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cheonstapes · 4 months ago

Note

UHMM LEFT US HANGIN W THAT SPIDER BARBIE BEACH POST?? GONNA NEED THAT SPICY PART ASAAPP 😭

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘LET'S GO BEACH: AGAIN’ (っ˘ω˘ς )

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x fem!reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

@cheonstapes; ik you guys are tired of me :( getting back into writing is so hard aftter thinking you're not good enough but seeing people still like my posts gave me some motivation to come back! i will admit, i don't read miguel fics anymore but that doesn't mean i won't write for him anymore -- that said, PLEASE SEND VI REQUESTS:))))) thank you for your request my love and i love you all and thank you for supporting me🩷

part one!

1.7k words

cw; SMUT!!, switch!miguel, switch!reader, finger fucking, og i just realised they never kiss :9, mutual pining, miguel is kinda mean but he loves you, water sex?, public nudity, slight exhibitionism (?), NAWT PROOFREAD!!!!

You thought the longer you looked at it, maybe you’d suddenly develop some sort of telekinetic powers to drag it back toward you — but alas, you are not eleven nor are you Moana to be controlling the water. It was cheap, you knew that, and you could never resist a good sale. But you may have slightly overestimated the strength of the flimsy strings of your bra, greatly, actually. Before you could dwell on the unfortunate demise of your bikini top, the firm tug on your exposed nipple snapped your head back round, a dripping hand clamping down on the rough one beneath it.

“M-Miguel! Don’t— um, don’t look!” The man in question had a good look, a good few looks already at your pretty little tits — the perfect size for him to cup in his hands, imagining his burly fingers dancing along the damp underside of your skin. “Yeah…it’s a bit too late for that, cariño. You know you’re lucky we’re in the water right now, or else you would’ve flashed the whole beach.”

With how hot your face felt at that moment, you swore you could see the water evaporating around you. Miguel’s smile was nothing short of predatory, those sharp, slightly crooked, fangs poking out of the wetted slit of his lip. “It’s almost like you wanted that to happen. You didn’t think I’d notice you loosening the strings earlier?” Well, you did loosen the strings, yes. But only because they were too tight! And you might’ve, allegedly, planned that little stunt in the water when the waves were looking a little too rough — rough enough to mess with your skimpy little bra. Chica sucia.

The waves had calmed, lapping against the skin of your legs as the sun shone down on you both — peeking past Miguel’s absurdly wide shoulders to catch a glance of the beach. “Empty.” Aside from the few strays packing away the last of their belongings, even your little group had gone home, not like you had planned this from the start. Pshh! That’d be crazy. His head tilts in the direction of your eye line, a wry smile creeping its way up onto his lips. “Hm? You planning on doing something with that observation, barbie?”

On a normal day, you’d probably be disgusted at the thought of floating in the middle of the ocean with your tits out on display in front of a man — but this was not a normal day. And he isn’t any man, he’s your boss. You’re stupidly sexy, brooding, hulking, hunk of a boss. Things between the two of you hadn’t been the same since that little encounter before, and you’d be lying if you said you wished things went back to how it was. Oh, how you longed for a moment like that again — and oh, how many bottles of lube are stacked up inside the bin in Miguel’s office because he couldn’t get you out of his head since that fateful day.

“N-no! Of course not,” you weren’t a very convincing liar, Miguel already knew that. But it doesn’t hurt to tease you a little bit. “I just don’t want, like, some family to see tits or something. I don’t wanna traumatise someone’s kids!” Well, if someone’s not complaining it’s definitely him. Though your hands were doing a piss poor job at covering them, the pebbles of your nipples peeking out from the slits of your shivering fingers.

The ripples of the water caused your head to snap back to the man in front of you as he slowly waded his way toward you — naturally, you would probably feel inclined to swim backwards but something was anchoring your body still. Circling around you, his wet chest stuck to your back. A sudden weight was lifted from your chest, literally, as he cupped your tits in his hand like a makeshift bra.

“Problem solved, princess.” Miguel’s voice came in a low, amused grumble in your ear — deft fingers tweaking at your pebbled nipples with the hunger of a man possessed, wet strands of his hair tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. The faint lapping of waves against your heated body, soft howling of the wind, was partly broken by the breathy whimpers that were being forced out your mouth in time with the more feral grunting from the man behind you.

“Miguel,” the name of such a confident and powerful man suddenly sounded meek and pathetic coming from your lips, it was an extraordinary feat to keep your body from losing complete composure when the delicate throbbing of his cock brushed against your back. “Please — fuck, I…I need you, more!” as much as it was a deeply harboured fantasy of yours to see your stoic boss as whiny and submissive as you were being — all ounces of shame exploded as supernovas danced behind your eyes with the brush of the tip of his fingers against the damp fabric of your panties.

“Use your words, pretty. I’m already so close to your cute little cunt, you just need to tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” The engorged pulsing of your clit was erratic against his wandering hands, deft fingers rubbing harsh circles against the swollen flesh. His lips trailed behind your ear, not before leaving a harsh bite to the salty skin — fangs(?) imprinting a deep set of fresh marks onto your neck. Nevertheless, as you watched your bra float further and further away from you, whatever was left of your mushy brain seemed to fizzle out before you were left a pathetic panting mess — only pausing to swallow the bucketloads of sea water and saliva that built in your gaping mouth.

“Fuck me, Miguel — just, shit…do something, you asshole.” Logically, insulting the man who had his cock and fingers so dangerously close to your leaking hole wasn’t the smartest idea — and at this point, drowning seemed like a better option than being denied an orgasm you’d been waiting 15 agonising minutes for. But Miguel wasn’t that cruel of a man, not to his precious doll at least. “There’s my girl.” A large hand swiped between your folds, a sticky sweet string of cum snapping in the water as he plunged his fingers inside — massaging the spongy walls with practiced ease.

With his free hand still cupping the weight of your chest, giving a cheeky squeeze here and there, his sharp teeth pinched the sensitive skin down the slope of your shoulder — tongue darting out to lick and suck purple blemishes onto his new favourite canvas. “So fucking desperate for me that you’re letting me finger fuck you in the middle of the ocean? If I’d known you wanted me so bad, I’d have had you taking this cock months ago.” Despite the shame bubbling in your stomach, you couldn’t mistake the impeding heat there too — luckily no one but the rising moon would see how much of a slut you were being right now.

“Y-You’re one to talk— those shorts look a little tight on you, boss.” Fuck, he loved your mouth. Even if it wasn’t choking on his cock, but rather making fun of it — he loved it nonetheless. Normally he would’ve been out of the flimsy material by now, shoved himself inside, and made a mess inside whatever hole he was fucking. But today? Today he was fucking you — and you aren’t just any hole. And you, being the absolute sweetheart you are, couldn’t bear to leave your boss blue balled whilst you came your brains out.

With a quick manoeuvre, and practiced flexibility that Miguel will definitely keep in mind for later, you hooked your feet behind his knees to press your ass up against him to rub against his achy shaft to provide him some semblance of relief. And oh the relief it was, finally seeing the crack in that well polished demeanour he always presented. “F-Fu…fuck— cariño, that ass of yours is sin.” The whimpery tone of his voice was unbecoming of a man of his stature, but you were gonna make sure you pulled more out of that sexy man before the night was through.

The fingers buried knuckles deep in your glazed walls stuttered momentarily, pushing into you so hard you’d swear he was fucking them into your womb like he was trying to get you pregnant with them. “Does it feel good, boss?” And you had the nerve to be all giggly when he’s trying to keep himself from contaminating the water with his cum, his body tensing as the thickness of his bulge grinds between the plump globes. Of course it felt fucking good, it was the best fucking thing he’s ever felt aside from the tits still in his hand right now.

Crazy how a little bit of ass can reduce your boss to a growling, panting mess — pressing you flush against him to rub the tip of his clothed cock against his own fingers as he matched his grinding to his fervent fucking, “Ha…if you’re this desperate with just your fingers than how are you gonna be when I finally let you fuck me?” Turning the tables on him was so tiring when your cunt’s still getting pounded two ways till Tuesday with your clit throbbing so hard it’s giving you a headache — but the continuous faltering in his movements told you he wasn’t too far himself.

“Shut the f-fuck up, I..shit— acting so high and mighty while your greedy hole is swallowing up my fucking fingers, hm?” Did his voice get even deeper? Cause Jesus fuck did it make you even wetter, you couldn’t distinguish it from the sea if you tried. A harsh, prolonged prod at your womb froze up your warm body — another thick finger finally finding your enlarged clit as the spasming around his fingers intensified and breathy notes caressed his sensitive ears.

Silky strings of cum floated around you, momentary disgust flooding straight out of your system as you turned to look at your now red faced boss — who was struggling to hold back another hard on from staring at the slicked skin of your chest. “You really just came from a little bumping and grinding, boss? No wonder you’re always so tense— you’re pent up.”

Now sporting a grumpy from, a large hand turned your face away from his — the other reaching down to not-so-subtly adjust his temperamental cock. Bad boy. “Be quiet, you little exhibitionist. Get a better bikini next time, yeah?”

“Only if you’re paying for it, boss.”

#cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut

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cheonstapes · 4 months ago

Note

UHMM LEFT US HANGIN W THAT SPIDER BARBIE BEACH POST?? GONNA NEED THAT SPICY PART ASAAPP 😭

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘LET'S GO BEACH: AGAIN’ (っ˘ω˘ς )

part one!

1.7k words

cw; SMUT!!, FEM!READER, switch!miguel, switch!reader, finger fucking, og i just realised they never kiss :9, mutual pining, miguel is kinda mean but he loves you, water sex?, public nudity, slight exhibitionism (?), NAWT PROOFREAD!!!!

“Only if you’re paying for it, boss.”

#cheonstapes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #cheonstapes films!🪷#astv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara headcanons #sub miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader

214 notes · View notes

cheonstapes · 4 months ago

Text

S M O K E A N D S U G A R

a Coyote Ugly x College AU

Part 1

content warning: none really, intros to Miguel and Amara, both are a little shy and awkward, he forms a crush slow but fast all at the same time. but will go on to be suggestive so dni minors, and go on about class difference and other stuff.

word count: 3,175 (mostly proofread, she’s a long one oops!)

Kind of the trope of opposites attract, tall big bf and shorter thicker gf, STEM bf and creative gf, nerdy bf and alt gf vibes :)

I took a lot of self liberty on certain things so if they’re not canon to comics that’s why, but 1992 run and other runs of Spider-man 2099 will be incorporated

i was highly inspired by Crazy Rich Asians the books and movie, Spider-Man movies, my own college experience and talented writers like @bluesidez @feyhunter78 @cheonstapes giving y’all your accolades and flowers fr🫶

Part 2 (coming soon) 🍒⋆｡°✩🔬⋆｡°✩ Masterlist

Born in Manhattan to Conchata O’Hara, a formidable lawyer with sky-high expectations, and Tyler Stone, a wealthy CEO more interested in boardrooms than bedtime stories, Miguel’s world was one of sharp edges and colder comforts that have only warmed as of late. His father’s sudden interest in his life came only after the dust of his infidelity settled—when the scandal was quieter and the damage was done. It didn’t matter much. Miguel had long learned to rely on himself, but could acknowledge his dad was at least trying though. Plus the money he gets and the car he drives wasn’t too bad either.

