out on the couch, but you actually mean it. You suddenly feel wide awake despite how late it is. But you guess that Miguel’s probably exhausted by now and that you shouldn’t even try to put the naughty plan you had made for tonight into action.

 You come to this conclusion, even though it saddens you a little, as you reach your bedroom and Miguel finally sits you down in front of your bedroom door. 

“Get in bed, sweetheart, I’ll join you in a bit, just have to put those candles out in the living room,” he says quickly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to go back into the living room. 

You sigh as you push open the door to your bedroom, you’re suddenly feeling like an idiot for having thought that this would have been a good idea, to begin with. It is already hours past midnight, he is clearly exhausted and just wants to go to bed.

You untie your robe and walk over to your dresser to pull out a set of soft, unsexy pajamas to change into, but you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, making you stop as you’re just about to change out of your lacey attire

You can’t help but walk over to the mirror to take one last glance at yourself. You had felt so good when you had stood in front of the mirror earlier. You let the now-open robe slide down your shoulders and fall to the floor.

You have to admit, you really made the right choice at the boutique when you picked out this set. It looks amazing, hugging you in all the right places, and somehow manages to look both sexy and classy at the same time. You turn a little in front of the mirror, as you get lost in your own thoughts for a bit, making you not hear when Miguel walks towards the bedroom again. You jump slightly as he opens the door, catching you off guard. 

“What were all those candles even-“ he cuts himself off mid-sentence and stops dead in his tracks as your eyes lock with his in the mirror. 

You see how his eyes scan your near-exposed body, looking you up and down before his eyes again find yours in the mirror. 

“I, uhm, I wanted to surprise you tonight, but I fell asleep…” You shrug a little defeated, but a little glimmer of hope starts to bubble in your chest at the expression on Miguel’s face, hungry and intrigued. 

“You wanted to surprise me..?” He sounds amused, a smile tucking at the corner of his lips. 

“Yeah, it's just that we haven’t seen each other much these last week and I’ve just been missing you and I thought this would be nice, but…” 

“But..?” He arches a brow, a sly smile now plastered on his lips. “I think it’s very nice.”

“Yeah?” You smile back at him, maybe this night hasn’t gone completely out the window after all. 

“Yeah.” He says as he steps over to you. “And I’m sorry that we haven’t seen much of each other. I wish that it could be different, I really do, but-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” You cut him off. “I know why you have to be out there and I love you for it, Miguel. I just missed you, that’s all.” 

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” he says before putting his arms around you. He just holds you for a little while, letting your bodies do the talking. “Love you so much,” he sighs as he squeezes you a little extra tight before finally letting go of you, only to duck down to crash his lips onto yours.

It starts out sweet, but it doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated.

You only break the kiss after your lungs have started to burn and you literally need to stop so that you can catch your breath, but Miguel just takes this as an opportunity to start licking and kissing his way up your neck. Your eyes roll back as he reaches an especially sensitive spot just under your ear, and you tilt your head a little to the side to give him better access. 

Your action is not lost on him and you let out a little whine as he starts to suck down at the soft skin with a bit more force until he detached his lips from your skin with a wet pop, only to gently place your earlobe between his teeth. 

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” he says softly into your ear before nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck and taking in a deep breath, almost like he is trying to inhale you, to breathe in your essence to always have a part of you with him.

You can’t help but let out a little whine at his words and you squirm a little in your seat on his lap as the warm tingling in your cunt intensifies and turns into a needy throbbing instead, which makes you start to grind your clothed pussy slowly against Miguel’s muscular thigh. 

Miguel’s hands find your hips, gently squeezing into your soft skin as he starts to slowly move you against his strong thigh whose muscle you can feel flexing under you as he starts to slowly bounce it up and down to match the movements of your hips.

“I have missed doing this with you too,” he says into your skin before he starts kissing your neck again. You let out a low moan and bring your hands up to his hair and you bury your fingers into his dark locks, making him let out a low growl sound from deep within his chest which only makes you all the more turned on. 

“Ah, fuck, Miguel, I-I...” You babble as you feel how the lace of your panties are growing damper and damper against him.

“Just tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he encourages you as he gives your hips a reassuring squeeze, leaning his head back to look at you, his beautiful brown eyes locking with your own.  

“Need you, Miguel,” you pant out, “need you to touch me.”

He is quick to act on your request, lifting you from his lap to flip you over and laying you down on your shared bed, your back against the soft mattresses as he is hovering over you, caging you between his arms. He comes crashing down on you, his lips finding yours in a hungry, passionate kiss, removing one hand from the mattress to sneak it between your bodies.

“Mmm,” you happily hum into his lips as you feel his fingers against your warm skin. 

“God, baby,” He groans as he slips his hand down your panties. “You’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. You really meant it when you said you have missed me, huh?” 

“Yeah I–oh, fuck–Miguel,” you softly cry, as he starts to circle your clit teasingly slow with his thumb while his middle and index fingers start to slide between wet your folds, coating them in the wetness of your arousal as he starts to tease around your entrance.

You exclaim a series of pathetic whimpering sounds as he starts to slide into you, first pumping into you with one finger but soon adding another, stretching your pussy out on his thick digits. You grab the sheets, clenching the soft fabric in your fist as Miguel starts to pump his fingers faster and faster into you.

“You are so beautiful,” Miguels tell you, he sounds almost drunk at the sight of you getting fucked by his fingers. “My sweet, beautiful girl,” he continues.  

He is curling his fingers, hitting your g-spot, oh so perfectly, and you feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. 

“I-I’m so close, Miguel.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, dipping his head down to leave a kiss on your collarbone before bringing his head back up to look at you again. “Come on, baby, I know you can, cum for me sweet thing.”

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls agape as your walls begin to flutter and squeeze down around Miguel’s girthy fingers as your climax reaches you and washes over you in hot, blissful waves. He keeps pumping into you, letting you ride it out to the fullest. When he finally removes his fingers from you, he slips them between his lips and happily hums as he sucks them clean of your juices. 

“Mmm, you’re so delicious, baby,” he hums, “you think I can have a better taste, sweetheart?” He says as he sits himself down between your legs, hands gently massaging your thighs. 

“I think we can arrange that,” you chuckle, still a little out of breath from your climax. 

“Well, lucky me,” Miguel chuckles as his fingers slip under one of your garters and slowly start to slide it down your thigh and then your calf until you can slip your foot out. You expect him to remove the other garter in a similar way, but he doesn’t, instead, he dips his head down to your thigh, leaving a wet kiss on your warm skin before taking the lace between his teeth and start to slowly slide the garter down your thigh with his mouth. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and lets them follow the garter’s journey down your legs until he has to let go of the delicate fabric between his teeth so you can be freed from the lingerie, leaving you completely bare under him. 

“God, baby,” he gasps out, looking you up and down with a lovestruck look on his face as you lay spread out for him, your legs wide open for him. “You’re so gorgeous,” he continues, hands coming up to gently squeeze your thighs as he spreads your legs even wider. He leans down over you, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips before getting back into position between your legs.   

