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[milkyybuns]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[milkyybuns]

man i just need a fic where miguel is obsessed with his pretty wife like absolutely pussy whipped. cant keep his hand off you, cant control himself if you wear a tight little dress or his oversized tshirt, his mind goes foggy n his fangs are poking out. Dark hungry eyes undressing you when you are in public before those big hands grab and grope at your soft skin in private, biting and leaving marks on what’s his, holding you so fucking close as he stuffs you full <3

[milkyybuns]

What is Mama an Miguel’s fave sex position?

Jsksj omg nonny. NSFW undercut

Miguel absolutely LOVES Doggy style. Specially when he presses your head further into the mattress, muffling your cries and your ass is displayed before him in all it's glory.

He loves watching his fat cock slide in into your weeping pussy, stretching to his girth cause you feel so perfectly warm and tight for him, and he loves watching his cum rolling down your clit.

Missionary is another one of his favorite. Specially when he's feeling particularly romantic and want to enjoy you thoroughly. It's one of his favorites cause he gets to see all of your expressions while he's inside you.

He loves loves so badly when you're cupping his cheeks, mumbling how much you love eachother within blown breaths and pants as he wraps your legs around his waist. Eye contact is a MUST. He'll kiss you nonstop until you look at him in the eyes. And he can cradle you as you come undone underneath him.

He relishes into feeling your despair for him. That consuming need only he sates, leaving you both begging for air, disheveled and his front strands colliding against your forehead. It's so intimate. And you calling him Mi amor in that sweet moaning voice during?

He really means it when he tells that you have no idea the things you do with his mind.

The Spider. C'mon. What a better position to have him underneath you just for him to see how well you take him? And when you're extra needy, he'd lean back and enjoy the show, looking how well you fuck yourself to him and talking you through it. Controlling the pace.

Reverse Cowgirl cause, yeah, it morphs into doggy style. Plus he just lose it as soon as he sees your ass jumping and bouncing ontop of him, taking him like a champ. He loves watching the size of his hands groping and squeezing your ass.

When he's extra needy and kinky, He'd slap any surface he can reach while plumbing your insides, specially when you beg him to not be gentle.

As for Mama, needless to say, Mama loves it rough, but also enjoys a good vanilla from time to time.

Mating press is on the top list cause you love feeling the teasing stretch of Miguel inch by inch as he delves inside. His 6'9" caging you completely in his strong frame makes your orgasm mind shattering. Some even have you laughing like a total fool while he renewes your walls white.

The Prone Bone, works wonders, specially if you're tired but in need of your beefy man to rearrange your guts, specially after a stressful day on both ends. He loves when you're biting either the pillow or sheets

Flatiron is your own version of the missionary. Having such a fine man as your husband to talk both the sweetest things and pure filth in your ear while he smothers you with his body, specially when he cradled and embraces you to then bite your earlobe, and sets the pace for a slow and torturing tempo.

You live for his whimpers and wanton moans as you squeeze him, making your walls to snug him in a Pompoir choke. He can feel everything, and so do you.

Hearing him a moaning and grunting mess above you makes your imagination and senses to soar in delight.

The L, is perfect to have your insides well plowed and milked while Miguel kisses your ankle and thigh. Plus, it grants you a good clit massage from your husband.

You're somehow flexible, given Miguel's size, your muscles have accustomed to his manhandling and melding.

Against the wall? Of course. Having no room to breath properly while he fucks the daylights out of you is simply delicious and oh so kinky if you're doing it in the laundry room, mouth covered and hoping that Gabi doesn't knock on.

The thrill of being absolutely quiet to the point of your pussy and it's continuous 'zrup-ing' noises were heard every time he slid in, was matchless.

His neck was full of bites and his chest adorned with little hickeys. His back with delicious scratches, he wore proudly underneath his button shirt.

Whenever you used sweaters or pants, meant that he had left your inner thighs marked with either his own share of lovebites and fangs grazing. Only to remove your clothes at night to admire his handiwork and look for new places to put them in.

[milkyybuns]

hi sy! first things first, you’re a fantastic writer. i am in LOVE with your western series! second, may i request an idea? it’s the 1920s, and miguel is one of the top mobsters in nueva york, while the reader is his mob wife. after an attempted hit from one of miguel’s rivals that nearly kills her and gabriella, the reader decides it’s time to her and little girl to skip town, but miguel will be damned if his family tries to leave him. cueeeee angst, drama, the whole shabang!

canary I: a threat | [miguel o'hara x reader x gabriel o'hara]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader, gabriel o'hara x reader

❛ type | double shot; 5k

❛ tags | non-monogamy, some angst, 1920s inspired piece, irish clan inspired piece, bootlegging and mention of hits, explicit, a depiction of killings, some jealousy, some trad-roles elements, f!reader, 1920s slang and Spanish not translated, time period birth control (cervical cap).

❛ sy’s notes | i have spent weeks staring at this piece. it's a bit longer than my usual works and for that reason i decided to split it up into two chapters. this piece takes on a little bit more of a generalized irish mob approach rather than italian. this chapter is more domestic than the subsequent one will be.

Miguel O’Hara hated it when his kills ran. No matter how many alleyways they ducked into, shoddily constructed fences they tumbled over, or crappy cars they tried to hitch a ride in, he always found them.

His fingers were blisteringly tight around his kill’s throat, sure to leave certain bruising if the man made it out alive. He wouldn’t. Not based on the blood that seeped over Miguel’s tanned hand. He gurgled underneath Miguel’s hand, the kill messier than he imagined. Any number of his hitmen could have carried out this contract but instead, his crisp white top was slathered in the contract kill of the week. He recalled the sudden memory of his hand on your slight waist, the kiss on the top of your head with the promise of his night. He snarled the memory away.

Should’ve just shot him, Miguel thought. Mierda.

With the fading of the man’s life, his choked grunts drifted into silence. Miguel allowed the man to slump over. Silence fractured, his world bursting with sound. The salt-laden wind whistled past his hair as ships sailed into the pier, carrying cargo, and his latest shipments. Bootlegged booze had its own benefits-- poor training and numbers among agents, for example. A crackle of an engine sped down the road was followed by the bright beams of an electric headlamp.

“¡Oye, Miguel!”

Of course. Under the bright moon that shone arrogantly in the dark sky, the figure came into focus. His polished suit was just a tad too big for his toned, but hardly muscular frame. Even in the darkness, he had the kind of smile that made people feel like they were the special ones. It matched the gentleness in his eyes behind that swoop of chestnut brown hair. If the feds published men of their color on army recruitment posters, he’d certainly make the cut. Handsome, but not too handsome. Strong, but not too strong.

“Gabe,” he breathed. “The lights.”

“Lights? The lights!” Gabriel looked back at his shiny black car. He bounced back toward the car, bellowing. “This a Spot boy? You did a number on him.”

“You sap. Could you be any louder?” Miguel threw aside. “Why are you here?”

“Thought you could use me tonight, big shot,” Gabriel said in that sugar-dipped tongue of his. It works less on Miguel than it had on you. It was oddly discomforting. As the days wore on, he loathed his brother’s silver tongue.

“I could use someone watching my girls.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I was. They're sleeping." Gabriel booted the man, more than minced meat when Miguel was done with him. “You had some beef with him, huh?”

“No.” Miguel mumbled, looking at the man’s body rather than his own, something sharp hovering there. There was nothing he wanted less than to stand in the biting cold listening to his baby brother prattle on a moment longer. He wiped his blade on his once-was-crisp slacks and slid it back into its sheathe. “Let’s hit it.”

“Jake,” Gabriel said, an annoying rendition of an okay. Gabriel was full of shitty terms from his stint in the big house. Almost as many as he picked up at Miguel’s speakeasy.

“Say. Miguel?”

Gabriel’s voice was soft, almost strained. Miguel caught his eyes, knowing subconsciously what his brother would say. He sucked in a breath to calm himself from a reaction to thin, sharp words. They balanced on the point of a knife as Gabriel spoke them into existence.

“They're our girls.”

This setup wasn't going to last. One day, you'd probably settle with Gabe. Miguel jerked up to the sensation of your fingers ghosting his chest, twiddling around his inky black chest hair, gliding across scars. He senses the source of his disquiet, your small frame draped over his side, watching him with a foreign curiosity.

“Muñeca?” he murmured sleepfully, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “What's it? Did Gabriel sleep in?”

He finds it hard to believe that his chirpy brother would do such a thing. Mornings were notoriously his favourite part of the day. Unlike Miguel, who shunned the light that streamed in from your thin curtains.

“Coppers took him in for questioning,” you murmured, leaning in to lay a small peckish kiss on his lips. That was quick. His eyes swept down to your lips, lingering there as you spoke. “Gabi said you’d come with me to iglesia.”

“Chingado. He passed the buck onto me.” Miguel groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow, weighed down by such a stupid request. You thumbed the golden necklace he’d forgotten to take off, gliding one of your legs up his hirsute thighs. He finds himself hiking your leg higher up his thigh. “That’s what you woke me up for?”

“‘Course not,” you muttered. “I missed you last night. Where’d you go off to?”

“To finish intake.”

You didn’t believe that.

“Promise it didn’t have nothing to do with what Gabi got carted off for?” He holds you in a working gaze, something that tells you he isn’t about to answer something like that. You are his woman. Yet, some secrets aren’t ones that he’s willing to disclose. It could put you in a compromised position. Most men, namely the Italian boys, had enough sense not to drag a man’s family into problems between the mob and the clan but in this world, not everyone had sense.

“Miguelito, you’re scaring me.” Your breath quickened, palpable with your chest against his. His large hand encompassed the middle of your back, guiding small, consolatory circles.

“Some things you’re better off not knowing,” Miguel worked at an explanation. Some things like the amount of hits he was getting for Spot boys. The booze going missing from the speakeasy. Some of his girls licked off the street. Just-- some things. “Got it?”

“Long as it’s not another dame,” you mumbled, fisting his necklace around your fist, dragging him forward for emphasis. A smile tugged at his lips, somehow pleased with your response. “What? You been out the house more times than not.”

“I share you with my brother,” Miguel worked the back of his neck. “Better that I skip town than hear you moaning for him. Might hem him up one of these days.”

You laugh-- but Miguel doesn’t find a lick of it funny.

“You got me now,” your hands drifted up to Miguel’s massive shoulders. “How ‘bout this. You fill me all up for church, wear that spiffy dark blue suit. Then we take Lyla out to get her some cherry coke at the apothecary’s. Maybe I’ll even sing you a whole song today if you’re lucky.”

Church, again. Miguel rattled a groan. Of course, he couldn’t have one day off from frateurinizing with people who hated the fuck outta him. Church folk. He didn’t know why you insisted on going with people who openly called you loose.

“Can do without one of those things.”

“If you want me, you go to iglesia, Miguelito.”

West-Side Violence at All-Time High! Italian Enforcer found dead! The West clan’s Gabriel O’Hara facing added charges on suspicion of--

Tch. You interrupted the scowl on his face with a well-placed kiss to his cheekbone, sliding a piping hot mug of Joe before him. Wafts of steam warmed his cheeks. You set down his morning’s breakfast, a plate loaded with fats. No tamales today, but baked beans from a few well-established Irish wives in the area. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a dirtied apron. Miguel stabbed a hunk of sausage as you spoke.

“Gabi’d never do that. They’re trying to hem him up like that capo last month,” your voice quaked, strutting back toward the cabinets. “It’s too personal. He’d… fill ‘em up with lead sure, but a stabbing? It just don’t make sense.”

Sure didn't. Miguel dropped the paper to the side of the oak table, tracing lines of worry that grew into spiderwebs of panic across your forehead. You spoke so feverishly in defense of Gabriel, whose absence was palpable. He often talked about the latest hired singer, sneaking behind your waist for kisses on your nape when Miguel could barely drag himself out of bed in the morning after pulling all-nighters.

“I have someone on it.”

“I bet Papa did it.” His daughter-- or Gabriel’s-- they were never quite sure. He glanced to his foot where Lyla sat. A full seven-year-old, Lyla was a spitfire of a thing, her hair in a bouncy bob topped by a silky ribbon. She glanced up from the dreidel she was spinning around and around. His lips pulled into a minced smile. “What? He’s a liar.”

“Miguel.”