Raised primarily by his mother and stepfather, George O’Hara—a cyber engineer who wrestled with his own demons before finding sobriety—Miguel’s home life was complicated. Kron, his competitive half-brother, took every chance to remind him of his shortcomings, turning sibling rivalry into something resembling a COD lobby—seriously the amount of times the boys scrapped was insane. The only real peace Miguel found was with his maternal grandparents and younger brother, Gabriel—the only people who saw him, not just the expectations placed upon him.

Now 21 and a senior at Empire State University, Miguel poured himself into his Applied Biology major with a focus in Genetics. He lived by structure—early mornings at the campus gym, black coffee or a protein shake in hand, nights spent buried in lab reports. He chased excellence like a man trying to outrun his own shadow, determined to earn his master’s and PhD, dreaming of genetic advancements that could actually change lives.

But even a man like Miguel—stoic, hyper-focused, a perfectionist to the bone—needed a break sometimes.

That’s how he found himself in Media Literacy.

Well, it was a last-minute elective—one he chose more for convenience than curiosity—but the syllabus promised less memorization and equations, which felt like a small mercy.

Amara Reyes lived her life with her feet planted firmly on the ground, even if her heart sometimes wanted to float away.

Born in Staten Island to a lower/middle-class family, Amara had spent her life working—working to be the daughter her parents wanted, working to prove herself in every classroom, working to carve out her own path. After high school, she moved to Florida with her family since they wanted to leave the island, so she took a gap year before starting college there. But the Sunshine State didn’t feel like home. It didn’t really work for her ideal career.

So New York called her back.

Now 21 and a junior at Empire State University, Amara studied Communications with a minor in Entrepreneurship. She hustled hard, attending on a waiver, juggling classes and her involvement with The Beacon—the university’s paper and magazine—where she designed, and wrote, and then the communication club where managed their social media pages and helped coordinate events on campus. She had a great roommate, Jess Drew, the girls got along and hardly ever had issues from being so in sync.

But when the sun set, Amara had another life entirely.

From Thursday to Sunday, 8 PM to midnight, she worked at Coyote Ugly as a Coyote Girl—bartending, dancing on the bar, and pocketing tips big enough to keep her afloat with whatever her waivers and parents couldn’t cover. The bar was more than a job; it was an escape. A place where she could be bold and untouchable—red nails, sharp winged eyeliner, and her body moving to the music, it was good dopamine.

She was both parts—smoke and sugar—a girl who could charm you with a remark but never let you get too close, unless she opened up, rarely.

They met on a Monday, first day of the semester around noon.

Media Literacy was packed—mostly with Communications majors Amara already knew, either through classes or The Beacon. She felt at ease, slipping into her usual rhythm, greeting familiar faces with small smiles and hellos.

Miguel, on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb.

He was too tall for the cramped desks, all 6’6 of him hunched over his laptop, and too serious, his jaw tight, a black coffee on the table in front of him. His broad frame looked better suited for a gym than this class, and Amara noticed how his dark eyes skimmed the room—calculating, cautious. Out of place.

When she scanned for a seat, she spotted an ideal spot—close enough to the board that she could see without straining (she needed that, switching between her glasses and contacts as often as she did), and next to an outlet for charging her phone.

And, well… the cute guy sitting there didn’t hurt either.

With a slight hesitation—because, really, why was she nervous?—Amara slipped into the seat beside him.

Miguel barely looked up at first, just a brief glance. But once she settled in, pulling out her laptop that has stickers on them and adjusting her black-rimmed glasses, his gaze flicked back.

He noticed the small details—her curly brunette hair with bold red and blonde chunky highlights on the left side of her hair, the glimmer of her hoop nose ring, the three tattoos dancing along her right arm, the sharp black eyeliner and the way her acrylic stiletto nails tapped softly against the keys, not in an obnoxious way like most would think, though.

His legs are long, his broad frame making the space he had at the long table with 5 seats along the row feel even smaller, but he keeps his focus locked on his laptop looking at the class’ canvas page. His jaw works — tense, contemplative — but he’s careful not to make it too obvious that he’s stealing glances at Amara.

Then a girl with bangs and the comfiest outfit sat next to Amara with a ‘hey mama!’—she seemed to know everyone in the class. The girls chatted a bit till the professor started speaking in the lecture hall.

Amara leaned her elbow against the desk, resting her chin in her hand as she stares at the projector after the professor switched the slides during his introductions about himself, his education, stuff he likes—he’s a Trekkie—and his wife and pets. Amara knew all of this since she’s had the professor before and he was cool. But she’s acutely aware of Miguel sitting next to her — the way his cologne smells, like cedarwood and something spiced, the way he moves with this calculated control, like he’s perpetually holding something back. Probably cause he was a big dude and aware of the space he took up.

God. He’s really cute. Like… annoyingly cute.

The professor’s voice echoes through the room, “Alright, enough of me, let’s get started. Just go down the list, take turns asking each other the questions. It’s not that deep.”

Amara shifts in her seat, her curls falling over one shoulder, and offers Miguel a slightly awkward smile, she and the girl next to her, Jen, knew each other already so she had to talk to the guy next to her. “Guess we should just… start.”

Miguel’s lips twitch at the corner, not quite a smile, but enough for her to notice. “Yeah.” His voice is deep, smoother than she expects.

She taps her nails against the table idly looking at the projector of the icebreaker prompt then back at Miguel. “Okay… what’s your name?”

“Miguel O’Hara.”

There’s a moment of silence as Amara processes it. It suits him — sharp and memorable, she hummed.

“You?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Amara Reyes.”

Miguel repeats her name in his head like he’s etching it into his memory. Amara. He likes the way it sounds — "to love", nice meaning.

“Major?” she continues, keeping her tone light, though her heart’s beating faster than it should be. She usually was shyer with new people regardless.

“Applied Biology. Genetics.” He watches her expression shift — eyebrows raising slightly, lips parting. He knows the reaction — most people don’t expect a guy like him to be in science, let alone genetics.

“Whoa,” she says, blinking. “That’s… intense.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“What about you?” he asks, though he already has a guess — she carries herself like someone in the creative field, not a STEM person really.

“Communications,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Minor in Entrepreneurship.”

Miguel’s head tilts again, like he’s trying to figure her out. “That tracks.”

Amara squints. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks — not in a cocky way, but in that almost shy, hesitant way like he doesn’t want to offend her. “Just… you seem like you know how to talk to people.”

Her cheeks warm. “I’m actually not that great at it.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling too hard. Focus, Amara.

They go down the list, the conversation flowing easier than either of them expected.

“Where are you from?”

“Staten Island, but I moved to Florida after high school. Came back to New York for this. You?.”

“Manhattan, Midtown really. Born and raised.”

Then comes the next question. “Guilty pleasure?” Amara reads out loud, already feeling a little amused about what she’s about to say.

Miguel leans back slightly, one arm resting on the back of his chair. “You first.”

She narrows her eyes at him playfully. “Why me?”

“’Cause I wanna hear yours first.”

Amara sighs. “Jersey Shore. But from the second season cause everyone in the house knows each other better and it’s more iconic when they were in Miami. And I’m not guilty about it.”

Miguel blinks, then his lips quirk up in genuine amusement. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She grins. “It’s entertaining, I love it.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “It’s been trending again so that makes sense I guess. My mom used to watch it but like hate watched kinda but then liked it.”

She laughed. “Makes sense.“ She then tilted her head. “Well… if we’re talking actual guilty pleasures… I do fall down Hollywood deep dive rabbit holes sometimes.”

Miguel raises a brow. “Like… celebrity gossip?”

Amara scoffs. “Not gossip — history. Like how celebrities careers actually were, or like the history behind movies. I know the most random stuff about pop culture moments.”

Miguel’s grin lingers. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Just… didn’t expect that either.”

Her nail taps against her laptop. “Alright, your turn. Spill.”

He hesitates — just long enough for her to notice — then mutters, “Old novelas.”

Amara’s eyes widen. “What?”

Miguel shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “My abuela used to watch them all the time when I was a kid. I still watch them sometimes.”

“Like Rubí?” she asks, biting back a laugh.

“Yeah,” Miguel says, a little sheepish but not embarrassed.

“That’s… kinda adorable,” Amara teases, but there’s a warmth to her voice. “My parents love El Señor de los Cielos”

“Good show,” he nodded, glad she didn’t think it was a bad thing.

The last question hovers between them: Tell me something about yourself.

Miguel taps fingers against his notebook, thinking. “I wake up at 5 AM every day to work out.”

Amara’s jaw drops. “Five?”

“Yeah.”

“Willingly?”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah.”

“You’re crazy.”

Miguel leans forward slightly, resting his arm on the desk. “What about you?”

Amara hesitates, then says, “I’ve had my nose pierced three times.”

Miguel’s brows knit together, and for the first time, he really looks at the hoop in her nose — delicate, with tiny diamonds. “Three times?”

She nods, lips quirking. “First time was normal. Then, the piercing fell out. I went to get it back in, wouldn’t go in, waited two weeks and got it redone, but the jewelry was an L shape — wrong kind — so it fell out again.” She laughs softly. “Had to wait a year to get it done right. They even had to put iodine up my nose and everything.”

Miguel winces. “Iodine?”

“Yeah. Felt weird, inside my nose was like orange for a bit, but it barely hurt getting done.”

He laughed. “Looks good now, though.”

Amara blinks. “Thanks.”

The professor claps his hands, pulling the class back to order. “Alright! Hope you all learned something new about each other. Let’s move on.”

Amara glances at Miguel one last time before turning back to the professor, her heart still doing that stupid fluttery thing.

And Miguel — well, he’s already replaying her laugh in his head.

The first few weeks of the semester unfolded like a slow burn — steady, unspoken rhythms forming.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Miguel finds himself arriving to Media Literacy a little early, not just because he’s prompt to classes — but because Amara always gets there a few minutes before him. Without fail, she slides into her usual seat: second row, close to the board, next to an outlet. The first time it might’ve been coincidence, the second time routine — but now, Miguel wonders if it’s a silent agreement between them, an unspoken decision that yeah, we sit next to each other.

She always has her headphones in when she walks in, big over-ear ones that match her all-black laptop bag, jingling softly with every step because of the keychains hooked onto it — a silver skull, a tiny plush hello kitty, and a heart-shaped charm with a spiderweb design. Her jewelry only adds to the jingling— silver and crystal pendant necklaces layered at her neck, the small hoop in her nose catching the light every time she moves. She practically chimes when she sits down.

Her scent always hits him next — smokey, warm vanilla, but not the overly sweet kind. It’s richer, like burnt sugar and something dark, with a faint undertone of black cherry — probably from the hand sanitizer she pulls out every time she settles into her seat. He doesn’t mean to notice this much, but it’s hard not to when she’s right there, and the smell lingers even after she’s gone.

She always says hi.

It’s never just a nod or a wave — it’s always, “Hey, Miguel”. He likes the way she says his name, even if it makes his stomach twist a little more than he’s willing to admit.

The class itself is… fine. The professor’s energetic enough, pacing at the front of the room while talking about media echo chambers, power structures, and the way people consume information. It’s interesting, sure — but what’s more interesting is Amara.