“So beautiful,” he sighs, locking eyes with you for a second before lowering his head, licking and kissing his way up your groin before burying his face between your thighs. He slides his tongue through your folds. 

He starts out slowly but is soon turning up the tempo as he gets more and more lost in the taste of you. Miguel has always loved eating you out, you sometimes wonder if he is enjoying it more than you and that says a lot cause you really, really enjoy it.  

He adds a little more pressure, making you wail out with pleasure as he nuzzles his nose against your clit while lapping into you with a tempo and precision that has your legs shaking. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tucking at the roots which makes him moan into you. The vibrations of his moan are sending a chill up your spine and you can’t help but buckle your hips, gently grinding against his face as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your second orgasm.   

“Fu-uck, Miguel!” You whine out as your body and mind reaches a state of absolute ecstasy. “I-I’m coming–fuuuck–Miguel I’m coming,” you whimper out in between heavy breaths. Your hips are jerking as Miguel’s tongue keeps fucking you through your climax until you’re feeling too sensitive and gently pushes his face away from your cunt.   

Miguel takes in a heavy breath as he finally detaches his mouth from your pussy.  

“You always taste so good, been way too long since I’ve last tasted you, baby,” he smiles at you as you slowly come back down to the earth after having been sent to cloud nine by his skillful mouth. His chin and lips are glistening in the gentle light of the bedside lamp. 

He climbs up over your body, caging you in between his arms once again as he dives down, kissing your lips so sweet and loving that it has your heart clench with love and contentment.

 You take his face between your hands, cupping his cheeks as you kiss him back as you taste yourself on his lips. The before-so-sweet kiss turns heated as you start licking into his mouth so that you can deepen the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s now that you realize how very naked you are and how very clothed he still is. You break the kiss to look into the deep hickory brown sea of his eyes.  

“I think you should get out of these clothes, you know?” you whisper as you rub your hands up over the fabric covering his broad chest.

“Yeah?” He grins down at you.

“Yeah,” you confirm, a sly smile on your lips as you look up at the man you love. 

He is quick to follow your orders, lifting himself from the bed to get rid of his clothes, but not before planting another sweet kiss on your lips. He first gets rid of his shirt, peeling the fabric off to reveal his broad shoulders and chest. The sight of him undressing for you has your cunt throbbing once again, you don’t even think you have been fully aware of just how horny and how much you have missed being intimate with Miguel these past weeks. You are so pent up and your hands and your vibrator just haven’t been able to satisfy you like how Miguel can. 

His pants are soon following his shirt on the floor and he is left in only a pair of tight boxer briefs that hugs his thick thighs oh so deliciously and looks like they’re about to be bursting at the seams by the immense and rock-hard bulge that he is sporting, a little wet spot of precum darkening the fabric.     

You can’t help but gawk as he starts to slide the garment down his hips and thighs, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing, slapping heavily up against his stomach. Despite how familiar you are with him and his body, and how many times you have seen him like this before, it seems like the sheer size of him never ceases to amaze you and it makes your need for him reach a whole new level.  

“Fuck, baby, I need you inside of me so bad,” you sigh as you reach out for him, sitting up on your knees as he comes back down on the bed to you.  

“Need to be inside of you too,” he grunts as you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, giving him a little squeezing. He really must have enjoyed himself as he ate you out cause his tip is almost purple at this point and already dripping with precum.

It really is a beautiful sight and you can’t help but feel a little proud that you are the reason for his arousal. He has the most beatiful cock you have ever seen, and if you weren't as desperate to have him in you right now as you are you would have got on all fours and choked on it right this instant. But you lay back down on your back instead, sprawling yourself out for him. 

Most often when you’re having sex you’ll be in a position that has you on top, he is so big that you often have to be the one that controls the pace to avoid you becoming all too sore, and so you can at least somewhat walk the next day. But tonight you want him to be in control, to let him have his way with you. 

“Then come here,” you say, smiling up at him as he does as you ask.   

His dark eyes sparkle as they look down at you with awe. He kisses your lips as he positions himself, the tip of his cock teasing at your entrance. Despite how needy the both of you are, he really takes his time, slowly letting your walls adjust, giving you time to adapt to the size of him as he slowly gives you inch after inch. He is kissing you through the whole thing until he finally bottoms out. You feel so full, the size of him is both slightly painful and absolutely amazing at the same time. 

“God dammit, querida, you feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, “so warm and so fucking tight,” he groans as he gently nibbles at your bottom lip. It has a hot rush of desire run through you and the pain is quickly forgotten, only leaving a feeling of flaming hot love and desire for Miguel in its place. 

“Move,” you sigh into his ear, your voice low and raspy. “Please, Miguel, I-” but you are caught off as he begins to slide out of you only to ram back into you, making you let out a breathy moan. He lifts up your legs, making you cross them around his hips as he pulls out of you again only for him to drill his cock back into you. 

“This is what you wanted, huh?” He asks as he locks eyes with you to see your reaction as he continues his movements. 

“Yes, yes… Just what I wanted,” you nod your head eagerly, already feeling tears of pleasure starting to form in the corner of your eyes. “Been missing this. Fuuuck, been… been missing you.”    

“I’ve missed you too, baby. I hate that I have to leave you so often.” 

He picks up the pace, going at an almost brutal speed now as if to make up for lost time.

“You are doing so good, baby,” he encourages, “taking me so damn well.” 

You are clinging to him for dear life as each of his thrusts pushes you further up the mattress, only for his broad hands, which are firmly planted at your waist, to pull you back down to meet each savage snap of his hips. He kisses along your neck and collarbone, while he murmurs about how beautiful you are, how wonderful and smart you are, and how much he loves you. 

He hits something so perfect inside you and you can feel how the knot in your abdomen tightens and tightens, so close to exploding.

“I’m so… fu-uck, so close.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, digging his fingers a little deeper into your skin, “just let go, sweetheart.”

Your nails dig into the flesh of his back as you feel how your entire body fills with bliss. Your walls are clamping down around him, sucking him into your warmth as your climax overwhelms you and rushes of hot, electric euphoria starts to run through your veins, your vision turning blurry and your bones turning to jelly. He kisses you through it and you feel how his dick twitches inside you, signaling that he is about to cum too.

“Inside, Miguel. Inside, please, need to feel you,” you ramble only to hum with delight as a second later as you feel the hot ropes of cum coating your walls as your desperate cunt squeezes down around him to milk every drop of his release. All the while he keeps thrusting into you, fucking his cum deep into you until you are so full of him that it starts leaking out around his shaft. 

You lean forward to plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose as he finally begins to slow his movements, his eyes, which he had shut tight under the intensity of his overwhelming orgasm, slowly opening to look at you.

He kisses you, still not pulling out as you feel his cock slowly starting to soften inside you.

“How do you feel?” He asks when he finally breaks the kiss. 

“Amazing, but I might not be able to walk tomorrow,” you giggle breathlessly, “but that’s future me’s problem,” you smile at him, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Good thing I’ll be there to take care of you,” he says before pulling you into his arms and gently pressing you up against his broad chest.

