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migueloharacumslut · 1 year ago

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Forgive me father for the sinful thoughts I have about this man

Heathens (Pt. 2)

Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun! Reader

Art by @mar_mar0u in X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Religious topics, Corruption Kink, Oral in holy places (Male receiving) Fingering, implicit Breeding kink, Angst, violence (Whipping, and other physical injuries) Character background, sexual and mutual pining, power dynamics, not proofread.

Summary: Father Miguel is growing tired of his beatific life.

A|N : reblogs and feedback fuel me :'). Thanks in advance.

Previous Spanish Version

Miguel tried, tried with all his might to fool himself. It was one of those things he excelled at like no other.

The war won't reach us.

He'd always mumble to his coworkers back at the machinery factory. A place he was designated after failing thr recruitment's medical tests. On purpose.

He faked his eye sight terrible and a slurred speech enough for the doctors to deem him a failing specimen that wouldn't last for more than days, in a war that had brought nothing but calamit to everyone involved.

People barely spoke to him at the factory, which played off perfect. He did his job, none bothered him except for reaching things too far of reach, and he got home safe.

A lanky man that slowly but surely developed his brawns within the heavy duty line. His job was to fix and assemble motors that would end up in cars, planes, ships and whatever medium used to destroy the enemy.

Part of Nueva York was already destroyed. The echelons in society blurred to the point of subduing everyone under the same category in the neighbor states. Refugees.

The church played an important part as they took as many as they could under their beatific walls.

Miguel wasn't a devote believer, but respected the business enough to help whenever they required it in his little town. Anyone who helped others in need had his respect.

If the church needed a new roof to harbor in more refugees, he and other men would make it. The innate feeling of helping and guiding others was something the Church's Father always complimented.

He explained Miguel what would he do in case he turned himself to God and follow a path of holy life. But no matter how much the Father spoke, his ties to the world and it's pleasures were too much to give up.

Miguel had all the qualities of being the perfect Father, but how could he consider such thing when the woman underneath him, writhed while clawing at his back, and begged the heavens above for him to not stop? Begged him to plow harder within her drenched and spasming walls over and over?

A Father would never do that. He didn't care if he was called basic for wanting sex. He didn't care if he was called greedy for wanting a nice car and a little property in a secluded area in the outskirts of Roeville.

And he definitely didn't care if he was called thoughtless for wanting a little family in the admist of chaos. Someone to get home to. Cause again, a Church's father would never. They could never do such things. If anything, he'd fulfill the lord's command of multiplying one day.

He was more than happy as he was, living a relatively innocuous life.

The war won't reach us.

A lie he fed himself to the point of turning it into his personal mantra. And when none else that those three words came into the town, in the shape of armored rebels, destroying everything he had worked for so hard, Miguel knew a decision needed to be done.

He took the remaining survivors out and guided them away from cruel eyes that wouldn't doubt into recruiting them into their madness.

He might have escaped the elite pass to a major scale war, but he often forgot about the opposition. The opportunists that would gain power in the right hands of ignorant and bloodthirsty people.

The rebels had gone town to town, forcefully recruiting men to join their barracks, to fight against a new order that promised nothing but their rights removed.

Miguel didn't want to know shit about it. He didn't want to partake in a war he didn't start. He didn't want to leave the commodities life had served him so far. In fact, as he guided the people through the frozen river, he begged his neglected friend above to allow him to keep a rather easy life.

But rebels caught up to him, killing those that dared to run away, gaining the immediate end for treason to a cause they've never pledged for. A bullet ricocheted on the six year old boy propped on his shoulders, falling immediately to the glacial waters.

Miguel didn't doubt and pulled the kid out, despite feeling his bones freezing and numbing, and hauled him to the ground. If blood loss didn't kill him, hypothermia would. There was little he could do but offer the child a few words of consolation as he held his feeble and trembling form, drowning in tears; feeling the short life escaping warmly through his fingers.

Shouting, screaming and a couple of shots was all he could discern before an armored man pulled him by the collar, making him drop the boy's body to the ground and kneel. The tip of the man's weapon rested a bit too intimate on his head.

"P-Por favor!" (Please)

Miguel mumbled in between nervous pants snd clattering teeth as his hands rose in defense.

The man interrogated him, in spanish. Where was he from, where were the rest and what did he do. And like an epiphany, his mouth spilled the words not even in his wildest dreams he thought pronouncing.

"Soy... Soy un Padre, de la Parroquia San Buenaventura. Sólo vine a ayudar." (I'm a Father, from San Buenaventura's Parish. I came here to help.)

Said parish had been visited during his childhood and possibly long forgotten and non-existant by now, everything he knew about holy endeavours was thanks to his reluctant catholic upbringing. And it was enough to prolonging his stay in this realm.

"Porqué huiste entonces?" (Why did you run away then?)

"No quiero morir." (I don't wanna die.)

The man scrutinized his soul, but the words had came out his plump mouth with such conviction, it left no room for doubtsto those that wouldn't hesitate in shooting at the minimum sign of lying.

Miguel could be one of those people that could say undoubtedly God has a dark sense of humor. Cause none other than the leader asked him to bless him and his weapons to then take the reduced and mourning group to the nearest church.

And now, almost a decade and holy studies later, he preached the mass to people in town. Donned with the holy robes that would screech with condemning words if people ever knew what crossed his mind every time he laid his eyes on you.

His little lamb. His ever delicious little lamb, awaiting to be corrupted by none other than the wolf himself.

Cause that night, back at his den, corruption had ruled over both of your minds. Not only he had shown you what pleasure was and how you could achieve it on your own, but promised more.

More of him exploring places of your body none had the blessing of doing so before. More of him tasting those areas you only though of a single purpose, but his tongue had proven multi-task. More of that debauchery ritual where you'd finally be his.

With a heavy heart and little words beyond see you soon, you left to your duties, back to the reality. Leaving him alone with a painful and raging boner. Screaming for him to not neglect it that way ever again.

And he tried. By God he was trying to not pull you to a nearby storage room and taste you again. His whole body turned into this needy mass of nerves whenever you stared his way a second too long.

The remaining innocence in you, edged him into fisting his hand around himself and pump into oblivion at night before sleeping. His mind took a recent knack for torturing him.

It reminded him of the first months into his chastity vows, and how close he was into breaking them with a woman that was beyond willing to satisfy her own curiosity regarding priests, but war, his cruel friend; acted as the main motivator to remain within line, since it still waged outside and men were still needed outside to die.

And no matter how many gorgeous women paraded under his radar, his vows remained intact.

Until you showed up, drenched in his door, in dire need of help. Not only had you shaken every promise he was trained to believe, to their very core. But ebbed him to his old sinful ways.

The wolf's pelt was growing too large within the sheep's robe he had disguised himself with, in order to run from a fate that was nothing more than a premature death.

The parishioner's voice snapped him out of his darkening thoughts, he dictated a penance and an absolution prayer, not really caring for the man's sins, cause he was worse. He closed the confessional window and stood to open the door.

Only to find the reason of his impure thoughts before him, sitting on the floor, polishing the altar's candle-snuffer.

His dark pupils were blown wide as your hands stroked with gentle moves the handle. How such mundane task turned his gears for the wrong turn was the proof of your power over him.

His groin twitched when your hand circled around the brass bar and moved up and down the rag to remove as much dust as possible, pumping softly.

"Sister."

His voice came out in a husky mumble he tried to keep in his usual deep tinge. But his composure cracked as soon as you turned around and stared back with those beautiful doe eyes of yours.

He gulped.

"What are you doing, pequeña?"

"Sister Leanne sent me to polish the altar's tool as a punishment for the missing vegetables in the inventory."

You mumbled between nervous laughs. And he chuckled. Of course Sister Leanne would do that. As gentle as the woman was, she didn't hesitate into applying discipline the way she saw fit.

She needed to set an example, even more when she was about to be ascended to Mother Superior or Abess.

"I apologize."

"Whatever for, Father?

"I can't deny part of it it's my fault. As I lead you astray from your original tasks."

A flush crept on your cheeks as soon as your mind flooded with the remnants of that night.

"It was the rain, Father. Not you."

"I thought I told you to not call me that when alone."

"I'm sorry. Some habits are hard to kill."

"And remove."

You swallowed a thick lump. His eyes were already undressing you with his red-ish gleam.

"I... started to wear less layers."

May God have mercy on his soul, cause his need gnawing at his flesh certainly wasn't having it. His chest puffed with a deep inhale

"You were right about them. They're... They're heavy to wear. Makes it impractical for almost everything."

He nodded knowingly as an idea popped in his already tainted and corrupted mind.

"That's true. Robes makes it heavier and slows you down."

"I thought the cassock was lightweight? "

He shook his head and offered you his hand for you to stand up. A hidden invitation to his wicked game. You took it.

"It is when done with the proper materials. Otherwise is heavy." He led you inside the confessional. And closed the door as soon as you were in. Cornering you against the hefty oak doors.

Your breath hitched as soon as his hands placed yours on his chest. A pleased purr rumbled through upon the contact.

"Heavy isn't it?" You nodded while feeling the smooth and thick fibers of cotton, stretching all over his chest underneath your fingertips.

"That's why I don't use layers underneath."

Heat begun pooling in the pit of your stomach, "You don't?

He didn't have to instruct you verbally to confirm such thing. His eyes guided your hands through the map of his body to finally stop inches above his tightened crotch.

His heart crinkled with utter delight upon seeing your eyes widen and blink while admiring him. Hardening even further at every second you weren't touching him.

"It's alright. Don't be ashamed. Knowing one's body is crucial to identify where some sins come from."

He sat at the chair, his throne, with his legs sprawled, the cassock tightened around his well sculpted and worked legs, tightening enough to outline the silhouette of his awakening cock.

The confessional was custom built, and given his height, two people could fit in. And what better use for it than having you inside with him. Trapped between his neverending legs.

"Would you know what to name a man's anatomy, pequeña?"

He removed the fabric belt around his waist to then unbutton the lower part of the cassock. Revealing a set of lighter pants, trapping his erection underneath.

Your eyes shamelessly remained on the happy trail leading to the growing bulge between his legs. Curiosity was definitely taking a choke hold on your brain. Although built big enough for two people average sized, you had to crawl closer between him.

"I believe it's called a... c-cock."

"A cock, yes." He nodded proudly, "And how would you know such thing, Hm?"

He beckoned you closer, holding your chin gently while at it.

"T-There's an anatomy book well hidden in the library. I don't wish to remain completely ignorant to my surroundings, Father."

"Ah, I see." He let the father calling go for this time, cause the surprise in your face was everything a man could get when about to perform one of the most lascivious of acts.

He took himself out, letting his erection to sprung in it's full glory before you.

"Does it looks like the one in the book?"

You shook your head softly. His flushed and engorged tip, twitched upon feeling your breath oh so close to his velvet skin.

"At all."

The rich fragrance of clean soap and woody incense remained in his skin.

"You're allowed to touch."

With a new gulp on your throat and hesitating hands, your fingertips grazed his tip. Earning a little hiss from him. Finally feeling other textures that wasn't his calloused hands.

Curiosity made you take him firmer around the base, his hands enveloped yours and guided you to stroke him, up and down.

Your cheeks flushed even deeper while watching his face contorting in pure bliss. It reminded you the way he looked at you as he was devouring your now tingling flesh.

"Does it feels good?"

He nodded through hazed eyes, urging you to move your hand faster with his own, setting a tortuous tempo.

"Oh, very. Very good." he nodded and panted breathlessly, nails clawing at the cushioned part of his seat.

"Then... why is a sin?"

As much as he wanted to quench your learning thirst and instruct you through it, he couldn't care less about what was a sin and what not. But he could satisfy said interest with a more practical example.

"Open your mouth." He talked as he took his hefty cock and beckoned impossibly closer.

Your clothed chest rested inches away from his inner thighs. Lips parted open and when his tip rubbed between your lips, your tongue moved on its own and swirled on his slit. Earning a shaky whimper from him.

"Dios..." His head was thrown back as you took his whole tip inside. The warmth your lush mouth offered couldn't be compared. His hips bucked and you groaned when another inch was pushed in.

"Keep going, pequeña." He husked as he slid a hand underneath your headdress and took a gentle hold of your nape. With enough pressure he guided you up and down pushing as much cock as he could into your mouth, withdrawing carefully whenever you gagged.

The soft saltine taste bursted all over your taste buds, singing in delight. You were tasting a man. The proper way. You hummed approvingly.

Once more he took himself by the base and slapped your awaiting tongue a couple of times with his tip before pushing in again.

His shaky groans turned into deep and raged pants the more your cheeks hollowed around him, licking and sucking in a pace that had him thrusting his hips softly and melting. His hands didn't know whether to claw or hold on whatever surface they had underneath.

The wet and sloshing noises from your mouth made him dizzy, and your hand squeezing his balls gently wasn't helping. Seeing your eyes filled with the same unmarred lust as his, corroded any rational and holy thought our of his frying brain.

You were dangerous. Oh, so dangerous he could mistake you for the very snake that temped Eve back in Eden, cause your tongue swirled and tasted in the right places like no other, despite being your first time.

And by God, he knew you weren't made for a holy life. You couldn't. He refused to believe you were made for such simple and boring life when you were sucking his demons out with such artistry, he couldn't feel but jealous at the sudden thought of someone else teaching you such things.

No woman had achieved such feat on him before by using solely her mouth.

"Sigue, por favor-" He gulped and bit his lip before a loud moan could escape him. His eyes tried to keep on front watching you, bobbing your head up and down. (Keep it going)

If your mouth was delicious, he couldn't help but wonder, how your insides felt.

Would you be drenched? Would you be tight for him? Would you take him as well as your mouth did? Of course you would. You were using your mouth only and left him yearning for more than that.

His teeth bared as his pants turned even more raged and blown. The soft kisses alternated between kitten kicks and unabashed lapping, bending not only his will, but the urge to hold you in place and have fun with your mouth.

The sight of you being bold and taking him in a go completely, made him explode with an acute, shaking and broken whimper.

"Mnnfuck-" He held you in place while he squeezed the very last drop of his hot cum down your throat. All while you looked at him with drunk, pleasurable eyes as you swallowed him.

His chest heaved and his hand rubbed over his face, awash with raw need. But you didn't stop there.

A low humming rumbled through, reverberating through his skin. Sending another wave of jolts down his spine. His head was spinning a second per hour

"W-Wait..." but you didn't listen, you kept tasting and his teeth clenched, "E-Esperate-" He blabbed and choked, his trembling hand took a firm hold of your headdress and pulled his limping cock out your mouth with a squelching pop.

But your tongue sought him, hungry and hypnotised by his taste.

"Stop- Oh Dios... S... Stop-" you whined as he hunched and rested his forehead against yours, putting his throbbing cock back to it's confinements. His breath fanned over your mouth and kissed you deeply. Drowning any furtive and remaining moans.

His tongue swirled over yours, luring it only for a mischievous suck to be delivered, tasting himself in the process.

"Please" You clung to him, body doused with fire, and his nose heaved deeply, still recovering from what you provoked within. His eyes remained shut for a second, to then seizing you with a tender look.

"Not yet, pequeña."

"Not yet. Then, when?!" You whined impatiently, "If you don't want me anymore just say it!"

He understood your frustration, he really did. With gentle hands he cupped your face.

"I do want you." He pecked your lips, "More than this pretty head of yours refuses to believe. But we must wait."

"I don't want to!" You sniffed and he kissed your head once again, soothing your frustration with feathery kisses. Then he stood and picked you up easily in his arms to finally sit you on his chair.

"If I am to claim you, is cause I'm taking my time to destroy every bit of your mind, understand?"

His hands immediately stirred up the skirt of your habit up to your waist, proving your words true of you wearing less layers, leaving your thighs and cunt bare to him as they were parted and placed on each side of the chair's arms.

With a serpent-like motion, he swept his tongue over his lips, awash with prurience when his gaze remained in your drenched entrance. Drooling and glistening, begging to be taken.

There was something he couldn't truly explain when he had you like that. It played too many good tricks in his dazed mind.

As much as he wanted to bury himself to the hilt, he couldn't. He didn't want you to be marked by a whip and shunned before the whole church as a heathen.

He didn't want you to bear with Cain's mark and be despised by the whole community just cause you gave into a natural need.

Two of his fingers coated in your slick, to then rub ever gently at your needy and throbbing nub of nerves. Gaining him a soft coo.

"I need to take my time to posses every bit of you, dear."

Your mouth gaped and whimpered as he slid inside with a sloshing fwop. Walls immediately etched to his fingers, squeezing him and urging to go deeper.

"You think I don't want to take you right here? " He kissed your lips and then your jaw

His thumb rubbed in slow but firm strokes, applying enough pressure to have you a blabbing mess and tidal waves of pleasure quenching your body's primal need.

His fingers hooking and wriggling inside only earned him a renewed groan. Your hands clutched at the surface behind you, as his fingers delved deeper, meaner and faster. Your frame shook with every stroke he delivered in your weeping walls.

He had to cover your mouth at the lewdness spilling out nonstop of it, to focus on the increasing wetness he provoked in your slurping hole.

A shaky whimper was muffled the more he pumped his fingers into you, grazing that sweet and exquisite spot that got your body trembling and your walls contracting around him in a wicked and debauched symphony. Your head was thrown back, too heavy with lascivious thoughts to function properly.

Mouth parted to whine and eyes remained shut, unable to digest the obscene display of prowess by his fingers. Your tightness increased by every second, signaling your need for release.

"Come"

An order. Disobeying was out of the question. A specific thrust had your spine arching and your soaked hole exploding with something so devastatingly delicious, it had you panting and mewling in heat as you drenched Miguel's hand and forearm completely, he kept prodding and poking at that gummy spot within you. Your nails clawed at the seat, trying to anchor your floating soul to your body.