She’s locked in when it matters — eyes slightly narrowed, lips pursed, typing in bursts on her laptop — but she’s also always doing something creative before class officially starts. Some days, it’s doodling on a digital canvas, her stylus tapping softly against the screen as she works on graphics for The Beacon or content for the comm club’s socials. Other days, it’s designing a flyer or scrolling through Pinterest. Miguel pretends not to glance, but he catches enough to know she’s not just messing around — it’s all purposeful, even if it looks casual.

Once, mid-lecture, the professor brings up Foucault — something about power and knowledge being intertwined — and Miguel watches Amara’s head snap up, her fingers immediately flying across her keyboard. She’s not typing notes, though — he can tell by the way her face scrunches in that determined, focused way — she’s Googling something.

Sure enough, a minute later, she mutters, “Found it,” under her breath — Power/Knowledge by Michel Foucault — free PDF download flashing on her screen.

Miguel can’t help but smirk. “You really just downloaded the whole book?” he whispers.

Amara flicks her gaze to him, her lips twitching. “What? I’m curious.”

That’s something else about her — she’s curious in a way that’s not performative. She doesn’t care about sounding smart; she is smart, and she asks questions without dressing them up in flowery language. She has this way of connecting ideas — tying media literacy back to American individualism or how the general public is responsible for who gets a platform so yes it matters if a controversial person has so many people say ‘well i’m just one person’ it ends up being everyone and that sentiment was individualistic. She doesn’t talk to sound important. She talks to make sense of things.

And Miguel respects that — a lot.

The discussions are the best part of the class, though.

Every time they pair up or break into small groups, Miguel notices how Amara leans into the conversation — not just skimming the surface, but really thinking. Like when they talk about media bias, and she offhandedly says, “People don’t want to hear things that aren’t comfortable or opposite of what they believe, it doesn’t matter if it’s truth or not, it’s aligned with what they want to hear,”

Miguel just stares at her for a second before saying, “That’s a good point.”

Amara’s used to people agreeing just to move the conversation along — but with Miguel, she can tell he means it. He doesn’t add fluff; he just acknowledges when something’s smart.

Outside of class, their interactions are brief but consistent.

Sometimes, Miguel spots her on campus — usually alone, clutching a book she got for free from the library’s withdrawn section. It’s never just fiction — she’s always walking around with some random communication theory book, a collection of essays about film, or a philosophy text. He wonders how her brain isn’t constantly on fire with all the things she’s thinking about.

Other times, he notices how she interacts with people in class — like the girl named Jen who always greets Amara with a cheerful, “Hello, my dear,” or, “Hey, mama.” Amara always responds in kind, asking about Jen’s day or their shared classes, her voice warm but laid-back. She doesn’t cling to anyone, though — more often than not, she’s on her own before and after class, scrolling through her phone or reading.

Then there’s the other stuff Miguel starts to pick up on.

Like how Amara’s emotions are always on her face, despite her resting bitch face.

The first time someone mentions Elon Musk in class — something about him “innovating” media platforms — Amara visibly cringes. It’s not subtle either. Her nose wrinkles, her lips flatten, and her whole body leans back like she’s just smelled something awful.

Miguel bites back a laugh.

And when someone makes a comment about how people just need to stop being so sensitive about media representation, Amara’s reaction is instant. Her brows shoot up, her mouth opens slightly, and her head tilts — a perfect picture of are you serious?

She doesn’t let it slide, either. “It’s not about being sensitive — it’s about acknowledging how representation shapes perception, that empathy should be normalized, godforbid a human basic trait is used. You can’t pretend things exist in a vacuum.”

Miguel finds himself waiting for those moments now — those flashes of honesty in her expressions and the way she speaks up without hesitation.

She had this quietly intimidating, don’t-mess-with-me-but-I’m-nice-if-you-don’t-be-stupid kind of way.

It’s hard not to be drawn to that.

So every time Amara slips into class with her jingling bag, her smokey vanilla and black cherry scent, and her casual, “Hey, Miguel,” — he feels it a little more.

God. He’s screwed.

dividers by @enchanthings and @horangipilled

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cheonstapes · 6 months ago

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18+, mdni, vi-shaped but what else is new

car mechanic!vi who's basically been working at her dad's autoshop hounds auto since she was like seven years old, running around handing vander the fuel pressure meter and fetching water, who grows up in the garage to the point that all vander's regulars know her by name and also all her favorite sweets (bc she DOES have a sweet tooth, despite her tomboy looks).

car mechanic!vi who's closet is exclusively stained gray tanktops, leather jackets gifted to her by all her dad's patrons, and old denim from thrift shops bc she likes how they feel worn in and also why bother getting "nice" clothes if they're just gonna get greased up anyway? who hums to herself when she's working, always has a cool beer chilling in the garage fridge and is doing her best to make sure she can send powder to caltech bc she knows her sister is a genius and is gonna be like a rocket scientist one day.

car mechanic!vi who laughs when you pull up one day with your 1960's cherry red corvette, climbing out of the driver's seat with your white fishnets and your pink croptop and your plaid miniskirt, your heart-shaped sunglasses propped on top of perfectly blown out bangs, and the only thing vi can think when she lands eyes on you is how much she'd enjoy taking you apart on the hood of your car, your thighs hiked onto her shoulders, your palm-prints inked into the bright red paint of your car.

car mechanic!vi who grins slow, slings a greasy towel on her shoulder as she comes out to greet you, hitching an eyebrow as you motion towards the car, your cheeks stained the most adorable shade of pink she's ever seen, saying --

"i think there's something wrong with it --" but when you purse your perfectly glossed, cherry-tinted lips, vi has to force herself not to lose focus because sweet baby jesus on a harley, that should be illegal.

"-- think you can help...?" you shuffle your feet, glancing at her even as she takes her time looking you over, doing nothing to hide the way her eyes rake over the length of your body and back up again.

"sure thing, sweets. mind if i pop the front?"

you swallow, nodding eagerly; vi doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on her arms and perhaps flexes harder than is absolutely necessary when opening up the front hood of the car.

car mechanic!vi who bends over to take a closer look and actually does miss the way you physically have to tear your eyes away from the bend of her ass, because holy shit? it does not help that vi shifts to lean further into the hood, a slip of skin peaking out from beneath her tanktop, and suddenly, there's a spring-water rush of blood behind your ears, threatening to drown out all other sound as she pulls back with a shrug.

"looks like the cooling system's busted," she says, scratching at the back of her neck, frowning as she looks back at you, "there's a couple things we can do --"

you swallow, "just a couple?" you ask, before you can stop yourself. you squeeze your eyes shut as the words leave your mouth. woops. fuck.

car mechanic!vi who blinks, cocking her head at you before a smirk teases across her lips. she leans back against the front of your car, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

"yeah, for the car. but... dunno, if you wanna stick around for a bit, i can think of a ton more things we can do..."

you lick your lips, scuffing your mary janes against the cool pavement of her garage.

"define a bit... and also a ton..."

vi's grin is crooked; there's a fox-bright gleam in her eyes as she pushes off the car and makes her way towards you -- and for a moment, you can't help but wonder if she's a lamb in wolf's clothing, or perhaps (the thought singes a tantalizing line up your spine) just the damned wolf itself.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that for the car, she can either order all the parts that have suffered wear and tear, and then just replace them.

"issue with that is, in these older models, even with the parts replaced, it won't last you too long before you'll need them redone again."

"so..." you teeter, looking around at the various tools hung across the walls, every inch of space utilized to maximize efficiency, the high ceilings, the slow-turning fans, the propped up cars, some missing the front two wheels, some just a skeleton of mechanical parts.

"but lucky for you, one of my old man's pals just put a brand new crossflow radiator into his 1960's corvette, and he paid me to help him rig it. and i can do the same for you."

by the way vi smiles, it's obvious that this is the option she thinks you should go for. you blink.

"cross... flow... what?"

vi stares for a few seconds before letting out a startled laugh.

"wait -- i thought you said this was your car?"

you nod, fiddling with your hands behind your back.

"and... you've got no idea how to take care of a vintage car like this, do you?"

you shake your head, feeling a now-familiar heat prickling into your cheeks.

"my -- my dad got it for me for my 21st birthday..." you say, just on the other side of petulant.

car mechanic!vi who hums low in her throat and closes the distance between you in a few quick steps, a hand drifting up to trace along the line of our cheek.

"and you're just daddy's little princess, aren't you?" she asks, noticing with a dull ache in her belly, the way your breath hitches at the word princess.

she bites back another smirk as you bob your head once, your eyes flickering down to her lips before refocusing on her again.

"well..." she draws out the word, tugging back, a satisfied warmth pooling in her chest at the way your lips push out into perfect pout at her distance, "if you wanna give you daddy a call to ask what he might want..." she lets her words trail off. but you're already shaking your head, your eyes bright, your expression over-eager.

(she thinks you just might be the end of her; if she doesn't end you first.)

"no!" you squeak, "i -- i mean -- whatever you think is best --" you amend hurriedly, blushing something furious as vi leans back up against her workbench, her gaze locked on the shape of you, the hunger in her eyes now so evident that it sparks goosepimples down the lengths of your arms.

"yeah? you trust me that much, pretty girl?"

you nearly go into anaphylactic shock; your lashes flutter.

vi thinks she might honestly blow a fuse as you look shyly back at her, your gaze somehow both molten and hard.

"y-yeah. i do. i -- i trust you."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time drawing up a plan for your repairs, but when you glance over the receipt, you notice that the number at the bottom is way, way too long, and you're fairly certain (even in your advanced stages of crush-induced lightheadedness) dollar amounts aren't usually broken up by dashes.

"is this... where i should send the payment?" you ask, holding up the handwritten receipt.

vi grins, tossing you a look over her shoulder as she steps out from behind the wheel of your car, now parked safely in her garage.

"nope. that's just my number."

"your..." you look back down at the scribbled series of digits. oh.

"so... are you gonna text me the final cost?"

vi chuckles, "sure, sweets -- if that's what you'd like. and if you're feelin' real frisky -- we can text about other stuff too."

your breath catches in your throat like thread around a barbed wire fence. you nearly drop the receipt.

"l-like what?" you ask.

"oh... i dunno..." vi says, the tease now obvious in her voice as she makes her way around the shop, gathering this tool and that, bending down to haul a massive toolbox from beneath a set of shelves. your mouth physically waters at the flex in her biceps as she carries it all back over to her workbench.

"maybe about the kinda coffee you like," she says, leisurely, "or how you'd like your eggs in the morning."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time in asking if you'd like to go out the next day, because as much as she really loves the thought of pinning you to the hood of your car right then and there, a part of her wants to do this properly. and, she muses, there's no better foreplay than sharing a banana split sundae with a pretty girl.

she sends you on your way with the receipt tucked into your miniature handbag ("what's that even hold anyway?" "uhm... my card wallet, the keys, and lip gloss!" "...ah. of course. all the most essential things.") and a promise to pick you up the following day, since your ride's temporarily out of commission ("don't worry, sweets, i'll take real good care of this baby right here." you immediately wonder if it's normal to feel jealous of a car).

and pick you up she does, at 6pm on the dot, in black pants so tight they might've been painted on, and a cropped leather jacket, though you hear her revving her motorbike a full 30 seconds before her text dings on your phone --

look outside, sweetness.

car mechanic!vi who is so polite to your rather bewildered parents, smiles wide and charming, easily slips into conversation with your dad about the vintage cars in his collection, calls your mom "m'aam" and compliments her pearl earrings, promises not to keep you out too late. so that by the time she tells you to swing onto the bike behind her, you're convinced that your parents might like her more than they like you.