Couldn’t even eat in peace.

“Lyla,” Miguel gestured toward the door. “Go wake up Maeve. Go on kid, get.”

That kid had a smart mouth. He watches her roll her eyes, only budging when you supply her with a hunk of pan dulce. She takes a mean bite, eyes locked on Miguel as she hopped out, somehow less bothered than she was a few seconds ago. You closed the metal door behind your daughter, a hand balled up on the bend in your waist as you watched her skip down the stairs and out of view.

“Most girls don’t talk like that about their papas,” you mumbled. Your arms crossed one over the other for support. “Does she hate him that much?”

“Most girls don’t grow up in the life.”

“Mi culpa.”

With his breakfast all but spoiled, Miguel pushed the plate away. His hand was soft on your waist, nose burrowed into your hair, tracing the notes of jasmine and rose, vanilla and sandalwood. The scent was unmarred by the stench of speakeasy smoke so early in the morning. Your hand came over his, steadying yourself from the rushing thoughts by leaning into his touch.

“I need a girl at the speakeasy tonight.”

Unlike his brother, Miguel’s requests rarely offer a tone of choice. It rolls off his tongue dry and hits your ear like a spike. Nothing about your relationship with Miguel was easy-- it was marred by the rivalry among the brothers-- and as you suspected-- interloping from your grandfather.

“Y Lyla?”

“Maeve is her nanny.”

“How can I step in there without Gabi?”

“He’d want you to. And I want to see you out of this dumb apron.”

“It isn’t dumb,” you pursed your lips, somehow more convinced despite your reservations. Most days, you spend the day in the house-- isolated from any life you came to Nueva York for. Any half-formed excuse that was on your tongue flopped. He nearly has you. “It is right dumb, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. What happened to my canary?”

“She met a pair of terrible brothers who don’t care for pulling out.”

“Don’t blame me.”

He pushed himself against your back, twiddling your fingers against the pantyhose that clothed your thighs. A smile tugged on your lips as Miguel leaned over to kick the front door shut, dipping onto his knees. It wasn’t often that he allowed you to ruin his perfect face before work. Today is a special treat.

But… if you thought back, you really should have.

Took a long time to get any mail from the island. Almost impossible.

In your hands is a sloppily penned letter-- You should be married to one of those boys-- your grandfather. He isn’t stupid enough to think that you’re opening this for the first time tonight, here and now, right in front of him. If you’re ‘reading’ it, you must be wanting him to take a hint. Miguel bent down, placed a kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your own to place the letter onto the vanity.

He used those very same hands that were meant for maiming against the clasp of a set of pearls around your neck with gentle precision. His fingers coursed along the curls at your nape as he clasped them together.

“How long before your set?”

“Half an hour… maybe.” You stood to face him, pursing ruby-red lips, whispering in his mother’s tongue. He never liked it when his mother barked at him in Spanish, but when it's off your tongue, he knows how sweet it could be. Your hand inched its way over his chest, tracing the fat knot against his throat.

“What’s the issue?”

“I don’t-- feel very perfect. You have all these shebas out there--” women who not only knew how to sing but weren’t terribly mottled by stretchmarks or burdened by the eviscerating effect of motherhood. They’re beautiful, free canaries when they sing in his speakeasy. As much as you loved singing-- you felt shy on that ruby-red stage lately, before a dozen ruby tables and the hopping band.

“They’re to bring in the sugar.”

“Uh-huh, bring in the sugar until they take you away.”

“I’m satisfied.” Miguel took a step up, communicating the way he knew how, by settling his large hand over your jaw. His strong hand glided to your chin, urging you to look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere. Tied me down with Lyla as it is.”

“Words are just words. Why buy the…”

“Cow if you can get the milk for free, sí, I know what your grandfather says.” He slips into your chair. “Què quieres?”

“I don’t know, Miguelito. A promise. A marriage. Algo.”

“You want me to wife you up? Don’t remember ever talking about this.” He gestured you to come closer. You stepped up, knocking between his legs. Miguel’s gaze falters, chasing the glint of your tassels as they come to a stop.

“What’s the issue?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d ask Gabe.”

“Gabe gets around.”

“You believe those rumors.” You slap his large hands groping up your thighs, climbing over his lap like it was your throne. His massive frame eclipses the chair, suppressing your comparatively smaller frame. “And don’t think I do?”

“Do you?”

“No,” he laughs. Or, not recently. It’s hard being a father-- harder when he has a whole ass business to keep on top of. Most women wanted those things: jewels, a new pair of silk knickers, and a home. “If that’s what you want, you got it.”

“Oh Miguelito,” he suckled your neck, drawing horrendous marks to the surface. Marks of his ownership in the absence of a ring. He hears the pleased hum of your voice, low and sweet, and knows that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I haven’t put in my cap,” his fingers danced across the outside of your thighs, slipping past your stockings to your silken shorts. He slotted his fingers underneath the fabric, grazing his fingers through your neatly kept curls. Your breath came in deeper bursts as he melded his hand over your vulva, expecting you to grind back on him. You did, ever so eager for him.

“Don’t bother me with that,” he said in a low, husked voice. “You know how I feel about your birth control.”

It was your idea, primarily. Gabe was ever too content to simply be with you-- he didn’t need a large family like the rest of Miguel’s Irish clan. Four, six, sometimes more. Unlike Gabe, Miguel wanted the exact opposite. You shifted over his thigh, obeying his desire to have you ride him. Miguel urged your hips down, working his thumb over the precious button as you did. Miguel’s leg trembled up against your slit, bursts of warm friction warming your hungry body. With his slacks freshly cleaned, you worry about soaking them, soaked in lubricant as you were.

“Come here,” you surrendered a soft moan to him, leaning forward now, less to ride his thigh than the bulge in his slacks. He does not quite care for the idea of ruining himself inside the confines of his pants, but if you want to feel him, he has no reason to deny you. You’re wonderfully spoiled, juddering your hips over him like any whore walking the streets in exchange for a coin or two. What he’d give to have this to himself.

It donned on him-- he could have it to himself. This time, he’d be certain of who the child belonged to. He adored his Lyla, though his irritation with her quips was ever palpable, this-- right here, the ability to fill you and be certain filled him with fat hunger and possessive need to burst into his slacks.

“Stop-- Muñeca-- stop,” Miguel tipped his head back, gathering his focus by digging his hand into your hair, stopping you immediately. His harsh grip loosened, followed up by loosening the button of his slacks and shoving them below the curve of his ass. His cock slapped your silken shorts, beads of his desire dripping from his cockhead. “Take those off. I’m finishing inside.”

“Miguelito,” you slipped onto shaky feet, enough that Miguel could force the shorts underneath your dress to the floor. “We agreed that babies would be--”

“You asked to be my wife. Ain’t this what wives do?”

“I know bu-- not there, deja, let me,” you stopped. His cockhead clumsily poked here and there, until finally, your hand guided him properly. Your mouth fell into a hazy moan when Miguel’s cock shoved forward, breaching your cunt with a snap of his hips. You seated yourself back onto his fat cock, reminded of the absence of your cervical cap in your cunt.

For all your talk, you ached for him, dipping your intertwined hands down to your mound. The rhythm was as sloppy as whatever singer was on stage right now, her voice giving way into a distinct crack. Whatever-- if it bought him more time to properly seed you, he didn’t mind.

He buckled forward as you clenched down upon him, holding him prisoner deep in your body. Liquid soaked his slacks-- and Miguel huffed, puffs of hot air warming your back. That was going to be fun to walk out in. His wife’s cum soaking his crotch.

“Hold still. It’s almost showtime,” Miguel’s voice was thin, his hand splayed on your waist as he used you less like his woman and more like a toy for his pleasure. It didn’t take long for Miguel to find a proper rhythm, his muscles flexing against your back. You were preoccupied as it were with the pain of Miguel’s teeth sinking on your shoulder, spiking hot as his pleasure crested. Soon enough, you felt his warmth fill your core, your head lulling back against him only after his thrusts ebbed.

“Don’t clean up, go on stage leaking.” Miguel held out his hand for you to take, allowing you to pull your shorts back up your ass, nestling his leaking cum in the fabric. It helped ease the anxiety of having you on stage, somehow, to see you in such a state.

“When you knock me up, you’re telling Gabi. I... can't.” You told Miguel, smoothing your dress over your shorts. There was a nervous flush in your eyes-- shame, he placed the emotion. He scrubbed the smile from his face. He had at least a few weeks.

“Sure thing.”

There was a certain delight in seeing you dressed up in that little black dress, all bright red lips, and sultry song. Not that you didn’t look tasty in that stupid apron you wore not to dirty any one of the pretty dresses you wore to church-- like you weren’t a heathen for warming the bed of two O’Hara boys. The people knew it. The church knew it. Damn well, the town knew it.

“Pal, that’s her on stage,” went an Italian boy. An allied family through nothing but contract killing and coin, he was safe here for the time being. One little lapse in a contract could shake it all. “That’s their kitten.”

“She married?”

Miguel turned his gaze back to you for a long moment. Your warm, sweetly lidded words slipping off your tongue, making his mind sluggish and relaxed after a long day. He captured your eyes, minding how your hands fell to the tasseled ends of an already short skirt, daring to expose your skin obscured by pantyhose to the crowd. You knew the game, how far you could lift your skirt without your would-be husband jumping his cage.

“Don’t be goofy. Miguel’d get sore if Gabe tried. She has ‘em both around her finger. Has a kid by one of them. No one knows whose. I got my money on--”

Stupid kids.

“Kid, I’m gunning for another.” Miguel cut the boy off, eyes crinkling at the edges. Something in the way you moved on stage reminded him of Lyla’s pregnancy, perhaps the glitter in your eyes when you met him at his table, instead of backstage, holding his large hands in your own. Some sparkle in your eye, a ginger announcement in his ear. Half elation, half… something else. Something, not quite fear, swirled in the boy’s eyes. Miguel watched with a keen interest as the boy flushed.

“Right on, big shot.”

Miguel brought his cigarette to his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and his mind wander to the past. He should have known you were hands-off from the moment Gabriel wouldn’t beat it with the idea of adding another girl to their speakeasy.

The best time to tell Miguel about his new girl in the speakeasy was when he was in a good mood: catching any bootleg thief put him in a good mood. Not that he was particularly partial to grey matter and blood spraying him like a fresh pinata, but… he was more partial to money in his pocket and a good reputation. His boys cared for much of the violence in the West of this shitty little town.

“You hired a new girl?” Miguel repeated, drawing a long hit of his cigarette with blood-smattered fingers.

“Spanish girl. Like us. We don’t have a Spanish girl in this joint.”

“Gabe. Most of our clients are Irish. They don’t speak Spanish.”

“You should see her Miggy. She’s got this angelic little face,” Gabe whacked his elder brother, his grin growing ear to ear. There it was, his baby brother got blinded by his dick again. “When she sings you-- well, you get all twisted up.”

“Angelic face,” Miguel mumbled under his breath, tapping excess off of his cigarette. For the price he paid his girls, she had better have the face of Mary herself. The last few Gabe had pulled were mistakes. Some drug-addicted. Others whose husbands always caused a mean stir. He drags his hand down his face, weighing the costs. “She another dumb--”

“She’s Daniel’s littlin’. You remember Daniel? Taught you how to use a kn--”

The sigh that sat in his chest dissipated like vapor, perfusing into his tissue. Miguel looked at the paper Gabriel set in his blood-tinged fingers. He rotated it, gave it a look with his tired eyes. Talk to Gabriel. That old man knew just what Miguel would have said: get your ass back on a boat and go home to whatever rinky-dink island you foolishly sailed off of for this shitty city.

“Lemme see her sing.”

He doesn’t pay attention when Gabriel introduces you onstage for the first time, focusing on the paper ledgers Peter arranged for a review. Unlike his Italian connections, he don’t mind mixing it up with the Jewish boys. They’re twice as smart on the books and twice less likely to be hauling in trouble. Bootleg booze was one thing— the opium, the heroin, the cocaine, and morphine another. It packed too much heat from the coppers.

He hadn’t meant to look up.

It didn’t occur to him that you could have a sickly sweet voice, tempered by the rich Spanish on your tongue, only rivaled by those beautiful looks. His abandoned ciggy threw smoke into the air. He slumped back into the chair with a heavy thud, unclenched his tense jaw, and listened to a siren’s song that felt both familiar and distant all the same.