"Oh my God!" You hiccuped in a garbled moan.

His palm kept your stuttering hips under control, his eyes remained at the spasming muscles within you, trying to keep his fingers inside, sucking, squeezing and milking him.

"Tan perfecta." He crooned while pulling out gently to lick and slurp his fingers clean and kiss you with all his might . (So perfect)

Too enraptured in your taste to hear the approaching steps until too late.

"Father O'Hara?"

The voice from the other side of the wall made both to freeze in place. Your eyes went wide and his grip on your panting mouth tightened.

"Are you there?"

Miguel placed a drenched finger in his lips.

Closing your eyes shut, you both awaited for whoever that had arrived to leave, and once the steps could no longer be heard, he released you.

And you gasped and panted for air and he smirked. Admiring with wickedness at his creation. He could already taste your little cries and whimpers for more of him. And damn him if he was lying if his mind didn't come up with the vilest of fantasies, like defiling you in the altar, at everyone's sight, so they could know the real him and show everyone he had claimed you and what they were missing.

He helped you on your feet and wipe away the thin layer of sweat covering your face with utmost care.

But that side was reserved to none else but you. His beloved lamb.

"Soon, I promise. Okay?"

He kissed your lips deeply, sealing his words with a promise. He was a man of word.

You'd have to wait a bit longer.

----

The dull ache in your lower belly announced your period's arrival. Asking the head of the medical supplies and writing your name in a book was a subtle way to keep the youngsters and women in fertile age in check.

Given the few past experiences with nuns suddenly getting pregnant, security when it came to outings increased. Same for the Parish. Another guard was hired to keep the morning shift in case men came to lurk around.

The parish had a reputation to have beautiful nuns under the roof, even if older.

But since you had your period, no harm approached. You could see a little proud smile in Sister Danielle as you fetched your supplies for the week. Teas, pads, some painkillers and a brand new addition, moist towelettes from the city.

"If you run out of them, come again, alright?"

With a nod, you went to the bathroom and changed. You washed your hands and walked back to where Sister Leanne was, to tell her about your condition.

Cause in truth, you felt tired, pained and exhausted. Your face lit up upon seeing her.

"May we speak?"

"Not now. Discipline calls me."

Quirking a brow you looked at her while watching a trail of nuns behind her. One with a slender guava stick, another with a bucket in water, and the other with a rope.

"W-What's going on?"

"Come and see."

You weren't the only one that followed them. A group of nuns giggled, as they whispered hushed secrets to eachother.

Your fingers wrapped around your cross while following the rest, like a dutiful sheep.

To your surprise another nun was held as her sleeve was slit open, on both arms. The woman cried for mercy and soon she was pushed forward before the circle of nuns and Miguel that showed up alarmed.

"You have sinned!"

Sister Leanne begun with a commanding voice. even though Miguel was the Father, he had little to do with the nun's management.

Your mother figure pulled the crying woman's arm, showing a bruising a couple of inches away from her elbow.

"This woman has corrupted her body, the temple of Jesus Christ! With contraceptives!"

A collective round of gasps were heard through the nuns. Contraceptives, same as sex were the highest forms of faults within the Parish. Specially within the convent.

"Not only you poison your body with mundane pieces, but break your vows, just to obey your flesh's whims." Leanne spat with venom.

The poor woman was tied up against a post. Her habit was torn in the back, to expose her temporary unmarred, milky white skin. She begged for forgiveness as water was doused over her.

The first hit made you look away and cover your mouth, a sudden fear rose in the back of your throat.

His need of waiting was more than reasonable now.

This was one the motives why Miguel hadn't taken you yet. And seeing the poor woman writhe in pain and beg for her life, made you remind him of his words.

You had been so neck deep in wanting him that had forgotten completely about the consequences of your forbidden meetings.

The women's cries and pleas were muffled by the aggressive whistle the stick did everytime it swung to strike down and mark her over and over.

Your gaze locked with Miguel's briefly. His eyes said it all.

Now you understand?

As quickly as your eyes met him, you tore your gaze away. Too afraid of the possible lash out for simply looking at him.

A surge of cramps and the newly reached levels of stress had you folding over. His face fell upon the pain in yours. The supplies in your hands were self explanatory. Periods weren't something new to him, after all he took care of the women under his unit in the factory cause the rest was too stupid and scared to do something.

And as much as he wanted to approach and see if you were alright, he didn't want the situation to be mistaken for something else and draw unnecessary attention towards you both.

He felt a coward, but it also fueled his hate for the life he chose in order to save himself.

Once the punishment was finished, the woman was untied and taken to the infirmary. Sister Leanne looked at you

"What is you wanted to talk to me about?"

"My period."

"What about it?" Her voice accused with a frown, still on edge.

"I just asked Sister Danielle for my supplies." She heaved, relieved.

"Good. Good." She sighed and rubbed her face, "I want you to know that I'm not proud of the things I must do. But someone has to."

"I know."

"Please don't ever dare to betray me that way, okay?"

The stung in your chest just bloomed deeper with guiltiness.

What if I'm already doing it?

You nodded, gaining a hug from the woman that raised you, in order to ground herself from the sudden rage that took over her emotional panel of control.

Would you whip me too? Would you make me bleed?

"Go rest. I'll get you some food, alright?"

---

It had been days since either of you approached each other. The raw display of consequences of a failed secret affair was the culprit of the distance that grew wider and wider between the both.

It was a forceful reminder of what laid ahead if you ever got caught. Miguel knew how much the new Mother Superior loved you.

He always heard at dinner with the higher ranks the endless stories about you as a teenager. Precocious and daring. Nothing alike to the tame and demure woman he had already tasted twice.

Would she hate him for corrupting her little and perfect sheep? Absolutely. Maybe would whip him too if she could.

The thought alone made him chuckle.

The silence on both ends made him reflect in so many things he thought long forgotten.

A child's random laugh during a baptizing had brought to life that buried yearn. The way the little human stared at him with a toothless grin on their face sent his heart into a frenzy.

In fact, he always reminisced in the many families that paraded proudly on church. Displaying their affection, laughs and others that only echoed in the solitude of his residence outside the Parish.

There was none waiting for him, no little human screeching in happiness upon hid arrival, and no partner to share his daily adventures on his modest job. There wasn't nothing like that for him.

Just endless hours of praying, visiting the sick, bible studies, hypocritical speeches on how people act and behave with those around him and how to not succumb into the temptation, like he did.

He was the biggest hypocrite under the heavenly roof and everyone adored him. Congratulated and asked for tips on how to be more like him.

If he could, he'd say drink a beer every day and fuck a lovely woman whenever time allowed. But instead his mouth spilled the most ridiculous things such as keep your mind focused and away from trouble.

But he wanted trouble. He wanted that trouble to mewl and writhe underneath. He wanted that trouble to squeeze him to death as he came inside. And definitely he wanted that trouble to swell with his child.

Ten years in this lie had been more than enough for him. War had been long gone, everyone had moved on in the city. Mostly had families. But he...

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

Secularisation wasn't an option, since his name was already in many churches and abbeys and running away would imply to spend most of the savings he had done so far. Priest life paid shit, but if this neverending lie had taught him something, was to be more financially wise. And thanks to that, he could afford a home somewhere in the rural areas, away from prying eyes and judging glares.

He had enough of the white rectangle around his neck and the stupid golden ring on his finger dictating how to live his life. Even though God had granted him his wish of having a simple life, he didn't want it anymore.

He wanted it his way. And as entitled and selfish as the thought was, he deserved a forever break from his duties. He knew what he wanted.

He knew what he needed. And he needed you. He missed you. He wanted you to be his problem.

At first he thought it was the lack of contact and other people to talk to, but seeing you so scared back at the public whipping and your need to know more about the world, only reinforced his decision into making you his.

He could take you see places and explain things if you wanted. He could take you anywhere you wanted to. He could please you the times he saw fit without the fear of someone spying or you getting hurt by those that pledged a servitude oath.

Miguel knew what the nuns did to those that ended up pregnant and he wanted you safe. He had seen the underlying longing of knowledge in your eyes and see what was beyond those sacred walls.

Her period

His brain soared alive with the idea.

How many days had gone since you got it? Twelve days?

And if there was something he knew by heart is a woman's cycle. Ironically he used that knowledge to avoid getting his hookups pregnant, even if he used a condom. And now, he was using it for the opposite.

In two days you'd be ovulating. And you had returned early from a sudden trip due to sickness.

He didn't know if to thank God or his luck for such delicious coincidence.

But what if she decides to stay?

No. You wouldn't. You couldn't be so blind to do such thing. His plan was foolproof.

With the gears turning, he set his plan into motion.

----

Taglist:

@tango-juice @miaasmf @migueloharastruelove @slight-darkness @zombiesurf @oharasfilipinawife @thedevax @eepiebeepie @vsplanet @smartyren @m4dyy @keenspeachy @deputy-videogamer @the-colourfull-bean @killjoy-nightshadow @whos-writing-stuff @tomalymme @x0tw0d57 @huniedeux @ange-grayson @cubecube555 @riuichiii @plumplum2099

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #priest miguel #🙏🏾

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migueloharacumslut · 1 year ago

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NOW THISS IS A TRUE WORK OF ART!!!!! I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF A PART TWO!!

Pure Instinct

Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x Spiderwoman! Reader

Art by Lenin Francis Yu

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Preying behaviors, bickering, ambiguous relationships, breeding kink, objectification, creampies, Monster fucking, overstimulation, prey/hunter dynamics, mentions of period. Canon places, Not proofread.

Summary: A little guest from another dimension has a penchant for ovulation.

Another one for the Miguelverse

Special thanks to this nonny for the wonderful idea ❤️❤️

If you had to hear another word about world domination or how mistaken your views as a hero from another anomaly were, you'd surely rip your hair out.

Miguel delivered the last kick on Doc Oc's variant while you handled the trap.

"God, I swear if he keeps talking about the fucking sun on his hands-"

"Can you shut up and help?!" Miguel grunted as one of the villain's tentacles squeezed his skull, with the intention of leaving his head a bloody pulp, while slamming him against a wall.

"On it! " With a huff you shot your webs and kicked Doc Oc's spine, earning a pained growl from the man, but it was enough distraction for Miguel to pull his talons out and slice through metal and wire in a vicious outburst, destroying the tentacles in several rubble pieces.

With a kick and punch combo, Dr. Octavius was stunted. Miguel's webs tied the remaining automated limbs.

"Lyla, we've got him. Prepare the cell."

The little quiet gave you a bit of peace, bit it was quickly interrupted by the dull cramps on your lower belly.

You had to support on a nearby wall and exhale as another stab was delivered to your insides. If there was something worse than having your period, was being a spiderwoman and having your period.

Heightened senses made everything to be felt tenfold. Miguel's mask disappeared and he threw a brief glance your way before securing the area and pick up the anomaly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah just... Wished my uterus wouldn't have a penchant for committing harakiri every fucking month."

His brow quirked and he pressed some buttons to open the portal back to HQ. Dr. Octavius chuckled.

"You'd need a tantō for that."

"What do you think it feels like, dumbass?"

His lid twitched at your brazen disrespect, but ignored it. The least he wanted was to keep wasting time and prolonging the anomaly's staying in this dimension too long.

But the little conversation was more than enough to create a distraction. Doc Oc pounced on Miguel with his bare hands, securing his steely grip on his watch before pushing him through the portal.

"Shit!" Despite the pain you didn't hesitate to jump after them. You shot a web to gain impulse and kick the villain's head before his fist collided with Miguel's face, but this Octavius seemed prone to a greater resistance.

He punched back on your stomach, blowing all air out of your lungs through a choked wheeze.

"Play nice!" Miguel growled before connecting a powerful uppercut underneath Otto's jaw as the latter used the marred machine as a weapon, creating a set of cuts on Miguel's arm.

The mass of fighting limbs and bodies went through different universes, thanks to the code error to finally land in a foreign looking land.

You fell on the floor with a hard thud, unable to stand due the waves of pain that subdued you remorselessly.

Miguel howevee had grown tired and punched Otto on the side of his face, repeatedly until the villain remained unconscious on the floor.

Miguel's attention quickly diverted to his watch that sputtered in sparks and electric jolts.

"Ay por Dios... Lo que faltaba." His hand immediately rubbed his face, annoyed.

You on the other hand had barely mustered some energies to stand up.

"Fuck..." you whimpered and held your lower belly, as a crawl rolled down your spine upon glaring mistrustful at the alien-like features of the dimension. "Where are we?"

"Earth 616, known as Klyntar." Lyla quipped from your watch before glitching next to Miguel.

The foliage was nothing alike, not even the local fawn. All seemed to be doused in a black goo, that if you looked closer you could swear it moved on its own.

The flower's leafs were either exactly that or white sturdy spines that resembled teeths. As if the plant had a set of elongated teeth that protruded on each petal.

Long and sturdy spines that crawled in twisted spirals in whatever surface they touched. The sky was like glancing at a sunset. But unlike it's pretty hues of pastels, the fiery red and orange and yellows took over. Like if witnessing the very sun burning before you, yet it was cold. Eerily cold.

"Yeah, no. Can we... can we go home? Please? Don't wanna remain another second in one of Stephen King's wetdreams."

"I'm on it, signal over here is quite hard to get." Lyla glitched in several spots, trying to get a proper reception for her data

Miguel secured Otto entirely this time, and as he popped some joints back, you couldn't help but shoot at the sentient goo that was already crawling up his ankle and hand. His face contorted into a scowl before seeing the black puddle scurrying away from him, crawling within the dense alien foliage.

His face scrunched in disgust to then haul Octavius on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?!"

"A symbiote. Amorphous creatures, I'm still trying to get a full on scan on what they are made of." Lyla's excitement would've been contagious if it wasn't for the icky feeling the whole place gave in it's already bizarre layout.

"Parasites, that's what they are."

Miguel mumbled gruffly as he crossed the portal, you followed. Otto was put in a cell. And you went to your dimension for a much needed break.

The boss himself went back to his base, ready to get lost in the many upcoming reports his way, ignoring the sudden itch that seeped through his body.

----

Dread crept in your head the closer you got to Miguel's office. The past weeks have been nothing but chaos in the Spider Society.

Anomalies doubling their presence, canon events bein6 almost disrupted, the cafeteria food lowering their quality and Miguel...

Oh no.

The main reason you were nauseous with anxiety as you entered in the threshold of his lab.

Not only your favorite leader and almost lover had been insufferable, but snappier, less tolerating towards Bullshit and mistakes, to the point of believing himself allergic to them. Cause they got him in such a mood the rest rather go to Jessica to report. Even to Peter.

And things were awful if people started to come to Peter for giving reports.

Sometimes you could hear him grumbling spanish nonsense to none but himself. With a deep sigh and a silent prayer to whoever above for you to not be killed in the go, you surpassed the doorframe.

As soon as you did the subtle tinge in your spider senses, thrummed through your body. A shaky breath was trapped on the state of his lab. Nothing but a mix of pitch black darkness and the red, ominous glow from the screens, barely illuminating his way, and outlining his heaving figure.

"Miguel?"

Your voice taunted and beady crimson eyes immediately locked on you.

"Here's the reports from last week. They're already done-"

Your throat gulped involuntarily upon picking up the ragged pants and heaves exhaling from his trembling mouth.

"Leave." he grunted and you frowned. He wasn't only a pain in the ass but a walking contradiction. How he wanted things done asap if he didn't even bother to take a look?

You were about to protest but a pained and shaky whimper from him, alerted you.

"You want me to leave when you're probably injur-"

"Fucking Leave!"

He roared, more concerned of what might happen if you didn't do exactly as you were being told.

"Mig..." Your eyes widened as he wheezed on the floor, the same black goo you saw back at Klyntar, was engulfing your sometimes lover at an alarming rate, that had Miguel grunting and growling as the amorphous creature fought to swallow him whole. But as you stepped closer he hissed your way, stopping you.

"I-I can smell you." He seethed through clenched teeth, struggling to remain in control of his words alone. But the statement made your brows furrow in disbelief. Hands rose in defense as you approached a step closer, to try and get the sentient slime out of him.

"The hell? I took a shower today you ass!." You mumbled while getting Lyla to fetch the Spider doc to the lab, trying to keep him grounded. Your spider senses tingled louder and harder the more you saw him fight against the thing.

"Not that kind of smell, you foolish woman."

But the sudden change of tone made you shiver. It wasn't him speaking, but something more eldritch and dern that finally managed to swallow him whole and overlapped it's voice with his.

The squishing noise ended in a lurid gurgle as a massive and dark figure stood before you. Breathing as if learning the proper way to inhale it for the first time. Drunk in the very air you exhaled, oozing with pheromones.

"M-Miguel?"

Miguel was big, but not this behemoth of a creature, crawling in it's own skin made out of abyss and darkness, in which chest remained your boss' spider emblem, fiery and bright red, like if fire itself emanated from within.

"I can smell you, little spider"

It took a moment for you to understand the implications of such words. You knew in this specific part of your cycle pheromones turned a bit more pungent. A reason why you remained in your dimension.

Even though colorless, the creature's eyes narrowed in a leering and borderline predatory glare towards you.

For every step forward he did, you took two back

"I gotta... Uh-" Your politeness melted into a pool as soon as the dangerous set of sharp teeth stretched over his lips, revealing a twisted wolfish grin that would put any creature to shame.

Your senses reached the peak of their alarmed state with a single thought.

Run.

Your feet didn't need to be told twice as they took you away from the creature's presence. An underworld roar echoed within Miguel's station.

You didn't know if it was a good or a bad idea. But it mattered little when the creature, the symbiote, chased after you. The earth trembled and echoed with every powerful lunge he gave.

You jumped through a window, and swung through the buildings and cars, throwing an occasional load of webs to slow him down that proved a nuisance if anything.