“You will?” 

“Yes, baby, I promise,” he says, squeezing you a little tighter, “I’m sorry that we don’t get to spend as much time together as we should, but I promise you tomorrow I’m yours.”  

“I love you, Miguel, so so much,” you whisper, placing your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I love you too, baby,” he says as he brings your hand to his mouth and gives it a gentle kiss.

[yanderestarangel]

Hear me out—

Dad body Miguel.

TW: SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT,DILF,PRAISE.

art credits:_Insomniac_RED_ on twitter ( X )

Thinking about DAD BODY MIGUEL makes me feel feral, his voluptuous and soft belly along with some muscles covered by the softness of his skin. He could really walk around shirtless, with some stretch marks on his belly, arms and back from time to time and some hairs could be seen in the middle of his belly matching the scruffy beard on his face. He is a peaceful man towards you and bad tempered towards others.

── Maybe he's your DILF neighbor, tired single dad, obsessed with you.

You can feel his soft belly hitting your ass with every thrust he gives you as he fucks you doggy style, the happy path of hair leading up to his thick, slender cock tickled your sensitive skin while the fat tip of his cock kissed your cervix ─ his scruffy beard rubbed against your skin as he pulled your hair and gave you a clumsy kiss each of his scars glowed from the sweat on his body; you could see the growing gray hair on his arms, chest and even the hair on his head.

He would just shower soft praise on you as he slid his dick with minimal force, turning you to look directly into his eyes. "Eres tan bueno conmigo... apretándome tan fuerte. Keep it up pretty boy, I want to make you squirt for me."

You feel his hot cum leak from his tip as the friction of his soft skin touches yours with each movement ── Miguel uses his thick fingers to stimulate your clit even more, watching you squirt on his belly and dick, making him laugh and look at you satisfied and tired.

"Can you give your old man a break here? I really promise to fill you up later..."

[roguelov]

A little spicy scenario for Miguel O’Hara

In his office, you were riding his thigh as he worked - or he tried to act like it. A poor attempt given he had been staring at the same screen since you started.

“Come on, Miguel,” you groaned. You had been feeling needy all day, and after your mission, you needed a way to relax. “A quickie before anyone knows.”

“I said later,” he huffed, typing away at screens and looking over reports.

Later.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Now, what? You luckily did not have to dwell long before an idea struck. One to satisfy yourself, and get underneath his skin. A win win.

You quickly straddled his lap, completely unbothered by his minor protests. “If you won’t then I will.”

Those were the last thing either of you said before you started. His jaw tensed, teeth grinded, as he listened to you, to your heavy panting. He relented somewhat. One of his hands gripped your hip - his talons gently poked at you - as he very softly guided you. Your forehead rested into his shoulder, as you whined so closely to his ear.

God, how could he focus now?

Your soft moans and cries, your panting, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your obvious attempt to finish as you sped up but can’t quite get there, it all riled him up. It all went straight through him. The bulge in suit becoming more and more apparent with every agonizing second.

Fine.

He clenched his thigh.

You immediately whined, “Miguel.”

He instantly turned his head, burying his face into your neck. His hot breath made you shiver. His lips brushed over your skin, and began to place sloppy kisses up and down. Both hands now grabbed your hips as you continued to rock. He quickly yanked you harshly picking up your own pace. “I know, I know,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

[l1tw1ck]

I want to fck pregnant Miguel so bad, maybe a short aftermath of the last fic would be fine

3 Months

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc reader

AFAB Language Used | [Part One]

i don't normally write characters that are already pregnant nor do i take requests when they're closed but god i had to write this 😭 i was planning on adding it to the original fic but i forgot....💀 anyways, enjoy!

CW: Past Non-Con, Pregnant Miguel, Table Sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Lactation, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Creampie

You hug Miguel from behind as he’s grabbing a plate from the table, rubbing your boner against his ass to let him know your intentions. “Dinner was great, honey, but I think I want dessert too.” You pull his panties down and sink down to your knees. You bury your face in his cunt, indulging in your sweet and wet dessert. Miguel lets out a slutty moan and grips the edges of the table. He moans your name, voice coming out as breathy and desperate. “Fuck..” He lowers his head as your tongue enters his hole and your finger circles his clit. His whines are music to your ears and encouragement to keep going.

You don't stop until his squirts, giving you a delicious refreshment.

You sit Miguel on the table, planning to clean it up afterwards, and sink your cock into his pussy. He can't describe how good it feels when you enter him, it's almost euphoric. Almost as good as when you come inside him. He loves you so much now. He’s started to lactate and he often feels sore, it's your job to take care of that. You bring your mouth to his nipple, gently sucking on it while your hand massages his other breast. You slowly push in and out of him as you do so. Miguel leans his head back, letting out soft and sexy moans.

He whimpers your name, about to come even faster than normal. His nipples are so much more sensitive than before. You pull away and lick his nipple, getting the excess milk before moving to his other breast. Miguel’s breathing becomes labored as he gets close to an orgasm, letting out a loud whine as he comes.

Miguel moves back onto the table as per your instructions. You grab his legs and raise them in the air, using them to thrust into him. He grins, moaning even louder than before. The table shakes violently as you fuck him. Your aggressiveness is already making him lose his mind. He can't focus on anything except the pleasure he feels. He’s practically mindless. Ever since your first time together, it’s been getting progressively easier to make him get into this state. Make him come a few times and he’s gone. It made it easy to manipulate him. You lean over and kiss him. Thanks to muscle memory, he kisses you back. He feels as if a wave of electricity just ran through his body, from his chest and down to his cunt, causing him to orgasm again. Like always, you don't stop. The both of you love overstimulating him. He likes how fuzzy his brain gets and how he completely loses control, how you always have to help him after sex because he can't do anything on his own. He likes giving up his body to you.

Your thrusts eventually come to a stop as you finally fill Miguel up with your cum. “‘M gonna have twins..” He giggles. You smile at how dumb he is now. He’s so different from the Miguel you kidnapped. He’s better.

[harveybwabbit92]

R/n, meant to text Hobie: (3:05 a.m.): I’m bored...

Miguel ( 3:06 A.m.): Then go to sleep.

R/n (3:08 a.m.): You wanna see me chug a bottle of steak sauce?

Miguel (3:09 a.m.): please go to sleep.

R/n (3:10 a.m.): [Sends a pic of herself holding a bottle of steak sauce.]

R/n (3:15 a.m.): {Posts a blurry pic of of her looking terrified as Miguel stands behind her menacingly…}

Miguel (3:25 A.m): Goodnight, R/n. {Posts pic of himself in bed along with a pouting R/n who is wrapped up and bound to the bed with webs.]