You had the sort of eyes he swore he’d met before, despite knowing he’d never seen a face like yours around. He’d remember sinking his teeth in that delicate neck that sat under pearls that he supplied most of his singers for their performances. His eyes hungrily cantering down your tassel dress. Not one he provided, no, he knew most to all the pieces in the back. There was a simple beauty in the gown.

You were trouble. He caught your eyes with an intent expression and expected you to blush and look away. You smiled. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or Gabriel, who flicked a grade-A smile, and a twiddling wave of your little fingers. He wants to feel them scratching down his back.

“--anyone home? Miggy? Miguel. Don’t tell me you’re already stuck on her.” Gabriel teased, elbowing Miguel in the arm. “You are! Told you she could sing.”

“Pipe down.” He jammed his ciggy in the dish.

“Sorry.”

He watches you a moment more, the slide of your legs to the tune of the band. The way your laugh resonated through the speakeasy when a patron stumbled onto the stage for his take on some stiff-legged swing. Most women would push them off, look to him for help in the swing, but you ran with the twirl the drunk led you into. He hated to admit that Gabriel was right. Among all the girls in his speakeasy, you brought a lightness to the life of a drunkard he’d not seen in a while.

“Gabe,” he mumbled, standing up and whirling his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?”

I told’ja so, Gabriel’s voice sounded in his head. He could already feel the stiff annoyance that would be Gabriel’s fist connecting with his shoulder. Why did Gabriel have to know him so well? Miguel spoke with an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Let’s keep her.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A hail of loud pops ruptured his sweet, distant memories. He reaches out to snatch his gun from the table, settled between the fresh flowers he plucked for your show. For an instant, his world wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t sounded out by the deafening assuredness of a kill, but very real panic under the singled out by the shrill of your scream.

They're going to push up on us, Miguel told Gabe. He never did take anything outside the speakeasy seriously.

Except tonight, there was no Gabriel. Miguel clasped his hand around his gun, whirling for the source of the flame. The barrage of gunfire is put down as quickly as it began. With a host of Irishmen in the bar, he should be so unsurprised. One of the Italian kids slumped over on his table.

There’s blood-- a lot of blood. Hysterics bound all around, some soothed by their partners or friends. The other Italian boy just stares-- lips slightly apart-- jarred by whatever horror was before him. Miguel finds it hard to believe that he hasn’t seen worse. Others burning his ears like the morning sun in his eyeballs every day you forgot to pull the curtains closed.

“God damn it, Peter.” Standing there is the scrawny little devil of a bookmaker himself, smiling cheesily.

“Hope that’s a good god damn it.”

He shoved his way from the tables, numbing out the complaint of the Italian boy. You were long since gone, probably a good thing that you weren’t here, that’s for fucking sure. It’d been the first time since Gabe’s incarceration he managed to drag you out of there and now… you were somewhere, undoubtedly frightened. Maybe even hurt.

“Boy, wonder who this kid crossed. Say, about Gabe, I got good news--”

He seized a chair, flicking it past Peter, a sure hiss for him to shut the fuck up about his baby brother in the can. Peter put his hands up reflexively, tracing Miguel’s rising shoulders.

“She ran to the back.”

The slender hallway down to his office is cold, only illuminated by the occasional pull-pin light bulb swinging overhead. He came here most days that he wasn’t on shift, taking a hit, or caring for his boys. Keeping track of everything was the best way to stay ahead. And even still-- he missed something from one of Spot’s boys.

You didn’t bother to close the door, balled up in a corner of his small office. He has a glorified cot for a bed in a corner, a heavy desk that nearly killed Gabe trying to hike it down the stairs years ago, and a rack stuffed with any number of books.

“It’s me,” his voice filled the room. You peered up from behind your arms, wrapped around your knees. What a stupid oversight, he thought, whoever was in charge of the damn door let someone in that was… going to be a problem. He was good with Lucky’s crew. Now he was gonna have to pick up that wired phone and tell him some kid was dead.

Your heels scratched across the ground, scooting back to the cool wall. You weren’t hurt-- just, sort of shocked. Maybe being conned into church with you panned out somehow.

“Muñeca.”

“That ain’t… ever happened with Gabe before.”

Gabe. Dy by day that he heard his brother’s voice, it became more of an annoyance. It wasn’t fair to make the comparison-- Gabe caring for most things that went on in the speakeasy, Miguel caring for interpersonal deals and security. With Gabe away, he’d not… it didn’t matter.

“It won’t happen again.”

“If Lyla were here--” You’re a shark-- going after the one thing you knew would hurt. The little girl back at home who he went to great lengths to make sure was safe. She was… his, even if he felt was his brother’s, putting more salt into an ever widening sinkhole that was his irritation.

“She wasn’t.”

“But what if she was?”

“Cállate,” he barked.

“Fine, I’ll beat it. You can holed up all alone down here like you like to be, you-- you-- big lug.” You recoiled for an instant, before forcing yourself up, rubbing at heavily fallen tears in your pursuit of the door. Your cheeks were kissed by raw agitation, all pink and in any other situation, beautiful. Miguel swayed to catch your elbow.

“Discúlpame,” he murmured, a rare apology if you could even call it one to begin with. There was a long pause, and he wondered if you would be upset with him for the rest of the day. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He knew he made it damn hard not to.

That was the thing about Miguel. He made it hard to get close, but even harder to leave. No matter what he did, you wanted to stay there right by him-- because he was the complicated brother. The one who… well, hell, you wanted to be about. Gabe was good and easy, your Miguelito was…

“Dios mio, Miguelito. This hinky stuff ain’t happening again. Or-- Or I’ll leave you both. Take Lyla right back to the island I came from and marry a man who isn’t in wrong with the police.”

You should have known the day that you gave birth to his daughter that something like that wasn’t going to happen.

[milkyybuns]

Just Chatting

Characters: Uzui Tengen x streamer!reader

Contains: NSFW (MDNI), modern au, fem!reader, streamer!reader, reader is a bad girlfriend , angst, dubcon, sad + angry tengen, jealous + possessive tengen, overstimulation, slight exhibitionism, dirty talking, sex instead of talking through issues like adults 😕

Synopsis: Since becoming a full time streamer you've barely had time for your boyfriend. He decides that enough is enough.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tagging: @novaresque @awaruna2 @lighturqoi @bigtiddyvampirelover @mindlesschicca

-

a/n: Started this 3 months ago but only just had the motivation to finish it. I never thought I’d be writing angst but here I am. Reader is a bit of a shit person, This literally hurt my own heart writing it but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Enjoy?

Tengen's thoughts are in italics

-

“Baby come and watch this movie with meee!” Tengen whined.

“Mm soon just one last round, promise.” You replied distractedly, eyes glued to the screen and fingers tapping at your mouse and keyboard.

Tengen hated it.

He wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, he really did, but the insecurity in him flared up every time you seemed to be having so much fun online with these strangers instead of him.

It only got worse when you became a full-time streamer. Every day you'd play or chat with your viewers for hours on end, often leaving your boyfriend eating dinner alone in the dining room of your shared apartment.

Tengen took a deep breath as he waited for the microwave to finish heating up the leftover curry.

It’s ok, I'll finally get to spend some quality time with her next week. I've booked the most romantic anniversary dinner after all!

—

Tengen buttoned up his freshly ironed shirt and put on his fitted dress pants. He turned around in the mirror and grinned.

Damn I look good~

He was brimming with excitement, practically skipping down the hall to your room.

"Ready to go sweetheart?" His head poked through your doorframe, but the giddiness in his expression quickly soured at the sight of you hunched over your work desk.

“Oh Ten you know my 10k celebration stream is tonight right? I told you ages ago.” You didn't even look up from your screen as you continued to set up the mic.

“B-but... What about dinner?”

He sounded like a hurt puppy.

“Sorry baby we’re gonna have to reschedule.”

"It's our 1 year anniversary!"

“You know how it is, don’t want to disappoint my fans!”

Your fans? What about me?

His eyes drifted to your outfit, clenching his jaw when he saw the way your tits were practically spilling out of the strappy top. He could never understand why you had to wear things like that for your 'fans'.

“It’s normal for streamers, plus it's good for the donations.”

“Do they know you have a boyfriend?” He emphasised the last word as if to remind you.

"...It's better to let them think I'm single. It's just part of the job."

Tengen was seething. He leaned against the door frame of your studio room, watching you chat to your audience and thanking them for their donations.

“Hey lovelies! I’m so excited for my 10k anniversary stream today ♡ Thank you guys for always being there for me and I can’t wait to answer all your questions in the special Q&A!” You beamed at your screen, giving your audience your sweetest smile.

"Y/N."

His voice was cold, barely able to contain his anger when you continued to ignore him.

"Y/N."

“Hm? Oh don't worry guys that was just my brother!” You said sweetly. "Thank you to everyone who submitted questions, let's get started ♡ ”

Let’s see how your fans react to this.

You flinched when you felt large hands push your thighs apart, glancing down to see Tengen under your desk and between your legs. He sucked and bit at the soft skin, but you pushed his head away, silently gesturing to him you were live. He paid you no heed, instead ducking under your skirt to press his tongue against your panties. After thoroughly wetting the fabric he pushed them aside to dive right into your folds, two fingers pressing harsh circles against your clit, making you squirm.

"O-ok first question: Sirsnakealot asks: 'What's your type?' "

"Ah I'd say, someone who's dependable, has his own job. And it'd be a bonus if he's handsome ofc <3 hehe."

You forced a smile as you tried your hardest to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Your flushed expression was not missed by your attentive viewers.

mitsuluvss555: does she have a fever?

ynsimppp: y/n-chan go get some water <33

“I’m fine! I think I ahh~ just had too many energy drinks before the stream...!”

You had to pretend to take a sip of water off screen as you collapsed against the desk. You flipped up your skirt to meet the fiery gaze of your boyfriend, who was now suckling on your clit and playing with your quickly dampening folds.

"S-stop it Ten...! We can...hah..do this la...ah...later." You reprimanded in a hushed tone.

He looked up at you defiantly, responding by pushing two of his long fingers inside your now soaked cunt, curling them in that way that made you keen.

Your vision was getting blurry, but you bit your lip and hid it with a smile.

"N-next question! ItsMeDiooo with the $69 donation asks: "Y/n-chan are you single?"

You feel Tengen growl against your cunt, his fingers pumping faster inside you as his teeth sank into your clit.

"aha t-these questions are so personal today...I've told you guys before, I'm just too busy for a relationship at the moment. Thank you for the donation though, I appreciate your support!"

Tengen was being purposefully noisy, hoping your mic would catch the sloppy sounds he was making between your legs.

"Next question!"

How the fuck are you still ignoring me?

Suddenly you were roughly pulled off your chair. You fell onto the carpet as your boyfriend quickly hovered over you.

yandereyorchan: what happened???

mitsuluvs555: y/n chan are you okay? ><

bigdaddyguro: I didn't pay for this what the hell

“Ten what the fuck? I need to get back to my stream-"

His firm grip on your waist held you in place, as you struggled to get back up. His hot mouth trailed up your neck and left sloppy kisses on your exposed skin.

“I planned such a nice evening for us baby.” Tengen growled against your ear.

“I got all dressed up for you, and you would rather talk to these strangers?” His voice was icy yet calm, making you shiver.

He bit down harshly at your neck, leaving hickies in all the places you said he wasn't allowed to. Pleads of 'no not there ten!" and "baby, stop it!" were muffled by open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“I’m your boyfriend aren’t I? Let me act like it then.”

He pressed the blunt tip of his cock against your slick folds, making your eyes widen.

“Ten stop it the stream is still on!” You whispered in a panicked tone.

“Are you scared they’ll hear you?” Tengen smirked. "I bet they'd love to listen in, would probably jerk off wishing they were inside this tight pussy."

He groaned when he pushed all the way in ‘till he bottomed out. Both of you panted harshly as he fucked you right there on the carpet. Your breathy moans sounded so pretty to him, the way you mewled and whined under him almost made Tengen forget he was angry at you. Almost.

Just when you were about to cum, his hips stopped altogether. You whimpered in protest as you met your boyfriend's dark gaze.