"Run, little spider, RUN!"

The ominous laugh echoed through the night. He jumped through structures, following the delicious scent you left behind.

If Miguel could recall, he had been studying symbiotes ever since the web of life showed him the many bad turns a Spider could take. He knew they were nasty creatures when finding a proper host.

Vicious and harmful parasites that did nothing but corrupt, if the host's willpower was weak. What Miguel couldn't decide yet was if he was being corrupted for giving in into his need to mate, or if the parasite had made him bigger, faster and more powerful because he knew he needed to mate, accepting his current emotions and feeding the creature's crave with them.

And your pheromones and stress only added another delicious smell to the list. The phenethylamine running rampant in your brain made his heightened senses to tingle in wicked delight.

His smile only grew wider.

With a powerful lurch, he jumped through buildings to finally catch you mid air before you shot your web again. His whole hand wrapped around you while he held you tightly over the building's ledge.

Bit by bit the row of sharp teeth appeared within his mask, to unleash his serpent like and slimy tongue out that, didn't waste a second longer and took a taste of your skin by licking your cheek.

"Let Miguel go!"

Voice firm, although your hands quivered while trying to pry yourself out of his steely grasp.

"Let him go?" Miguel laughed, but you knew this wasn't your Miguel.

Was he?

He wasn't harming you, if anything he was just licking your neck with that abnormally large tongue of his

"He's the one in control, spiderling."

The goo spreaded around you, like tiny and sentient webs that grope and tangled around your inner thighs, up your abdomen, breast and arms, swallowing your body, like it did with Miguel.

The ones around your arms secured their grip around your wrist, pulling and locking the limbs immediately behind your back.

Your little cries only ebbed him to inch closer to your face, the web extensions grope tighter, suffocating your suit.

Miguel's sharp talon slid softly on the fabric, giving the creature the perfect chance to rip the remaining linens to shreds off.

A yelp was drowned as his long tongue slid in within your mouth. Coiling and twisting on yours, subjugating the wet muscle effortlessly.

Your eyes clamped shut upon feeling the same sensation in your nipples.

The symbiote's biomass had split and smaller versions of his mouth appeared to immediately latch on each of your nipples.

With half lidded eyes and a swirling mind, your body squirmed at the delicious sensations running rampant through each cell that composed your form.

You were allowed to breath as the symbiote pulled his tongue out. Within seconds you were flipped upside down, head dipping into the abyss of buildings and landscapes underneath.

For a second you thought you'd fall down, but the steely grip in your body was foolproof. Monstrous hands spreaded your supple thighs open, your skin crawled with the deep, demonic growl grumbling in his chest upon taking a deep inhale of your cunt.

You could see him relish in it, as his salivation increased. Tongue teased by taking a deliberate slow lick on your folds.

"Y-You'll let me f-Nnghh!-"

Your teeth clenched in an acute whimper but eventually a shaky and loud gasp came out of your throat as Miguel or rather the symbiote plunged his tongue inside your heat with ease. Slimy texture tasted and twisted within.

His tongue curled and slurped your insides vehemently, tearing lovely and desperate cries from your pretty mouth. Composure cracked with each second as the tiny mouths sucked and kissed your nipples like no tomorrow. As if coaxing the dormant milk out of them was their main and only mission.

The symbiote lapped and gulped down the juices that soaked his tongue. You mewled and moaned, completely lost in the drowning debauchery the creature provided. His tongue felt heavenly as it slithered and fucked your insides with such viciousness you could feel your tightness trembling and succumbing to his corruption game.

The neglect in your body was catching up to his ministrations. It bent and twisted like putty into his mutated hands. A streak of drool oozed from the corner of your mouth as you gifted his ears with your sweet pathetic little cries.

Clit throbbed the more he pressed and curled his tongue against your cervix, teasing it nonstop.

You shouldn't enjoy it. You couldn't be enjoying it, but here you were, secretly begging him to keep going, to quench that urge flooding your rationality even if it ruined you.

Miguel ate like no other, that was much true, but this dark mass of living alien goo had your walls spasming and milking around him, and your brain synapses crazy with raw delight.

And when he had enough of your sweet cunt, the biomass etched you to his chest. To then jump out the ledge and land into a darkened area from another building.

His body spat you on the floor, but quickly propped you on your feet. His darkened giggles crawled underneath your skin, to then gasp as his hand crushed your frame against the thick glass. Hot pants echoed in a foggy cloud on the sheer surface, chest flattened against the sturdy crystal while your arms remained locked behind you. His fingers immediately pulled back your hair, arching your flexible spine to look up at him.

"Such a needy little spider"

His tongue licked your lips, the mouths latched once more in your nipples, earning him nothing but a exquisite sob

"So eager to be ruined."

Deep within your alarms flared upon feeling something hard and twitching behind you, at first you thought of it nothing but another extention of his mutated form until it positioned right in your drenched hole.

A pant turned into a wheeze as his broad tip pushed in, easing inch by inch.

Your eyes rolled back at the obscene size of his invading cock, stretching and molding your walls to his girth.

A choked gurgle came out of your gaping pit, panting for a much needed gulp of air. Your toes barely touched the ground as he bottomed deep, bulging and pulsing proudly inside your womb.

Your brain was turned into nothing but a puddle, swirling inside your head with every breath the creature behind you exhaled, all while he embedded and trapped you against the wall with his monstrous frame and cock.

The Symbiote's hand held your hips firmly, guiding you up and down with powerful yet paused strokes on himself, like a life sized fleshlight. Making sure your walls learned and memorized every curve and tangent of his twitching cock while receiving him whole with a wet squelch.

"S'big-" you wheezed with half lidded eyes, struggling to remain aware and sane. But how could you achieve such feat when air was lacking in your lungs and your brain tingled with the underlying need to procreate. You were in the peak of your fertile days.

And him was more than willing to give you exactly what you needed. Symbiote, Miguel, it didn't matter anymore who plowed you. You truly couldn't care less.

"Enough games." the creature seethed and with a tighter grip on your hair, he smacked your hips in a powerful thrust, knocking out all remaining air in your burning lungs. Then another and another and-

Oh god

You came. And came hard, clenching ever tight around him in violent and ruthless spasms. Shaky mewls and pleas turned into slurred screams but that didn't stop him. Your toes curled in.

His smile twisted upwards, before shoving it's tongue back in your throat as his hips begun ramming in a merciless tempo. Obliterating any remnants of common sense in your frying and overriding brain.

Good was too weak to actually describe the feeling. Something too raw, too vicious, viscerally inexpressible, like the unceasing whomps of his hips. Like, him.

Your mouth was unable to properly vocalize the searing heat the Symbiote's lust stirred within. Chipping away your need to stop him and simply take his swollen and pulsating cock the many times he pressed in.

Cause in truth, what else could you do but take it? To take it fast and remorselessly deep, with no signs of him stopping. Not when his snarls rumbled behind and his hot breath fanned over your face and neck. The mouths on your breast removed themselves with a pop, leaving your nipples puffed and swollen

Tears pooled in the inner corner of your lids, and soon slid down on each side of your cheek. Your voice was reduced to nothing but meek grunts and hushed breaths, to finally dissolve into a stuttering groan as your eyes widened at the hefty load of his seed being shot deep. Hot and spurting directly in your womb.

Your eyes rolled back as he pressed imposibly deep, overfilling you. His frame trembled upon sensing your womb trapping him, drinking and swallowing greedily every last of his drops, choking him exquisitely. A satisfied and animal-like growl rumbled through his chest.

But it wasn't enough.

His tongue pulled out of your throat, letting you have some air as a reward for withstanding him.

Your arms were numb, like your mind, legs too lightweight to support your whole frame. Too fucked out and overstimulated to articulate a proper word as you slumped against the glass wall that fogged in every weak breath exhaled.

Miguel's eyes raked over your body and smirked proudly. The dark and living webs fetched your quivering figure.

His eyes remained on your leaking hole and pushed all the escaping cum back inside with his slimy tongue.

"It needs to be inside" He grunted and pressed your head against the floor, while his webs spreaded your hips again.

Ass up high, he buried deep once again, earning a sweet and needy scream and some of his cum to spurt out in the floor in a lecherous splatter, pooling underneath your poor bouncing hips.

The rough and rhythmic slap slap slap deafened your pleas and begs. Your breast bounced at the wicked beat of his pistoning hips. Throat scrapped raw, breathless. Eyes glossy, too gone to a dark place where he was the undisputed sovereign.

"You spiderlings are so fragile" The symbiote smirked while his hand held your head in place.

"Miguel-"

His name was repeated over and over, like if you were learning it for the first time. Clit throbbed with such intensity it had your head shaking. Fighting to keep your sanity intact as his heavy balls slapped whatever skin they could reach.

"Can't-" you grunted between clenched teeth, eyes danced erratically, like your blown breaths. Your knuckles and toes turned white at the sheer pressure you held them in.

"You can't what?" The overlapping mirthful voices sent another painful throb in your punished pussy, "Is it too much for you?"

The brief and sadistic laugh echoed through the skies.

"How weak."

With a snarl and a deep plow, he sheathed, the webs lifted you and curled you on your own to see how his enormous cock buried inside and pulsated.

Thick and throbbing veins adorned his base, every contraction meant more hot spurts of his seed, flooding your already stuffed womb.

There was no sound from you this time. Your brain had shut off and you laid limp, on the floor, quivering and twitching at the minimum graze of air. The webs around your wrist were loosened, freeing your tingling arms.

The little puddle of cum kept growing underneath the more your muscles spasmed and contracted.

"Ten"

Your breath hitched, while trying to get up.

"Nine."

He sung and you whimpered, crawling away from him.

"Eight"

Your legs didn't move but rather quiver. It was amusing for him to see you gasp while trying to stand.

"Seven"

"W-Wait" You mumbled, feeling the remnants of pleasure toying with your mind.

Part of you knew that if you stayed, he'd destroy you completely, but if you go, you'd gain a bit more of time to let your body heal enough to withstand another round.

"Six."

You tried shooting a web. But nothing came out.

"C'mon!"

"Five"

A chill ran down your spine as you slapped your wrist, finally mustering some strength to stand up with wobbly legs. Your nakedness didn't matter, not when a symbiote had taken over your boss, corrupting him to the point of him playing the mouse and cat through the city.

"Four" He tittered with malice.

And finally you managed to shoot some. Naked or not you supported on the wall to catch some air before shooting again and swinging.

"Three"

He watched you go after covering your bits to spare you some shame in case someone saw you. But quickly frowned when disappearing through a portal.

The symbiote however left Miguel's body to latch on his back. His eyes held a different gleam, teeth sharper.

Soon, his seed would work, but he had to make sure your womb harbored enough of him so his future seedling grew.

"Lyla, where is she?"

"Back in her dimension-"

He cut her off before she kept talking. The alien goo swallowed him whole again, regaining his gigantic frame.

"One."

The hunt was on.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #symbiote! miguel #I need his monster cock!!!#just the tip #monster fucker #hot damn 🥵

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migueloharacumslut · 1 year ago

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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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i am so fucking normal about this i swear

#he's so 🥵🥵🥵#holy fuck #me next #i wish he was real #i need him #i love him #i need his cock #kento nanami #i need to be fuck by him you don’t understand!!!

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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Side Effect

Summary: Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Feral Miguel. Rutting Miguel (side effect of the serum he takes). HEAVY breeding kink. Creampie. Fangs. Hormonal manipulation (mention of serums being injected).

You paced hurriedly through the long corridors of HQ determined to get an answer.

A proper one.

If Miguel O’hara was growing tired of your casual relationship with him, he’d have to tell that to your face instead of avoiding you.

This had been going on for a couple of days, and you patience was now hanging by a thread. You had tried to reach him through your watch, but he’d either ignore you, or have Lyla come up with ridiculous excuses.

“Visiting Peter and MJ my ass,” you grumbled under you breath, your paces echoing loudly.

The moment you were met with the lab door shut, you stopped dead in your tracks.

That was weird.

“What?”

Approaching the scanner on the wall, you reached out your arm, allowing the sensor to read your dimensional travel watch.

That was really weird.

You flicked your wrist again, but were met with the same message.

This had to be Miguel’s poor idea of a joke, because it made no sense that he’d restrict your access to the very place you worked at.

Letting out a strained breath, you tapped on your watch, hoping to reach Miguel.

But it was Lyla’s orange hologram that emerged instead.

“What’s up, sugar?” she beamed happily, filing her nails.

You scowled. “I was calling Miguel.”

“He has redirected every contact to me,” she shrugged, checking each nail individually.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why can’t I get in?”

“That’s classified.”

“Classified?”

She nodded with an obnoxious smile that only served to grind your nerves. “I work here.”

“So does Miguel and he is working now,” she said with another shrug.

Anger flared inside you as your worst fears were confirmed.

He was avoiding you in particular.

“Can you just open the door?”

“No.”

“Please?”

Her eyes narrowed behind her heart-shapped glasses. “No.”

“I really need to talk to him.”

Adjusting her long coat, she clicked her tongue. “I can pass him a message.”

That wasn’t good enough and he would just ignore it as usual.

“Lyla…” you started, putting on your most convincing fake smile with an equally forced sweet voice to match. “You know I’ve always like you, right?”

The AI scoffed. “Nah, flattery doesn’t work on me, sugar. It wasn’t programmed into my coding,” she grinned deviously. “But you’re free to suggest that Miguel adds it in a future patch.”

You shot her a death glare. “Fine. Just… tell him I’m here and… yeah…” your voice trailed off.

She winked. “Gotcha!”

The hologram disappeared at once and you were left staring at the large metal door in front of you.

You waited for a couple of minutes, before realising she wasn’t coming back with an answer, as you had expected.

A random thought crossed your mind when your eyes landed on the scanner, reminding you that there was another way in.

Miguel would probably get really angry that you were about to activate the emergency protocol, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

Tapping the pattern onto the pad above the scanner, you couldn’t help but to feel victorious as the door swung open, alarms blaring and a mechanical voice echoing through the lab.

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

You only made it a few steps past the door, before something — or rather someone — flung you across the room with the weight of their body keeping you pinned against a wall.

A muscled forearm was at your throat, effectively caging you in.

“What the fuck?”

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

The red alarm lights rotated hurriedly on the ceiling, but you were able to identify Miguel, as his weight dug further into you.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, the eyes on his mask narrowing menacingly.

Something wasn’t right.

Your spider senses detected an alarming accelerated heart rate from him, as well as increased body temperature.

“Miguel, let go! It’s me,” you grunted, clawing at his arm to alleviate the pressure.

“I know it’s you,” he said lowly, the digital mask vanishing.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him baring his fangs, droplets of paralysing poison dripping.

His pupils were fully blown and you felt fear rise inside you. “What are you doing?!”

As if your voice had managed to snap him out of it, he eased the pressure on you and took a few steps back.

“Lyla, deactivate the emergency protocol and resume the serum synthesis.”

“Got it, Miguel!”

The alarm was turned off immediately and silence took place.

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Was he that angry that he had gone completely feral?

“Miguel… what…”

He turned his back on you and paced to a nearby centrifuge, the screen atop announcing: <DNA stabilising sequence at 24%>

What was he doing?

“Leave.”

“Can we just talk?” you said, still keeping your distance. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but barring my access-“

Miguel turned around to face you, a deep scowl had settled on his face, twisting his lips.

The glare he gave you was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I need you gone. Now.”

Fuck. Was he that over you that he couldn’t even stand your presence around?

He had shortened the distance between you two, crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Why? If you don’t want to be with me just say that,” you groaned in frustration. “Don’t stare at me like you’re about to split me in half. It won’t work.”

Miguel had effectively managed to have your back hit the nearby wall once more, just from the weight of his stare alone.

“I told you to leave. I can’t have you around me.”

“Oh, great!” you scoffed. “Thanks for being so direct.”

Miguel didn’t stop moving until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t. We’re both adults, so you could have just said this a couple of days ago instead of acting like I’m some nuisance.”

His hand came to grip your jaw and you widened your eyes. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“What…”

He took a deep breath, fangs grazing his lower lip. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Wait… was he scared that he might have knocked you up?

His fingers loosened and he pressed his forehead to the wall right beside your head, groaning out loud.

“Miguel… what is going on?”

You wanted to him a comfort squeeze on his arm, but were too frozen to move.

“Why… why do you have to be on birth control?”

Was he pulling your leg? Was this his twisted version of a joke?

This time, you frowned. “What do you mean why? I don’t want to get unexpectedly pregnant.”

Miguel punched the wall with such force it dented the material and making you jolt.

“I’m rutting.”

Your eyes darted to his face as he straightened up, pupils still dilated and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

“What… rutting?” you asked, mouth dropping open in confusion.

He growled impatiently. “Side effect of my serum. I usually have an antidote at hand when this happens, but I ran out of one of the components…” he paused briefly as if struggling to breath properly. “I had to go to Peter B’s Earth to get more.”

Oh. So that hadn’t been one of Lyla’s ridiculous lies.

You glanced over at the nearby screen:

Oh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” you asked, wanting to bring him some comfort somehow. “We’ve been together for a few months.”

“It was never necessary. I always had the neutraliser for my serum at hand.”

You bit your lip.

He let out a low dark chuckle. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to breed you.”

This definitely wasn’t something you were expecting to hear from Miguel O’hara himself, and it made your heart skip a beat.

His arms were caging you, his talons digging deep into the metal right next to your head.

“Is… huh… is there anything I can do?” you asked in a whisper. “I mean… in the lab.”

He pressed his lower half into you at once. “Let me breed you.”

You flinched as his hard cock dug into your crotch and you let out a gasp.

“Can’t you just wait for the synthesis to be over?”

The sound of the metal being shredded tore through your ears and his lips nearly brushed yours. “I told you to leave, but you’re too stubborn, aren’t you?”