"hold on tight, princess." is all she says before she rips off down the street of your cul de sac and you're yelping, burying your face in her back, the leather of her jacket butter-soft and warm against your skin.

car mechanic!vi who's just a bit too smug and more than a little smitten when she has to help you off her bike in the parking lot of the cute little retro-themed diner downtown, you shaking out your hair from the helmet she'd handed you, your cheeks painted sunset as she guides you into the restaurant with a palm at the small of your back.

who enjoys talking to you way too much, who wants to bottle up the sound of your laughter in one of those old fashioned coca-cola bottles, all sweet and bubbly, and save it for the summer afternoons when the air's thick enough to slick the skin, pop it open and pour it down her throat, swallow around the sound of you, giggling into the curly fries, debating with her about the perfect ketchup-to-mustard ratio for the most optimum fry-eating experience.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that the sundaes here are the best in town, and nearly melts at how bright your eyes get, how excited you look as you nod and flag down the waitress to order one.

"just one?" the waitress asks.

"trust me, one is more than enough," vi answers smoothly, shooting you a wink that might've induced heart failure in a weaker soul (and you truly do not think you're one of god's strongest soldiers bc you definitely had to take a mental breather after that).

but it turns out that she was quite right, because the banana split is huge. dauntingly-sized. and vi perhaps has too good of a time watching you gape over it (she's not at all thinking about how your cute lil mouth, so round now, would look stretched over her strap, not at all nope, nope, nope) before motioning for you to dig in.

car mechanic!vi who thinks, for the first time, that she might've bitten off more than she can chew (metaphorically, of course) when you cut off way too big of a bite, and white whipped cream smears across your lips as you struggle to get the whole thing in your mouth, your cheeks puffed out, lashes fluttering.

"careful there, sweets -- don't want you to hurt yourself," she says, in a decent stab at her usual suave tone, but her voice comes out just a bit hoarse as she reaches out to try and wipe some of the whipped cream from your lips at the exact moment your tongue flicks out to do the same --

her stomach clenches as your tongue accidently laves along the pad of her thumb and the dollop of cream drops onto the table between you.

"whoops," you say, your shoulders shrugging up as you finally swallow the bite of banana and cream, reaching for a napkin to wipe your mouth before dabbing at the tabletop.

when you glance up at vi, she's still staring, her expression strangely blank as you meet her eyes. but the second your gaze catches on hers, you see the way her pupils dilate, darkness eating into pre-dawn blue.

car mechanic!vi who tries her level best not to fidget too hard as the pair of you diligently make your way through as much of the sundae as possible, before you toss down your fork with a sigh, shaking your head.

"wow, i'm so full!"

"mm... could be fuller, i'm sure," vi murmurs into your ear, grinning when you shiver at the low sway of her voice, the gentle dance of her fingers on your waist.

"v-vi!" you squeak, even as she ushers you from the diner with a bright grin at the waitress, promising to come by again soon, and to send their love to her dad and younger sister.

and fuck, she really did think she wanted to take this slow, but holy shit, she can't wipe the image of you swallowing around the mouthful of cream from her mind, the feeling of your warm tongue as it'd flicked across the pad of her thumb.

"c'mon, sweet girl," she says, grazing her lips along the soft spot behind your ear and your knees almost buckle then and there, but her strong arm is looped around your waist as she helps you back onto her bike and cups your cheeks, "god, you have no idea what you do to me, huh?"

your breath hitches; what you do to her? what about what she does to you?

car mechanic!vi who can't help the way she presses in to kiss you, hesitating for a breath to ask can i? against your lips before you're nodding, just as eager as she is, and tugging her in to kiss her. you taste as sweet as she'd imagined (and lord, has she been imagining, even though it's been less than 24 hours), the lingering taste of whipped cream and chocolate syrup on your tongue as she licks hungrily into your mouth, moaning as you whimper, your thighs squeezing around her hips, your ass nearly slipping off the seat of her bike.

she hitches you back up without breaking the kiss, heat rolling up into her neck and shoulders as she feels your fingers twisting in her hair.

"f-fuck --" she pulls back breathless, her head spinning, her eyes caught on the press of your kiss-bruised lips, the way you purse them as you glance up at her, already looking so debauched she's tempted to pull you into the shadow of the diner and take you against the wall.

but, she falls half a step back and breathes, grinning crookedly as you pout at her.

"a-are you gonna take me back to your place, or not?".

car mechanic!vi who lets out a startled laugh and cocks her head, thinking that really there is a god, and that this -- just you, sitting on the black leather of her bike, your hair a bit mussed up, your cheeks flushed with color, asking her to take you to hers -- is all the proof she needs.

"you really are a spoiled little princess, aren't you?" she asks, swinging her leg over the bike seat and adjusting her grip. your arms loop around her middle and she tries not to groan at the feeling of your body pressing up against hers.

"well, daddy always told me that i shouldn't settle for anything less than the best," you say, and your voice would've been lofty, had it not been for the way you lean up to ghost your lips by the shell of vi's ear, chasing shivers down the length of her entire spine.

her stomach roils with heat. she turns to shoot you a smirk over her shoulder.

"well then. guess i'll just have to ruin you for every other girl who might come your way, huh?"

car mechanic!vi who definitely breaks the sound barrier tearing through the few streets separating the downtown strip and the auto shop, who's barely done parking the bike before she's pulling you bodily off the seat, hitching your legs around her waist and carrying you into the shop, slamming a hand on the switch to close the garage door.

she's already kissing you by the time she sets you on the hood of your car, the height of it perfect for her to pull back and pin you down by your wrists. she thinks that you have no business looking so perfect against the bright cherry of the paint, and grins as she looks you over, pressing a knee up between your legs just to hear your breath hitch and admire the way your cute little plaid skirt rides up.

car mechanic!vi who drops to her knees, pillows her cheek on your thigh and groans as she flips up the hem of your skirt to press her the flat of her tongue to the damp patch already soaking through your pink lace panties. who's mesmerized by the sight of you arching your back on the hood of your car, your fingers scrabbling at the smooth metal, reaching down till you can grip at her hair, your lips parting over your little whimpers and moans -- she thinks, faintly, that she wants to fuck you till your voice goes hoarse.

"vi -- what if -- is anyone -- ah --"

she can't help smiling at the way you can't quite get a full thought out, leaning back as she hooks her fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs till they're dangling off one of your delicate ankles.

"no one's here, sweetness -- so you can be as loud as you want," she says, reaching down to slick her fingers between your pussy, admiring the shine on her skin.

"b-but what if -- mmngh -- someone c-comes -- b-back --"

and it's cute, really, how worried you are about all of it, even as she teases a finger around your sodden hole, her thumb flicking up against your clit, making your body jerk up. she smiles, easing a finger in with a soft groan of her own, relishing the way you squeeze around her.

"mm, well -- let's see..." she says, her voice low and steady even as she tugs back her finger and pushes it in again, slow as anything, "my dad's out drinking at my uncle's bar across town, and my baby sister's at benzo's place with ekko --" she allows herself a crooked grin as you keen around her just as she presses a second finger into you, "they said they were studying but..." she shrugs, her eyes hooded as she watches you squirm beneath her, "i'm pretty sure they're hooking up so --" she runs a tight circle around your clit with her thumb, puffing out a breath as your thighs clamp shut around her wrist and she has to pry them back open with her other hand, pinning your knee to the hood of your car, keeping your other leg still with one of her's.

"the only person you gotta worry about coming... is yourself, princess."

car mechanic!vi who fucks you through two orgasms, eats you out for a third, before finally letting up and carrying you up to her bedroom above the auto shop, asking if you want to text your parents that you're staying the night.

you do, and vi only teases you a little bit about being such a good girl, but she lets you burrow in against her chest, lets you kiss her neck and tug her phone from her hands before planting one on her lips and trailing your way down her chest, tugging at her tanktop till she laughs and pulls it from her body.

car mechanic!vi who nearly loses her mind when you look up at her from between her legs, all wide eyes and parted lips, pressing your perfectly manicured nails into the corded muscles of her thighs and asking her in the sweetest voice to

"show me what you like -- please? i -- i wanna make you feel good too."

car mechanic!vi who fucks your face till both of you are breathless, her hips bucking up against your perfect mouth, her mind fizzling out at the edges at the way you're moaning into her cunt, the way you're grinding your hips down over nothing as she talks you through how to eat her out just the way she likes. who jerks you up and hauls you into her lap to kiss you sloppy, her fingers digging into the meat of your hips as she grinds you down over her still-throbbing clit, who fucking can't get over the sight of you riding her even as both of you tip into the realm of overstimulation, whining and keening and you collapsing onto her in the muted, twilight dark of her room.

"h-holy shit..."

vi laughs, "yeah. you can say that again."

you look up, a soft, pliant smile, "holy shit, violet..."

and the sound of her name on your lips convinces her, more than anything, that (contrary to all her big talk earlier), you're definitely the one who's ruined her for any other girl who might come her way.

car mechanic!vi who wakes up to your lips on hers, who groans into the taste of you, kissing you, rolling over to pin you beneath her even as the early morning sun spills lemon-bright and spring-water-sweet through her half-closed blinds.

"morning, princess," she mumbles against your lips.

"morning..." you giggle, gasping as she drops a tender kiss to your shoulder.

"sleep well?" she asks, trailing down the smooth skin of your chest till she can lave her tongue around your puffy nipple.

"mm --" you suck in a breath, "y-yeah -- had -- had good d-dreams -- a-ah!" you arch up into her, your body soft and warm as a daydream, and she just can't get enough.

"yeah? tell me... what'dyou dream of, hm?" vi asks, letting the world hum through her throat, rumbling over your skin like thunder across a distant horizon.

you twist your fingers into her hair, gently tracing the tattoo on her cheek before smiling down at her with a smile that looks like the shadow of the rest of her living days --

"i... i dreamt of you."

car mechanic!vi who comes downstairs to find vander in the kitchen, powder nowhere to be seen. but vander takes one look at her and grins, chuckling, rolling his eyes.

"alright then -- what's her name?"

she hesitates for a second before telling him.

"pretty name," vander muses, even as he tugs open the fridge to pull out a few eggs and a half-empty carton of milk. he pushes the milk towards vi with a pointed look.

"vander -- i -- i think she might be the one."

to which vander only laughs, cracking an egg with one hand into the oiled up pan. almost immediately, the egg whites begin to sizzle.

"this the girl with the cherry corvette?" he asks. wordlessly, vi nods. vander chuckles.

"good for you kiddo -- i always told you, haven't i?"

"that i'll know when it's the one? yeah... i -- i think i get it now." vi runs a hand through her bedridden hair, staring at the carton of milk and the ludicrously proportioned cartoon cow, advertising full fat contents within.

"well, as long as you're sure," vander says, cracking another egg, and another.

vi lets out a weak laugh, nodding as she opens the fridge to pull out some orange juice and a few boxes of blueberries.

"yeah. i'm sure."

vander nods, brows furrowing slightly as he flips the eggs with an expert twitch of the wrist.

"good. and -- how's she like her eggs done in the morning?" he asks, reaching over for a plate. vi stares at the over-easy eggs sliding from the old nonstick.

she lets out a tired little laugh, "probably like... poached, or something."

vander whistles, "got yourself a little diva, huh? well -- can't blame ya -- your uncle silco --"

"okay, thanks dad --" vi cuts him off with a deep groan, nudging him out of the way to place a small pot in the sink to fill with water.

vander chuckles, "you gonna introduce me when she comes down later?"

vi takes her time placing the pot on the stove and starting the heat.