"W-why'd you stop?"

"Tell me baby, who's the one giving you this dick?"

"Y-you."

"Who does this little pussy belong to?"

"Y-you, Tengen...!"

"Damn right."

He resumed his intense pace with a groan. Soon your walls were spasming around him, tightening with one last whimper as he pumped you full of his milky seed. Tengen couldn't help the smirk on his face as he watched his cum slowly slip out of you.

"Get up baby, we have dinner to get to."

[milkyybuns]

Gimme more!

Characters: Uzui Tengen x fem!reader

Contains: NSFW (MDNI), modern au, fem!reader, female pronouns, slut!reader, bigdick!tengen, size kink, cock worship, oral m-receiving, facial, use of (one) toy, dirty talk, degradation, uses of terms such as slut and whore, one night stand, pwp, if you're looking for romance you won't find it here

Synopsis: Tengen takes home a meek and innocent girl, but she wants something only he has.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tagging: @sanoinc @awaruna2 @lighturqoi @bigtiddyvampirelover @mindlesschicca @lovecraving

-

a/n: reader's personality is loosely based on Suma. think needy crybaby who looks innocent but is actually finkin bout dick 24/7. reader just has a huge size kink that's it that's the prompt.

-

"Um, excuse me...C-can I buy you a drink?"

The silver-haired man glanced over his shoulder to see you peeking up at him. A light blush on your supple cheeks as you tugged down the hem of your little skirt.

"Oh?" Tengen raised an eyebrow as his lips curled into an amused smirk. “You want to buy me a drink?" Cat-like eyes raked up your exposed thighs, his shameless gaze made you shiver.

"P-please?" You gave him your cutest pout, acutely aware of the way his eyes darkened when you bit your lip.

This little girl's got some nerve...

He seemed lost in thought for a second, before breaking into a smirk and leaning down to your ear.

"One rum and coke for me, doll."

-

Your back met the hallway wall the moment the door clicked shut. Big hands travelled up your thighs to grab generous handfuls of your ass, making you yelp. He didn't waste time, the curve of your throat soon blooming with dark red bruises. His lips sloppily pressed against your own, wine-red eyes fluttering open with a groan when you palmed the bulge in his jeans.

With a giggle you sank to your knees. Chewing on your cheek in excitement as your nimble fingers pulled down his pants and underwear. His gloriously erect cock bounced free and smacked against his stomach. "I knew it..." You breathed, salivating at the mere sight of the blushing tip.

You knew from his height and the way he carried himself he would be big, which was why you approached him at the bar in the first place. And then it was almost too easy. Your shy demeanour, your tiny skirt and your pleading gaze, he'd fallen for your whole innocent routine hook, line and sinker.

Tengen smirked when he noticed you staring. “This your first time sweetheart?"

You stifled a laugh. "I don't know, you tell me~"

You wrapped one hand around the girthy base, humming approvingly when your thumb and forefinger couldn't touch. You could feel his gaze on you as you licked a long stripe up the side of his shaft, measuring him with your tongue.

Yep, definitely the biggest yet.

You wrapped your glossy lips around his flushed tip and swirled your tongue around it like a lollipop. You moaned as you savoured the salty taste of his precum, hands squeezing and pumping the rest of his pulsating length.

"mmm...so big ♡" you moaned as you nuzzled against his cock, rubbing it against your cheek with a giggle. “…it’s almost as big as my head…!”Your hand pumped him at a steady speed as your other hand fondled his full balls. You loved how he bucked his hips into your hand each time your tongue flicked over his sensitive slit, silver strands of his hair messy as his unfocused eyes struggled to stay open.

Those same pretty eyes widened when you suddenly took him as deep as you could, his fat tip bruising the back of your throat from the force. "Fuck..." Tengen groaned as you held eye contact, cheeks stuffed full like a cute little chipmunk. You teared up as you gagged on his thick length, hand pumping at last couple inches that couldn't fit in your warm mouth. Tengen grunted as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down further making you gag. Suddenly you pulled away so your lips were ghosting his tip. His cum spurted all over your mouth and cheeks, you grinned as you licked up what you could reach.

“Fuck, who knew such a meek little girl was so good at sucking cock?" Tengen chuckled as he bent you over against the wall. "Now, let's see that pussy sweetheart, bet she's already soaked hm?"

Tengen flipped up your skirt to expose your white frilly panties, the ones with cute little bows on the rim. When he pulled the damp fabric aside, his mouth opened in a shocked O at the sight of the small pink plug stuffed snuggly between your swollen folds.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Cat's got your tongue~?" You teased as you looked over your shoulder, wiggling your ass at the dumbfounded man.

"H-have you had… h-had that in all night?" Tengen stammered as he took out your little pink plug, briefly admiring the way it glistened in the dim hallway light.

"'course! Had to prep myself for taking this..." You smiled smugly as you ground back against him. “Now, hurry up, put it in!~”

Tengen groaned when he pressed into you, sinking his heavy shaft in deeper and deeper as your sweet honeyed cunt sucked him in. "Oh f-fuck it hurts...!" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, tears welling up threatening to spill over. Concern briefly flashed across Tengen’s features as he started to slowly pull out.

“Sure you can take it princess?”

You rolled your eyes at the smugness in his voice. “Shut up and fuck me already, or are you too scared to break me?”

That earned you another couple deep thrusts, painted nails gripping your hips like a vice.

"Hmf! Faster!" You egged him on. “Is that all you -ahh got?”

With a deep growl Tengen sped up, his own eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight heat dragging on the veins of his cock. Seeing your doe-eyes teary and fucked out only spurred him on, big hands propped your legs on his shoulders as he leaned in close to your ear.

“I bet you do this all the time…mmf... lure men in with your…fuck…hahh, ah, innocent little act and get them to fuck you dumb like this, ah shit. You like big cocks huh? Like how they stretch out your cute little pussy?” You whimpered an affirmative as he taunted you, squeezing his cock even more. “mnhm…! y-yeah! I do! ahh, aahhh!! f-feels, feels s’good!”

"That why you came up to me sweetheart? Figured I could fill ya up real well huh?"

"Y-yeah! Mnnn 'n I was right...! Push it all the way in…! Please!"

“Shit, what a little cockslut…Fuck I’ll give you what you want…” His thrusted into you at an inhuman speed, mindlessly rutting into you as you felt that band in your tummy tighten and snap. Your vision turned white as you creamed around his thick girth. You were still shaky when he slipped out of you and set you down.

"God, that was really fucking good,” He panted as you wobbled on your legs.

“‘gain…”

“What’s that sweetheart?”

“-gain, wanna go again.” You panted, tugging at the hem of his shirt, which was miraculously still on.

His disbelief soon turned into amusement as strong arms lifted you up, heading down the hallway.

"Fine, I’ll give you as many rounds as you want, greedy little girl.”

[milkyybuns]

Extra-curricular

Dilf Tengen x Teacher!Reader

Contains:NSFW (MDNI), Demon Slayer anime spoilers kinda, modern AU, afab!reader, teacher!reader, reader gets called sensei, sub!reader, reader wears glasses, dilf!Tengen, Tengen with an eyepatch, slight dubcon, slight exhibitionism, praise, degradation, oral (reader giving), size kink, Tengen has a big dick :)

Synopsis: You agree to help Tengen out with some extra home tutoring for his adorable kids, but you get there early. oH nO! What will you do to kill the time?

Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: Um this is kinda nasty lol don’t look at me. Something about tenten’s whole mature vibe after retirement just makes me lose my goddamn mind. Also his eye is injured in this but I did magically heal his hand.

This fic is part of @novaresque’ and @festive ’s Dirty Money Collab [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ιοο̲̅)̲̅$̲̅]

Tagging: @awaruna2 @lighturqoi​ @bigtiddyvampirelover @the-tacos-unite-blog @pbees @odysseusasscheeks @blacksteel-art​ @gyomei-tiddies

Keep reading

[milkyybuns]

people who remember my tengen hyperfixation days: 🫣 oh no she’s at it again

[milkyybuns]

i wanna sit on that face

[milkyybuns]

Hiii！I love your stories!!But can you write about Miguel × hybridbunny！reader？that Miguel was a rich mafia or ceo and he bought reader from a black market or an auction.（ps：make reader sit on Miguel’s desk while he works and he ended up eating her out and fcking her hehehehehhehe）🐇🐇🐇🐇

Hehehehehehehehehehe

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

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There were many pros and cons that came with being the CEO. Unfortunally, claiming ownership of Alchemax carried far more cons than the alternative. It did not help that Miguel took over the company from his corrupt father.

There were a lot of problems that needed to be fixed. Many were within the company itself; the associates to say the least. Miguel had to fire and clean up a lot of the corrupted associates' messes. This included having Miguel silently attend a black auction market.

Turned out, one of his former coworkers who worked in genetic splicing decided to test various animals on different people. While Miguel was so focused on Spiders that created Spiderman, his stupid coworker created hybrids and sold them on the black market.

Miguel just hoped that he could save as many people as he could. The work of tracking the others down was going to be a lot harder for him.

As Miguel sat in his VIP seat with a hood on, he watched the scum below him cheer with anticipation. None of these people cared. They just wanted new trophies. Miguel was going to buy as many hybrids were auctions and try to revert them back to regular humans.

-------

Miguel was about to lose faith. The auction was at the last bid and there had not been a single hybrid. Miguel did check and this was the only black market auction in the city. It was too dangerous for there to be anymore.

"Now! What you've all been waiting for, the most popular item during our shows! A hybrid!!" The announcer cheered.

Miguel nearly gasped, leaning forward as he watched the curtains unveil, revealing you.

"We got ourselves an adorable hybrid bunny!!! You know what they say about rabbits."

Miguel ignored the sea of laughter. You were standing on stand, shaking like a leaf. Before the announcer could even start the bid, Miguel yelled out an insane number. There were gasps in the crowd and barely anyone had the guts to go higher.

And just like that, you were bought by Miguel.

--------

You were hesitant as you followed your new 'owner' to his vehicle. The chain and collar still tight around your neck. Once you were seated in the back seat, you flinched as your tail got caught in the belt. You had to lower your ears, not wanting to hit the roof of the car.

"My apologizes, I'll get a bigger car." Miguel apologized as he entered the vehicle. You gave him a slight glare, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Just fuck me," You whispered.

"No," Miguel sighed as he took the collar off once the car started moving, "I'm trying to right the wrongs that the former CEO of my company did."

You touched your neck, watching Miguel very carefully. You had an inkling of where this conversation was going, and it started to make your heart and body shake.

"My name is Miguel. I have no intention of using you for any purpose, but to try and undo what Alchemax did to you, if you would let me."

"Hah, so am I the lucky test subject?"

"No. I want to find all those who were experimented on. You were the first one I saved." Miguel noticed your hesitation and offered you a bottled water, "I have a room set up for you. Anything you want or need, just let me know and I'll get it for you."

"I suppose freedom isn't an option?"

"You and I both know what will happen if I let you go."

"Yeah, I know. Just wanted to hear your answer." You scoffed and leaned forward slightly, "I actually worked at Alchemax as an assistant. I don't think it will be easy to undo my DNA now that its been changed."

"I can try."

---------

It had been a few months since you were bought by Miguel. It came as a surprise, but he did mean what he said. You were living comfortably and Miguel was trying his absolute best to cure you. As you guessed, nothing worked.

That didn't stop you from wanting to help Miguel with his endeavor. Miguel had even rescued a few more hybrids during your stay with him. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous that you weren't his only one now. There was a simple reason as to why you felt like that.

You fell in love with Miguel.

You wanted to believe that Miguel liked you too, but you weren't sure what was holding him back. Perhaps guilt? Needing to see him, you started to hurry to his office. Thanks to your rabbit DNA, you were a fast runner.

"Miguel? Can I come in?" You asked with a knock at his office door.

"Of course, (Y/N)." He said with a smile, opening the door for you.

Before entering, your nose caught whiff of something delicious. Sniffing around, you ended up next to Miguel. You gently gripped his jacket, sniffing against his collar.

"(Y-Y/N), are you alright? Do I smell?" Miguel cleared his throat, careful to hold you back.

"Hm? O-Oh, sorry. You just smelled really good." You laughed nervously, wondering what was coming over you.