His breath was hot and you felt goosebumps rise throughout your body.

“Always running that mouth,” he growled, eyes landing on your lips. “Always defying me… and now I really, really need to breed you.”

For some twisted reason, his words and cock twitching against you were slowly swallowing your mind, causing you to abandon reason.

Miguel was a very dedicated lover, but you had never witnessed such yearning from him.

That was a novelty and it was doing wonders to your ego.

Even if there was a scientific explanation, you could help but plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You can’t breed me… I’m on birth control.”

His hand came to grip your chin again and you saw anger flicker in his eyes. “There’s ways around that.”

Your eyes widened.

He wasn’t being serious…

… was he?

“Miguel…”

The grip tightened and he rolled his hips. “Let me. Please.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. He had developed a serum that would neutralise all hormonal manipulation as a way to reset your body in case a spider needed to be injected with a serum.

You had helped him develop it.

Its efficacy neared 90%.

You guessed this neutraliser wasn’t able to prevent the side effects from his very specific serum.

And now he wanted to use it on you, so he could successfully breed you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not sure why agreeing to this in the first place was sending such an adrenaline rush through your veins.

Miguel moved away from you, bolting to one of the desks, rummaging through the drawers.

You swallowed hard, but remained glued to the wall, heart hammering fast in your chest.

In a blink of an eye, he was on you again, holding the syringe in his trembling hand. “I’m desperate, but I need your words first.”

You clenched and felt wetness spilling from you.

How was this so arousing?

“What words?”

He moved to place a quivering kiss to your forehead and you saw the liquid wobble inside the container.

“That’s… not the compound we synthesised.”

“It’s more than that,” he said with another kiss. “It stimulates your ovaries.”

Oh… fuck.

He trailed kisses down your face, before pecking your lips. “I have to breed you. Successfully.”

Your legs nearly gave out at his confession and you nearly moaned as he ripped your suit to gain access to your bicep.

“Tell me I can do this.”

His cock was nudging you again as a reminder of his desire, and you nodded.

“No. Say it.”

He was rubbing your skin with his thumb right where he intended to inject the serum.

“Go ahead.”

“Gracias,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your forehead.

At this point, you were far too drunk in lust to think clearly and your lips parted in a pained moaned as you felt a sharp jab in your arm. He kept his lips on you as reassurance, as the liquid tore through your muscle.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed straight away.

You felt your knees buckle under you, but Miguel steadied you with both arms. “I got you.”

A gasp quickly turned into a moan as the effect of the serum consumed you with each passing second.

He trailed his hands down your body and gripped your hips.

“Turn around.”

You let him guide you, biting down hard on your lower lip, you panties sticking to your soaked folds.

More ripping sounds filled the air as Miguel tried to get rid of your suit, exposing your underwear to him.

You balled your fists and felt one hand on your lower back, adding light pressure. “Bend over.”

Doing as commanded, you felt more wetness spill from you as your body readied itself for Miguel.

The pressure increased. “More.”

Your panties were torn apart right away and you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Miguel’s fangs peeking through his lips.

His thumb dragged along your folds, teasing your swollen clit and earning a whimper from you.

“Sorry, but I really need to be inside you,” he grumbled and you nodded.

Your heart skipped several beats, as you tried to control your breathing in anticipation.

The tip of his cock was soon pressed against your opening, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

Before you could inquire what he meant, your mouth fell open as he rammed inside you, bottoming out at once.

He didn’t wait for your to recover from the initial shock, and began pumping into you so ferociously, you had to grab a hold on the metal railing to your right to keep yourself from losing balance.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh of relief as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this sensation.

Grunts and groans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

“Should have bred you sooner…” he managed to say in between snaps of his hips. “Developed that serum just for you…”

Miguel’s idea of dirty talk was effective. Too effective, because you couldn’t hold back from clenching hard around him, savoring the friction and feel of being stuffed full of him.

He picked up the pace and you thought you were going to die.

Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was too overwhelming, and your body was responding to his in a way you had never experienced before.

You felt your lower abdomen coil at the sides and figured the serum had reached its target destination.

Miguel gripped both your arms and you let go of the railing, as he tugged hard to have your back smack against his hard chest.

“You’re so lucky this rut didn’t hit me harder,” he growled, hips never faltering. “I was barely able to control myself around you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned loudly, feeling his pectoral muscles press into your back. This man was too hot and you found yourself thinking that not being bred by him would be a waste.

That genetic material deserved to be spread.

“Being on birth control with me…” he said through gritted teeth, and you felt his fangs nipping your ear lightly. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Bred.” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.

An intense wave of pleasure pulsated from your clit, and you recognised the familiar strings of an orgasm pulling you in and embracing you gentle with each stroke.

“Miguel…” you moaned, blinded by lust and desire.

The grip on your arms loosened briefly and he let your torso lean forward ever so slightly, angling your hips in a way that made him his cock hit you over and over again just where you needed the most.

“I want you full with my babies,” he gasped.

Your orgasm hit you with such force, you thought you were going to collapse and slide off his cock, but he wrapped one arm around you, not allowing you to part from him.

“You feel so good… tighter… tighter,” he urged, as your walls contracted around him rhythmically, faintly at first, but the next stronger than the one before.

You were far too gone to form any words and just let your lips part as an intense moan ripped through your throat.

Miguel was mumbling something behind you, but you couldn’t make out any words as you descended from your height.

Even through quivering legs and pulsing clit, you were able to feel it.

He was now pumping you full with broken snaps of his hips.

You glanced down and saw strings of cum dripping from where he was connected with you.

So much cum.

He wasn’t even slowing down, as he’d usually do at this stage.

Miguel kept on ramming into you from behind, sending more and more cum to drip from within you.

An animalistic growl left his mouth as he finally came to a halt, breathing hard.

He remained balls deep inside you, and you planted on hand on the wall to look in absolute awe at the cum dripping and dangling from your clit, a pool of it now at your feet.

“How did you cum so much?” you managed to say in between laboured breaths.

“I’m rutting, cariño. My body produces more,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

You glanced to the screen nearby.

“Maybe you can take the neutraliser now?

He slid his cock out of you halfway, before slamming it back, and you felt more cum spill out. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, you were utterly fucked.

In every sense of the word.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #holy fuck #he's so 🥵🥵🥵#i need him #i want him #ahhhh!!!#I need to be fuck by him you don’t understand!!!

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

Text

This was sooo cute!! 🥰

Maybe It’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k

content: no extreme warnings, modern au, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader commutes to work by train, reader knows basic spanish, hc that miguel speaks both irish and spanish — and that he’s irish on his father’s side (idk if this is correct or not), use of petnames, id say miguel is a bit ooc — but hes not — he just doesn’t have all that canon trauma going on sjsksk

FINALLY DID SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY FOR ONCE????? had to get back on my shit yktfv!!! also psa for the translations — i do not speak fluent spanish and not a lick of irish so please!! if there’s anything incorrect/needs changing, dont be afraid to tell me!! hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Your usual commute to work was barely ever eventful. It mostly consisted of you getting onto your train — hoping you’d get a seat — and feeling despondent every time you noticed no seats were available.

Which was expected: You had to use a busy train in order to get to work on time. Any earlier and you’d have to wonder around your office’s surroundings to waste time and any later would have you clocking in late.

This timed train was so much more convenient for pace but it just never granted you those graceful minutes to sit down.

But alas, you stuck with it, because what else was there to complain about? The trains weren’t too full so it didn’t mean you were squashed like packed sardines and it was relatively quiet due to most passengers being too mellow at this time of morning to make any lucrative noise.

“Sorry, Miss.”

At first, you ignored the deep sounding words, assuming they could have been for anyone. But then a soft tap bounced just over your thigh and so you looked down to see what the disturbance was.

Looking up at you was a man with focused eyes. He wore a plain black suit with matching trousers. His white shirt had two buttons undone and he wore no tie. You couldn’t help but noticed how tossled his hair was. Clearly he was on his way to some type of occupation.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asks.

“Oh! I…”

You lean off from the pole you were supporting yourself on and adjust your bag on your soldier. Maybe this man was pitying you because you looked tired. You honestly weren’t and were genuinely just being comfortable, but you guess your lax composure compelled this reaction from him.

“No. Sorry, I was just being lazy. I’m fine, you don’t need to give up your seat for me.”

You shake your head and deny his request but the man continually persists. He was already starting to get up from his seat.

“No, en serio, sit.” He moved his briefcase over with his foot. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you standing now, can we?”

And it’s not like you agreed; Flattery of any kind from a stranger was always met with caution, but concerning he was going out of his way to give you a seat, you guess it’d be rude to deny it.

“Oh…How kind.” You stagnantly laugh.

The man took your place from before, now standing over you as he held onto the pole. He placed his briefcase between his feet. As you finally sit down and change your bag from your arm to your lap, you look up at the man with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

He only smiles at you acutely before offering you a curt nod. That was the only interaction you had the whole ride before you got off at your stop and made your way to work.

The next time you see the man isn’t until two days after the first ordeal and towards the end of the week.

He sees you before you see him, regarding he boarded the train sometime before you, and instantly flags you over.

“Miss!”

Weirdly, his call made you smile, and you pot on over, not expecting much.

“You really don’t have to.” You try as he gets up and out of his seat. He’s however already shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly. I already told you why you do so I don’t wanna hear anymore complaining.”

With rolled lips, you nod as you meekly sit down. Having an abash austere about you, you struggle to look up at him as you speak.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“No need for thanks.”

You wait several seconds before looking up to give him a communal look of gratitude but you find he’s already looking down at you. You find difficultly baring his coarse stare and so you look back down at your lap.

Throughout the ride, you can’t help but notice how his leg kept innocently brushing against yours.

Once again, no more words were shared between you and like before, you get up and leave for your stop once it comes.

“You know how this goes.”

This is about the sixth time the man has offered his seat up for you, and quite frankly you do know how it goes, but it just never seems like a good enough reason to therefore take his seat.

“Señor.” You muse with a light smile as you board the train. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I really do. Come. Sit.”

The man is already out of the seat, hand widely displaying towards it — it’s yours.

Despite the seatless train, most people know by now not to sit in it’s stead. The man himself is tall and wide enough to deter anyone from trying, but most reoccurring passengers know the deal as well as you do.

As you take your seat, the man smiles down at you. His smiles have gotten a lot warmer over the various interactions. Per usual, he places his briefcase down near your feet and brush his knees with yours. You believe it’s going to be another wordless journey but the man opens his mouth, closes it, before saying:

“And please, call me Miguel.”

He jogs your knee with his, so you were aware it was you he was talking to, but you still looked up at him with a slight expression of confusion. For some reason, it was as if moths — the Night’s Butterfly — were flitting around within the neck of your stomach.

“Sorry?”

He sighs out of his nose. It was not out of annoyance, but as if he too was experiencing some emotions of nervousness. The man however had enough confidence to look down at you and attempt to gain your gaze.

“As opposed to señor, call me Miguel.”

Your mouth lets out a small ‘ah’.

“Miguel.” You repeat.

So his name was Miguel.

It suited him, and made slight sense concerning he seemed to know Spanish well, but even more so because it was as if he had metamorphosed right in front of you. It wasn’t a physical change, but being able to put a name to a face definitely altered your perception of him. It was as if he’d become more human.

With a soft hum, you look up at him with an inquisitive contort.

“Miguel.” You taste his name in his mouth once more. “Is that what you’d like me to call you or is that your actual, real, government name?”

The man’s expression was unreadable.

“Well, what do you think?”

You shrug, unsure why he’s asked the question, but you give your answer anyways.

“I’d think it’d be kinda stupid for you to give your government name to a stranger on the train. So I’m guessing it’s a nickname or at least a pseudo one.”

Miguel’s eyes clip towards the moving view behind you, before training back onto your face.

“Looks like I’m kinda stupid then.”

You pause, register what he’s said, and then let out a tinkling laugh as you shake your head meticulously. Miguel chuckles a few seconds after you, and he can’t help watching you as he does so.

There’s a pause.

“I’m not much of a stranger anymore though, right? We’re more acquaintances than anything.” He tries.

“But Miguel, you don’t even know my name.”

“Only because you haven’t told me.” He shrugs.

This is the most quick-fire that he’s ever been but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it.

“You want my government name or the pseudo one?” You muse.

“It’s only fair that you give me the government one.” He catches himself before adding more gently, “Only if you’re comfortable doing so and kinda stupid like me.”

Once again, you can’t help the smile that braces your mouth. You tell him your name, the government one, and Miguel knocks your knees together in concur.

“Ah. Hermosa nombre por una hermosa dama.” [1]

He says, and regardless of whether you understood or not, you knew what he was getting at. If his words didn’t convince you then it was the silky look of— admiration? That gave him away.

Your cheeks heated, and your head dipped. All you could force out was a humble Thank You.

“Where I’m from, we have this saying.”

Miguel angles his breakfast snacks in your direction and you wordlessly take a small handful.

Surprisingly, your usual train was a lot quieter this morning. Maybe it was due to school holidays season, but there was enough space for you and Miguel to both have a seat. Your journey so far had been non-stop chatter.

“Más í an ceann í, beidh a fhios ag do chroí sula ndéanann tú.” [2] He reprises wisely.

It wasn’t Spanish, and you knew Miguel spoke Irish (“That old bastard was only good for one thing.”), so the translation was pretty much lost on you.

“Is that so?” You say with a hum and a crunch.

Miguel is also crunching on some of his snack, palm covering his mouth as he chucks the small pebbles towards the back of his throat before he’s shaking his head.

“Nope, that was a complete fucking lie. No such saying exists like that, I just made it up on the spot.” Miguel leaves room for you to let out a burst of laughter. “But, if it was a saying, I’d live by it like it was gospel.”

Shaking your head, you finish the portion of snacks that were in your mouth before you reply.

“Maybe you should paten it then. Make sure no one else gets the chance in saying it’s the gospel they wrote.”

“Maybe I should patent it…” Miguel echoes to himself with a deep laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

The both of you lull into a comfortable silence. The sort of silence you could fall into with a long time friend who was low maintenance, or a family member who you tolerated sharing the living room space with. It was the type of stilling that didn’t require speech but welcomed it if it came. Mornings with Miguel were the calm before the inevitable storm and the small pick-me-up that pushed you out of bed.

But then as you pondered how he made you feel, you realise that you only knew Miguel within the context of your work commute. You’d only ever spoken to this man within the short time that you travelled to work; Never before, never after. Had you gotten just one train earlier or later — heck, one carriage — different that fateful day, it would have inevitably changed the course of your life and the starting foundation of the friendship (?).

Life truly was funny in how it dealt it’s cards.

“What does it mean anyways?” You ask with piqued interest.

Miguel makes a WTF face, a face he made often, before he’s scrunching up his packet of finished snacks and dumping it within the blue convenience store bag he had. You recognise that everything he’d purchased was in Spanish.

“What does what mean? Be more specific.”

“Your fake saying you lied about.”

Miguel turns his head to look at you, those deep insightful eyes of his analysing you, searching for something. You’re not sure if he found what he was looking for. Whether he did or not, you wouldn’t know.

The man only turns forwards again and snorts.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about it.” He concludes. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

________________________________

[1]: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady

[2]: If she’s the one, your heart will know before you do

#miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x black reader

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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Change and Her Consorts — Miguel x Fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: 13 Minutes. 13 minutes was all it took for Miguel to (metaphorically) loose everything. Getting back onto his feet wasn’t easy, especially when life was changing and all he felt was stuck. But once you come back into his life, Witty, Hot and everything in between, Miguel wonders that maybe it was the change in others he needed to witness first before he could even consider making change for himself.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k+

CONTENT: modern au, childhood friends, afab reader, mature themes of death, grief, mental health issues, slightly angsty, hurt/comfort, is it a comedy? it’s a comedy, fluff, smut, sex, male penetration, mating press, blowjob, protected sex, nice ending i promise!!, i wouldn’t say reader is oc but she has a character for definite, also miguel is very??? difficult in this and his character can also be classed as ooc but its modern au and he’s been through it so bare with

Miguel knew he had to change.

Ever since he lost both his wife and kid to childbirth, it’d been so hard to piece things together again.

It’s honestly all bullshit. Finally thinking things were going good for him just for life to chew him up and spit him out like a fleshy plum seed all within the space of 13 minutes felt dehumanising to say the least. It left him fist fighting Depression, backing liquor shots of Sorrow and occasionally sharing a bed with Anxiety. That would fuck anyone up mentally and emotionally — And it did that to Miguel for a long time. He’s just grateful he had a good enough support system to crutch him through to the other side.

He sold the house he brought with his late wife and moved back in with his parents around eight months ago. That was a whole thing in itself. Left his job and hasn’t worked full-time since. He had a whole phase where he ‘no longer had anything to work for’ and therefore just…didn’t.

His parents were nice about it for a bit. Said he always had a home under their roof and that he could use the money he got from the insurance payout and house to cruise by while he healed. But then after about 3 months of Miguel taking the absolute piss with being unemployed, heartbroken, undriven and essentially a‘bum’ (Jessica Drew’s exact words), he found work in the local dairy produce factory as the ‘Payroll Guy’.

Despite none of this being his ideal picture of how life was supposed to look at this point of time, Miguel knew he had to change in order to survive. Having being so wrapped up within his own world, he knew that moving on in some capacity was his next step. Getting comfortable with the shell of a life he had now and the things he once knew were true would help with that.

The only issue is that Miguel forgot that others changed too.

An oof leaves Miguel’s mouth as his stomach is suddenly burdened with a paper sack to it. He looks down at his mother, more than a foot shorter than him, who’s passing him a bag of coals.

“I need this done.” She vaguely says.

“For the grill?”

Miguel asks it as an inquisitive question but he’s implying it more as disbelief that he’s been asked. His mother catches on and therefore explains her reasoning.