------------ R/n = reader name

[xxsugarbonesxx]

Mi Valentín

Tags: full nelson, butt job, head (m receiving), fingering, hand job, groping, something about free use??? semi public sex porn WITH plot

no use of y/n afab!reader, reader has a fattie sorry but i don't make the rules 😮‍💨😔

TW!!! I am NOT a writer!! This is just something I do for funsies so don't expect much lol

She’s a beefy one so buckle up

Valentine's day is your absolute favorite holiday. A whole mushy gushy day dedicated to showing your significant other, or your friends or yourself to how much you love them and appreciate them. An excuse to dress up and go out, excessive chocolate consumption and give gifts. But, unfortunately, your beloved husband thought otherwise.  

He never liked Valentine's Day, and he had thousands of excuses too. “Why is one day out of the whole year meant to show your love when I do it all year long?” Miguel said, rolling his eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner. It’s not like he didn’t spoil you on Valentine's day, he always took you out to a nice restaurant for dinner and got you some gifts. But he was missing the whole entire point!

“Drop it amor, I’m plenty romantic as is. Remember when I took you out to that hotel and we spent the night away from the kids?” Miguel asked, his go to excuse when you brought this topic up. He turned to face you, one hand on the counter and the other holding the knife. He had an apron on, with ‘Milfin’ Ain’t Easy’ printed on the chest. You decided it was best not to question, said apron and moved on.

“But Miggy, it’s my favorite holiday. Can’t you not be so cynical for one in your life and humor that your wife enjoys something?” You said, crossing your arms under your chest. He just snorted and continued with his cooking, you scrunch your face and turn your heel, deciding you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of your presence, you leave to go find something to keep yourself occupied or just pout while you wait for dinner.

“You know it’s a dumb holiday, mi vida. It’s like how birthdays were invented by greeting card companies to make more money.” Miguel teased as he sat down in bed next to you after dinner.

You frown and roll on your side with your back facing him to let him know how upset you are with him. He sighed and chuckled, he cuddled up against you so he was big spooning you. He ran his calloused palm over your bare leg. “Don’t be like that, mamás. You know I love you, but I just can’t get behind a holiday that’s supposed to be about showing love since I already do that everyday for you,” He pouted, kissing your cheek and patting your butt.

You sighed and sat up, “Okay, you know what. You’re right, you already do so much for me. I guess it’s a little selfish to ask for more. I just get jealous sometimes, of all my girlfriends who always talk about their partners and how romantic their Valentine’s Day is…” You admitted, it sounded silly when you say it out loud. It embarrassed you, you have an amazing husband who gave you two beautiful daughters and here you are, ungrateful all because of FOMO. 

“It’s alright, I know what you mean…but let’s not focus on that. I promised we’d never go to bed mad at each other. And we’ve had a long day, hmm? How about we get to sleep now? Since we’ve got a big week ahead of us,” Miguel asked, kissing your collarbone, he was such a smooth talker it drove you up the wall sometimes. But you nodded, kissing him back and curling up with him in bed. 

Little did you know he’s been scheming.

One week ‘til V-day.

You let go of the whole Valentine’s Day thing, you were embarrassed about getting so worked up about the situation. You got home late from work, Miguel was already gone to watch Gabriela’s soccer practice and he took the baby with him. You had the whole house to yourself, you sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing as you take off your earrings and heels, you notice something on your nightstand. 

You look to see a fuzzy little lion plushie with a fancy red ribbon tied around his neck. You smiled softly and picked it up, it was soft in your palms and smelt like strawberries. 

It was obvious that it was from Miguel, you set it down on the bed and finished getting out of your work clothes. After a nice shower, you put on some cozy clothes and flop onto the bed. The house was clean and there were no chores to do so you got to relax, you sat in bed watching a movie with your new bed buddy. You hugged it to your chest, breathing in the strawberry scented mane.

Miguel came home with the girls a bit after your movie ended, Gabriela skipped into the house with her baby hairs stuck to her forehead from sweat and the remnants of chocolate ice cream on her cheeks. You usher her into the bathroom for her bath before finding Miguel. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on the tips of your toes to give him a quick kiss.

“What was that for?” He chuckled, his hand on the small of your back, the baby on his hip.

“Just a kiss, I saw that stuffy.” You smiled and shrugged, looking up at him through your lashes. “I love him, but you didn’t need to get me anything…”

“I know that, I just saw it when I was at the store and thought you’d like it sooo…” He said, his hand snaking up the small of your back to roll his fingers through your hair before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Gracias guapo,” You coo, leaning into him for one more quick kiss before pulling away to give Gabriela her bath.

Five days ‘til V-day.

You and Gabriela sat at the kitchen table while Miguel was at work. With baby Esther on your lap, the three of you were hard at work making Miguel his Valentine’s Day present. Since he was always so low key for the holiday, you would do the same. Opting for something cuter and simple that also included the girls.

You already had a hand print of Miguel’s huge, paw-ish hand from an old craft Gabriela made when she was in kindey. You cut out a nice square of paper around the hand print, you carefully painted your own palm and fingers with a soft pink. You pressed your hand over his painted hand print.

Next was Gabriela, you painted her hand with a slightly darker pink color and pressed it over your hand print once it was dry. Then Esther when Gabriela’s handprint dried, you used a baby safe paint that was a darker pink color then Gabriela’s. You pressed the baby’s palm gently over her sisters. So it was papa Miguel’s big black hand print, your smaller light pink hand print, Gabriela’s little hand and then Esther’s teeny tiny hand.

It was perfect, a cute little card from all his girls for Valentines. You let Gabriela paint a couple pink hearts on it and sign it and it was perfect. You take it to write a lovey dovey message on the back and tuck it away in your nightstand once it was completely dry for the fourteenth.

Three days ‘til V-day. 

You looked awful, you tripped in the snow as you hiked your work parking lot to get to your car in front of your boss. When you finally got up out of the slush, you got your hair caught in a branch. Tangling it with leaves and sticks, finally you got home. 

You trudge up the driveway, it has been snowing and raining all day long. You hated the cold winter weather in Nueva York, you just had to wear heels today as you took big steps over the slush. You finally made it inside the warm apartment, taking a deep breath, your shoulders relaxed. The girls are in the living room watching Bluey with Miguel cooking in the kitchen. You kiss the girl's forehead hello and wobble deeper into the warm kitchen.

“Hey mamás, how—woof, what happened to you?” Miguel half laughed, pulling his oven mitts off his huge hands. Today he’s wearing a green apron with ‘Besame soy Irlandés’ printed on the chest. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You mumbled, brushing the leaves out of your hair. Your whole front is soaked, there was some sort of ice or snow in your bra and your makeup smeared from crying in your car.

“Oye, poor mami.” He cooed, wrapping his big arms around your waist and hugging you to his chest. He held you tight, kissing the side of your face.

He helped you untangle your hair and get out of your soaked clothes. He drew a warm bath with bath salts and bubbles, he washed your hair for you once you were in the water. His big calloused hands rubbing your shoulders as he pecked your cheek. His chest pressed against your back, his hand snaked down into the water in front of you. He peppered the side of your face with gentle kisses as he gently rubbed your core with his pointer and middle fingers. His wedding ring was cool against your inner thighs, his other hand cupped your left breast. Massaging it softly, his thumb grazing over your perked nipples. 