"sure, yeah. i'll introduce her."

vander reaches over to ruffle vi's hair, cackling when she tries to duck out from beneath his massive hands.

"'m happy for you, violet."

vi stills, a helpless smile spreading across her lips like sun-warmed butter.

"yeah... me too." she says, "me too."

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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hi lovey, just wanted to check in and see how you were doing 🤍 and no pressure whatsoever but are you planning on dropping pyramids soon?

hi babe, i’m doing good thank you🤍🤍🤍🤍 yes, i did say on my recent fic but i wanna say here that it is coming 🙏🙏 i want to get all my recs out the way before focusing on it as it’s not fair to the people who requested a while ago but i promise it will be done!! thank you for being patient with me !

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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miguel o’hara stars in… ‘SUGAR BABY CHRONICLES’ ヽ(´o｀；

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x fem!reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

REQUEST from my lovely @miguelzslvtz; So I was thinking of an older!Sugar daddy Miguel x reader. The reader is working at small country club and Miguel noticed her. She’s serving him drinks, and taking care of him. He tells her she’s too good to be working there and introduced the idea of being her sugar daddy (basically some arm candy). He invites her over to his mansion for a party and she’s dressed up for him🫶🏻 all night she’s being looked at by other men and woman, he’s being very protective of her. He loves on her all night and makes sure she’s taken care of💗💗spoiled✨

cw; older!miguel, slight age gap (reader is in early 20s, miguel is in early 30s), cumming inside, slight breeding(not really, i just have a problem), sugardaddy!miguel, readers a little bit of a tsundere kinda, miguel’s really in love, cunnilings, shower sex, hair pulling, NAWT PROOFREAD!!

4k+ words (longest fic omg!!)

@cheonstapes; hi again…🤗 these hiatuses are killing me. i’ve been absolutely swamped and i lost so much motivation to write but im glad to say i think i’ve found my footing. i found myself again and i’ll work on balancing everything from now on! i apologise for the mammoth amount of time it took me to do this (this is what i get for working chronologically) and i have not forgotten about your requests if you sent one! pyramids and project ex will still be coming but i want to make sure requests are out of the way as they’ve been there for months and it’s not fair for the lovely people who’ve waited so long. thanks again! i love you all🩷

you loved your job, you really did.

not many people can say that genuinely, but when you’re getting the tips you’re getting, seeing the men you’re seeing, you definitely don’t wanna leave anytime soon. working at such an elite club meant you were among the rich of the rich — the big shots of the city that wouldn’t be caught anywhere else.

at the very least, the uniform was modest enough — obviously though, there would always be a few buttons left undone on your shirt, your skirt pulled up just that little bit higher. that window of flesh, no matter how small, was a guaranteed extra thousand in your pocket by the end of the night — and that wasn’t even counting him.

mr. o’hara. that’s all you knew him by. the man was overtly secretive, often arriving alone or occasionally with a very small group of associates. he was by far your biggest tipper. at times, you wondered if he owned the club due to the pure influence he has on your boss — somehow, much to your excitement, convincing him to bump your pay-check up by a lofty sum. the amount of money you make could send you into an early retirement, but of course you wouldn’t do that. it meant you wouldn’t get to learn more about him, and you needed to learn more about him.

summer was always the busiest, the great weather meaning there was more members than usual coming out to play. although, running around and serving for 9 hours a day was extremely tiring — gruelling even. there was sweat dripping down your face, your black dress feeling like a leather coat with the way it clung to you like second skin.

one last drink. you had one last drink to serve and then you could go on your break. double checking the table number, your eyes widened slightly as you saw him. mr. o’hara was not a small man by any means — the bulging muscles tucked away under his tight dress shirt, shoulders almost akin in length with the table. to put it simply, he was the epitome of sexy. you were barely at his table and you could smell him already, the masculine musk of his oud creating a musky, rose scented bubble that ensnared all your senses.

“‘s that for me, sweetheart?”

yes, yes it was. but he really wanted to hear you say it. your voice was such a sweet caress to his ear — he could guarantee an angel got its wings every time you spoke. miguel usually prides himself on being in control of his emotions, his body — but having a pretty, little thing like you just within his grasp was the ultimate challenge of restraint.

the man felt absolutely helpless, his heart pounding in his chest like a hormonal teenage boy when you placed the drink in front of him. “you know it, mr. o’hara — you order the same thing everyday.” fuck. the sip he was having was definitely becoming more than a sip the longer he held the cup to his mouth — chub twitching against the fabric of his slacks.

you were just the sweetest little thing — much more enthusiastic than the other girls that worked there. he might be just imagining it too, but he can feel deep in his heart that you dress up just for him. miguel knows you want him, and he’s more than happy to give himself to you.

“you know me better than i know myself, dulzura. almost like you’re keeping tabs on me, hm?”

“i mean, yeah, i kinda am. it’s my job, mr. o’hara. you’re one of our most frequent regulars, it’d be crazy if i couldn’t tell you your order ‘fore you give it to me.”

oh…yeah.

in miguel’s defence, it’s been a while….a long while since he last flirted — and having an 8-year-old daughter who’s judging your every move means there’s not a lot of time to work on your game. but he’d be damned if he lost an angel like you, he will be yours. plus, gabi does need a woman like you in her life too.

“do you enjoy it, though? your job, I mean — not keeping tabs on me.”

“you probably won’t believe this, but i actually do. the pay’s good, at least, and i can afford to pay my bills, uni, and still have fun. i’m kinda lucky, i guess.”

“you wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, nena.”

miguel knew he was probably breaking some sorta rule, flirting with staff or whatever — but god you were worth it. if being able to take you home meant that he would never set foot in the club again, then so be it.

“sorry, what was that, sir?”

“…quit your job — not in a ‘you’re bad at your job way’ — i’ll take care of you. i can give you everything, anything you want.”

you couldn’t say you were surprised, especially with the nature of your job — old men say stuff like this to you all the time. but, miguel wasn’t any old man. as much as you loved your job, had a stable income and good connections — the thought of quitting and running away with a man like him? fuck, it was so tempting.

“alright then. i hope you live up to those words, mr. o’hara.”

———————————————————————————

mr o’hara (sugardaddy?)

I’m throwing an event at work tonight, I want you to be there.

sent 16:42

(y.n)

hi, mr o’hara. i’d love to but i finish work at 7,i don’t know if i’ll be able to make it. and i don’t really have anything to wear :(

sent 16:50

mr. o’hara (sugardaddy?)

Don’t worry about it, gorgeous. I’ve already got you off work for the rest of the week, and I’ve got you something nice to wear.

sent 16:50

(y.n)

oh, really? well, i guess i’ll see you there then! ;)

sent 16:56

mr. sugardaddy

Mmhm, I can’t wait to see you, babe. And call me miguel.

sent 16:56

———————————————————————————

miguel had promptly sent his driver to pick you up in a sleek black sports car, much to the dismay of your co-workers. a beautifully wrapped box was placed on the seat beside you, a bouquet of orchids and a small note that read ‘for you, las flores más bonitas para la chica más guapa - m’

it was hard to not feel a tinge if heat was rising in your face, for someone whom you’re only just getting to know to be so utterly romantic — it was a new experience! relationships had never been something you were particularly interested in, but there was no denying the allure that someone like miguel held and only time could tell how it would all play out.

arriving at his mansion, which was nothing short of jaw dropping — the halls were mostly desolate aside from the quite bustle of the staff that were preparing for tonight’s ball. an elderly woman escorts you upstairs to the master bedroom, your eyes roaming the area as you take in the grandeur of the building — aged walls paired with a modern nueva york touch.

“where’s mr. o— miguel?” the woman turns to you, an indecipherable smile on her lips.

“mr. o’hara is just getting prepared for the ball. don’t fret over him, he’ll join you shortly.” well, it was a bit rude to invite someone over and not be there to greet them but ok! “ah, i forgot to mention,” she opens the door, stepping aside to let you in. “i left you a little something on the dresser. i believe you both’ll be needing it.” the woman winks, silently closing the door behind her — leaving you alone in the large room.

god, even the room smelt like him. a musky wood and cinnamon smell, with the faintest hint of vanilla from the candle burning by the window sill. it wasn’t everyday you were in the presence of such luxury, especially old money luxury. your eyes flitted over to the dresser the woman was referring to, that sneaky grandma.

a box of xl condoms, birth control, towels, all wrapped in a cute gift basket. “seriously? who does she think i am? i’m not fucking on the first date.” wait— was this a date? it definitely felt like one, but it was hard to be 100% sure. this was too much to deal with now, all that was left to worry about was the ball and getting ready.

on the bed behind you lay a beautifully wrapped box, with a red ribbon to top it off. it fell gracefully onto the bedsheets as you unwrapped it, lifting the lid to reveal the shimmering red dress underneath. a sleeveless satin dress, fabric lined with the finest crystals, a slit raising mid thigh, lined a sheer lace. it was the definition of classy, with a hint of seduction.

putting it on felt like a crime, something so beautifully should be preserved and put into a museum. it took all of your willpower to not tuck the dress away somewhere safe and just go and get one of your own — but alas, it was a gift, the least you could do is wear it. the craziest part was how perfect it fit. practically a glove, clinging onto every curve and crevice of your body — extenuating places you never even noticed before.

smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure it was as perfect as possible — fuck, you looked hot. the colour complimented your skin exquisitely, adding a soft glow to your complexion. in the time it took you to get ready, it seemed like the party was already amping up. you could see the surge of people from the window, flashing lights and an abundance of cars being handed to the concierges. you still had yet to see miguel and what better time to look for him than now?

there was a pair of red heels that matched the dress to a T, slipping them on and bouncing down the steps. the butterflies fluttered wildly in your tummy the nearer you got to the party, joining the line of people being checked in by security. though, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of him. standing there in all his 6’ glory, curls lightly slicked back, wearing a tight button up shirt and those sexy slacks.

something about seeing miguel like this, so carefree and relaxed, set something off inside of you. even though you were supposed to be his guest, you did everything in your power to avoid his gaze — purely cause you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact him for longer than a few minutes without jumping his bones. but of course, fate was destiny’s whore, and soon enough you were being escorted straight into the ballroom.

“were you avoiding me, cielo?”

a hand splayed across your waist, leading you deeper inside the hall as he whispered in your ear. it was obviously due to the fact that you probably couldn’t hear him all too well because to the loud music, but the way his hands caressed your sides, his lips brushing against the lobe of your ear — it felt all too intentional.

“no…i just didn’t want to cut in line. i figured i’d see you when i see you.”

“is that so?” he slid a champagne flute in your hands, grabbing one of his own as he tilted his head at you — a stray curl unfurling down his forehead. “you’re like an open book, cariño. you think i don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head by now?”

“so you’ve been studying me, hm?” now it was your turn to raise a brow, tilting your head back as you took a long sip of your champagne. it wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he had been, it was kinda obvious from all the stares he’d give you and when he’d ‘enquire’ about you from your colleagues.

“mmm, studying’s a strong word. i was simply…observing you. can’t blame me for wanting to know someone as enchanting as you better.”

he had quite the mouth on him, didn’t he? you couldn’t stop the small smile that graces your lips, shaking your head in disbelief.