“I wouldn’t usually (‘ask you’, she implies but doesn’t say) but your fathers quickly gone to the shop and we need to start putting things on the grill. People will be arriving any minute now.” She dusts her hands before already moving elsewhere within the garden.

Miguel jogs the bag of coal in his arms and stagnantly turns his body in his mother’s direction; like a sunflower to the sun.

“Then I don’t have to do it?” He tried.

His mother gives him a quick look. It was sharp but she didn’t follow the intention through.

“I would like to start grilling things soon.” She stresses.

Miguel doesn’t reply right away since he’s been told he needs to think before he speaks. And so he thinks, hard, about what his mother was asking him and then answers accordingly to how he thinks he should.

“So I don’t have to put the coal in now?” He slowly enunciates.

“Ay, coño— Si! Si, Miguel! You have to put them in now, I’m telling you to put the charcoal in now! Vamos!”

Miguel lets out a haggard sigh.

He doesn’t like how he always get in trouble for these sort of things. He was bordering thirty and still had trouble depicting what his mother actually meant when she made implicit remarks.

The doorbell rings and so Miguel’s mother is shooting off back inside to open up for the guests, all not before giving Miguel certain The Nike Slogan eyes and a jabbing finger point towards the barbecue.

Begrudgingly, he gets a start on filling the bottom of the grill with sooty rocks.

As he’s detaching the rack, Miguel can hear high pitched welcoming and multiple voices towards the front of the house. He faintly hears someone ask for him, followed by his mother directing them towards the backyard where he was. At that, Miguel groans.

It’s not like he hated gatherings, but Miguel would definitely prefer a phone call or the occasional text message. Or just no communication at all.

But to his avail, he had no way of avoiding this. His parents were adamant to host a casual cookout of some sort and they knew he had nothing better to do so by default he had to be present. There wasn’t even a reason for the function. Just Something about opening up the home and having more laughter flow through it. Sounds cliche but Miguel didn’t care much for laughter anymore. Not that he never laughed — there were some humorously dark memes either Peter or Jess would send him that were subjectively funny and occasionally earned a breathy snort out of him. But it was no question that joy was definitely void in his life. It was hard to look forward to things and the days seemed to drag on and lack meaning.

No matter what way he looked at it, life was dull. There just wasn’t shit to be happy about.

“Miggy!”

Miguel perks up.

He recognises that voice anywhere.

He didn’t know you were coming but it definitely made sense for you to be here. His parents were making a bigger than usual deal out of this gathering so of course old faces would be present.

Miguel hears your voice call him by that juvenile nickname over and over again as you venture throughout the house. It’d been well over a decade since he last saw you but he knows both your parents keep in touch. Because of that, he doesn’t immediately turn around to address you once you enter the garden because he’s not expecting much and he’s still trying to evenly set up the coal rocks at the bottom of the grill.

“Miggy.” You say with perky tone.

The man’s sighing as he brings his head up, dusting his hands and wiping the apple of his cheek with the smudge of his palm.

“Till this day, what’d I tell you about calling…me...”

Miguel’s words are cut off short as soon as he turns to see you.

He opens and closes his mouth several time but nothing comes out. He’s adamant he looks so stupid right now but his shock is so genuine that he doesn’t blame himself for the reaction. Honestly, awestruck didn’t even cover half of what he was.

There you stood, in all your adulthood glory, a finer woman than he could have ever imagined you’d turn out to be.

Nothing about you was the same to how it was over a decade ago yet it was all so classically you. Or, whatever that meant. He’s not sure. If you’d given him creative direction over what he’d envisioned mid-20s you to look like, he definitely wouldn’t have come up with this.

Fuck, not like it matters what he thought. Why would anyone give him creative direction over anything? No, he’s not trying to say he wanted to control how you grew but he is saying whatever did, did a good job.

Oh, Miguel hates trying to justify things to himself. He knew what he wanted to say but he just didn’t know how to say it and it was pissing him off because this was all happening inside of his head and God, he probably looked crazy to you right now but he just couldn’t compute this change.

To put it plainly: You were hot now.

A soft tinkly chuckle leaves your throat as you notice the man’s frozen reaction.

“Hello to you too, Miguel. Everything okay out here?”

Miguel’s still freaking out mentally because man, even your laugh was the same but it was just so different and maturer and older and hot.

You amusingly side eye him, no longer calling him Miggy and cautious of his behaviour. You take a few steps round the back of him which ultimately puts you outside of his vision and peripheral. You end up on the opposite side, hands on your hips and face curious as you inspect the barbecue.

As soon as you’re out of his eyesight Miguel snaps out of the trance. His mind starts to catch him up to speed and he’s stuttering like crazy when he turns to you to try and explain himself.

“I—Ee—I…yeah. I…I’m setting up some rocks. For the grill. Not…Not just any rocks, like actual— actual charcoal, coal rocks that you…that you light barbecues with and…yeah.”

“I see.” Your tone is sarcastic, lightly teasing even, and Miguel has to curse himself for acting so lame.

He blinks at you a few times (Hot.) before casting his eyes back to the grill (Not hot. Yet). He occupies himself with the task.

“Of course. You know what coal is...” He mumbles the last bit to himself, a reminder that you weren’t an incompetent bristling teen anymore to whom he had to explain everything.

Miguel spends the majority of the barbecue in your company.

Not like he had much choice; you two were the only people around the same caliber. Everyone else was either middle aged, a couple, or a bustling child weaving between adult’s legs.

Chatting to each other wasn’t all that bad. You both nursed several bottled drinks between you and straddled garden chairs towards the bottom of the yard as you caught up with each other’s lives. Whilst he would have preferred hulling up in his room, having someone new to talk to as opposed to the same two people was rejuvenating.

Over the duration of your conversation, Miguel finds out that you’re a Data Analyst and it somehow makes him feel insecure about his crappy Payroll job. You however assure him that it was nothing to be ashamed of (“You’re a Finance Bro and I’m a Finance Girly. We go hand-in-hand!”). He also opens up about how he’s attending group therapy sessions — through which he met Peter and Jess. He also, speaks about Peter and Jess, but he quickly found out that apart from Peter and Jess, there wasn’t much else for him to talk about.

But surprisingly it was enough for convo because you always had new discussions to talk through with him anyways. Some were silly, (“Come on, you’ve got to admit it! The Teletubbbies having kids is just weird.”) some were trivial (“Cats or Dogs? — And be honest!”) and others reminiscent (“Remember how we tried to build a secret hide out in this very tree?”).

Miguel also found out that you were single.

“I know you mentioned you’re doing therapy and stuff but…how are you holding up? Like, really holding up?”

An automatic groan leaves Miguel’s mouth. There it was — three hours into the conversation. The million dollar question.

He hates gatherings and functions for this very reason. No matter how much people smiled in his general direction or pretended that they weren’t tiptoeing eggshells around him, they would always ask how he was in relation to That event in his life.

Not like they cared. If they cared, they would go out of their way to ask him, routinely check up on him, and not just when he was conveniently in front of them. They only asked because they were aware of the situation. Aware of his misfortune.

The guy who lost everything in 13 minutes.

The survivor of a freak accident.

Someone you’d pity from a far but thanked whoever that the situation never happened to you.

For that reason alone Miguel always lied and said he was ‘fine’ or that he was ‘holding up okay’. They’d give him pitying eyes, tell him that ‘things will get better’ and then kept it pushing. Usually, when it came to these questions, Miguel’s automatic response is to lie. But there was just something about you; Changed yet The Same you, where Miguel felt that he owed the honest and naked truth to.

“Honestly?” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m barely holding up at all. Everyday I feel like shit and if one day I surprisingly don’t, I know it’s a fluke and that I will definitely feel like shit tomorrow. It’s just a constant state of feeling off and never truly yourself.”

There’s a slight pause. It’s comfortable.

During that pause, you’re both privy to the music of party life. Chortling men, gossiping woman, squealing kids. It’s bittersweet because it kinda reminds Miguel of what he could have had.

Taking a swig of your drink, you make a humming noise before you’re replying to his triad.

“Damn. That’s rough, buddy.”

Miguel snorts.

Not because he likes how you’ve brushed off his miniature melancholy rant but because he gets the reference. Throughout the course of the barbecue, he thinks that’s one of his favourite things he’s noticed about you.

You both fall into another comfortable silence, before you’re adding:

“You know, being a widow kinda suits you.”

Maybe he spoke too soon about what his favourite thing about you was because now Miguel’s choking on his cider and wondering whether this too was a pop culture reference.

“I— wha— you can’t just say that kinda shit!” He turns to you and exclaims.

You scoff before rolling your eyes.

“You know I don’t mean it like that. Not that I like what’s happened to you — Rest in Peace to them — but as in the reverence that’s come with the trauma? It suits you. It’s matured you.”

You lull into another short pause but Miguel knows you weren’t finished. He also wonders if you’ve always been this harsh.

“Not sure if you’re aware but you were a real tool growing up, Miguel. Utter pure, soft, sheltered muck. This whole thing? It’s pushed you to survive. Moulded you. Given you a bit of character building, if you like.”

Your voice is much more calmer but it doesn’t change the fact that you just landed him with the most self-dismantling piece of information he’s heard in a while.

And yet it’s so bizarre because Miguel can’t help but find himself laughing.

Not one of those nose snorts when the group chat send subjectively funny memes or when he watches silly animal videos on his phone. No, Miguel’s caving over, free arm clutching to his stomach as he lets out a hefty guffaw. It doesn’t last long though. After about several seconds he completely stops laughing and sits back up regularly.

Initially, you think he was about to tell you it was all an act and what you said was in fact highly offensive. But it’s when he reverts back to his original position and continues to let out small huffs of laughter that you realise he’s just not used to reacting to things he finds extremely funny.

Which you’re questioning because nothing you said was a joke, but anything to get the sad man to smile, right?

But alas, seeing as he found humour in what you said, you let out a dry accompaniment of a laugh.

The two of you probably looked crazy, or at least drunk, as you each mildly chuckled away, weakly swaying side to side. When you both found it funny enough to stop laughing, Miguel spoke up first.

“Character building…” He huffs before taking another swig of his cider. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

You turn your body in the man’s direction and he knows you have something profound to say. Miguel realises within some meta existence outside of himself that your company is oddly easy to keep.

“How else can you view it?” You warmly reply. “That it was meant to be? That you simply have bad luck? I dunno but every other option is just too demeaning and lifeless to live by. With this explanation at least it gives you a reason to carry on.”

Miguel nods solemnly with a pondering look on his face.

“I never saw it that way.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were grieving.”

There’s a pause but it’s not like the others you’ve shared so far. This silence was slightly uncomfortable, uncalled for even. Miguel didn’t mind it because he feels he’s already gone pass the point of feeling embarrassment with you but he could tell it put you in a compromising position.

Looking over to him, your face vacates something undetectable.

“And about that…”

You softly clear your throat. Miguel is about to take another swing of his drink, but it’s when he sees a glint of something in your eyes, that he decides to slowly lower the bottle neck from his mouth.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you. In all honesty I was around when it happened and definitely knew what was going on I just…I didn’t know how to approach you about it. We’d grown apart for a bit and it was just…it felt strange to give my condolences after being distant from you for so long.”

There’s a tingling sensation scratching at the cage of Miguel’s chest.

He doesn’t know what the feeling is. All he knows is that he hasn’t felt it in awhile. But then again, Miguel hasn’t felt a lot of things in awhile so he’s not questioning what it is. But most of all, Miguel is surprised that he’s feeling things for once. He’s not sure if he wants to confront himself about them but he knows that they’re influencing his thought process.

Miguel tries to take a sip of his drink, but suddenly the liquid felt foreign in his mouth and his throat seemed unwilling to gulp it down.

He contemplates backwashing it back into the bottle but he’s suddenly subconscious about his image in front of you and how you perceive him.

Weird.

He forces the cider down.

“It’s whatever. Shit happens.” He says while squeezing the edges of his lips clean.

You make a noise of disagreeal. You used to make it all the time as a teen. Miguel wonders if you continued using it after all these years or if you just redeveloped the habit having being in his presence. He also notices how your chair seems to be a lot closer to his despite you never moving once.

“I know.” You say with slow and downward enunciation. “But either way, I’m sorry. I should have done better by you.”

You’re trying to stress something to him. He knows that now for sure but Miguel doesn’t know what you’re putting down or what he’s allowed to pick up.

He watches over at you with firm determination to find out what you’re insinuating but once he sees the way your eyes reflect the fiery dances of ambers, oranges and borderline crimson reds, he turns his head forwards again and clears his throat.

“I hear it. I appreciate your honesty.”

Miguel doesn’t know how he got into this position.

Actually, he does. He very clearly remembers how he asked you if you wanted to carry on talking inside, within his room specifically, and how he smooth talked you into getting on your knees.

But in all honesty, he didn’t mean for it to turn out this way (or maybe he did). Yeah, he may have walked up those stairs with his dick lurching colourfully within his pants at the insinuation, but his initial intentions was to give you a safer space to talk. He’s honest when he says his invitation was powered by a lot more than just pure unadulterated lust.

“Fuck…” He hisses once you scrape your bottom teeth ever so lightly against his shaft.

Miguel doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t think animalisticaly stuffing them in your hair will do him any good and he thinks a hand on the cheek is too intimate. All he can find appropriate is to splay his hands behind him and slightly lean back to watch you work.

It’s almost alien seeing how your cheeks hollow over his cock and how your eyes fluttered shut as you manoeuvre your mouth up and down the length of his member, your hand helping you with what your mouth couldn’t reach.

Miguel doesn’t think there’s anything dehumanising about this.

He was so sure you were giving him the eyes back in the garden. And with the way your lips quipped to one side when he invited you into his room? Yeah, you were big people now. Adults. These sort of things weren’t like hushed secrets or tales of promiscuous old — these were You Either Do or Don’ts — and you both decided to Do.

“I-I’m close.”

No, there was nothing dehumanising about having your now super hot (and single!) childhood friend suck your cock within your childhood bedroom whilst your parents backyard party went on just outside your window.

Whether it felt right or not was for Later Miguel to worry about.

Despite his heed, you were still working your mouth over his cock. Your lips were so prettily spaced around his girth — almost a perfect fit, and Miguel knows he could easily finish this way but he’s making an active decision not to.

He wants to be mildly selfish and ask for more.

“I-I said I’m…nrgh.” Miguel sits forward before laying a few fingers to your forehead. “I don’t want to finish like this.”

You release Miguel’s cock from your mouth with a pop but you don’t leave him hanging dry. Your hand continues to stroke at his wet shaft and fuck, the way your lips glisten with your spit and his precum is legitimately going to push him off the edge, but he has to refrain himself.

“How else did you plan on finishing?” You quip.

Miguel seems to freeze as he gives you a look of expected understanding, and at first, he’s so sure you were going to make him spell it out but as predicted, you caught on quick and your eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh.”

Your hand discontinues stroking Miguel’s cock and he mildly panics at your response.

That didn’t seem like a good ‘oh’. Miguel doesn’t mean to be an enemy of his own progress but trust for him to end the day with a fractured friendship and blue balls. Suddenly, Miguels backpedalling on his initial stance of being selfish and getting what he wants.

“We don’t have to. I—Only if it’s okay with you, if you’re comfortable with it.”

“No. It’s fine.” Your tongue pokes out to swipe at your lips. Fuck. “Might as well get something out of this.” You quip.

Miguel wonders whether he should have been cautious of how rusty his pipe game had gotten. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since his late wife and even then, he stayed off of her most of her pregnancy. Either way, as he’s thrusting his cock in and out of you, all he can think of is how forward you were with telling him about himself outside in the garden.

It’s not like he was a masochist or into degradation, but there was something about the way you were so bold and open in highlighting his flaws despite the satellite silence for well over a decade.

“How’s this for maturity, huh? For character building?” He grunts into your ear.

Okay, so maybe Miguel’s sex talk has gotten only a bit rustier, but with the way whimpering whines dribble from your lips, he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger like a promise string. He folds you into a deeper mating press, your feet cuddling his upper back and his body pressed against the warmth of your breasts.

“M-Miggy.” You moan into his collarbone.

The nickname causes an innate and deep annoyance to sprout from Miguel’s chest — so much so that he replies inadequately.

“Shut up.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he notices your stilling against his body and he immediately regrets his words. He however continues to fuck into you.

“S-sorry. I di-didn’t me—“

“Miggy.” You moan again, this time with even more intentional lust and immediately he knows what you’re doing.

“Don’t.”

His warning is solid, and inertly tinged with concern, because Miguel’s unsure how he’s supposed to look you in the eyes after this. You’re playing devious games, dangerous ones as you nail at his back.

“T-t-touch me, Miggy.”

Now, you’re really testing his patience but also his limits because Miguel is taking everything in him not to go all out.

And so he complies. Despite him knowing that it was going to rot at his brain for eons and eons to come, that he wasn’t going to be able to back away from this now that he’s had a taste, that he couldn’t go back to be being just Childhood Friends with you, he complies.

One of Miguel’s hands reaches down between the both of you and once he wedges it close enough, he allows his thumb to swipe at the meat of your swollen clit.

The mewl you let out is instant and makes Miguel’s dick hiccup inside of you and suddenly he’s seeing stars. Had you no concern for the party still very much going on? The possibility of someone hearing you? The issue of getting caught?!

A devious grin finds its way onto Miguel’s lips and he’s pressing wet open mouth kisses just below your earlobe.

“You’re so fucking dirty.” He breathes.

Quite frankly he’s lying through his teeth.

There is nothing about this experience or your request or your wanton reaction that was dirty. It was all in fact very sexy, lucrative. Hot. Miguel would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every wet second of it.

The man can’t help but look down and watch as he bounces his hips harder against your seeping cunt. White froth forms around the base of his dick and he can’t deny that the sight arouses him.