His other hand cupped your sweet pussy, his fingers dipping in between your soft folds and pushing into your wet hole. “My poor girl, I’m sorry your day sucked.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, you bit down onto your bottom lip. Holding back whines as he gently begins to pump his fingers slowly, your hands find the edges of the bathtub to grip. Your head rolls back, your eyes shut as a little gasp escapes your soft lips. He smiled into the dip of your neck, still playing with your tits.

His surprisingly tender lips graze up over your neck for an open mouth kiss, catching your wines and huffs in his mouth. You feel his lips twitch into a little smirk, that smug bastard is always so proud of himself. He pulled away, you whined from the emptiness that filled your soft walls now that he took his fingers out, but you immediately perked up when you heard him take his belt off from the loops. 

Miguel stood up and over to the side of the tub, he slipped his semi hard cock from his boxers. He looked down at you as he pumped his huge hand over his girth, he held you face with his other hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your bottom lip. His way of silently telling you to ‘open’.

You obediently part your pretty lips, he slapped his red tip onto your tongue. He was now fully hard, his cock was perfect. His member is a little darker than his brown skinned body, at least eight to eight and a half inches long. Maybe even ten on a really good day. It was girthy too, with a fat vein on the side of it, it curved up slightly, his groin perfectly shaven besides the happy trail over the base of his length. His balls were heavy, you took him in your mouth. Since he was so big, you always struggled to take him completely. 

You manage to get a good four inches in and start to bob your head, you look up at him through your lashes. It hasn't even been in you long, but you were already cock drunk. He instinctively began to roll his hips into your jaw, the bathroom filled with lewd squelching, moans, and groans. You gag and your eyes roll back.

Just when things started to get good, the baby screeched downstairs in the living room. Miguel sighed and threw his head back dramatically, he pulled away and pulled his slacks back up

over his hips. You frown and pout, he chuckles and bends down to kiss your forehead. “Lo siento, mi corazón…” He muttered, pulling away to get back downstairs to make sure the girls didn’t kill each other. 

You groan a little and sink a little deeper into the warm water.

One day ‘til V-day.

You had actually forgotten all about Valentine’s Day. The girls and work had made you forget all about it. You were sitting at your desk at work, typing and scribbling down notes for later when one of your colleagues told you that there was something at the front desk for you. Curious, you go to check on whatever goodie or package was delivered to you. You never get these sorts of things, you couldn't help but be excited as all the possibilities ran through your head. What the receptionist handed you was better than anything you could have imagined.

The front desk person handed you ramo buchon. One hundred pink and white roses were arranged and wrapped, surrounded by matching pink and white baby’s breath blooms tied together by a ribbon. A little white teddy bear with a ribbon and tag sat in the center of the buchon, the tag signed by your secret admirer. It didn’t take long to figure out who said secret admirer was, since it was Miguel’s handwriting. 

You looked at the gorgeous flowers for the majority of your shift, making sure to send Miguel a little ‘I love you’ text to show your appreciation. Even though he played dumb when you got home, insisting that it wasn’t him and someone else must have sent it. He hugged you tight, muttering under his breath how he’s gonna teach that ‘son of a glitch’ a lesson for daring to make a move on his woman when he finds out who sent it to you. Though you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“When I find them, I’ll teach them a lesson they soon won’t forget for thinking he can just make a move on my woman and get away with it.” Miguel scoffed, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll kill him dead,” He said when you chuckled.

“You hear me, mariposa? There are some things as a man I simply cannot stand for. And when another man thinks he can have what's mine. And you are mine.” He continued, his forehead pressed against yours as he spoke. “My woman, my baby mama, mine mine mine.”

He repeated that mantra throughout the night, you curled up against him in bed. Him kissing your forehead with his hands rubbing your sides. Going up and down the dips and valleys of your body. You couldn’t help but smile, your face pressed against his neck. “My sweet mujer,” He sighed dreamily. Peppering your pretty face with gentle kisses. 

“Did you like the buchon though?” He asked between smooches. You couldn’t help but giggle, squeezing your dear husband's hand gently and nodded. Your legs tangling with his, the blankets pulled up over to their shoulders. It was nice and cozy in their little blanket cocoon. Miguel needed a weighted blanket in the winters, that coupled with the fuzzy white tiger blanket on top of it made you both nice and warm. 

“Sí, sí. Ellos tienen buen gusto,” You reassure him with a smile and a peck on the cheek. He looked satisfied with that answer. 

Valentine’s Day. 

You woke up snuggled up in the warm bed with Miguel. His alarm went off weirdly early, you blinked, your eyes crusty in the morning, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. Miguel stirred as you sat up, his hands over your lap, you arch your back to stretch. His almond eyes slowly opened and glanced up at you. He smiled into your waist but didn’t move, his morning wood pressing into your plush thigh.

You look down at his hidden face then down into his lap. You smile to yourself and lay back down next to him, your hand snaking down underneath the covers. Already thinking up so many naughty thoughts, tracing down his tummy, following his happy trail, your fingertips teasing the waistband of his sweatpants. He grunted a little as you gently began to stroke his length. You squeezed gently, creating a delicious pressure. 

He finally ‘woke up’, grumbling into the crook of your neck. Rolling his hips back and forth into your hand. You chuckled, looking back over him. You press a little kiss to his nose, “good morning, quapo.” You purr into his ear. This was his favorite way of waking up, your hands on his body. Whether you stroked or sucked, his eyes rolled back and toes curled before waking. 

“Good morning, mariposa, you slept well?” He muttered into your neck, his hand over your chest. He kneaded your pretty tits in his big hands and sighed dreamily.

“I did,” You answer, you roll your palm over his angry red tip. Pearly beads of pre cum dribble out of the head onto your hand. You scoop it up in your fingers, pulling your hand away to taste it. His cum was sweet with a bit of salty, you loved the feeling of his warm seed on your tongue. And he loved seeing you enjoy it, he watched your lap up his pre, a smug look on his handsome face as you swallowed.

Just when you reached to finish the job, he sat up. His erect cock twitching right in front of your face, you were mesmerized. Jesus, you were just a simp. “Gabri could just walk i-” You started, he was already reaching to lock your bedroom door. He grabbed you by your waist and flipped you onto your stomach. He reaches into his nightstand drawer to grab something. You look over your shoulder as he ripped your pajama shorts and panties off your body, making you giggle.

He drizzled massage oil on your bare ass, his calloused palms ran over your buttcheeks. You buried your face into the pillows, giggling like a giddy schoolgirl to yourself. He pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your shampoo, letting out a shuddering sigh, he sat back up on his knees behind you.

He dipped his ring and middle finger between your plush inner thighs, spreading the warm oil over your already wet pussy lips. You shiver but stay as still as possible for him, he bent over your pretty body. Pressing kisses onto your lower back. Muttering to himself as his fingers slip into your slits folds, your velvet walls clenching his long digits. You whine and cuss under your breath as he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers.