“you’re so stupid, miguel.”

“if falling for you is stupid, then i’m the dumbest of them all.”

it was so bad, so bad that it was actually good. and that comment shaped the rest of your night together. considering your new arrangement, he took the liberty of introducing you to his circle of friends and their wives — conveniently leaving out that he was your new sugar daddy, but that was a story for another day. miguel revelled in the looks they all gave you, seemingly forgetting they themselves had a date nestled on their arms. he really couldn’t have picked a better dress, but damn if it wasn’t killing him.

you really didn’t know how beautiful you were, and he so badly wanted to show you. the dim lighting was a blessing for the tent in his slacks, giving him a flimsy disguise for the arousal he felt at that moment. after more than a few drinks too, wandering hands and lingering words, it was becoming unbearable. however, scaring you off wasn’t on his bucket list tonight. he didn’t take this long fighting for your attention to loose you on the first date. he vowed to do everything at your pace, leaving it up to you to make the first move.

as the party wrapped up, and miguel said his goodbyes — you stood at the door, shivering from the cold air as it nipped against your bare arms. the fun you had was incomparable to any party you’ve ever been to, but you thought you may have overstayed your welcome. shakily tapping on your phone with freezing fingers, ordering an uber to pick you up —

“leaving already?”

“yeah, i had a lot of fun tonight, though.” it was a genuine smile, one that spoke a million words. “thanks for inviting me, miguel.”

for a man so big he sure did move so silently. he stood behind you, gently grasping your hand in his as she looked down on you. “when i invited you, i didn’t invite you as a mere guest — you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

it didn’t even sound like he was simply offering, miguel was begging. you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice — urging you to stay the night, stay with him.

“miguel, are you sure? i don’t even have anything to change—“

“i’ve already organised sleepwear for you, but you could wear something of mine if you’d like?”

that sly smirk slid its way onto his face once again, rolling your eyes as you walked past him — pulling out your phone to cancel the uber. “fine, i’ll stay. i might take you up on that offer too.”

lo and behold, an array of skincare and pyjamas were set out on his bed as you entered the master bedroom once again — and to top it off, gift bags filled with designer items that you’d never thought you’d ever own. “miguel…is this all for me?”

“unless i have another sugar baby, who else would it be for? ‘course it’s for you, darling — consider it a…’welcome’ gift.”

“more like my entire tuition fee, hell. you didn’t have to spend all this money on me, y’know?”

“cariño,” you could see miguel walking up to him from the mirror in front, his arm slipping round your waist to pull you into his back. “i spend my money how i want, and i want to spend it on you. so i don’t want to hear no more complaining from you, understand.” the small nod you gave earned a small grin from him, a hand smoothing up the curve of your back until it reached the shimmering zipper under your neck.

“you look like a goddess tonight, baby. so fucking beautiful…” his words were whispered softly into your neck, gentle breaths caressing your skin. as he spoke, the zipper slid lower and lower — until your dress was held together by the tips of his fingers. the cold metal of his rings brushed against your bare skin, the tips of his fingers dancing on the curve of your waist as he lets the fabric pool at your feet.

“m-miguel, i’m sweaty from all the dancing! at least let me wash up first, or something.” if you weren’t sweating much then, you were definitely sweating buckets now. the heat radiating from you mixed with the heat simmering between the two of you made for a heady cocktail of unspoken desire — and you silently cursing yourself for almost breaking the number one rule: ‘don’t fuck on the first date.’

“we can use my shower then, it’s large enough for the both of us.” we? oh, you’re definitely breaking that rule now. “i didn’t say this was gonna be a joint effort, did i? i can wash myself, miguel.” you weren’t even convincing yourself with the breathy way you spoke, the way he was caressing you, the pure adoration in his voice was something you haven’t felt before. plus, this is the guy who’s willingly paying you to simply be around him — it’s a win-win situation.

“i know you can, baby —“ letting out a deep chuckle, miguel intertwined your hands and lead you towards the bathroom — “but it’s more fun with two, no?” the gentle pitter-patter of the waterfall shower reverberated through the silence of the room, the sound of fabric rustling followed shortly after. glancing down at your feet, miguel’s clothing was promptly discarded — your widened eyes trailing up his hefty frame.

“fucking christ…”

the man in front of you was nothing short of absolutely beautiful. despite spending everyday surrounded by older men, you never found yourself truly attracted to them until now — or maybe it was simply just miguel himself. “i thought you wanted to take a shower, muñeca?” oh, yeah, the shower. before you could even finish your thought, miguel was already occupying half of the space in there, leaving a small pocket for you to slide into.

the expeditious beating of your heart was muffled by the steady stream of water, but it was more than clear to miguel what you were feeling in that moment. the moment was strangely intimate, and dare i say innocent, for the predicament you found yourself in. his hands gently roamed your skin, barely making contact with any sensitive areas aside from fleeting brushes. he made a point to use his hands instead of a rag, claiming he could ‘clean you better than a flimsy cloth’.

it was truly getting unbearable, utterly frustrating. your subconscious and ovaries were in an intense battle of wits, when a third party made itself known in the worst way possible. you really had forgotten that miguel was as naked as you were until you felt the base of his cock slide between your ass cheeks, chest flush against his back. the slightest hitch of your already shaky breath earned another rich laugh from within him, thick fingers playing with the skin of your tummy.

“you feeling cleaner or what? i’m more than happy to keep going if you are, baby.”

of course you wanted him to keep going! you were already as wet as is, in every way possible. “i..i think you might’ve missed a spot.” the hand on your tummy paused, his breath hitting your ear as he bent down slightly. “i did? i like to consider myself very thorough, cariño — enlighten me.” you did your best to turn with the small space you had, looking up at him with a more confident expression than the one you wore previously.

“here.”

now it was miguel’s turn to be surprised, the tip of his finger brushing against your swollen clit before tapping against your slit. it had been so long since you had a real good fuck, and right now you were genuinely about to give this man some babies if he kept on smiling like that. “mm, looks like i did. forgive me for being so careless. i’ll make sure she gets extra attention.” his words trailed off as he sunk to his knees, the gentle spray of water splattering against his face.

he tapped your ass, lifting you up with one hand as he pressed you against the cool glass, legs resting on his shoulders. his pretty lashes were dusted with droplets of water as he gazed at you from between your thighs, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin as he kneaded your skin gently. his thick tongue was enough to completely spread you open, eagerly collecting your creamy essence.

miguel was moaning like a pure slut, you would think he got more pleasure in eating you out than you did. his eyes were rolled back, hips absentmindedly bucking to the rhythm of the shower as he sucked on your clit. the position was not uncomfortable by any means, but the unadulterated pleasure you were feeling made it hard to stay upright — nails raking down the expensive marble tiles as you practically grasped for straws.

“grab my hair, darling. i don’t want you to fall.”

whilst his words were slightly muffled, the undeniable concern in his voice had you moaning embarrassingly loud. miguel was clearly strong enough to hold you up all alone, so you surrendered the grip you had on the wall to rake your trembling fingers through his hair — tugging on the curly strands.

“nngh..fuck..”

he fucking whimpered. miguel o’hara, the richest and most powerful man in this city, was shamelessly whimpering between your thighs. that was certainly the biggest ego boost ever, the fact that it’s your pussy that has this huge man so drunk. pushing out your hips, you practically smothered his face — riding him mid-air as you felt the delicious sensations bubbling up inside of your stomach. breathless chants of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the panels.

“c-cumming! ugh— fuck, miguel!

the jerks of your body made miguel grip your ass tightly, licking his lips of your release as he shuffled upwards, grinning down at your disheveled form. “you’re breathtaking when you cum for me, beautiful. can’t believe you’re all mine.” he whispered against your lips, forehead to forehead as he kissed you for the first time. it felt like a million tiny fireworks going off inside of you, the previous tension in your body instantly melting away as you leaned into his touch — tongue’s pressing against each other as drooled slipped down your necks.

he kept his mouth latched onto yours as he gripped his leaking cock, dipping the pearly tip inside of your sensitive hole. his movements were unhurried, sloppily kissing you as he dipped in-and-out, in-and-out. it was a steady pace that you soon found yourself liking more than usual, a stark contrast to the inexperienced fucking’s you were getting before. “inside, please…i wanna feel you, all of you.”

you were too dangerous for this old man’s heart. having a pretty little thing like you beg for him to fuck you like you deserved, to mold that sweet cunt into the shape of his cock — it was all too tempting. he was more than willing to do anything his sweet baby asked him to, and he wasted no time in giving in to you. “shit, cielo, no one’s ever fucked you right, huh? she’s gripping onto me like a vice.”

he was right, in every sense of the word. you didn’t know how many partners he had before you, and really didn’t want to find out — but one thing was for sure, miguel knew exactly how to please you. your head fell against his chest, his hand lifting it up by your chin as he pumped into you. “tell me, dulzura, i’m the only one that’s made you feel like this? only man to fuck this perfect pussy right?”

he took the tiny nods and breathy whimpers as a yes, grinning like a madman as he revealed in the satisfaction of ruining you for anyone else — not like he was gonna let you go in the first place. his pace picked up vigorously, finding the perfect balance between pounding into your sore cunt and softly rutting against your ass. the skin where you both combined was tinged red, the on-going waterfall above unable to fully wash away the evidence of your cream on his pelvis.

“only you, miguel — no one…no one’s better than you. i’m yours, daddy.”

those words, hushed and warm, pushed his already inflated ego to the edge. his hips bucked widly, prodding at the spongy spot inside of you as she pressed his lips against yours once more. all sounds were trapped between your connected lips, muffling the choked squeal that left your lips and the guttural groan that left his as he came deep inside you. he did promise to clean you extra throughly, and what better way to do that than flushing out your canal with his cum!

he lazily rolled his hips against yours, ignoring the sticky liquid bubbling on the side of his spent cock. “did so well for me, my beautiful princess. i’m so proud of you.” the fluttering of your heart made you instinctively turn away, cheeks flaring with heat as you pouted — you really can’t believe you fucked on the first bloody date. your little tough act didn’t fool miguel, in fact it fuelled him even more. he continued to praise your very essence, worshiping the ground you walk on despite your protests — smiling softly as he sees your fierce resolve weaken. “there she is, you ready to let me love on you now?”

“yeah, yeah. but first, we need an actual shower. no fucking this time.”

“no promises.”

this was the last place you saw yourself in life, but maybe being in miguel’s arms were where you were supposed to be.

- thank you for waiting and make sure to watch ateez at coachella!!!!!

#cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #astv miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #miguel fanfic

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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omg i would Love to get choked out by geto’s thighs 😳😳😳

geto suguru stars in… ‘CHOKE YOU OUT’ (。-∀-)

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. geto suguru x reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

letting your boyfriend, suguru, choke you out with his thighs! 🩷

pt. 1

cw; SMUT!! meanishdom!geto, thigh choking, bj, cumcumcum, NAWT PROOFREAD!

400+ words

@cheonstapes : i was thinking abt this for so long🥲 thank you for your request my love!🩷 i hope you enjoy!!