“Is this who you really are, huh? All this time…all this time.”

It’s implicit what he accuses that you’re so called hiding, as if you haven’t been transparent with him this whole time. A breathy laugh leaves your throat.

“You’re…pro-projecting.” You mutter.

All Miguel can moan in reply is:

“I know.”

It doesn’t take long after that before you’re cumming around Miguel’s dick and him into the wryly rubber of the condom.

“Where do we go from here?”

Miguel is first to speak.

The two of you have been chilling out in silence for the most of twenty minutes. He was kind enough to let you stay underneath his covers. You were comfortable as you used his bed as your own, scrolling through your phone with one hand underneath your head and your feet rubbing like cricket legs. There was enough room for both of you to lie under there but you said something about not wanting to touch him just after sex.

Miguel deadpanned and then proceeded to call you things like spoilt and bratty in Spanish, but he still let you have your way.

Now he was sat at the foot of his own bed (can you believe!), back against the wall as he idly played a game on his console.

His phone had been buzzing all day; Peter and Jess ultimately amusing themselves in the group chat all whilst occasionally asking where Miguel was and whether the social interactions of the barbecue had killed him yet. He could respond now, but he’s saving the reveal of what went down till after you’re out of his hair. That way he can fanboy in the peace of his own company.

But now that the two of you were silently sharing a space, Miguel is starting to wonder whether he wanted his own isolated company now so that he could think properly. It’s when he’s failed to complete a level for the fifth time in a row (because his minds occupied on you) that he decides to lower the controller and therefore ask you that question.

Your eyes continue to stay glued to your phone screen as you answer him.

“We don’t have to go anywhere.” You mumble plainly. “Don’t have to put a name on anything.”

Miguel sighs loudly and he’s rubbing his face with both hands. His dramatics pass over you.

“Fuck, no, no. I’m not doing that. It’s either we are or wes isn’t. I haven’t got the capacity for any of that situationship, fuck buddies, friends with benefits bullshit people’ve got going on.”

Miguel is scared for himself once he says the words because it’s only after they tumble out his mouth that he realises they were kinda harsh — which, technically shouldn’t be a problem concerning that was this evening’s whole weird theme.

But he feels even more afraid because as stupid as it sounds, he can’t lose you. Another staple in his life. Despite him only reconnecting with you for the past few hours or so, Miguel has grown very attached to you and would be an idiot to deny that you meant a lot to him.

He couldn’t afford to lose you over one fuck.

Either way, Miguel doesn’t regret those words. They were a direct reflection of how he felt, of what he was thinking whilst he was fucking into you not even half an hour ago. He knows that this one canon event has caused a split trajectory for the both of you. Miguel thinks whatever happens after this is just another testament to how life continuously deals him rubbish cards but he can’t figure out what’s worst: having to let go of a possibly good thing or deal with the change that will now inevitably come with the relationship.

However you, clearly not as turmoiled as Miguel, slightly lower your phone screen from your face so that you could stare at the man.

“Then ‘wes isn’t’ anything then. Simple as.”

It was so obvious this was affecting Miguel internally because there’s that screw up face he does when he’s inadvertently tickled by something he’s heard. He use to do that a lot growing up.

“How can you be so calm about this?” He asks.

“Because it’s not that deep.” You shrug.

Now Miguel’s leaning closer to you, voice seeming to seethe but as a clear defence mechanism.

“Whaddyou mean it’s not that deep?!” He spits.

Because he’s acting like this, you now have to lock your phone and place it down onto the bed so that you can give him your utmost attention. You’re even thinking to back track your earlier words about him having matured. It was obvious that he was still that same young boy who sought to always get what he wanted.

In a weird sense, it was comforting.

“Not in that way, dummy.”

You force yourself to sit up against his headboard, the blanket sliding down to expose your naked chest.

“I didn’t see sex with you as casual, Miguel. It was definitely something. But I’m just… Mm. I don’t wanna say I’m not in a rush to label anything but, it’s you. Lil o’ Miggy from two doors down. There’s too much to us and who we are, how long we’ve known each other, how much we’ve experienced each other to let sex completely change that.”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting your words because his face falls and his eyes widen. He’s so unaware of his facial expressions that it’s cute.

With a huff of laughter you shake your head before slouching backwards even more. The way your eyes doll over him was surely a testament to your lack of will power when it came to him. Always has and always will be.

“I love you but in a much bigger way than just platonically or romantically or sexually. You mean a lot to me and I’m grateful we were able to have that experience to strengthen that.” You say softly.

Miguel finally closes his mouth. His eyes still bore holes into you but you can see his skin start to redden in the embarrassment from the chest upwards.

You’d figure it’d be a lot for him to take in. Granted — because hearing your childhood friend say they loved you in a much larger capacity than anyone ever could — despite having not seen each other in years, straight after sex, was definitely something. And you figure that part of it was you trying to express to him that you really were sorry, so you realise your triad can almost be viewed as borderline manipulative, but you wasn’t lying.

You loved the man in a bigger way than fathomably possible, and that was the truth.

Finally coming to his senses, Miguel leans back against his bedroom wall again, picks up his controller and resumes to play his game. Initially, you think he’s taken your words the wrong way and misunderstood you, but then he starts mumbling something as he’s watching the screen with a hard stare and blotchy crimson skin.

“That’s unfair.” He mumbles, the click of the controller working in between pauses. “You can’t tell me you love me whilst showing me your boobs. It’s cheating.”

And you laugh, because what else can you do? As hard-headed and brash as he was in his earlier days, this was who Miguel was. It’s the first version of him you ever fell in love with and didn’t stop loving. It’s the version you’re carpingly in love with now.

Lifting up a corner of the duvet, you give the man permission to join you in his own bed.

“Miggy, just get underneath the blanket and stop pouting at me.” You say, and he can’t but help instantly crawl over and dutifully comply.

#miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x black reader #he so babygirl

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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I need a part two please!!!!!!!!

Naughty Neighbors

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Y/N

Summary: You and Miguel are neighbors in an apartment in Nueva York. There’s a mutual not-so-quiet dislike for each other despite your best efforts to make nice, but it seems the both of you are reaching a breaking point.

Content Warning: a hint of dub-con, mention of masturbation/sex toys, thigh riding, dirty talk, exhibitionism

WC: ~1.2k

AN: this is BARELY edited, but thank my bestie @whaddayadothatfor for helping me out with this! Go check out her Miguel O’Hara and JJK fics <3

MDNI!!!

Miguel O’Hara had to be the worst neighbor in the history of neighbors.

 But as terrible as he was, that didn’t stop you from rocking your hips back and forth so that your clit and pussy slickly slid over the length of his generously sized and veined dick as he pressed you hard against the walls of the hallway.

 *before the ‘incident’*

 Miguel made it his life’s work to be absolutely insufferable. He was rude, constantly making racket and always seemed to be around at the worst time.

 You had had trouble sleeping lately, so you did what any newly single gal with frustrations up to your knees would do: pull out the vibrator and go to work. In all honesty though, you’d had to use it even when you weren’t single too.

 You used it more than you’d liked to admit—so much in fact that it needed new batteries and died mid act just as you could hear Miguel rumbling around on his side of the wall. As a result, you couldn’t sleep.

 It had ended up setting the tone for the day: waking up too late, cursing over frizzy hair, spilling your coffee on the subway and eventually being berated at work by your boss over a deadline. It didn’t help that your boyfriend had been avoiding you for the past few days after declaring the two of you “take a break”.

 You ordered takeout from a place down the street after returning home and changed into comfortable clothes to wear around the house and figured while you waited you might as well go check your mail.

 You went through your mail slot in the lobby of the apartment building, finding Miguel’s among yours. You tried his slot only to find it was locked, of course, and sighed.

 You would have to talk to him.  

For anyone else, that wouldn’t have been a problem. You were friendly with everyone on the floor—minus Miguel. He was rude, aloof, and often met you with silence when you tried your friendly neighbor tactics. Even when you first moved in and brought over a tray of muffins, he’d declined and slammed the door in your face hard enough the knocker rattled.

 He wasn’t your enemy or anything silly like that. No, he was just a fucking douche bag. And there were plenty of those in this building and in this goddamn city, anyways.

 Still, determined to be the better person (either to a fault or out of spite), you knocked on his door. You could hear the shuffling and heavy footsteps even through the door, and a sigh sounded between it before it swung open.

 Oh, fuck.

 Unfortunately, there was always a nagging thought in your mind when Miguel crossed it—he was undeniably attractive. It made it that much more frustrating that he was rude and so cold to you.

 Today was no fucking better.

 He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest as his dark eyes scanned over your form. They widened slightly as they took in your cropped tank top and fuzzy pajama shorts that did little to cover your generous assets but they snapped back up to your eyes when you shook the mail lightly in front of him.

 “Hey neighbor,” you said in a slight sing-song voice. “I have some of your mail. It got mixed in with mine again.” You hold out the mail and he looks down at it.

 “I don’t need it.”

 You paused, brows furrowing. God, he was frustrating.

 “You don’t need your mail?” You asked incredulously. “It’s literally bills. One of these is the electric and gas company! What do you mean you don’t need them?”

 “You snooping through my mail now, Y/L/N?” His gruff voice is a near purr as he says your last name and you huff in annoyance.

 “Of course not, that would be illegal,” you retort, stressing the syllables of “illegal”. “Just like how it should be illegal to be that terrible of a next door neighbor.” Miguel laughed coldly, the muscles on his chest and biceps pushing through his white tee. The grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips did little to keep your imagination in check and you backed away, still holding out the mail.

 “I’m the terrible neighbor? You think I like listening to what happens on your side of the wall?”

 Your mouth gaped open in shock.

 “What do I even do?”

 “You think I don’t have to deal with the shit I have to hear on your side?” He leaned in dangerously close, his lips tilted up in a mocking sneer.

 “Like what?” You pressed, crossing your arms over the flimsy tank top you wore.

 “The arguments between you and your boyfriend, the noises you make in the morning….the noises you make at night.”

 “What noises?” Your cheeks were already starting to feel hot as he bent down to lean closer, his arms still crossed.

 “The noises you don’t think anyone hears,” he says quietly, his voice rough and rumbling in the air between the two of you. “I hear everything through that wall. And I’m surprised that little toy of yours last night had any juice left.”

 You acted before any actual thought could cross your mind and the next thing you knew— your hand was stinging and Miguel’s sculpted face was red on his right cheek.

 “I…I’m sorry,” you squeaked out, cradling your hand. You backed from his door, the letters falling to the floor. Perhaps if you ran fast enough you could just make a quick getaway. Miguel’s eyes blinked before narrowing, now dark as his pupils widened.

“Don’t try and run off now.”

***

 “You think I’m gonna sit idly by while you disrespect me like that?” Miguel’s voice was gravelly and deep, his hands gripping both the front of your thighs and your breasts now pulled from the flimsy tank top as his own hips pushed hard and slow against your ass.

 Over and over, the length and head of his dick caught your clit and rubbed dangerously to the point of indescribable pleasure. You hadn’t felt like this in so long.

 You hadn’t been touched like this in so long, you were desperate to cum. Desperate to do anything he wanted if it meant you could cum.

 “Fuck, you’re so wet,” Miguel remarked, sighing as he nuzzled into your neck, his canines teasing on your sensitive skin. “Deep down this is want you wanted, huh?”

 “P-please,” you stammered, unable to form any coherent thought as the wet sounds began to echo in the hallway. You moaned as every muscle in your body began to tense up from a building orgasm.

 “What would the neighbors think if they caught you out here like this?" Miguel taunted. "What a naughty little neighbor you are."

 "I'm n...I'm not--"   The ding of the elevator down the hall interrupted the both of you, and in a flash, Miguel had pulled your tank top and shorts back up over your exposed parts, tucking his dick back into the waist band of his sweatpants. Before you could even turn around to say anything to him he'd slammed his door closed, the forgotten mail littered all over the ground.   The worst neighbor, you seethed.

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #good lord 🥵#holy fuck

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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take it

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: miguel is tense from everything happening with other spider people, so you offer to help him relax a bit by becoming entirely pliant for him.

warnings: smut. porn without plot, I'm not sorry. rough piv sex, oral sex, light bondage, spanking, fang play

tags: f!reader, established relationship

word count: 1.9k

have you seen him. I'm so feral. I'm so excited to see this movie

masterlist | taglist | ao3

It was late, and he was finally back home. He should have been back home about two hours ago already.

Worry had kept you awake, you needed to be sure that he was alright and alive before going to bed.

You got up from the couch when you heard the front door, and you softly smiled at him when he met you in the living room. You left a quick kiss at his lips to greet him, and he pinched his lips in a small, weak smile when you pulled away. He looked exhausted, dark circles had formed under his worn out red eyes.

You could sense that something was wrong, that his day maybe didn’t go the way it was supposed to.

It has been like this for the past few weeks, with everything that was happening at Alchemax but especially outside, in his Spiderman activities.

You knew it was a bit more complicated than usual, but Miguel barely even talked about it, only mentioned a certain Miles, and you understood why he was being lowkey about it, he probably wanted to leave all of these problems aside when he finally had the opportunity to settle down and breathe.

"Sorry" he sighed, sitting down on the couch with a grunt. "I know I should have been home way earlier than that but things dragged out." he explained, closing his eyes.

"It's okay" you sat down next to him, your hand resting over his thigh, rubbing it up and down in hope that it would ease the stress out of him. "I get it."

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, letting the back of his head rest against the back of the couch.

"Want something to drink?" you offered, leaving a kiss at his clothed shoulder, letting your head rest here afterward. You felt his head rest on top of yours before he hummed positively.

You looked back at him and kissed his cheek before leaving for the kitchen and pouring him a glass of scotch, handing him it once you came back.

"Thank you sweetheart" he muttered, taking the glass from your hand, immediately bringing it to his lips and taking a sip of the strong drink.

You sat back down next to him, staring at him closely, watching his every move, and he quickly noticed, cocking an eyebrow.

"What"

"I think I know how I can help you with all this pent up frustration, but you'll have to use some more of that stamina." you declared, nodding once.

"Mh?" he hummed, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

You nodded again, and licked your bottom lip as you cupped his cheek and traced your thumb along his sharp cheekbone.

"I want you to do whatever you want with me. Anything. Take your frustration out on me, I'll take it."

He almost froze in place at your proposition, like he quite didn't understand it fully.

"Really?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You want me to use you?"

You nodded again, a sly smirk on your lips. He paused for a second, but once he truly processed the information, a toothy grin appeared over his face.

"Fuck baby, you really know how to talk to a man" he finally rasped, pulling your lips to his.

—

He started by fucking your throat, deep and rough.

You could have regretted your decision when you repeatedly choked on his length and when your eyes had started watering, but the sounds he made and the way his head was thrown back in pleasure reminded you of why you offered him to do this; you wanted him to enjoy this, and as long as he did then so did you, even if you could barely breathe.

He was slowly starting to get close, you could feel it. Your hands that you put over his thighs for some leverage felt his muscles twitch softly, and your nails dug in his skin when he gave an especially deep thrust to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud moan from his mouth.

“Fuck baby” he groaned, before pulling out, finally giving you some air. “Don’t wanna come just yet. I haven’t used you enough” he muttered, offering you his hand so you could stand up.

“Are you okay?” he asked as you held onto his hand to get back onto your feet. You nodded, happy to finally be able to breathe properly, and he pulled you into a kiss before his hands cupped your ass, squeezing it lightly before giving it a sharp slap. “Good. Now get undressed and lay down on your stomach, hands behind your back” he ordered, and you happily and quickly obliged.

He didn’t join you immediately on the bed, and you could hear him rummaging through the drawers for a while before you felt a dip behind you, his knees digging in the mattress at either side of your legs.

“Good girl” he praised, his voice dripping with lust as he grabbed your wrists and tied them together with one of his belts, the soft leather feeling cold against your burning hot skin.

You yelped when you felt his hands grabbing at your hips and lifting you up a bit, putting a pillow between you and the bed to prop your hips up for him.

He spanked you a bit more, making you bury your face into the pillows as you muffled your groans. The heat prickling at your skin felt pleasurable, but you couldn’t wait anymore; you needed him, you needed to feel him, you needed him to touch you, to fill you.

And you knew you would get what you wanted soon when you felt his leaking tip poking against your cheek, the warmth of him making you grow even more impatient. He rutted between your ass cheeks, sliding up and down against your slit ever so slowly. His teasing was driving you insane.

“Miguel, please–” you whimpered, and he tutted, his large hand hitting your right ass cheek once more, the sting making you jolt softly.

“I thought you were supposed to take it like a good girl” he hissed through gritted teeth, and you frantically nodded into the pillows. "Act like it and spread your legs for me" he demanded, and you did.

He teased you even more, punishing you for begging him to go further faster earlier.

He slowly and cruelly teased the weeping tip of his cock against your folds, rubbing it up and down, gathering your slick as you kept on whining for him, not actually asking him anything precise or you knew he would tease you even more.

Miguel grew impatient and it came with no warning, a gasp left your mouth when he pushed and plunged inside of you in one swift movement.

You wailed at the stretch, the size of him splitting you in half, the feeling being pretty new as he usually prepared you and worked you open gradually, easing himself slowly.

The pain from the stretch hurt for a bit but you grew used to it rather fast, it wasn’t like you had a choice anyways; he was driving himself inside you at an aggressive and firm pace, his hands digging into your waist, his fingers anchored into your skin as he held you in place. The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure, the snap of his hips filling you just right and hitting all the mind-numbing spots inside of you.

He cursed spanish profanities under his breath, things you were too dizzy to understand at the moment; you were already too far gone to understand what was going on around you except for the man fucking into you in rapid motions and his hips snapping against your rear repeatedly, the sharp sound of skin-on-skin ringing in your ears.