Miguel patted your head, assuring you that it was okay. You could only feel embarrassed again. This wasn't the first time your rabbit DNA caused you to do something silly or embarrassing. You were still having a hard time getting over making a 'secret room' in the building when winter was coming.

"Want to help me with something?" Miguel offered, motioning towards his desk.

You hurried over, taking a seat on his desk as Miguel pulled out some paperwork. Since it was hard for you to sit in regular chairs due to your tail, Miguel allowed you to have a spot on his personal desk. It felt like you were a trophy for him. One you didn't mind.

"So, what are you working on?" You asked. Miguel chuckled towards you as he leaned back in his seat,

"Company business."

"So how can I help?"

"You already are," Miguel chuckled again and leaned closer towards you, "I feel better having you next to me. I'm not as stressed."

Your cheeks started to burn up at his confession. Your heart was racing and you could feel yourself getting hot. This was bad. Lately, whenever you thought about Miguel you would get into a small frenzy, needing to relieve yourself. It had to be because of your rabbit DNA.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" Miguel asked, his hand against your forehead.

"Mhm," You winced slightly, shaking from his touch alone, "M-Miguel, I should...g-go," You stuttered, finding it hard to keep yourself together.

Miguel furrowed his brows as he gave you a quick check up. He checked your eyes, noticing the glossy lustful look, then your heart rate. Miguel inhaled deeply once he finally noticed you rub your legs together and your nipples perk.

"You're in heat?" Miguel muttered lowly, glancing at your once more, "Let me take-"

"N-No, let me stay," You whined, holding onto Miguel, nibbling against his shoulder, "I-I'm only...like this because of...of you,"

"Oh," Miguel resisted a groan, gently pushing you back, "Then, I suppose I need to take responsibility for you, huh?"

Oh, how those words turned you on even more. You whimpered and moaned against his touch as Miguel took off your pants. Your panties were soaked. You swore Miguel mumbled something under his breathe, but you were so zoned out that you couldn't hear him.

Next thing you knew, Miguel had taken your panties off and laid you back against his desk. He brought your legs around his head, making sure your tail wasn't crushed under you. His head directly in front of your vagina,

"My, my (Y/N), you should have told me sooner about your little problem. I could have helped you happily,"

"B-But-Ah~ M-Miguel~" You cried out as his tongue started to swirl against your folds.

Your eyes widen and your body arched as Miguel feasted. His tongue touching you in ways that your fingers could not. His aggressive licks and swirls against your clit causing that knot inside you to grow tighter.

"Ah~ R-Right...t-there~" You moaned, crying out your orgasm.

Miguel cleaned up your mess, his tongue now threatening to enter your drenched hole. Your whimpers and moans were delicious. He wanted to hear more, but he also didn't want to take advantage of your state. Licking your insides, Miguel hummed at your sweet taste. Your legs wrapping around his head.

'Miguel~" You whined, grinding your hips slightly.

"Now, now my little bunny, if you don't behave I won't be able to control myself," He hummed, sucking against your clit.

"P-Please...f-fuck me...I need you~" You whimpered.

Miguel felt his restraints snap. He flipped you on your stomach and inserted a finger inside your cunt. Your body shock as you moaned louder than before. Miguel groaned at how your cunt sucked his fingers in.

"Does my little bunny want to be fucked that bad? Even using your tail to seduce me." Miguel huffed, using his free hand to play with your tail.

Unable to take the pleasure, you cried out another orgasm the moment Miguel touched your tail. It was so sensitive. Pressing your face against his desk, you whimpered, begging for Miguel to fuck you. You needed him. You wanted him to make you feel good.

"Alright, I'll give my bunny what she wants."

"Mhm~ Y-Yesh," You babbled.

A sharp gasp escaped your throat as you felt Miguel's dick push through your folds. His cock stretched you out and filling you so perfectly. Your body felt so hot as his tip threaten to push your cervix. You could feel his shape every time your pussy clenched around him.

"A perfect fit. My little horny bunny likes this right?" Miguel chuckled as he started to thrust his hips into you at a rough pace, "My little horny bunny going into heat because of me."

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Miguel~"

You swore you started to lose your common sense. Miguel was pounding the life out of your cunt and the air out of your lungs. Your vision kept blurring as you just focused on the feeling of him filling you.

You gasped as Miguel lifted your hips ever so slightly. His dick hitting your g-spot with each thrust while his free hand was playing with your tail. You were losing count how many times this man was making you cum.

"Does my little bunny want me to fill her up?" Miguel leaned over you, whispering your ear,

"Mphm~"

"I can't hear you, are you too fucked out to answer?" Miguel nibbled against your ear.

You pressed your ass up, "Inside~" You begged.

Miguel complied as proceeded to fill you with his cum. He moaned lowly, giving you a few more pumps before coming to a stop. Miguel started to pull out, but heard you whine in protest. A chuckle escaped his throat as he continued to slap his hips into you.

Miguel continued to fuck you until your heat finally died out. By the end of what seemed like endless fucking, both you and Miguel were out of breathe. Miguel had you seated against his lap, resting your body against his.

You whimpered tiredly, cum pouring out of your cunt. Miguel rubbed your back, his hand nudging against your tail slightly.

"Mhm,"

"Shh, it was an accident, baby." Miguel whispered, rubbing your upper back, "You should have told me when these heats started. I can make some medicine to help you."

"You're fine," You whispered lowly. Miguel chuckled, kissing your head,

"If that's the case, then it would be easier for you to stay at my place. I have been looking for a wife,"

"Mhm...I'll gladly...take that role," You muttered tiredly.

Miguel resisted a chuckle. He waited for you to fall asleep before dressing the two of you. He had one of his assistants bring your stuff to his place as Miguel took you home. He was going to make you as comfortable as possible.

But first, you both needed a shower.

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Hope you enjoyed!!!!

[milkyybuns]

hiiiii! can i request a miguel x reader? miguel is a big shady business man (kinda like king pen) who owns a strip club and reader is one of the strippers who everyone knows not to mess with since she’s miguel’s girl. a guy starts sexually harassing reader and miguel kicks his ass and puts him in his place. if you’re cormfortable, i would like smut ❤️

Property Cw: smut, possessive behaviour, DUB-CON, worshipping, sex workers, strip club, pimp, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, marking, stripper/sex worker!reader, tell me if I missed any.

Despite the place being a strip club - one on the higher end of the city - there was one rule that it followed to a T without exception: do not touch the workers without consent, yet this pig decided to forgo this fundamental rule put in place in ever strip club and touched you when you’ve told him many times to back off. His sweaty and grabby hands moving across your skin left you shuddering, his hands leaving you feeling disgusted by his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, moving between the bodies to get away from the man.

“C’mon babe!” He moved to try to grab you, insistent that he only wanted to share a drink and talk, “Please! One lap dance!”

Men like him just couldn’t take no, it frustrated you. That might’ve been what he said : one lap dance, but you knew his type, he would demand for more after you were done and become forceful if you didn’t comply. You tried to distance yourself from him, your heels thumping quietly on the velvet flooring, hurried and annoyed while the man followed you, his fingers grazing the naked skin of your shoulder. You wore a blue teddy, the darkest shade of navy strapped to your skin, the bust acting as a corset to push out your breasts and the thin fabric cupping the swell of your ass. It was almost sheer, the few ribbons and decorative texture hiding anything too intimate from the public and garter straps holding your sheer stockings up your thighs. Your attire seemed to be the source of his obsession and of his liking, even following you to the boss’s VIP corner.

“No!” You swung your arm back, hurrying to the bodyguards standing between the VIP and public area of the club, “I told you-”

In your frantic hiss, you walked into a wall, groaning softly. The wall was more so a wall of sculpted muscle than a plaster and drywall, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his protective embrace. A wide and firm palm gripped your stomach, kneading the soft flesh under the lingerie.

“When she says no, it means no, cabrón,” Miguel growled, his broad stature overshadowing the man that followed you. When you turned your head, Miguel had his wrist in hand, the man winced and whimpered at the tight hold, strength threatening to break his wrist, “You got that?”

He nodded, running away with his tail tucked between his legs, out of the club and as far as he could from the beast that held you gently. Turning you around, he led you up the stairs connected to his upstairs suite, a personal balcony that overlooked the proudest part of his kingdom.

“He’s done.”

He wouldn’t be coming back, once Miguel gave the order, the person wouldn't ever be allowed back into any of his establishments. He had rules that he wanted to be respected, towards his employees and especially you, his sweet girl that he picked up from the previous pimp in the area he now controlled with an iron fist towards the cruel and abusive.

His mezzanine was spacious, a soft, faux leather couch, a black able and a private bar area in a corner for him to indulge in his drunken pleasures with or without guests. You’ve always liked this place, a distance from the music and crowd on the ground floor, it was a solace in the busy club. He sat you on the table, the cool surface making you flinch while he faced you, the leather dipping with his weight. He tenderly cradled your cheeks, thumb running along the curve of your painted lips, his eyes roving down your coverage, smooth skin uncovered to his hungry eyes and calling for him.

“Oh, mi dulce Musa,” he cooed, his lips kissing a line down your neck, the dip of your collar, the smell of your breasts and the warmth of your cunt, wetness pooling over the fabric of the teddy he gifted you. “I’m happy you came to me first.”

He hooked a thigh over his shoulder, spreading you on your back as he slipped a finger under your lace, pulling it aside to look at your glistening folds. Sliding two fingers between your labia and collecting your slick on his calloused pads, spreading them open to admire your cunt, clenching around air —hungry for his thick digits. He bowed his head, pressing a kiss on your throbbing clit, pulsing and needy, circling the entrance of your drooling hole, feeling it clench. Wrapping his lips around your nub, he sucked on it as he plunged in, two fingers stretching your tight warmth, guiding his hand in and out.

You cried out, bucking your hips against his rugged face, grinding upwards with a slow mewl. You felt stretched wide, a finger of his counted two of yours, long and sturdy, pumping into you with a goal in mind, tapping your gummy, sweet spot and pulling you apart from the seams. You moaned, shuddering under him, body wracked with tremors when he pumped a third finger, untangling you from the seams of your salacious and confident image you built from your time as a sex worker. You were a wanton mess, back arching and legs quaking, painted nails curled around Miguel’s hair, pleasure coiled tightly in your core.

His pace was steady, hand driving in deeply, coaxing more slick out of you, curling against your warmth. You clung to him desperately, head thrown back and teary eyed as you balanced on the precipice of your climax, an agonising thrum of pleasure beating between your thighs. Sensing your end, he rolled your clit with the tip of his tongue, giving you a bit of solace before he sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh. You wailed, jerking around as your pussy closed around his fingers, your heat squirting over his hand. It was a blinding fire, eyes rolling back into a white cloud, sightless after your earth-shattering orgasm.

He whispered sweet compliments, laving over the bloodied mark with the flat of his tongue, slowly pumping in and out of you until you rode off your release, legs still shaking and hands still curled around his head. He kissed his bite, red eyes drinking in your debauched figure with his mark, a sign of ownership over you, the red indentation of his teeth bleeding you.

“Mía. Mi dulce Musa,” he whispered, gazing at you lovingly, predatory eyes glowing bright red under his lashes and wild curls.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

[milkyybuns]

sitting on miguel o’hara’ face ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

— a/n: i’m ovulating. so.

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: some vulgar language

“Just sit.”

Miguel loudly sighs as he tugs on your thighs for the nth time, his dick painfully straining against his pants as he watches your wet pussy leak right in front of his face. The cum from the last round dripping down the side of your right leg.

“Miguel,” you whine. Your thighs shake as you weakly try not to fall right onto his mouth.

He tugs again, “Cariño, are you trying to edge me?” He whines out.

You moan, the very thought of him cumming inside his pants just from eating you out causing all coherent thoughts in your brain to rot.

“Come on, mi vida.”

He tugs a little harder and it does the job. You let go of all the resistance in your body and fall straight down onto Miguel’ open, watery, mouth—and you swear you almost pass out at the sensation of his wet, thick, tongue immediately plunging itself deep into your pussy, the squelching noise you hear almost makes you want to cry from the embarrassment.

You close your thighs around Miguel’ head and push yourself down into his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat as the nub of your pussy brushes against his nose.

“Miguel—“ you choke, a moan immediately escaping you when he moves his entire head with a long stroke, his nose rubbing against your clit.