“thought you said not a chance, babe?”

you truly, really and truly, did not expect this day to come. your boyfriend’s thighs, made of pure muscle, clamping down on the back of your head — pinning your face against his cock. his pinkish tip was oozing out pre, sticking to your flushed cheeks as he guides it down to your lips. “look at you,” cooing down at you like you’re some kid, spreading his cum over your lips like gloss “knew it wouldn’t take much to convince you, baby — you’re loving this, aren’t you?”

unfortunately for you, you were. more than you’d like to admit. giving suguru the satisfaction of knowing how absolutely turned on you were was a worser fate than death, you thought — mentally rolling your eyes at the thought of hearing him teasing you endlessly for weeks upon weeks. “shut up and let me suck you off, ‘guru.” he was hard as fuck, but playing with you was so much more fun.

a devilish grin grew on his face, shallowly thrusting his tip past your pretty lips — his salty cum collecting on your tongue. “pucker your lips for me, sweetheart— yeah…justttt like that, good girl.” he wasn’t gonna fuck your throat, at least not now. he let the first few inches of his cock get soaked in your saliva, lightly squeezing at his heavy balls as his legs tighten around your neck. “shit, babe…’s almost as tight as your cunt.”

suguru’s chest was sheened with sweat beneath his wife-beater, his hips subtly grinding against your face — pushing his cock deeper into your throat. your nose was presses against the coarse hairs at his base. your head was spinning, the dual sensation of being choked by his delicious thighs and his cock pounding the shit out of your poor throat. the hands at your thighs clawed at his exposed legs — drawing red, scratchy lines on his skin.

your eyes pricked with tears, the sound of you gagging around him picking up as his hips increased their speed — a large hand threading through your hair to grip your scalp firmly, pushing himself as deep as he could possibly go. “fuck, fuck, fuck! gonna fill this pretty fuckin’ mouth!” suguru held you in place with his legs, grinding against your lips as his cum oozed out of your spent mouth. it felt like it was going on forever, spurts of it dripping out of your nose.

unhooking his legs, he placed his arms under yours — placing you on his chest as he kissed you softly, licking his cum off of your face. “god, sugu’ that’s so nasty!” you think he cared? he just loved touching and tasting you, his own cum ain’t gonna stop nothing. “what? you had a lil’ something on your face, baby.”

as much as you loathe admitting it, you definitely wanna do that again.

#-ill catch all the diseases in the world so there wont be no more diseases #its not letting me add my funny little messages at the end😡#cheonstapes #cheonsshowreals 🤍#jjk masterlist #jjk x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto suguru #jjk smut #geto suguru x you #suguru geto smut

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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AHH I LOVE TUMBLR🥲🩷🩷 thank you my love! 🩷

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

But request time gurl!😘😌✊, so what about a nerd!Miguel\dom x nerdygirl!reader LIKE IMAGINE THE FLUFF AND THE SMUT THERE BOTH BE A BLUSH MESS but I feel like Miguel would take the lead and show he dom when doing it like dont blame me! 😭✊ like he still nerdy Miguel we all know the sweet boy but let make the nerd that friend s with the popular group and have a girlfriend who is nerdy!reader and which is a very shy person then Miguel is.

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

@cheonstapes: thank you sm lovelie🩷🩷 apologies it took so long but this was so fun to write and i love your mind. i hope you enjoy beautiful! also tumblr keeps fucking up my italics and bolds so im gonna add them on later!

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

who would’ve guessed the two biggest nerds on campus would’ve gotten together — especially when it was because of your shared interest in genetics. but to miguel’s friends, it was so sweet — a little cringe, but sweet. seeing that it had already been a year since you two started dating, the two of you not being able to hold a conversation without stuttering and blushed profusely was quite concerning.

every time you looked him in the eyes, your heart would suddenly beat a million times faster — face flushing, hands trembling as you try to come off as calm as possible. it was so embarrassing, you could cry just thinking about it. he had such pretty eyes hidden behind those thin frames, didn’t make it better that he would stare into your soul every time you talked.

but miguel wasn’t any better — in fact, he was worse. his whole friendship group being the talk of the college helped miguel to open up more, the persistent attention meaning he had to adapt to being surrounded by people. the incessant staring? that’s him trying to make himself less nervous by making you more nervous so you would stop looking at him so he could admire you without you realising — long, i know. but he loved how sweet you were, the way you were so deeply in love with him — just like he was with you.

walking out of your biology lecture, he speeds up walking to catch you on the othwr side of the room — gently slipping his hands into yours. you tense, looking up at his handsome face before relaxing — “ah, m-miggy!” he smiles so softly, wrapping his beefy arm around your waist. “hey, pretty — you finished for today?” his fingers squeeze the fat of your hips, pulling you into his chest as he leans against a nearby wall.

he always knew how to make you so fucking nervous, staring down at you like you were the centre of his world — which you in fact were. “yeah! i was just gonna go back to my dorm and study. would…well, it’s ok if you’re busy — but do you, maybe, wanna…” god, why is it so hard to ask your boyfriend to hangout! he knew what you wanted to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it. “do i wanna what, hm? i mean — i don’t have any plans later either, i was thinking of going to pete-“

“no!” a brief flicker of slight panic takes over your face, you refuse to be that much of a mess to the point where you can even ask your own boyfriend out. “i mean, would you like to come my dorm tonight? t-to study, obviously.” amazing job, girlfriend, amazing job. once again, he wore that stupidly handsome smirk — fingers kneading the soft flesh of your waist. “study? of course, babe — why didn’t you just ask?” prick.

miguel always said he found it easier to study when you were right next to him — as in, resting in between his legs as your head lay on his chest. “did you get the answer to number 8? i think i missed that lesson…” you tilt your head, looking up at him. you looked so cute with your little glasses as you studied, a small pout on your lips as you tap on his leg for him to help you out.

he was thinking a lot of things right now, and none of them were the answer for number 8. before he met you, miguel was always deep in his studies — head buried in a textbook every night. but now you’re his, he can’t think about anything else. the outline of your chest against your tight shirt, pert nipples straining against the fabric since you insist you feel better without a bra — he wasn’t a perv, but damn if you were making him feel like one.

“u-uh…i think — uhhhh…” he was really fucked. your cute little giggle and the way you shimmied around to sit on your knees, hands clutching his cheeks. “migs, you’re burning up! you ok?” he was no ok, not by a long shot. despite having so much attention on him simply because of the people he’s friends with, miguel was still very much a virgin. yeah, he’s jerked off before — but that was only after he met you. your entrance into his life awakened a part of his brain that he thought was forever stored away — and he did not know how to deal with it.

sex was something the two of you were yet to talk about, 2 years into the relationship and it was like you were kids about to have their first kiss. there were lingering touches here and there, but oh how badly he wants to feel your sweet pussy around him. “can… i touch you?” he could barely register the words that came out of his mouth before he takes in the way your face changes completely. the heat radiating from your cheeks could melt the arctic, that was the one thing you weren’t expecting to hear. at all.

of course, you were a virgin too — all in all saving yourself for miguel for when the time comes. you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. he looked so depraved already, panting softly — hair tousled from when he was laying down, you want him so, so bad. “u-uh, yeah — go ahead!” you didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but miguel didn’t care — a hand immediately trailing up your plush thighs, toying with the edge of your panties under your skirt. “you’re…you’re so pretty.” he could feel his hands shaking, heart pounding in his chest — the warmth of your skin and the small moans leaving your lips were fucking with his head.

the tender skin was so sensitive, causing your thighs to tremble under his touch. he didn’t expect you to be so sensitive. fuck, did he want to tease you for it, but he couldn’t talk — not when he was already about to bust when you haven’t even touched him yet. “mmm — m-miggy.. please..touch me.” you could tell he wanted to, he just didn’t know where to start. his fingers ran up your inner thigh, teasingly running over the small wet patch on your cute panties.

he felt like a newborn learning how to walk again, the rugged rhythm in which he was working your little clit showed how inexperienced he is — but you didn’t care, especially not when you yourself couldn’t even notice his lack of technique. he fully pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them to the side — there was a sharp in take of breath from him as he stared at your bare cunt, his bulge pressing harder aganst the mattress.

“g-god, baby, can… can i taste you, please?” miguel couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, he had dreamed about eating your pretty, little pussy out for ever now, the thought of you denying him that now would break him. “y-yeah, fuck. please, miggy.” his tongue immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers probed your tight hole.

he knew you would need some extra prep to be prepared for taking him, so he made sure to make you feel as good as possible — he wasn’t about to let your first time be your worst. the fat of your thighs were tight around his head, holding him in place as he steadily fucked you with his tongue. for someone who was a virgin only 20 minutes ago, he sure knew how to work that tongue — your breathy moans breaking through the sloppy squelching noises of your wetness.

“migs…i — mmph!” the sensation was unknown but not unwelcome. a firm pressure in your tummy that felt like a dam about to burst all over your boyfriend’s face. miguel’s watched enough porn to know what that sound meant, reluctantly sitting up from his position between your legs to peer down at you — drooling cock bobbing between his thighs. he licked your arousal from his lips, shakily grabbing onto your legs to push them over his shoulders.

“baby, ‘m not letting you cum until you’ve had my cock in you — ‘s not how it works.” he felt like he was going insane, the sight of your pussy, so tantalisingly close to his length — the chubby tip poking against your entrance. you could only nod, you couldn’t argue with that — not when you’ve been waiting for this moment. upon getting your approval, he wrapped a beefy hand around his cock — smearing his pre-cum along your puffy folds.

he was so slow when he pushed into you, the sheer girth of him stretching your poor pussy thin. “fuckin’ hell, baby— s-so, so tight.” his strong hips pounded against your pelvis, your skin tinging a faint shade of red. your body was jostled against the headboard with every thrust, a thick rim of cream forming at his base. miguel was lost in the feeling of your cunt, drooling mindlessly against your neck as he rammed deep inside of you.

“m-miguel…!” the harder he fucked into you, the shakier your voice was — whiny moans and heavy grunts reverberated through your small dorm room. he couldn’t believe how good fucking you felt, your velvety walls gripping onto him like a life line. miguel was completely delirious, only letting incoherent mumbles — a bruising grip on your waist as he brings you back against his cock.

“ohhh, f-fuck…! iloveyou, so — shit, so much!” your pussy was so good, he didn’t even realised it slipped out — i love you. he really did, and in this moment — there was nothing else but the two of you, connecting so beautifully as you give yourselves to each other fully. he messily sucks on the skin just below your ear, simply grinding into your womb as his hand trails down your back — squeezing the flesh of your ass to pull you flush against him.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

you..you love him too? fuck. his hips stilled, gooey cum filling your cunt raw as he pours all of his love into you. miguel’s back heaved, his arms giving out under him as he falls on top of you — wrapping an arm around your waist as he carefully rubs your clit. his heart was soaring, smiling down at you as he fucked himself into overstimulation — determined to see you cum all over his cock.

“my pretty girl, you’re all mine — wanna see you cum. you gonna cum for me, yeah?” god, his voice was husky and deep — tickling your ear and sending tingles down your spine. your legs trembled, cunt spasming as it gushed out that clear liquid. it coated the sheets below you, splashing against his stomach — a low, gravelly moan leaving miguel as he filled you with his cum once again.

the two of you laid in silence for a beat, panting softly as he rested on your chest. one of your hands moved up to cup his face, picking up his glasses from your bedside stand — placing them on his face, albeit with wonkily but it matched that dopey grin on his face. “i swear to god, i’ve turned you into an animal, migs! you sure that was your first time?” giggling, you kissed his lips softly — nimble fingers brushing through his sweaty hair.