“So good for me baby. Letting me use you like that” he growled, his hand gathering your hair to yank your head backwards, drawing a startled yelp out of you.

His chest was pressed against your back and your tied hands, and you felt his warm breath at the nape of your neck before his fangs teased and softly scratched the tender skin there, nipping lightly, with no real intention to truly bite and hurt you. “Look at you” he chuckled, his hand letting go of your hair and grabbing your chin, making you turn your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the pillow. “So fucking cock drunk for me” he teased, a grunt leaving his mouth when he thrust even harder and deeper into you.

A low snarl vibrated against your skin as he nuzzled the crook of your neck, leaving some warm kisses over your shoulder before getting away from your back and your sore arms.

His hands gripped back at your hips, reviving the aching feeling there. You were pretty sure it was going to hurt and be bruised tomorrow, but it felt too good right now, so you couldn’t care less.

His nails were digging into your body, crescent shaped marks forming in your skin. You only hoped he still had some control over his talons, because if they came out, it would take more than a few days for you to not feel them anymore.

You quickly grew close, so close. Every thrust pulled whines out of you, and your clit was throbbing, in desperate need of attention, and you couldn’t do anything about it, your hands tied behind your back and your lower body entirely controlled by Miguel.

And he could feel it, feel that you were almost there, he saw the way you were drooling over the bedding, moaning every time he filled you to the hilt at every slam in your cunt. He slid his hand under your body, fingers reaching where you needed him the most, the rough thrusts of his hips making you rub against his hand.

“Come for me baby, come on” he softly grunted, and the sound of his voice combined with his rubs and the way he hit that spot inside of you sent you over the edge. You repeatedly moaned his name like a prayer when you clenched and fluttered around him, every nerve inside your body set alight as you gripped the bed sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white.

He cursed under his breath before speeding up his thrusts, going impossibly faster and making you whine at the overstimulation once the dazing feeling of your orgasm faded away. It didn’t last long; he eased himself out of you cursing again, and you looked back at him and at his furrowed brows and the vein bulging over his forehead, his hips stuttering as he sloppily fucked into his hand, and it didn’t take long for the hot strings of his cum to spurt over your ass and lower back, pulling low groans from his mouth.

You must have passed out for a few minutes, because next thing you know, you’re cleaned up, your hands are free, and you’re laying on your back. Miguel is laying right next to you, the tip of his fingers gently caressing your shoulder, his thumb stroking your cheek when he realized you were back to consciousness again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry visible on his face, the crease behind his brows more pronounced than usual.

“More than okay” you softly smiled at him, and he left a kiss at your collarbone.

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet” he smirked, positioning himself between your legs, smiling at your whine when he softly nipped at your thighs.

“Fuck Miguel, that Miles really should piss you off more often.”

—

feedback is always extremely appreciated plsplspls<3

masterlist | taglist | ao3

spiderman 2099 taglist: @bubuslutty @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @roxannarichie

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #i neeeeeed him #i neeeeed it #he's so 🥵🥵🥵

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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Listen

I can't wait for the horny people to make content of him

#miguel o'hara #in looove #my man my man my man #till the bed breaks

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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This series was so cute 🥰!!! It had me blushing and kicking my feet the entire time.

A Bento For Kento Masterlist

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!reader

Summary: To attend Jujutsu High, your younger brother Ren must take private lessons during his summer vacation. You do your best to support him, despite having no idea what this whole “Jujutsu Sorcery” is all about. The only way you know how to help is by making delicious bento boxes for his lunch.

The oh-so-stoic and serious Kento Nanami keeps forgetting to bring his own lunch during his summer lessons. He envies his new student's tasty looking bentos as he sips on his sad cup of tea. One day, he finds a Hello Kitty bento box waiting for him on his desk and his whole world gets turned upside down.

cw: original character (Ren), mentions of Hello Kitty, romantic fluff, family fluff, just a bunch of fluff, tiny bit of angst in a chapter, somewhat of a slow burn

Genre: Fluffy Romance

Notes: Finally getting around to officially posting this on Tumblr! This is the first story I ever published, so I'm doing a few rewrites and revisions now that I kinda know what I'm doing with my writing lol. Please let me know in the comments, chat, or message if you'd like to be tagged in any or all chapters!

A Bento for Kento Series Tag List

Chapter Titles and Summaries (spoiler-free):

Chapter 1: The Very First Bento - You make the very first bento box for your dear brother, Ren. You also find out some surprising news. Nanami hasn't found a new bakery to buy his typical ham and cheese sandwich. He eyes his new student's bento box with envy.

Chapter 2: Two Bentos are Better Than One - Nanami gets a pleasant surprise from his student, in the form of a Hello Kitty bento box. Meanwhile, you are an emotional mess who loves your weirdo brother dearly.

Chapter 3: Love Language - You do some internet sleuthing. Ren visits Jujutsu High for the first time. Nanami keeps a secret in his pocket. And a wild Gojo appears!

Chapter 4: The Truth Comes Out - Ren reveals the truth. You make some questionable Google searches. Nanami finally gets his ham and cheese sandwich.

Chapter 5: The Rules - Gojo offers Nanami words of wisdom. You fry some chicken. Ren has something up his sleeve.

Chapter 6: A Meet Cute - The one where chicken karaage brings everyone together.

Epilogue: A Street Food Festival - You and Ren invite Nanami to a street food festival.

#a bento for kento #kento nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff

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migueloharacumslut · 2 years ago

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Confessions | priest! Reiner Braun x fem reader

·˚wc: 6.7k ·˚tags: dark content + please heed the cw before reading 18+ ONLY content + minors and empty blogs DNI + modern au + repost from my old blog + this has been beta read! ·˚cw: lots of religious theme because he's a Priest + age gap + praising + sacrilegious themes + anthropolatry + body worship + virgin! Reiner + corruption kink + desecration + sex in a confessional booth + edging + overstimulatio + Father being used inappropriately + Jean x you + Colt x you, breeding + female and male masturbation + fingering + spitting + dirty talking + unprotected sex + creampie + teasing + spanking + squirting + fellatio + dirty talking + cunnilingus + gagging obsessive behavior from Reiner and you+ stalking + voyeurism + non-consensual recording + any missing tag lmk!

·˚synopsis: He made a vow to God and was serious on keeping it, he never wanted to stray off the path of righteousness until he met you, he swore you were a demon sent to temp him, but he's only human.

If anyone were to pass by Reiner’s office late at night they would hear the soft prayers, him begging God to stop the thoughts that were plaguing his mind.

It was immoral, the way he thought about how soft your body would feel underneath him and it sure didn’t help when you came to Church dressed in your Sunday best, a tight dress that gave everyone just a hint of what lies beneath the cheap fabric.

You flaunted off what God gave you. Well, that’s what you told Reiner when he raised an eyebrow, eyes roamed your body settling on your legs, legs that he thought about wrapped around his head.

You haunted his dreams, soon bleeding into his daily thoughts when he was awake. Even in prayer, he would trail off thinking about you.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, please, I just want to know how she would taste. That is all.”

Shame filled the priest as he stared into the mirror, looking at his cock throbbing under his cassock. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he hiked up the fabric, palming his erection.

It was something to relieve the tingle sitting heavy in his balls. Another thought of you on your knees, mouth open, tongue out and covered in his cum, your eyes glittering with the knowledge you corrupted him.

Thoughts like his filled your head too as you humped your pillow or when you invited Colt over, your father’s friend and another member of the Church who often comes to your place to stuff your hole full of cum, over and over again.

You wanted to cry out your priest’s name instead when you finally came, pussy pulsing around Colt’s cock, it would be such a shame if Reiner could see you now; mouth hanging open, drool trickling down your chin with your fingers gripping on the leather fabric of the couch asking Colt to call you a bad girl and punish you because you deserve it, and who was he to disagree?

Here he was fucking his best friend’s daughter, his own fingers pinching your waist, slamming you back against him and the way your back arched more into it, mewling like a cat in heat. It was a weekly occurrence letting him cum inside you, the feeling you soon became obsessed with.

Neither of you spoke about it, especially as you sat next to him the next morning, feeling your panties dampen from the quickie you had earlier in his car in the parking lot. He liked to keep his hand on your knee when no one was paying attention, or so he thought. Reiner kept his eyes trained on you whenever you were around but he never made it obvious, taking only small glances to make sure you aren’t doing anything that would get you in trouble.

Little does he know about the nights you would stay to pray for your sins, asking God to forgive you for the vile things you do only for you to get fucked on the pews by Colt who helped you light the candle and say a prayer for what just happened. It was a fun game you played with him, but your main focus was Reiner.

It was abominable to say the least, how your fingers ghosted over your clit at night, thinking of him above you, pinning your wrists down, grunting whilst mercilessly drilling your needy cunt until you couldn’t think straight anymore.

It was an everyday thought that flitted through your empty head. Most people called you airheaded but it was only because you thrived off the attention from the males who watched your eyelashes bat and lips pucker, crossing your arms over your chest.

A tooth-rotting “Please?” was all it would take, especially for Colt who was quick to spread your legs and hike up your dress, pressing his tongue against your clit, feeling it throb in need, and watching your legs shake after the orgasm he just gave you, cum covering your thighs.

You felt wet and sticky as you sat down crossing your legs, listening to Reiner perform his sermon. His words flowing through one ear and out of the other, shifting in your seat, uncrossing just at the right time to let him get an eyeful of your soaked panties, making all his blood rushed to his cock, so he had to excuse himself shortly afterward so he could go into his office and wrap his fist tightly around his shaft, fucking his hand like his life depended on it.

At first, he let his mind go blank, then visions of you on his desk with your legs spread open, handcuffs on your wrists, and connecting to the ones on your ankles invaded his mind. That was exactly the way he wanted you to be. All the depraved things you could think of, Reiner had already thought of.

He laid down each night thinking of you before he fell asleep. All he wanted to do was cum in you once, feel your warm tight pussy milking him dry from all that he has to offer. The thought of you being a demon crossed his mind once when he first met you a few months ago. Your parents spoke about you during his services showing off your pictures.

His eyes slightly widened, taking in how beautiful you are. It was a shock when the first dirty idea popped into his head. Reiner dedicated his life to being a man of God, but the mere thought of hearing your moans brought him to his knees.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Your parents told me all about you.” Was the first thing he told you, reaching for your hand, shaking it softly while holding your curious gaze. The glitter in your eyes made him look twice.

It was the first time he thought about you being possessed because that’s the only way you would have such power over him from just one look, using your demonic charms on him, enticing him by wearing your short dresses, laying the charm on thick in order to seduce him.

For a response you giggled, looking sweetly at him, and his body reacted immediately to the sound of your voice, sending a shiver down his spine. And it was worse whenever he got a whiff of your perfume, following you like a dog, trying to ask you questions that seemed friendly.

All conversations never passed inappropriate, because he wouldn’t want to be perceived as anything but an upstanding man of the Church, but that never stopped him cumming on his stomach whimpering while fucking his fist, your name slipping out in breathy moans.

If Reiner heard you make the same noises he would surely cum on the spot, sending himself into overstimulation.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to pray away the guilt. It’s all wrong, and he knows it, but it’s human nature, he tells himself when you come into his office on Sundays after service, holding a small bouquet that grows around town.

“Father? I just wanted to come in and say thank you for everything. You’ve shown me the light and I wanted to show you my gratitude.” Reiner leaned back smiling, holding his hand out.

“Come in. And thank you, that is very kind of you. How are you holding up with your job?” He asked.

You sat down across from him crossing your legs, “Thank you for asking, it’s been going well so far.”

It wasn’t unusual of him to ask you questions in small increments, hoping to learn your schedule. He just wanted to get to know you better. Or was his behavior border lining something darker? Perhaps.

Perhaps it was creepy to do so, but it wasn’t something he dwelled on for long before thinking of you bouncing on his cock, your hands on his shoulders struggling to take him all in at first, your whining about how big he is stroking his ego, sending his hips upward, impaling you.

That was his favorite fantasy, that played over and over in his head like a movie, until he noticed the way you sat closer to Colt, ghosting his knee with yours, or the way you smiled so sweetly for him. Why don’t you smile for your Father like that? The thought enraged him at first because instead of him fucking you it was Colt.

Anger filled Reiner like hot liquid pouring in his veins. And he felt sick to his stomach every time he heard you giggling whilst grabbing Colt’s arm, looking at him with doe eyes.

There was nothing to be done about that, and still, he didn’t have an inkling that you made a late-night stop at the adult store looking for a dildo that would resemble what you think his dick looks like, pretty and pale with a red flushed tip, thick and heavy, veins decorating the long shaft and heavy balls made for breeding that swung with each thrust of his hips. It was only that thought that made you achieve the blissful feeling of your climax.

You wanted to know what sounds he made when he came, knowing full well he’s never fucked anyone but his hand. The thought of corrupting him was exciting to you.

You waved and smiled at Reiner before sitting next to Colt. “Am I coming over tonight?” He asked, leaning in whispering in your ear. You turned to him, giving his knee the same friendly squeeze.

“Yes, be at my place at eight.”

The only reason you still let Colt come over and fuck you is so you use your dildo later, pretending it was Reiner, fucking his cum back in your sloppy pussy. Something about the whole thing was a bit off the handle, but you didn’t care, thinking of all the ways you could make Reiner confess his sins to you.

Your mind ran wild all during service, eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, resisting the urge to stick your hand between your legs, which would be frowned upon to do in Church, no less during service.

Later that night you were on your back, with Colt on top of you panting and drooling over you like a dog. “Do you like that?” He grunted, holding your waist, kneading the flesh with rough hands. You cringed hearing him talk like that, his hands moving up to your breasts squishing them, movements growing sloppy. Your head hung off the side of the bed fisting the sheets.

Reiner watched the scene unfold in front of your living room window on the opposite side of the wall. Another strike off the list of things he never thought he would do. It wasn’t something he would ever admit out loud, too scared that someone would hear with their prying ears. Besides, you were supposed to be at your friend’s house. That’s what he heard you tell your parents earlier when you decline their invitation for dinner, so stumbling upon this sight whilst sneaking into your backyard was the last thing that he expected. If you only knew what he was here for.

Reiner accidentally found your address going through the visitor log you signed with your new address, finally out from under your parent's roof after moving back home. That’s what he told himself, that finding out where you live just slipped up. No one would question him.

A frown tugged down his lips, watching the way your face showed nothing but boredom almost, not the look Reiner imagined when you were getting fucked. Was it him you thought about with each bounce of your body from Colt’s thrusts? There was no way that he was pleasuring you the way that Reiner could.

His eyes traveled down your naked body, zeroing in on the way his friend held your breasts, pushing them together. A groan escaped his lips, followed by pink-tinged cheeks as he walked past your window, keeping his blonde head down.

Each Sunday you were sure to bring cookies of all sorts, and at every bake sale you helped set up, you captured the hearts of everyone, cooing about how sweet you are, dedicating time to do this.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I admire Father Braun and everything he stands for so I’m more than glad to help.” That always earned you brownie points and the, “Aw, that’s very precious of you.”

Would they say how precious you are if they found you on your knees in the closet with another member of the church?

Jean loved when you held his wrist, dragging him in the cramped space, pressing his body against the wall, digging your manicured nails in the flesh of his thighs, relishing in the hissing sound he made driving his cock down your throat, gagging around him, earning the praise that you were so desperate to hear.

“Good girl. Just like that.” He moaned, grabbing a handful of your hair to anchor himself, watching his spit-covered cock slide in and out of your mouth, your eyes glassy playing with your clit under the skirt you wore just for him per his request. You didn’t pull away with a wet pop of your lips until you swallowed as much as you could.

Jean was always quick to help you get on your feet, flipping up your skirt, making it easier for him to bend you over, fucking you from behind, filling not only your mouth but your cunt as well with a load of his cum.

Another prayer was said when you stepped out of the closet, bidding Jean a farewell kiss before rounding the corner, running straight into Reiner. You reached for his arms, steadying yourself. The feeling of his hand on the small of your back and his spicy scent that filled your nostrils made your pussy clench, pushing out Jean’s cum, smearing against your panties. Sex clung to you heavily.

“I didn’t know you were still here Father. I’m sorry.” You said bowing your head. Reiner chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat up. “No worries. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I was just looking over the plans for tomorrow’s potluck. I’m making your favorite cookies. It’s still chocolate chip, right?”

“Ah. Yes it is. You have a good memory.” There was this ache that sparked in his hand, wanting to reach out to feel how you felt under his touch. Were you thinking the same thing as you stared at him, eyes still glossy from the tears of your previous encounter?

“Father, I think I need to confess something.” Your voice came out as a whisper, stepping forward wrapping your fingers around the hidden rosary beads under his collar pulling it free.

Reiner opened his mouth to answer but you were quicker. “Ah, Father. I was talking. I hope you weren’t going to interrupt me?” You asked mockingly, pursing your lips, forming a small pout. He shook his head watching your sticky lips from the smeared lip gloss and spit. “Can I come and confess next Sunday?”

“Yes, I’ll see you then. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Have a blessed night.” He grabbed his rosary from your fingers’ hold, careful not to touch you before tucking it back in his collar, leaning down with a slight smirk. “Next time you attempt to touch me I’ll be sure to tie your wrists down.”

You could hear him chuckle to himself walking down the hallway, mentally giving himself a point.

It was shameless the way he flirted with you, but it felt freeing, giving the both of you masturbation material for later in the evening, him fucking his fist again in the shower, leaning against the wall, panting loudly, face screwed up in pleasure as he stood under the warm water, feeling it wash the soap away while your name spilled from his mouth, his hips stuttered spraying cum all over the tile grunting.

While you laid on your bed replaying the scene again, you thrust the dildo slowly, curling your toes, whining Reiner’s name, arching your back. The need to have him between your legs lapping at your pussy, made you ache all over like the flu, hot and stiff muscles, mewling, trying to chase your orgasm, feeling the familiar sensation snap, sending your cunt into overdrive, pulsing around the toy.