He hums and your hands fly up to the headboard of the bed, and you grip on for dear life.

“Miguel,” you say and it come out as a wispy breath, “Miguel—!”

You arch your back as his lips close around your clit. Your mouth hangs open forming an “o” shape and Miguel’ hands go from your thighs to your ass to keep you on his face and to push you down even more.

The twitching of your body only gets worse when he starts to move you, you’re practically grinding his entire face now.

“Mi—Miguel,” you stutter as his hands start to roam up and down your hips and lower back, “C—close—!”

His hums and mumbles something into your pussy—the vibrations send you to the very edge and you’re right there, ready to go over the edge, ready to suffocate him with the intensity of your orgasm if you haven’t already with your pussy—

But then it stops. His hands travel up to your hips stilling you completely and then he lifts.

If you were embarrassed by how wet you were, that is nothing compared to how embarrassed you are now.

Below you was actually the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. Miguel, wet hair clinging on the sides of his face with your wetness spread all over his face, some even trailing down his neck as most of you was on his lips.

You couldn’t help yourself, you were way too close to the edge and he was way too beautiful for you to keep your composure, so all the prior wetness on his face was now mixed with your very new cum.

With half opened eyes, thanks to your cum, he smirks as he licks his lips.

Fuck, had he shown a fang you probably would’ve came again right then and there.

“S—sorry,” you say in between stutters. Having an orgasm while getting eaten out is one thing, but having one from just looking at him? The embarrassment was too much.

He lets out a deep, low chuckle before moving you away from his face. He fights back a moan as your wet pussy hits his chest.

“I’ll go get a towel for you,” Miguel grips your thighs before you can start moving, wetness leaks from your pussy.

“No need, mi amor,” he looks down at your pussy then back up at your eyes, his own still half lidded, “‘m not planning on wasting any of it.”

[milkyybuns]

Meal 🍽️

Open:

Find the full pic on my masterlist ❤️

And a little treat of Steven alt version is on Patreon only🤭

[milkyybuns]

🍓— indicates (too) explicit artworks not suitable for tumblr, that will be only posted uncensored on PILLOWFORT (click on PF to open site).

❤— indicates there’s some type of insert, either reader insert, or OC insert, “on screen” or “off screen”.

💞— indicates insert present in the artwork can be read as neutral gender or either gender. If emoji is not included, then it’s either fem or AFAB.

MINORS DNI.

Facets series Canvas ❤💞 (SOON) | PF🍓

Miguel multiple facets... grumpy? vulnerable? cheeky?- and others

Part 1 | PF 🍓

Part 2 ❤| PF 🍓

Part 3 ❤| PF 🍓

Part 4 ❤ | PF 🍓

Part 5 | PF 🍓

Part 6 ❤| PF 🍓

Part 7 | PF 🍓

Part 8 ❤💞| PF 🍓

<- Main masterlist

[milkyybuns]

OH! but imagine riding miguel in his office likeeeeeeeeee 🤯🤯🤯🤯 his strong hands helping guide your hips and his tip is hitting that sweeeet sweeet spot in you and he’s so close. like really close.

he would literally be like “almost there mi princesa, almost almost almost—” until one of the spider people opens the door and sees y’all…

yall ovulation cycle are on the same month or what???🤨🤨

BUT HELL YEA?!

-

“come on baby, come on” he grunts against your ear as his large hands move around your soft cheeks. slapping and squeezing, encouraging you to go faster. “feels good, hm? daddy’s cock filling you up just right? such a pretty mami, look at you.”

and he means that. he wonders how the hell did he get so lucky to have an angel looking this pretty when she rides him? how did he get lucky to watch her ass moves in a way he has never seen on a girl before?

most importantly, he’s so fucking lucky that he gets to be the only man who can see you like this up close.

with a nod, you begin to snap your hips against him even harder and faster. his praises never fail to make you mewl as you feel yourself getting even wetter.

“s-so good, daddy, I-“ you cut yourself off with a yelp when he lands a hard smack on your ass. “fuck you feel so good inside me. so big i almost can’t take it”

his lips stretches into a lazy smirk, loving how you continue to feed his ego. his hand then travels upwards to softly grip around your throat, just enough to make you choke a little.

he admires the way you sound when he’s deep inside you. especially when you’re bouncing up and down on his hard shaft because it means that you get to be in control. and he has no problem with that. he loves it when you’re on top. but it’s just makes it harder for him to hold on a little longer.

“almost there mi vida” he heaves out a heavy groan, leaning his back comfortably against his office chair. “fuck, i’m gonna—“

before he gets to finish his sentence—and actually finishes inside of you—he hears the sound of his office door opens, and it’s none than other the person he despises for always seem to be invading his privacy,

“hey Miguel, I’ve got some—oh shit!” Peter shrieks when he almost got hit with a small lamp, that’s when he realizes what’s going on. his eyes go wide as his cheeks turn red. “shit shit, I’m so so-“

“get the fuck out, now!” Miguel barks at him, pointing his finger at the door looking absolutely irritated and angry that a man catches a glimpse of his girl naked. you aren’t stopping though. you continue to ride Miguel even faster and keep on moaning like a bitch in the heat.

“fucking knock, next time you piece of shit!”

feeling embarrassed, Peter only nods as he look away. “right! got it!” before he quickly shuts the door, not wanting to make the boss angry even more,

“you’re so mean, baby” you say pretending to be upset, looking down at him with heavy breathing. “he didn’t mean to see me like this.”

“you like it when I’m mean” he growls, knowing that it turns you on and it does. he reaches up to grab both of your tits, squeezing them harshly. “you’re mine and in no fucking way i am sharing”

-

[milkyybuns]

miguel keeps so many nsfw pics of you in his phone.

one where he’s taking you from behind and you’re looking over your shoulder with a lazy smile

one where you have your tongue laying flat against the tip of his cock and you’re looking straight into the camera

one where you’re laying on your back, bare breasts as you give your best naught smile to the camera and doe eyes that makes him go crazy

one where you have your tongue out, his cum dripping all over it as you grin widely and looking up to the lenses

one where has his large hand cupping your bare tit under the soft material of your tank top (and another where he’s playing with your nipples)

one where he takes a close up picture of your pussy spread open, filled with him cum

one where you both go sunbathing at the beach and he’s laying on the plump of your ass cheek

one where he pulls his cock out of your pussy halfway and sent it to your ex boyfriend because he can’t fucking stop texting you as he added with the caption that says ‘she’s fucking busy’

one where his face is buried deep into your pussy, hands gripping around your thighs. eyebrows furrowed, eyes red as a devil as he looks into the camera

one where it’s a night in, a movie is playing in the background as he settles his face in between your breasts while you read your book

one where you’re naked, just in your panties, on your stomach and rolling yourself a blunt

one where you just got both of your nipples pierced and he took the picture right after

and lastly, one where he fucked you on your wedding night, just in your white matching lingerie set, panties to the side, garters still attached around your thighs and a veil still perched on top of the crown of your head.

-

details here ;)))

[milkyybuns]

Lapdog

🐩staring: NerdMiguel x QueenBee!Reader

💗 preview: 

“Sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter laughed, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter which only made your smile broaden. 

“It does…

Doesn't it...?”

🌸Summary: You, Queen Bee, have been desiring a little assistant for a while—someone who can fetch you things, do your work, assist you in any way possible, and just make life much easier. However, after witnessing a surprising occurrence with one of the lamest students on campus, Miguel O'Hara, you believe you've found just that, and maybe something even better…

🐩tw/cw: Blackmail, Demeaning, Desperation, Dirty talk, Dominance, Handjob, Orgasm Denial, Ownership, Public Masturbation, Sex toys, Vibrator, etc…

💗rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🌸Word count: 9k

Small quiet whimpers left the lips of the burly man to your left. His head lowered in an attempt to hide as he did your college work. His large, left hand trembled whilst he solved long math equations, expressions, logarithms, and whatever else the packet held. You looked from the four-eyed male to look across the table at two people who also sat at your booth. 

Peter B. Parker, the captain of the football team, and golden boy of the school sat across from you, alongside his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, or MJ, who was the editor of the college newspaper. They sat snuggled up against each other, MJ on his chest and his arm wrapped around her. 

The two were your “friends” at your university. You all formed the famous clinique that instilled fear and envy into all of the student body. 

But between the adored football jock and the news girl, you, on the other hand, were a much bigger deal. 

Everyone knew you and your name and if you didn't, you were seen as an utter disgrace due to your cluelessness. 

You were known as the university’s queen bee.

Everyone loved or hated you, you didn't care, any attention was welcomed. You were the leader of the notorious sorority house of baddies with a rich family that can drop and sue anyone with a drop of a hat. 

You could control the student body in masses with just a word, and had everyone, even the staff, around your pretty manicured finger. Whatever you say goes and don't you fucking dare think otherwise, you'll be an idiot to challenge the queen. 

Having the ability to turn any person into a complete nobody, withering away in debts and charges, kept everyone in their place.

But you wouldn't exactly say Peter and MJ were your friends. Just students at college that had a certain kind of power that was highly useful to have in your corner. 

Peter and his kind and sweet persona were able to solidify bonds with other universities, and the dean, themselves. He was the face of your campus and was hella popular.

MJ was the head of the media. Whatever she said or wrote in the newspaper or the college blog was believed by any and everyone on campus, even if it was false.

Not like anyone would know…

Peter, MJ, and yourself were all on the top of the food chain at your university, no one else mattered, and was worth the time…

So why the hell was this lowlife sitting at your booth? 

Miguel O'Hara, known as the nerdiest of the nerds on your college campus, sat beside you at your usual booth in Mama's diner. 

Your cliniques’ usual hangout spot. 

To be fair, you didn't classify Miguel as such, more of a loner because he didn't look at all like a nerd. 

His body was covered in muscles, bulging ones that contrasted greatly with his quiet persona. He had a towering height that rose above most of the football team, and he got girls.

Or well…

Girls gave him attention, not like the guy minded them. 

He kept to himself, always having his nose stuck in a book and to make him even more of a dork, he worked at the school library. 

Many hated him because of him being so hard to categorize. 

Was he a jock due to his bulging muscles, a bad boy, due to his mysteriousness and his constant desire for solitude, or was he a nerd for always being found reading and whenever he spoke, only intellectual things came out. 

He was a tricky case.

And not one you cared about until today…

You never would have paid the introverted male any attention if it wasn't for you, this morning, stumbling into the library in search of a peasant to do your homework. Instead of finding a lowlife in waiting, you found something better…

You found Miguel in his office, in the far back of the library, moaning and jerking off under his desk. To make it even worse, AirPods adorned his ears, blocking out his auditory senses of your presence. You even leaned over his shoulder to find that he was clearly watching porn.

He was an amateur for sure…

But a needy little thing he was…

The sight before you was an honest gold mine, something that would be great for MJ to post on the school blog as you captured a little video of the surprising occurrence. 

You couldn't possibly think how much his reputation, if he even had one, would tank once the whole school got a look at this. 

But then, being the brilliant queen you were, you had a better idea for that video.

You decided to make use of it, as a way to have an around-the-clock lapdog that would come running at your every beck and call, at any given time...  

It was a great idea, especially with the lowlife being not so bad on the eyes.

So now here he was, being a good little puppy for you and doing your homework.

Except…

It didn't seem as if your associates were too happy with your puppy's presence. 

You met Peter's gaze, his amber eyes furrowed in a look of confusion as he glanced from you to the muscular loner and back again. “Okay, why the hell is he here?” He finally asked, after a while of just staring at the two of you. A smirk spread across your lips at his question.

“I believe you have eyes, Peter. He's doing my homework.” You simply said with a sly grin, continuing your subtle movement under the table which only made the geek clench his pencil even more. 

Peter and MJ knew that look on you. That sneaky smile you did whenever you were up to no good; but this time, they couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, and how it involved the four-eyed freak.

MJ looked between you and Miguel as well, her cherry lips pursing. “Why here though?” She asked, her head still resting against Peter's chest. “Most of the time when we meet at Mama's diner we gossip, we talk about deep stuff. We can't do that with him here.” She acknowledged, motioning to Miguel in the corner, looking to be very concentrated on solving a long-ass math problem. 