“Relax, mamás, can’t have you clenching my dick off.” He chuckled breathily in your ear, making you groan a little. You did your best not to clench on his fingers so hard, you rolled your shoulders and breathed deeply. Burying your face into the silky pillows, you whine as he begins to rock you by pumping his fingers into your weeping hole. Your breath shudders as his free hand down your back to asscheeks, squeezing gently and smacking to make you squeal.

“Oye,” You hiss, looking back at him over your shoulder, furrowing your eyebrows. He snickered like a kid and went back to pumping fingers. It didn’t take long till your orgasm, it never took Miguel too long to get you to cum. Your nectar pooled in his palm, he smirked proudly, licking

your cum off his hand. You whimper in shame, hiding your red face in the pillows. He chuckled cruelly before slapping his now fully erect member over your thick ass. You squeak as you watch his big hands grab the headboard above you and he begins to hump like a bitch in heat.

He sat on your calves on his knees, his thighs on either side of your hips. The massage oil acts as a lubricant for him to slide his fat cock between your buttcheeks easier. You whine into the pillows, your shoulders hunching and back arching. 

You let out a soft moan as his shaft dragged over your holes over and over again, making you shiver in pleasure. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh as he took you from behind. You just knew that the smug bastard had a satisfied look plastered all over his face as he humped, spanked and slapped your poor, poor, red ass. 

He grabbed and groped, before pulling off of you completely. Miguel took his shaft in his paw-ish hand, dragging his leaking tip to your weeping entrance. 

“Miggy…” You whine, it's been too long since you’ve had him all to yourself. Whether it be your respective jobs, family and taking care of two kids under ten. You miss the feeling of him stretching you out, you miss the burn. You missed him making it hard for you to walk the next day, and him eating you out like a starved man, repeating the phrase ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over again as an apology as he palmed his dick.

You missed the burn and the after care and him making you breakfast for you afterwards. His cock slipped inside, not even three inches at first just to get you ready. His fingers stretched you out best he could, but he was getting impatient, and he needed to feel his pretty girl. His hands drifted off the headboard to either side of your head on the bed. 

Sloooowly, he pushes deeper, you choke back all your noises. You look over at the nightstand on Miguel's side of the bed at the alarm clock, because you apparently married an old man. It was a little after five in the morning, he usually sets his alarm for six, that smug bastard set it early to squeeze a Valentines day quickie before work.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the plap plap plap of his hips hitting your ass and his tip kissing your cervix and the low creaks of your shared mattress. You slap your hand over your mouth, his big hands tighten around the sheets he was clenching. The massage oil and both of your sweat rolled off of eachother, pooling on the bed below you, but you’re too full to care. His length filled you up so good, that you couldn’t think to care about the fact you’re ruining your sheets.

“Yes…” You whine, your shaky hands clinging to the sheets as he pounds into you.

Miguel laid his body over yours as he slowly bucked into you, you almost preferred it when he was pounding into your poor, abused pussy since then he wasn’t torturing you with slow, agonizing strokes. His lips pressed into your ear, his eyes glazed over as he grunted and huffed into the shell of your ear, you loved how vocal he was. How he’d react to your body, how'd he moan and praise you. 

His arm slithered under your neck, pressing you into a headlock as he rutted against your soft walls. His nose buried into your hair, breathing in your cocoa butter shampoo. He tightened his grip on you until your cheek was pressed up against his bicep, his sweat, musk and the remnants of his cologne from yesterday made you slick. 

A knot formed in the pit of your belly, his pre mixed with the oils and your slick, coating the sheets with liquids. You really should have put a towel down…-

“So wet, you like that, don't you?" He growled, his voice deep and husky as he took you from behind. He couldn't resist, he couldn't fight it. He was under your control, he was yours to do with as you pleased. He always portrayed himself as the head of the household, el jefe, but it was a different story once the girls were in bed and the door was locked. He was still very much the dominant, though your pleasure was his priority. He wanted you to be pleased and happy with him above anything else.

“Mhm…feels, fuck, so good…” You mewl, your hips swaying side to side as he slowly rolled his hips into you, your warm walls clenching him. He pulled out until only his tip was in, before pounding back in. Your sweet nectar flowed from your core, you writhed and silently screamed into the pillows. Miguel kept rutting before quickly pulling out, his hot cum spilling down the small of your back.

He let out a satisfied sigh and flopped down on the bed next to you. The giant laid face down next to you, groaning. 

“Jesus, you’re not that old.” You choke out after a minute of basking in each other's sweaty afterglow. “You’re fine,” You grumble, nudging his calf with your foot.

“I’m just warming down, gimme a minute.” He gruffed, tilting his head to stick his tongue out at you and scrunching his nose. “Bleh,”

“Oh my god, you’re just like Gabriela.” You snicker, rolling on your back to stretch, and looking over his body. Miguel was on his stomach, one of his long legs off the bed as he pressed his face into his pillow. You can’t help but look at him with disgust.

“You have a ridiculously nice ass for a man.” You pout.

“Don’t be jelly,” he scoffed playfully.

“Did Gabriela teach you that word?”

“What, ‘jelly’?” He asked and you nod. “Oh please, I’m well educated in the field of slang. I know about what the kids are saying, ‘on fleek’, ‘yeet’, ‘lit’, you name it. You married a very educated man, lucky you~”

“I’ve never heard anyone say that in literal years…”

“Who?”

“Hmm?”

“Asked.” He said proudly, you let out a groan. This was just middle school all over again.

“Okay, okay, I’m done now, mariposa. I promise.” Miguel giggled, grunting a little before rolling onto his back next to you. He snakes a big hand over you and pulls you atop of him. 

“This is disgusting,” 

“I didn’t even-!” “The sheets, and us. I should get in the shower…” You grumbled, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you back down to him as you sat up. Your cheek smushed up to his firm pecs. 

“Two more minutes,” He promised, patting your sticky back.

You’ve been getting ready for what felt like hours, your makeup, shoes, hair, jewelry, clothes, accessories. Maybe you were spoiled…sat on the floor of your walk-in closet in nothing but your pretty lingerie, your arms crossed under your chest, you mull over your options for the perfect outfit for your and Miguel’s date tonight.

You check the time on your phone and sigh, deciding to take your chances with that one bodycon cami dress you got months ago. It was cute, I guess. You quickly finish getting ready, your finishing touch being a pretty little necklace with a pendant with the letter M engraved into it. 

The girls were shipped off to your parents house for the night, it was just you two. He cooed and crooned over you, showering you with gifts and peppering your pretty face with kisses. Making your face a little red from his stubble brushing over your cheeks, he booked a nice restaurant nearby for the two of you and came back home for Valentine's Day sex.

After years of marriage and having kids, of course things would often fall into a routine. But after all his gifts and gushing, maybe things won't be so uniform tonight.

The dinner was fine…your alfredo pasta was good so far, and the wine was nice. But Miguel was acting strange ever since you woke him up. He's been red in the face and nervous, which was weird since he was usually so confident and outspoken. 

He was complaining about the wine being expensive, you look up from your pasta to count his forehead creases. 