Reiner woke each morning, adding an extra prayer when he looked in the mirror, getting ready. “I only want one thing, that’s to hear her whimper.”

It was sinful in many ways, the way he begged for just a scrap of something other than the polite tone you use with him. Everyone greeted him with a smile, only earning a meager wave and a solemn look on his face, but whenever he looked at you, his face lit up, and each time he prayed that nobody paid attention.

His only thought was you, it wasn’t just about the ways he wanted to have you, it was also how you were doing, the consuming thought of you in your kitchen, making his favorite cookies. It wasn’t something you had to do, but he’s been nothing but nice to you, and now with the promise of him tying your hands together lingered in the air, you were ready to do whatever it takes.

Sunday morning, you were sure to wear the color that attracted his attention the most, white. A sign of you being pure and innocent, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t a secret to him anymore, after him watching Colt fuck you on your couch, and after hearing Jean confess about the quickie you two had the other day, when he thought that no prying ears were around.

Later that evening he heard you click the door shut and sit down, fixing your skirt. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession." You began, clearing your throat and glancing over at the wooden window, through the small holes, watching him squirm in his seat. This is it, you thought, it’s all or nothing.

“I’ve been having premarital sex with two men. They attend the church. You know them. Colt Grice and Jean Kirstein. I let Colt bend me over the pews a few times, holding my hips as he stretched me out with his cock. Then I would get on my knees for Jean.” If you were to confess this to another priest, they would gasp, hearing the lewd way you describe your deeds, but not Reiner.

Your mind was running wild with the thoughts of your story. “Father? What should I do?” You whimpered, gripping your skirt, rubbing your knees together.

“Touch yourself.” Reiner groaned, his voice straining to keep his composure. He shouldn’t be asking you such a thing for more than one reason.

You smiled and gasped loud enough for him to hear, feigning to be shocked by his request, but you obliged nonetheless without the slightest resistance, making his prayer come true. He heard the wood creak underneath you as you spread your legs, guiding your finger to your clit to rub the swollen bud with your middle finger.

“You want me to touch myself, Father? Should I slide my fingers inside? Do you want to hear how wet you make me?”

His cock twitched heavily in his pants running his palm over the bulge. “Y-yes, keep going.” He instructed hoarsely. Following his order, you splayed your lips open gathering your slick easily, thrusting your middle and index finger in your cunt, the wet sound filled the small booth.

The faster you went the harder Reiner’s cock got, aching to the point of pain. “Father, can I cum?” You were asking him for permission? The pure feeling he got coursing through his body tingled all throughout.

“Did you think about me when you were fucking them?” He asked, shutting his eyes.

“I did, yes. And when they left, I fucked myself with the dildo I bought after thinking of how big you were, stuffing their cum deeper in me, wishing it was you instead.”

Oh, this was much better than anything he’s ever experienced. It was a sin, but hearing you play with yourself next to him, everything that happened leading up to this point was worth it.

“S’close,” You moaned, grazing your fingertips against the abused swollen bud, triggering your orgasm and prayer. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and; forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

“Amen.” Reiner muttered, feeling his balls release, sending thick ropes of cum in his boxers, covering his thighs. “Say your Hail Mary before you go to sleep.”

You chucked checking a point off for yourself. “Goodnight Father. I’ll be sure to think of you tonight.” You told him, opening his door, sliding just your hand in, setting your panties on his knee, giving him a soft pat. “I’ve masturbated in these to you many times.” With that, you left the booth heading home to say your Hail Mary’s.

Another week of misery. Your moaning playing on loop in his head. Many times he almost slipped mid-conversation whenever you walked by him, letting his mind and eyes wander, and hoped that it wasn’t obvious to whoever he was talking to at the moment.

It wasn’t usual for him to catch you washing dishes after a potluck for someone’s birthday. “Thank you for staying and helping with the dishes.” Reiner told you, walking into the kitchen. “Father, good evening.” You smiled, glancing up at him from the sink, elbow deep in dishwater. A smile stretched his lips back. Stepping further in, he walked around the counter, leaning against the edge, grabbing the dish towel, drying the dishes you washed.

“How are you feeling since your last confession?” He asked in a low voice.

“I’m feeling a lot better. I plan on being back next Sunday at the same time. I’ve been very naughty Father.”

Reiner’s cock throbbed watching you lick your lips. “How should I repent?” You asked, leaning forward, taking note of his rapid pulse.

“Say another Hail Mary and don’t touch yourself until your next confession.”

“That’s going to be tough.” You pouted, draining the water then wiping your wet hands over your shirt, soaking the see through fabric. “Does that mean someone else can touch me?”

Reiner shook his head, still holding the plate in his hand. “No. You can keep celibate for me, can you not?”

“Yes, Father.” You nodded, trying to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, the tension so thick it was beginning to become harder to breathe, being this close to him. Maybe an inch closer and your lips would press against his, and your cunt would graze his thigh, releasing some of the pressure building between up your legs.

“Good girl.” Reiner pulled back, setting the dish towel down. “Have a good night.” He called out before leaving you alone to collect your thoughts, a heavy sigh accompanied with a soft whine left your lips leaning against the counter. You debated on calling Jean for a quickie, he didn’t live far from your apartment so it wouldn’t take him long to get there and help you out, but the thought of Reiner calling you a good girl played repeatedly in your head.

It wasn’t long before you broke your promise, letting Jean lick your clit, his fingers splaying you open, both legs thrown over his shoulders, emitting loud slurping noises from eating you like a starved man, long fingers digging in your sensitive cunt.

Today you were greedy with how many orgasms you could get, so far you hit three just with his mouth. “Are you still cumming sweetheart?” Jean asked, pulling away looking up at you, chin glistening from spit and cum, reminding you of the last time you sucked him off. “Jean, please, fuck me!” You whined wrapping your fingers around his biceps.

Your pussy hugged him tightly with each drag of his cock splitting you open, his fingers in the tender meat of your thighs keeping them spread apart. Each time his hips slammed against your ass your eyes rolled to the back of your head. When your eyes closed you imagined Reiner over you grunting instead, sweat rolling down his back rutting into you, over and over again, making you cream around him.

By now Jean knew the routine, leaving with a small awkward hug, his feelings growing deeper for you each time you shed your clothes for him, but he didn't know about your obsession with Reiner, nor about how it was growing deeper with each passing day. Colt also shared the same feelings as Jean.

It was hard not to. The way you treated them so sweetly and of course, everyone else too. Sure you were a little empty-headed, but that didn’t matter each time you bounced on their cocks.

No other girl would dare do something so vile, ruining their chance of getting a good husband, but you didn’t care, because the feeling of an orgasm was something that couldn’t be compared to something as exchanging rings.

You said your prayers every morning and night, to disperse the feeling of guilt nipping at your ankles, it was wrong defiling yourself and all your beliefs, but in the end, you’re only a person with needs. At least, that’s what you tell yourself anyway, sliding up your skirt in the bathroom stall, pulling your panties down, letting Colt thrust in you later that afternoon.

His hands on your waist holding you against the wall, rutting in you. It was fruitless at this point, having him or Jean fuck you, your face giving away the boredom you felt. Colt cleared his throat as he pulled out. “You know, you could seem a little bit interested.” He said, feelings clearly hurt.

“I’m sorry,” You replied, putting your hands on his shoulders. “I’ve been going through a lot lately, but why don’t you give me a call later?” With a chaste kiss on his cheek, you left him in the bathroom stall after pulling your panties up, walking out frowning. There was this pit in your stomach that was slowly growing bigger, it first started when you met Reiner, now months later, all your thoughts were of him.

Everything about this whole situation was wrong. You knew it but it never stopped you.

Sunday evening, you opened the booth, settling on the creaky wooden bench, a heavy sigh emitting from your lips. Reiner placed his hands in his lap waiting for you to begin. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was a week ago.”

He wouldn’t admit to knowing that you sinned after shamelessly watching you pump your dildo in and out of your wet cunt, learning that you were a squirter.

The only reason he knew that was because after his plan was hindered the other night by you being home, he chose another time to come back. Luckily, the neighborhood you live in is not very frequented, so no one saw him creep in and out of your house. Unbeknownst to you, he installed cameras all over your house, obsessed with knowing how you spent your days, and how, and with who, you spent your nights.

It wasn’t the first time that he masturbated to you, but unlike the other times, now he could actually see you, and there was something about invading your privacy that aroused him beyond comprehension, it felt so wrong and yet so right.

He never came so hard before, shooting thick ropes of cum everywhere, feeling like he was about to pass out from the intensity of his orgasm. Weak and panting, it wasn’t long before he drifted to sleep, hand and chest still covered in sweat, spit, and cum.

“I touched myself, and I let them touch me again. Their fingers and tongues fucking me. I wished it was your cock I was on instead. Your cum filling my cunt, leaking out and making a mess. Would you fuck me, Father?” Your last sentence came out whiny, as you spread your legs stroking your cunt.

Reiner’s breath trembled as he copied your actions, before grinding the heel of his palm against his erection. “I would.” He admitted with a heavy sigh.

Your fingers slipped in your cunt, curling. There was no way it would bring you the pleasure that you truly craved. “I want you to touch me please. What do you think I feel like?” You asked, wanting to hear him submit to your sinful ways.

“Your skin, soft and supple. Your pussy, wet and warm, pulsing around my cock. Your mouth, the same way as I fuck your throat.”

His words felt like an electric shock coursing through your blood, pooling in your cunt, making your walls restrict your fingers, on the verge of an orgasm already, your breathing becoming erratic.

“It usually takes you a while to climax, doesn’t it?” He asked, bunching the fabric of his cassock in his free hand, the other wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, edging himself.

“I-it does yes, but when I envision you, I usually cum right then.” You were quick to admit it, but he would be lying if he said that the same thing didn’t happen to him. Thinking of his face between your breasts tightened his balls. “Tell me, what do you think about in these fantasies, when thinking about us?”

Your voice wavered, on the edge of an orgasm.

“How your cock would feel inside. I think you have the biggest one I could lay my eyes on, and it’s thick too. Just tell me if I’m right Father, because I’m imagining the way I would struggle to take you all the way in, squealing, splitting myself open on you. And when you climax, it’s a lot and very thick coming from heavy balls made to breed, would you like to do that? Pump all your cum inside my pretty pussy? Holding my hips down, making sure that I keep still so every drop isn’t wasted?”

Words couldn’t formulate in his brain, drunk on the thought of what you just described, burned into his mind. He never thought about having children after his vow of celibacy, but now, it was all he could think about. Your whimpers grew louder, echoing through the empty Church as you neared your orgasm.

“Stop!” Reiner demanded, roughly surprising you as he stood up unbuttoning his cassock then making his way to your booth. There was no stopping what was going to happen next. Both of you have been waiting for this moment since the first time you laid eyes on each other.

Your eyes widened, taking in his naked chest. It was visible that he has broad shoulders, but what you didn’t think about was how he still stayed in shape. Saliva pooled in the corner of your mouth as it hung open. Greedy hands tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock. It was your first time seeing it.

“I was right, thick and long.” You murmured watching him kick the door shut leaning his arm against the wall above your head while looking down at your fingers wrapping around his shift.

Reiner chuckled darkly, yanking your shirt up, freeing your tits. “No bra… Did you think tonight was the night you seduced me?” He asked, bucking his hips.

You laughed, looking up at him. “Seduce and corrupt you Father. It’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Has it now? Why-” He was cut off, feeling your lips wrap around his head, tongue curling under the most sensitive part, suckling, your hand cupping his balls gently, squeezing them. Reiner’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, digging his nails in the palm of his hand when you went further down, struggling to take him.

Slowly you bobbed your head up and down, keeping your fist wrapped around him, jerking him off, adding more drool making it easier and messier.

You gagged, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Looking up, you saw the look of sheer pleasure gracing his face, the sounds of you slurping around him roared in his ears. It was so much better than his hand, your soft mouth warm and tight, the best thing he’s ever fucked.

He watched you pull away with a wet pop of your lips, using your spit as lube to jerk him off, pressing your thumb over his slit, slightly pressing in.

“Am I doing a good job, Father?” You asked, batting your eyelashes, glancing up. Reiner nodded his head, groaning. “You are, but I want a taste of you now.”

It was a sight to see him drop to his knees in front of you, putting both hands on your knees, pushing your legs open, your bare pussy on display like a meal for him to devour. But before that happened, Reiner wanted to take his time. Setting the mood, pressing small kisses, he grabbed your ankle, letting your foot dangle off his shoulder.

You watched his lips leave a wet trail up your thighs, ghosting across your pussy, barely fluttering his tongue over your clit, kissing the same places down your other leg. He chuckled, feeling you squirm under his touch. “What’s so funny?” You pouted.

“I’ve barely touched you and I see your cunt dripping.”

You sucked a breath between your teeth, feeling him spread your lips apart, looking at the innermost part of your pussy, your arousal very apparent, coating your thighs and the bench below your ass.

“I’ve thought about what my cum would look like leaking from all of your holes. Have you ever let a man fuck that tight ass?” He asked, moving his hand away, trailing the tip of his finger up and down your slit, groaning as he watched the way you clenched around nothing.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good. I’ll be the first then, but we’ll save that for later. For now, I can’t wait to know what your cunt tastes like.” He growled, wrapping his arms under and around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulder, burying his tongue in your cunt, eagerly lapping, completely ignoring your fingers tugging on his blonde roots, grinding against his mouth.

At this point it was no longer for you, he was eating you for his own pleasure.

Cum soaked his thigh, as he came desperately trying to fit his tongue in your tight hole. “Father!” You moaned, squeezing his head with your thighs, humping his face.

Reiner slid two fingers inside you, slowly pumping while wrapping his tongue around your clit, working both of them together, feeling you clench around him. This is better than his fantasies, he thought, finally hearing you moan for him, begging for release.

Pulling out he watched your clit throb from the orgasm that he ripped away. “Why did you stop?” You whined, fucking yourself on his fingers, making him chuckle again. “So needy, aren’t you?” He mocked, adding in another finger.

Hearing the squelch, his balls tightened again, thrusting his fingers in and out, lapping up your juices from his hand. “You’re so perfect, the way your pussy is fluttering on the edge of release. I want to show you how good it feels to cum on my cock. Are you ready?”

All you could manage was a weak nod, your body feeling hot and tingly with each thrust of his fingers, stroking the fire deep in your stomach until it was too much to handle as you came around him, his mouth replacing his fingers, licking up your cum, softly digging his fingers in your thigh, covering your skin with your slick, both of you panting heavily looking at each other. “Who knew you were such a pro?” You teased cupping his cheek.

Reiner pressed a wet kiss to your palm as he stayed on his knees, dragging the hem of your dress up to your waist. The tension between the two of you, and the look you shared, weighed heavy on the unspoken rule of what’s to come, once he crosses the line of fucking you.

The line was crossed the first time he had inappropriate dreams of you, so he didn’t spare a second thought when he fisted the base of his cock, guiding it to your waiting pussy.

You were barely seated on the wooden bench when Reiner held your hips, pressing his cock in. A whimper left your lips, feeling his head slip past your tight muscles. Each inch that slid in made you feel impossibly full and he was only halfway in. “Oh my God, you’re so big!”

Hearing that stroked his ego, both of you gasping once he bottomed out. He held your hips, rutting against you, sliding in and out. Each time he would pull almost all the way out then slide in slowly. Your back arched, clinging to him, trying to squirm away at first from him stuffing you, it was a mixture of pain and pleasure, feeling this full.

Leaning forward, Reiner trailed kisses across your chest and clavicle, nibbling the skin, lazily fucking you, his mind turning into a puddle the closer he got to cumming.

It frustrated him knowing he was this close already. His eyebrows furrowed, feeling the sweat roll down his face, not only from how hot it was in the cramped area but also the fact that he was desecrating something so sacred while worshipping you, his words bleeding into your skin.

“I always knew you were a good girl.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I love it when you squeeze me like that.”

“You’re doing such a good job.”

“Moan louder for me sweetheart. Let me know how much you like fucking me.”

“Keep going!” You begged sitting up, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking your hips, the both of you desperately fucking each other. Movements became harder and sloppier, the noises went from sighs and moans to something completely animalistic. You snarled each time you felt his balls slap against your ass. He held your waist helping you bounce up and down with the heels of your feet pressed against his tight ass cheeks.

“You’re so wet. Do you hear how wet you are for me? You’re being such a good girl for me... I don’t want to let go now that I’ve had a taste of you.” He growled, wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest, fucking you from below.

It was heavenly, the way your cunt hugged his cock like a vice grip, the feeling was indescribable, nothing could ever compare to the way you clung to him, mewling like a cat in heat, burying your head in the crook his neck, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against his pubic bone.

“I’m so close. Want you to cum in me, Father. Breed me, please.” You begged, pulling away with wet eyes, bouncing harder, feeling your nipples rub against the blonde hair littering his chest.

You’ve never felt this way before, the way you ground on him shamelessly without a care in the world, it didn’t matter that he was your priest or that you took his virginity in his confessional booth.

“We’re both going to have to pray after this.” You murmured in his ear, smirking. Pink crept in his cheeks. He muttered a response, something you didn’t hear nor did you care to.

You kissed him, parting his lips with your tongue, tasting him greedily. It wasn’t every day that you got to fuck your priest, nor did you get to feel him hold your hips, slamming down, impaling you on his dick.

Reiner felt your orgasm hit, tipping him into his own, spraying ropes of cum against your cervix, whimpering in your neck about how good you feel, his hands massaging your waist, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“How do you feel now?” You asked, slicking his blonde hair back gazing into his hazel eyes.

“Like a brand new man.” He answered, smiling softly at you.

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