You smirked at the sight of his heavy breathing and his faintly red cheeks, before looking back at the confused expressions of your associates. You huffed, giving them a fake pout. “Come on. Miguel won't utter a single word to anyone…

Now would you?” 

You asked, turning to look at the large Latino, his eyes covered with a pair of black eyeglasses. His lips trembled, trying to avoid eye contact with you. You gave him a tight squeeze, followed by a deep stroke making him jolt. His eyes briefly rolled, his mouth stammering, trying to find his words. “No. I won't.” He said so low and deep you had to lean in to hear him. You can visibly see him struggling, the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tries painstakingly to control his breathing.

You grinned, watching him return to work on your math packet. “See? He can be trusted.” You explained with a smirk, continuing your tantalizing play on the nerd which only made the Latino male suck in a breath and grip his pencil tighter.

You swear you thought the wooden tool would snap in two any second now…

“Fine, but what made you want to bring him of all people?” Peter asked, turning your gaze back onto him. “He holds no power at our Uni.” He said with a chuckle, running his fingers through his girlfriend's red hair. You smirked, eyeing your two “friends” across the booth. “You know how much I wanted my own little assistant for some time. Someone who can fetch me things, do my work, 

Satisfy my every need…” 

You abruptly squeezed Miguel harshly once more, a sudden audible groan passing his lips which gained everyone's attention. Peter and MJ glanced over at Miguel before just brushing it off as the geek having one of his weird moments. 

You shot the dweeb a glare, making his ears redden. You watched him erase a mistake he made before turning to give your friends a nonchalant smile.

“Sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter laughed, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter which only made your smile broaden. 

“It does…doesn't it?”

You whispered, glancing over at Miguel who was avoiding your eyes, seeming to be very interested in the ways of Calculus II. You continued stroking the trembling male, feeling him strain underneath his black jeans. You brushed your thumb over his sensitive tip, making him whimper loudly, despite his attempt to suppress it by biting his lip.

You shot him another stern look, as you were slightly relieved to hear a groan of annoyance from MJ at the same time. You looked to see her glance over at the workers in Mama's diner. “Gosh, we've been sitting here for 20 minutes and our order still isn't here.” She whined, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Come on baby, it should be out in a little bit,” Peter whispered, trying to comfort her. You rolled your eyes at her dramatics. “Actually, why don't you two go check it out? See what's the hold-up?” You proposed with a sly smirk, glancing over at Miguel to see his defined Adam's apple bob at your words.

Oblivious, at your proposal and the fact that you, the queen, said it; Peter and MJ nodded and slid out of the booth. You watched in the corner of your eye as they walked away from your table. 

When they were finally gone, you instantly turned your eyes over to the panting male. Instantly, he dropped his pencil, his amber eyes hooded behind his spectacles, and the wooden tool left deserted on the table. His hips thrust softly into your hand whilst his eyes rolled. 

He'd completely dropped his facade of trying to seem normal.

You laughed, glancing down to see the mess he was making in his black jeans. A small wet patch gradually soaked the zipper and crotch of the denim.

“I knew you didn't finish in the library.” You teased with a laugh, continuing to stroke him. “I couldn't. You interrupted me.” He replied hoarsely, making you raise an eyebrow. You abruptly gripped his cock making him whine.

“I interrupted you?” 

You scoffed, tightening your hold on him, making him whimper even more. “You have more mouth than I thought Miguel O'Hara.” You spat, releasing him and drawing his pants down, exposing his huge member fully.

His hooded eyes instantly snapped open, deep pants passing his lips. “What are you doing? Someone could see.” He exclaimed, his amber eyes blown in a mixture of lust and worry as they looked all around in fear of someone being near. 

Your cliniques’ favorite booth was positioned in the back of the diner, completely secluded, so the idiot was fine. 

Not like you cared…

“I honestly don't know what you are so worried about. You didn't seem concerned about someone seeing you when you were jerking off this morning.” You teased, making him growl, his cock twitching a little at that recollection. “Fuck, I didn't know anyone was there. The library is always empty in the mornings.” He said in a low voice, his tone rough and holding so much spite in it. 

You couldn't help but chuckle. He looked so angry, but not like he could do anything about it. His massive body was stuck on the inside of your booth, his well-endowed cock and balls out on display. 

He was completely vulnerable to you…

Your eyes trailed him, taking him in slowly. You bit your lip. 

Even though the dork was a lowly peasant at your school, carrying his stupid little textbooks and allowing the jocks to beat on him when he had the muscles and height to beat their asses 10 fold. 

He had an impressive cock…

It stuck straight up in the air, a small patch of dark brown, coarse hair sat on the top of his shaft, trailing an irresistible line up under his beige sweater. His cock was long and thick and was about 10 inches, with a brown, angry tip dripping with precum and begging to be tasted and played with. 

During your moment of ogling, his large, veiny hand hastily covered the oddly, magnificent sight. You snapped your eyes up at him, eyes narrowing. His face was completely flushed, his hand attempting to cover his enormity between his legs. 

“Move.” You simply said with a hint of anger in your tone as you crossed your arms over your white-cladded chest. Miguel clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from you. 

It wasn't like he had anywhere to go. You've completely trapped him... 

His body was pressed between you and the wall, the table in the center, only assisted in ensnaring him. He cursed under his breath, his cock twitching behind his palm.

Your eyebrows knitted together, a feeling of overwhelming anger building up inside of you. This nerd, loner, whatever the fuck he classified as was something different…

He knew who you were, yet, he was disobeying you, talking back, and worst of all… 

Not submitting.

You've never met someone so fucking infuriating…

Your jaw clenched, trying to keep your composure and hit him where you knew it'd hurt the most. You slid closer to him, your thighs under your short, pink skirt touching his bare, thick ones. 

 “Move your hand or I'll make sure to send that little video of you jerking off to MJ. I think she’ll enjoy posting that onto her little blog for the whole college to see.” 

You said with an evil grin. You reveled in the way his amber eyes narrowed in rage, but a hint of fear could be seen in his brown orbs. His bushy eyebrows knitted together. “You wouldn't.” He said in his rough voice between breathy moans, causing you to laugh. 

You leaned towards him, your face so close to his that you could feel his minty breath against your glossy lips. 

“You and I both know I will.” You smirked, glimpsing down at his shielded hand over what you desired.

“So unless you want the entire college to know how much of a needy little puppy you are, you will move your damn hand and allow me to do whatever I please.” 

You spat, glancing down at his trembling hand and up at him. He held your hardened gaze for a moment longer before faltering. 

He knew he couldn't win here…

He cursed softly, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes. He captured his bottom lip in his teeth, as he moved his hands, placing them on either side of him on the booth. 

You smirked, licking your lips. “Good boy.” You whispered, patting his head like the doggy he was causing him to yank away. You scoffed, shaking your head. 

Glancing down, your eyes met his painfully hard and erect cock. You wrapped a hand around it, feeling how brick and sticky it was in your palm. You gripped it tightly, earning a soft groan to escape his lips. 

“I'm very pissed at you. What to know why?” You asked, squeezing his cock even more, making him hiss. He gripped the cushion of the booth, clenching his jaw once more. “Why?” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Why? You almost got us fucking caught with those outbursts, idiot.” You spat, finding a rhythm and stroking him harshly under the table. He groaned, his head falling back against the booth. ”Maybe you should f-fucking stop then.” He said through pants, which only made you chuckle. “Oh, I'm just finishing what you started in the library, puppy.” You said with a fake pout. 

“I thought you liked getting off in public places.” 

Miguel moaned softly at your words, his cock twitching in your hand in response. You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don't tell me that's the truth.” You teased with a soft chuckle.

No response was heard from him, defending nor agreeing with your proposal; only the occasional low moans and groans left his lips. You snarled, brushing your thumb along his slit, earning a rewarding jolt and a Spanish curse to fall from his lips. 

“If you won't respond to that, then answer this.” You spat, nose scrunched up in disgust whilst you continued stroking. “You act all big and fucking tough when you are alone with me, yet you curl up into a little ball when others are around.” You stated with a smirk. “Why is that?” 

“Because you don't fucking scare me.” He said angrily with a stable voice. You scoffed. “And others do?” You retorted with a snicker, causing him to growl in annoyance, looking away. “It's not like that.” 

“Oh yeah?” You quickened your pace on his cock, fisting him faster and pressing your palm into his shaft. He whined and whimpered uncontrollably, his large hand landing on your thigh, gripping it tightly through your skirt. 

Miguel was so damn frustrating. He was being as mysterious as he always was, beating around the bush and avoiding your questions like the damn plague.  

But you had a solution to that…

You brushed the pad of your thumb over his tip, intensifying his pleasure with every jerk of your hand. “I don't like your fucking attitude with me.” You spat, smacking his hand off your thigh and grabbing his chin.

You roughly turned him to look at you. His eyes dazed through his black glasses and his lips parted. “I hold the power of your entire reputation in my hands. I can get your big ass kicked out of this damn college just by showing the dean that little video of you.” You growled, looking his face over in complete rage. 

Do you fucking understand me?” You spat, your nails piercing into the underside of his chin. Your eyes glared daggers at him whilst you continued to slide your hand up and down his trembling shaft. 

He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as his hand landed on your wrist. Deep groans passed his tanned lips whilst you continued to please him. “Y-yes. Fuck.” He moaned, biting his lip. "Yes to what?" You demanded, running your thumb along the crown of his tip. His grip on your wrist tightened, making you smirk. "Yes, I-I understand." He said, his deep voice sounding rather airy and breathless.

"Good boy." You whispered, tilting your head at him and glancing down to see beads of pre-cum sprouting from his tip to drip down his shaft, coating your hand. 

Miguel growled. “What do you even want from me?” He asked through trembles of pleasure, his cock twitching in your fist. Your smirk broadened, turning your attention from his cock to the four-eyed male, his chin still resting in between your fingers.

 “You heard that conversation between Peter, MJ and I, did you not?” You inquired with a raised eyebrow, making him heave a trembling sigh. “Lapdog, right? That’s what you fucking want?” 

“Indeed.” You chuckled, releasing him. He whimpered, his thighs quivering, as heavy pants passed his lips. He rubbed his chin, pressing his backside into the leather cushions, breathing heavily.

You reached over him, grabbing a few napkins from its container to clean your hands. You could feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you looked over at him. 

You weren’t surprised to see the sight of anger and irritation, but what shocked you was the hint of curiosity found in his intense gaze. 

Was the dork interested in being your puppy...?’

“Why?” He finally asked after catching his breath. You laughed, turning to him with a smirk. “The better question is…

Why not?” 

You replied with a giggle. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed once more. “And you want me to be your damn lapdog?” He said full of spite and rage. His amber eyes appeared redder than usual but it didn’t faze you. “Yes, or that video goes to everyone.” You said with an evil grin. “I think everyone would be rather surprised to see what you’ve been hiding under all that ugly clothing.” You chuckled, motioning down at his massive and still very hard cock. 

He snarled, looking away from you and out the window beside him. You faked a pout at him. You leaned towards him, pressing your plush lips against his ear, and ran a hand over his chest. 

“Come on, puppy. Don’t be so mad, you might even enjoy it.” 

You teased and to your anticipation, his cock throbbed in response. He groaned lowly, your chest, covered in a white crop top pressing into his arm. “Not like I have a damn choice.” He retorted, his voice still resonated with fury. 

“Well, get used to it.”

You uttered, licking a stripe across his sharp jawline, and enjoying how he shuddered at the sensation. You then pulled away, his amber eyes following you like the needy puppy he was. 

“Now, every doggy needs a collar.” You said with a smile, causing him a scowl. “I’m not wearing a damn collar.” 

“So quick to assume, puppy.” You giggled, only seeming to enrage the geek even more. “Stop calling me that.” It was rather annoying how he still believed he held some type of control here. 

He’ll learn sooner or later…

“You’ll grow to love it, puppy.” You emphasized on the name he hated, turning from his faltering glare to rummage in your $500 Prada bag, fishing out a toy you purchased just for your little doggy. 

When you acquired it, you turned to him, twirling the dark blue and red crystalized ring in your fingers. Miguel's eyes followed it, his chest heaving in confusion and disdain, but his cock pulsated in desire and curiosity. 