“It’s like I have to hunt a waiter down for a bottle of wine, wine that's nearly two-hundred dollars. Ridiculous…” He grumbled, you can’t help but roll your eyes as he obnoxiously waved at a waiter. 

“Miggy, please stop. You’re acting like my mother.” You mumble after he spoke to the waiter, you watch the poor twenty something year old disappear into the kitchen to get that bottle.

“Oh please, even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” Miguel scoffed, poking his food with the prongs of his fork like Gabriela did when she didn’t want to eat her dinner and she’d stall for sympathy. You tried making conversation, when that doesn’t really seem to work, something more devious appears in your smile as a sudden idea comes to mind. 

Of course, you’d know how to get him to relax. You prided yourself with that, so you set your little plan to action. You make sure no one in the restaurant was looking in your general direction, you pick up your salad fork, a type fork you may have used twice in your life, and drop it on the fancy dark wood floors of the restaurant. Which, in turn, makes the most loud and annoying ‘ting’ sound, Miguel gives you a look as you freeze. 

“Gosh, clumsy me~” You quickly reassess, making sure no one is looking, you duck to your knees to pick up the fork that somehow got almost completely under the table. It was one of those circular tables with a long red cloth draped on it to the floor. You sneak underneath without anyone suspecting a th-

“What are you doing?” Miguel calmly asks, though you can tell by his tone he’s the human equivalent to a donkey on the edge.

“I’m grabbing my fork,” You answer, though you have passed the fork, crawling on your hands and knees, you make a beeline to your manspreading husband. You rest your chin on the edge of the chair, pressing your soft lips for a fat kiss on his bulge. He jolts when you do, his hands flying to cover his crotch.

“A-amor!” Miguel yelped, his knees hitting the table. Making his wine glass fall, he quickly moved to pick it back up. Giving you just enough time to sloppily unbuckle his belt and pull his slacks down just enough to pull his semi-hard cock out, the table cloth covering his lap up. You smile to yourself before licking your palms to stroke him with both your hands. 

Once he was completely hard in your soft hands, you took his tip in your mouth. Kitten licking it as you stroked with one hand and kneaded his balls with the other. He was trying (and failing) to mask his whimpers and squeaks by sipping his wine. 

“So pretty~” You cooed, slapping his fat cock over your tongue. His pre dripped down his aching shaft from his slit, which you of course greedily lick up. Every noise Miguel made went straight to your sopping pussy, which you were grinding up and down his dress shoe. He grunted, how rude, you’re polishing his cock and shoes, and he dares to complain?

You take a solid four inches into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. You wish you could look at his pretty face as he groans and grunts, you nod your head, attempting to fit more into your mouth. 

Relaxing your throat, you take a deep breath in through your nose and breath back out slowly before taking him all the way to his base. Your nose nestles into his trimmed pubic hair while your hands snake forward to dip back into his boxers to give his balls a squeeze. Your drool and his pre dripped from your soft lips and down his balls.

Miguel pressed his palm into his lips, his eyes squeezed shut. His free hand on the crown of your head, his fingers tangled with your hair as he guided you. His thighs shuddered, doing everything in his power to not moan loudly in a crowded restaurant on Valentines day. You try to bob your head but he keeps you down on his cock.

He huffed and his hips buckled to push deeper into you, you gag and tears roll down your cheeks. It only took a few more seconds as hot, white ropes shot down your throat and warmed your belly. You swallow quickly, your moans vibrate against him as you ride him through his orgasm. 

Only when you hear that whimper do you finally slide off of him. Your lips leave the tip with a lewd pop. You give his cock a sweet little kiss, you dry your tears and climb back into your seat, placing your fork back on the table where it belongs with a satisfied smile. He wasn’t glaring anymore, he looks much more relaxed now…

Just from the look alone tells you that you’re in for it when you get home. 

Before Miguel could say a thing, the waiter zips back over to the table to come check up on your dinner. He was about to leave when he paused.

“You’ve got some alfredo sauce on your lips, ma’am.” The waiter said, pointing to his own lips. You squeak out a quick ‘oh!’ and dab your lips with your napkin. Wiping off the ‘alfredo sauce’ as the waiter ran off to another table.

“Don’t,” You sighed, Miguel was smirking, resting his head on his palm. He was relaxed now, and was giggly from the alfredo sauce comment.

“I didn’t even say anything~ though you do look cute with alfredo sauce on your lip.” Miguel said sweetly, swirling his wine glass to watch the red liquid slosh in the cup before raising it to his lip to take a sip. His crimson eyes trained on you. Giving you a look that made your previously soaked panties soaking wet and sticking to your cunt.

“Though you are very much still in trouble.”

Your heel made you slip on the icy doorstep, Miguel’s hand on your waist hoisted you upright before you could fall into the snow. “Careful~” He tutted smugly, unlocking the door for you and you rushed inside the warm home. 

Both you and Miguel had been drinking, you from the embarrassing alfredo sauce incident and Miguel because he was trying to loosen up. You’re both tipsy and stumbling into the kitchen, you go to the sink to pour yourself a big glass of water to sober up. Just as you gulp down the last sip, Miguel comes up behind you, his big, calloused hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing gently.

His soft lips find your jaw, he massages your shoulders. The wine made him tipsy and went straight to his dick. Your back pressed against his chest and stomach, your hands on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. Signing softly and nearly letting a moan slip as his hands travel down from your shoulders to rub your clothed breast.

You grip the counter, your shoulders going slack and your back involuntary arching. His thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples, you feel his cock hardening from underneath his slacks as he slowly grinds on you. His lips still on your jaw, the tip of his tongue slipping from his lips to press against your soft skin.

Humping your plump ass and squeezing your plush tits was heaven to Miguel, the only thing missing was his cock buried deep into your gushing cunt. 

Tipsy, he decided that’s what he needed, he wrapped a beefy arm around your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. 

“Miguel!” You squealed, kicking your feet as you slowly began to sober up. He didn’t say anything, just grunting and his hand falling from the small of your back to your butt, pinching the fat to tell you to quiet down. He carried you with ease up the stairs, down the hallway to your shared bedroom. 

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and flopped you down on your back onto the blankets and pillows. You landed back with a squeak of the mattress, your legs dangling off the edge as he straddled your his. His lips crashed into yours, his cheeks painted in a pink hue, his big hands ran up and down your sides

You parted your lips, catching your whines and huffs in his mouth as he pressed your beefy body into you. Trapping you to the bed with his hands, he leaned over you, his kisses searing as he held your wrists up over your head to keep you underneath him. 

When he got tipsy, he wouldn’t be bothered by foreplay. He needed to get right to the good part, his kisses got hungrier and needier with every second that passed. His hands rubbed down your sides, sliding your dress off your body. His eyes wandered and quickly widening when he saw your lack of anything under your dress.