“guess i got a bit carried away, huh?” he sighed, softly rubbing your tummy. “‘s not my fault i’ve got the most beautiful, sexiest, most loving, caring, perfect, goddess of a girlfriend anyone could wish for.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕#lovely people #🩷🩷🩷🩷

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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my breeding kink is getting worser and worser☺️

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕#lovely people #❤️❤️❤️

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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HEEHEHHE 🤭🤭

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕#lovely people

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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hey, your handy miggy story is honestly one of the best fics i’ve read in YEARS. will we ever get a pt2 to their relationship? i love their dynamic!

AWWW SHUCKS, thank you🤗🩷🩷🩷🩷 i get so shocked when people say this cause i can barely stand to read my own work sometimes 😭

i would love to write more for them, it was genuinely one of my favourite things i’ve written too! i have some notes down but if you have any ideas i would love to know!

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕#cheonslovelynonnies💕#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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my request was a nerd!miguel x nerdyFM!reader (in college,seniors, I don’t know 😭 and pls put nonnieor Barbie version but different 🤭🫣) were in this case is reader is a shy but sweet person and Miguel is basically an “everyone know person” especially with the popular group which are the people who’s brother him the most, and talk to him the most and flirt with him the most. in this case you reader and Miguel are secretly dating for the past few or two year? No one expects you and Miguel to be dating and no one did in fact no one thought about it.and that kinda what Miguel wanted to know that you guys were dating.for these reasons, nobody touch what his, touches you. And which reader she a sweet person who help anyone is needed especially learning department,(and who doesn’t know that much flirting or anything about fashion or what is a considered popular) and when boys talk to her she get confused about the some of the topic.and when it other nerds boys that need ‘help’ with stuff (which is just a reason to heard reader voice🤭). and when ever Miguel see anyone or boy who’s just talking to you he kinda get jealous. not even a kinda jealous literally jealous and start death staring at you guys talking in which reader get confused and concerned about if Miguel mad at reader. In which Miguel will alway come up behind you and hug you which makes you get more shy then you usually are. And which the person your talking to think it normal, which pissed of Miguel and started touching reader more then usual in front of the guy.( let name the guy Jaden?😋). And Miguel beign a jealous nerdy boy told him to “can you see that it our tutor session” which Jaden apologizes to him and reader for missing there session and was just here to tell reader that there is a new club if she want to join.

I got no idea for the nsfw: but I do Have one like imagine Miguel is having reader in his dorm room to study about a project but then up doing it all in the library and Miguel wanted to reader to still come to her dorm and chill and have a relaxing night. But instead it be a session all about you 🫣🤭.

fluff/smut! 🫶 I’m so happy for you hitting 1k followers! 🥰 well bye!

hi baby, thank you so much!

i was re reading this and i realised its quite similar to the fic i just posted so i’m going to put the two together if you don’t mind! however, i can still write one for you if you want, just let me know🩷

#cheonstapes #cheonsreviews❕

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

#cheonstapes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #cheonstapes films!🪷#nerd miguel smut #nerd miguel #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara smut

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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arranged marriage! gojo heacanons

pairing: gojo x fem!reader synopsis: just some headcanons about arranged marriage gojo! headcanons do follow a linear plot content: MDNI (18+ONLY), nsfw & sfw content, arranged marriage, p->v, oral (fem!receiving), pregnancy, breeding, not proofread because i'm lazy!!! a/n: i had a request to do a sort of expansion/sequel/prequel (?) on my business or pleasure fic, so... this is that. enjoy! and remember AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! wc: 2k (that's so much headcanon lmao)

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who reluctantly agrees to an arranged marriage when the clan decides it’s time to secure the lineage and make a new heir.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose jaw nearly drops when he sees you for the first time as you’re walking down the aisle. No way you’re that hot…

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s practically rocking on his feet waiting for the minister to give him permission to kiss you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who drags said kiss on a little (a lot) longer than he needed to and spends the rest of the night wishing he’d dragged it on even longer.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s actually really pissed that there are so many damned guests at his wedding. All of them want to talk to him when all he really wants to do is talk to you!!!

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who only gets about three words into you the whole night and feels like pouting every time someone pulls him away from your arm.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally relaxes a bit when the party’s over and he finally gets you alone.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has a hard time keeping his hands to himself on the drive home.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who can’t help but stare at your lips as you answer his silly little questions about your favorite color and your favorite food.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who has to restrain himself from literally pulling you out of the car and up to his penthouse.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who suddenly finds himself a little nervous when he finally has you to himself. It’s his wedding night and he has to please his wife, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who revels in tearing away your dress until he sees the lacy little white set you have on underneath.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who pins your wrists to the bed just so he can admire the way you look beneath him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who nearly comes with no warning the first time he hears you moan his name. He decides it’s his sole purpose in life to make you moan like that as much as possible.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is somehow both gentle and rough, who peppers you with kisses but rocks into you so good he has you seeing stars.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he ascends when you come around his cock and then ascends again when he remembers he married you and gets to see it for the rest of his life.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes sure to cum inside you and give you every last drop. After all, you have to make a new little Gojo heir, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who holds you tightly to his chest until you drift off to sleep with your head atop his heart.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes the next two hours to be able to fall asleep himself, too hyped up on all the endorphins he’s feeling.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose brow furrows and stomach drops when he wakes the next morning to you not in his arms.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who scours the house for you and finds you in the living room reading, already having been up for hours.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart fractures a little bit when you greet him soooooo formally and tell him that there’s some breakfast in the fridge.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends far too long in the shower, letting the water run over him and trying to figure out where he went wrong.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who comes to the conclusion that he just needs to win you over a little more slowly, who smiles and thinks he knows exactly how to do it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds you still reading on the couch and tells you to get ready to go out– you’re going shopping.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who takes you to every designer shop he can think of and buys everything your eyes so much as graze over. Even if you tell him you don’t want it– he doesn’t care. You’re getting it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart flutters in his chest when you smile at a pretty little necklace he buys you. It’s not the most expensive thing he’s bought you by far, but it makes you the happiest nonetheless.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s confused as to why you keep thanking him so profusely on the way home. His money is your money now… do you not know that?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes a stop at the bank on the way home and gets you a flashy black credit card with your name (and new last name hehe) printed at the bottom. He loves the way your eyes widen and your lips part when he tells you there’s no limit.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who asks you what you want to do that night. Fly to Paris for dinner? Pack for a vacation to Bali? Maybe just a fancy meal at Tokyo’s most exclusive restaurant? He’s shocked when you say you’d prefer takeout and a movie on the couch, but all too happy to oblige.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who orders half the menu at your favorite ramen restaurant that he’s never heard of.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes go wide when he takes the first bite and tells you it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who stares at your lips when you laugh and ask him, “really? The best?”

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s suddenly tugging your skirt down your thighs and burying his face between your legs. He takes one long lick and moans, saying that the ramen is now only second-best.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks he could fuck you for hours on his couch, but stops after just a few rounds. He doesn’t want to tire his little baby out.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who savors the way you let him hold you after sex. Why couldn’t he hold you like this all day? So what if you’d just met– you’re his wife???

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buries his face in your neck to memorize the moment, dreading the second you pull away from him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who almost protests when you wrap a blanket around your body and pad off, saying you’re going to take a shower.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who debates cornering you in the bathroom for another round, if only so he can hold you again, but thinks better of it and cleans up your forgotten ramen instead.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is completely exasperated when you never return to finish the movie. He finds you sitting in your shared bed, reading again.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose heart drops when you only look up long enough to give him a small smile instead of tumbling straight into his arms.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds himself once again in the shower contemplating his existence.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who decides he’ll win you over one way or another, even if it takes longer than he originally intended…

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who climbs into bed next to you and slings an arm around your waist casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest when he buries his face in his pillow.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who doesn’t truly fall asleep until you turn off your bedside lamp and lie down beside him. His heart does little skips when you don’t wiggle out from under his arm.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who wakes first in the morning this time to find you curled so tightly into his chest he’s sure his pounding heart is going to wake you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes turn into little hearts when you wake blushing after you realize how closely you’ve curled into him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who tells you it’s okay and pulls you back into him and smirks when you can't see his face.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends the next few weeks buying you every knick and knack, every snack and meal, and bending you every surface in the house.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes light up whenever he sees you wearing that little necklace he bought you on that very first shopping trip.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who buys you another necklace… this one with his initials dangling from the chain.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes you ride him so he can see his letters swaying from your neck as you come on his cock.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who spends every waking moment with you on his mind, who gets in a sticky situation while fighting more than once because he’s waiting for you to text him back or remembering all the nasty things he did to you last night.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finally takes a look at the pages of those books you like so much and realizes the pure filth his dirty little wife reads right beside him every night.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s not angry or put off, but rather excited. He uses it as a manual the next he has you under him and when he repeats a line verbatim from your book he laughs so loud at your shocked little blush that he’s sure you’re both getting a noise complaint in the morning.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who makes every effort to find out what you like (beyond reading smut) and buys you front row tickets to a concert for a band that you both happen to love.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who finds out your favorite movie series and takes three (unapproved) days off of work just to have a marathon with you.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who is having his morning coffee (full of cream and sugar and caramel sauce, of course) when you make your way into the kitchen with your lip pulled between your teeth.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo whose eyes blow wide when he sees a stick with two little pink lines and realizes he’s managed to knock you up on the first try.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who simply has to have you right then and there, bending you over the counter and groaning your name when he slides inside your cunt. He’s gentler this time, though. Can’t be too rough when his wife is pregnant, right?

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who goes overboard with his excitement and buys a new car the same day he finds out you’re pregnant. It’s practically a tank with all its safety features. He says you’re only allowed in that specific vehicle for the foreseeable future. Get used to it.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s all over you now. Whatever restraint he had before is gone now that you’re carrying his baby. He touches you… everywhere. All the time. It’s like it pains him to not have at least a smidgen of his skin on yours.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who keeps trying to win you over in the following weeks. He needs you. Not just your body, but your mind and your soul, too!

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who just lets it slip that he loves you when he’s balls deep in your cunt. Doesn’t even get embarrassed or flustered about it, just keeps pounding into you and whining about how much he loves you over and over again while he’s filling you up.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who lets the floodgates open after that. He tells you he loves you at every opportunity. It gets to the point where those three little words don’t even fluster you anymore, but you haven’t said them back. Not yet.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who waits patiently. He knows he’s getting to you, little by little. He’s sure he’ll hear you say it back soon.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who’s blindsided despite having convinced himself he’d be able to play it cool. He’s got you on the couch, wrapped up in his arms with his head on your tummy (he gets to hold you as much as he wants now hehe). You’re braiding his hair when you tell him that you love him.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who flushes the deepest shade of pink you’ve ever seen and pulls down his blindfold like he needs to see you say it again.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who begs to hear it again and again and again until he’s smiling so wide it's literally blinding.

Arranged Marriage! Gojo who thinks his arranged marriage was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him <3

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much

imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat

well, yes!

cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)

wc: 1.6k

❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋

“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”

brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.

“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.

he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.

you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.

you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.

you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.

you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”

a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.

“beg me for what you want.”

and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.

his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.

“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.

“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.

you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.

“no ma’am.”

you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.

and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.

your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.

the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.

miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.

“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.

“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.

a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.

miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.

“thank you, mistress.”

smug bastard.

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