You went rogue on him, you ditched your lingerie in the restaurant bathroom, since your panties were soaked and uncomfortable, and because you too wanted to get to the main event as soon as possible~ He stripped and sat down on the edge of the bed with you on his lap in his favorite position, full nelson. Your legs bent up to fold you in half, your knees on either side of your head with his arms bending you back with his fingers locked with each other behind your neck. It was sort of uncomfortable, but the second he moved his hips, you forgot all about it.

He thrusted sloppily into you, you threw you back on his shoulder almost immediately as his tip practically kissed your womb the first thrust. He didn't stretch you out prior, the burn was enough to make you scream. His hips jutted up and down, your ass slapping down against his pelvis. Filling your bedroom with the sweat slaps of skin hitting skin and your lewd moans. 

Your eyes flick up and cross, he’s been at it for hours it feels like when he actually just started.

“Please, Miggy,” You mewled in his ear. He ignored you, peering over your shoulder to watch your pretty titties bounce from how he was rocking you. Miguel looked angry, like he usually did during sex. Grabbing your hair he roughly pulls making your back arch suddenly “Fucking ride it,” he commanded in a harsh tone. 

Feeling him throb in you, you're ready for more, slowly start raising your hips and bringing yourself down the best you could when you squished and bent into the position. You felt the knot in the pit of your tummy tightening as he speared into you, a ring of cream wrapped around the base of his angry, twitching cock.

All night long, the man fucked you like a fleshlight. Making you cry tears of pleasure and scream his name for all your neighbors to hear. Your knot snapped for what felt like the umpteenth time, your orgasm ripped through you in waves. 

That didn’t stop him though, he’s fucking you like he’s trying to mold your gummy walls to fit his, and only his cock. 

Painting your womb white with ribbons of hot cum for the sixth time, he finally let’s go. His hands slightly raised as if admitting defeat as his chest rose and fell. Sweat rolling down his body as you crawl onto the bed to try to cool down. He falls down on his stomach next to you on his side of the bed. 

You poor thing have been put through the wringer, you’ve came too many times to count, been came in too many times to count, cried, screamed and moaned. Your throat and poor, slutty, pussy been played with and fucked ruthlessly. Your eyes are half lidded when Miguel rolled onto his side to face you.

“Amor…?” Miguel whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Hmm?”

“I need to admit something…I sent you the ramo buchon, even though I told you that your secret admirer sent it to you.” He admitted sheepishly, like he was an embarrassed kid owning up to taking a cookie. It made you chuckle sleepily.

“Yeah…I had a hunch,” You smiled, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He seems genuinely surprised you knew it was him.

“How…-you know what, never mind, mariposa. Happy Valentine's Day to the loveliest girl in the whole multiverse.” He smiled sweetly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. 

“Thank you, mi Valentín.” 

[kortsitron]

Frustration

✮ PARING Miguel O'Hara × Gender Neutral! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS afab! reader, unsafe sex (wrap it y'all), choking, smut, maybe a little cringy, drabble

✮ SUMMARY Miguel fucks you against the wall

✮ A/N I am writing this because I reminded myself lately that was my first thought when I saw Miguel (I was horny sorry not sorry). No thoughts, just Miguel

ao3 masterlist requests

“Mierda!” Miguel cursed under his breath as he came inside of you for the second time, his hand tightening around your throat for a quick moment. You felt your thighs shake, it was overwhelming, but so so good. His hand tightened around the arms as he held them behind your back. 

“We're not done yet.” He almost groaned into your ear as he started thrusting into your pussy once more. The feeling of your wet cunt around his thick cock was making him lose his mind.

But how did it happen exactly? He was frustrated, after a long day of taking care of the multiverse and having to listen to chatter from Peters. He needed some relief and that's why he called you into his office.

Because he knew you would help him and also he knew how heavenly you felt around his cock.

And that was how he got you pressed around the wall, one hand around your throat, the other holding your hands behind your back as he pounded into you. 

You were completely fucked out of your mind, not being able to say a word, instead moaning and whimpering. Miguel couldn't help, but smirk at what he did to you.

He leaned to whisper into your ear. “Remember about safeword, honey.” Miguel may have been frustrated, tired and in need of relief, but he would never fuck you without a safeword. He was impetuous at times, but never cruel.

He pounded into you, groaning. He gave your throat a squeeze, before grabbing your cheeks and making you look up at him. “Gonna cum you again. You like that, don't you? The thought of me cumming deep inside of you?” He teased with a smirk.

He watched you try to say something back, but only thing that came out of your mouth was his need. And oh boy, that gave him a shiver down his spine. “Mmm…” He hummed. “Didn't know i fuck you so good.” He knew, but he wanted to play with you.

“Want me to cum in you once more?” You nodded. “Use your word, hun.”

“Wa.. Want you to co-come inside me again..” Miguel's smirk widened at your answer, as he began pounding into you faster. 

“Fuck..” He whispered under his breath, he was close. “Keep looking at me with those pretty eyes. Wanna see your face as you cum.”

He continued until he had your thighs shaking again, he had you moaning his name like a prayer as he made you reach your peak. “So pretty…” Miguel mumbled before he came inside of you again.

He gave him a moment to calm down, before his dick slipped out of your wet cunt, his seed leaking out of it. He let out of you, but grabbed you by your waist. 

“You did so well for me, let me take care of you.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

hear me out

Detective!miguel with His sidekick,or agent

but he falls in love with his sidekick/agent while being her partner for soo long

(FEM!reader pls) make reader care free or just friendly to everyone,but when it an case.It game time,Serious time,no playing around.

Ahhhh! I love the vibes!

Detective!Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Warnings: injury references, brief sexy time references, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 307

Miguel’s usually very quiet and collected, methodical in how he approaches cases. 

Pretends he doesn’t love your little jokes and snips, but you can tell by the way his lips twitch ever so slightly that he really loves them.

Everyone thinks he’s so stoic all the time, but that’s only because his sarcasm is so deadpan and his normal tone is so low it’s almost impossible to decipher. 

You can tell though. He makes you snort laugh at the worst possible times. It’s one of his favourite things. 

Always asks your opinion on everything, likes to hear you talk about the case. It helps him to process.  

He gets injured badly on one case and absolutely panics afterwards because he realises, when he thought he was going to die, his last thoughts before he passed out were of you. 

When he wakes up in the hospital you’re asleep on the chair next to his bed.

He nearly pulls out several tubes trying to climb out of bed and hug you. 

Gets told off by not only you, but three nurses. 

Only settles back down when you hold his hand, he strokes your cheek and tells you he loves you.

“You must be on some really good drugs right now, O’Hara.” You tease.

You only believe him when he keeps telling you every single day.

You chew him out for getting so badly hurt, and how he shouldn’t take stupid risks.

“Take a stupid risk on me?” 

“Do not change the subject, Miguel.” 

“Go back to calling me O’Hara, you saying Miguel in that tone…” 

“Makes you nervous?” 

“Horny.” 

Your first kiss is only when he’s finally allowed to go home, because he didn’t want it to be in a hospital bed. 

He did kiss your cheeks, hands, neck, shoulders, forehead and everywhere else he could reach though.

Thank you so much for reading!

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