He could scowl and glare at you all he wanted, but his body gave him away every, single, time

“What the fuck is that?” He snapped, once he regained his composure, his amber eyes looking from the ring to you through his black eyeglasses. You bit your lip. “After our little run-in at the library this morning, I bought my new puppy something special.” His eyebrows furrowed. The geek looked perplexed for the first time.

It was a cute look on him…

“Oh don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise...” You giggled, glancing down at his brown cock, still twitching in desire. You then held your hand out to him, the large ring resting in your palm.

“Now…show me how much of a good doggy you can be and put this on…” 

"Ugh, they are saying it's another 20 minutes.” MJ groaned, climbing into the booth right after Peter. You heaved a sigh in irritation, Mama's diner was never this backed up. It was rather annoying to think you all would have to wait just for three measly milkshakes. 

“So what’s the two of you been doing? He looks like he’s about to fucking faint.” Peter joked, glancing over at Miguel whose bronze face was covered in beads of sweat. His amber eyes trained on the packet of math work once more. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know. The math problem must be stressing him out.”  You said with a smile, subtly glancing over at your phone that rested beside you on the booth, the vibrator app pulled up on the screen that was already at level 2.  

The ring that you had bought your new puppy was nestled around his cock and over his balls, simulating both of his sensitive areas. You gave him the benefit of the doubt to cover himself, you weren’t a total meanie. 

You just needed him to know his place, since it seemed he kept forgetting. 

So you decided to set him in front of two of the most popular students at your college with a pulsating vibrator around his cock. 

What better way would he learn..?

“Okay…” MJ said, brushing off the situation as nothing. “Umm, what even is his name?” She asked, talking about Miguel if he wasn’t even there. You turned to your puppy, giving him a soft pat on the head. “Tell her your name.” You said sweetly, noticing the subtle glare from him. “Miguel.” 

“Your full name.” You added with a smirk. “Miguel O’Hara.” He muttered, hastily returning to solving question 24 of your math packet. MJ looked between the two of you, taking in the interaction before leaning across the table towards you. 

When she spoke, her voice was in a low whisper. 

“Seriously, what are you up to with him?” 

She asked, her red eyebrows furrowed in concern. You scoffed, you couldn’t believe this chick. 

“Why the hell are you questioning anything that I do?” You spat angrily. “The fucking dweeb is just doing my damn homework.” You said, your eyes glaring into hers. 

Maybe it was the load of hair on MJ's head that was straining her brain and neck that caused her to forget her place; but regardless of what caused her sudden amnesia, one thing the little redhead better drill into her head was how much you'll enjoy fixing her errors and kicking her back into line if she'd overstepped.

You've done it to so many others, she'll be no different…

“Hey, hey, settle down,” Peter said, trying to calm the situation between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick, it could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.

“There's nothing wrong with what Y/N is doing,” Peter said, placing a hand on MJ’s shoulder and pulling her back towards his chest. MJ sighed, slowly nodding. “Yeah, my apologies.” You rolled your eyes, dismissing her as you met Peter’s eyes that also looked between Miguel and you. “Although, I must say…” He began, and to your surprise, settled his amber eyes onto Miguel. 

You smirked, loving to see how the aroused geek would handle this, your eyes trained on him. Miguel hesitantly looked up to be met with six eyes staring back at him.

“How the hell are you so…massive?” Peter asked with a chuckle. “You don’t do shit except read, play chess, or whatever else you nerds do.” Peter joked, causing everyone, except Miguel, to chuckle. Your eyes were stuck on Miguel as he glanced over at you and back at Peter. “Genetics.” He said in a low voice. 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. The introverted male’s words didn’t seem to have reached his ears. “What did you say? Speak up, man.” He laughed, causing Miguel to wet his lips. “Genetics. That's all it is.” He repeated in a louder tone. 

“You are telling me, you do not work out?” MJ asked in surprise, her blue eyes roaming over his body. You were certain she was checking your new puppy out. 

Oddly. you shot a glare at her.

Why the hell was she even talking?

MJ, thankfully, shut up after your look, but your puppy answered it anyway. “A little.” He replied, twirling the pencil in his thick fingers nervously. You couldn’t help but look at him. His massive musculature was snug under his beige sweater that seemed to hug him in all the right places. 

His biceps bulging, his hardened pecs defined and you could even sneak a peek at his abdominal muscles that pressed against the warm fabric. You bit your lip, the desire to get him out of that ugly sweater filling your being until you shook off the thought.

The damn dweeb was making you forget yourself…

But you couldn’t lie. 

The geek was exceeding your expectations…

Not only was he impressive for being at the very bottom of the student hierarchy and having the ability to make you feel all hot and bothered, but despite his cock and balls being heavily simulated by the vibrating ring, his voice didn't waver or falter.

Your puppy was tougher than you thought…

‘We’ll see about that.’

With a click of your phone, you raised the vibrations from a mere 2 to a 5. Instantly at the change, Miguel jolted in his seat. You watched with a look of pure innocence on your face as Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. 

He snickered, eyeing the glasses-wearing male across from him at the table. “Man, you are weird, but I’ll let it slide.” He said with a smile. “If the queen here can put up with your presence, which is rare.” Peter snickered. “I’ll be willing to open a spot on the team to see how you do.” Peter proposed, which shocked you.

It was hard to get on Peter’s football team, yet he was practically giving it to Miguel, the most hated male at school, on a silver platter. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit angry at that, slowly becoming a little possessive over your new puppy. 

But thankfully, Miguel said the words for you. “I-I’m not interested.” He uttered, clearing his throat and clenching the pencil tightly in his large hand. You smirked, watching Peter raise an eyebrow in surprise. He glanced over at MJ who had become quiet after your glare. 

“This dude is really turning down my offer, babe.” He said, nudging MJ who snapped out of her trance to turn her blue eyes onto Miguel. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Actually…” You said, instantly drawing their eyes on you. “It’s better if he didn’t. I’ll lose my new lapdog and we wouldn’t want that.

Isn’t that right?” 

You asked, running your manicured fingers through Miguel’s dark brown hair. You watched his jaw clench and a subtle blush spread across his lips.

Seems as if he's starting to like the name or you claiming him…

Indeed, Miguel was a naughty one…

Peter’s stunned expression instantly changed at your words. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. “Of course, but the offer still stands.” He proposed once more, looking over at you as he said it. 

You gave him a small smile before MJ sat up in her chair with a grin. “Since the workers are taking so long, let’s play a game. Never Have I Ever anyone?!” She exclaimed, a smile adorning her cherry lips. You smirked at the idea. “Normally drinks are involved. We don’t have any.” You commented as instantly MJ reached into the pocket of Peter’s red and blue varsity jacket, pulling out his metal flask. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn, I thought you didn’t know about that.” 

“I know everything, baby.” MJ giggled, placing the metal flask in the center of the table. Your smirk only broadened at the sight. You glanced over at Miguel who had his head lowered over the math packet on the table. He was panting, and his thighs were trembling next to your own. He wasn’t writing anything as he seemed like he was just sitting there.

But you knew what your needy puppy was up to…

He was enjoying himself, relishing in the simulation from the vibrator ring you had bought him. You couldn’t help the evil grin that spread across your lips at the sight. 

Whilst Peter and MJ talked amongst themselves on the rules of the game, you leaned closely to Miguel, pressing your glossy lips against his ear. 

“Are you liking your little toy, puppy?” You inquired, causing him to suck in a breath. “Ay cono, turn it off.” He panted, whispering to you in desperation. He turned his hooded eyes onto you and you met his gaze with a smirk. “Why? You like it.” You whispered back with a smile, watching his ears redden and a vein bulge from his forehead in an attempt to suppress his anger, your smile broadened at the sight.

“So no, it’s not coming off anytime soon.” You told him. “Now, you’ll play this game with us and finish my work later.” 

“I don’t want to fucking play.” He growled, making your forced smile falter.

You subtly reached over to your phone, turning the vibrations up from level 5 to 7. Miguel's voice became caught in his throat, his hand landing on your thigh once more. You could even faintly hear the buzzing in his jeans that was slowly making the geek lose his composure. 

His large palm was over your smooth skin as he gripped it tightly whilst he quivered. He cursed under his breath, beginning to softly pat your thigh to call a truce. 

You watched him with a smirk, loving how he was writhing and squirming in his seat knowing you were the sole cause of it. “I-I’ll play.” He whined, lowering his head to hide, his amber eyes on you over his arm. You smiled, lowering it back to a mere 5. 

‘Don’t piss me off.’  You mouthed, turning back to Peter and MJ to see they were, thankfully, still talking. 

You didn’t want to hear what any of them had to say when it came to Miguel and you.

Especially from MJ. 

“The dweeb is going to play too.” You said, hastily gaining everyone’s attention. “Awesome. Do you want to go around as ages? Whoever is the youngest goes first?” MJ suggested. “I think the oldest should go first.” You said with a smirk, knowing everyone would choose the latter since you, the queen bee, said so.

If your intuition was correct,  which it always was, you sensed Miguel was older than the rest of you. His demeanor and rough look showed his maturity, and you couldn’t help but become a little aroused at the assumption. 

“Fine. I’m 23.” MJ said, glancing over at Peter next. “25.” He replied, soon looking at you. “24.” You smiled before finally setting your eyes on the trembling male. His amber eyes shifted from all of your eager gazes. He cleared his throat, tanned cheeks a soft red. “26.” His voice, like usual, was deep and rather low, but you heard his answer loud and clear. 

You were right…

The muscular geek was not only a disobedient lowlife, but he was older than you. 

‘How fun?’ You thought, looking him up and down beside you. It made everything even sweeter. 

“Well, you go first,” Peter said, motioning to Miguel with his head, his dark brown hair swaying with his slight movement. Miguel gulped, merely sitting there for a while. It was for so long that you pondered if he had even played the common game before until he spoke. 

“Never had I ever fallen asleep during a movie.” He muttered, keeping his gaze on the table.

'A boring one, as you thought'

You groaned, nudging his arm. “Come on, that shit blows.” You said with an eye roll. “We want something steamy, hot…” You whispered, reaching over to caress his thigh under the table. He gulped, clenching his jaw. His hand landed on yours to cease your movement. “Fine…”He said, turning to look at you in particular. 

“Never had I ever walked in on someone without knocking.” 

Miguel asked with a smirk that made you pissed beyond anything else.

You growled, hearing Peter and MJ begin to discuss their answer. “Gosh, I walked in on one of the guys with their girlfriends in the locker room.” Peter groaned as MJ didn’t have an unfortunate occurrence happen to her, but not like you cared about either of them at the moment. 

You glared at Miguel, his taunting smirk and stupid glasses adoring his face, the desire to slap them both off overwhelming your being. 

You turned to see Peter already taking a swig of the metal flask, a grimace on his face after the drink. “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have chosen the strong stuff.” He commented, glancing up at you. “Now, what about the Queen bee? Walked in on one of those baddies at your sorority house?” He inquired with a chuckle. You looked over at Miguel, his eyes narrowing as he watched you take the flask, taking a huge gulp of the liquor. 

As Peter said, the shit was strong, it took everything in you not to cough, suppressing the urge by clearing your throat. “No…” You replied, placing the flask back on the table and subtly looking over at Miguel before meeting your two associates' curious gaze. “Then what happened then?” MJ asked, deeply intrigued.

“Well, I walked in on someone jerking off.” 

You noticed beside you, Miguel’s entire body became rigid on the booth; his hand squeezed yours under the table in a rather desperate way. He was begging you with the slight touch to cease any further words.

How cute…

You smirked at the feeling, loving how you had the dweeb filled with anxiety and nervousness about if you'll spill his deep secret or not. 

But you're only a bitch when you want to be…

“That’s all you get though.” You laughed, causing cries of frustration to erupt, although you didn’t miss the sigh of relief that passed Miguel’s lips even though he was the one who called your bluff and dug his own grave. 

“First round, and it seems Queen Bee and I are tied on who’s paying for our order.” Peter laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. “If it ever gets here,” MJ added with a groan.  

“Even more of a reason to continue playing,” Peter said with a smirk. “But it seems as if it’s my turn, being 25 and all.” He said, sitting back against the cushions, humming in thought.

“Ah, got one.” He commented with a grin. “Never had I ever used a mirror during a romantic encounter.” He proposed, his amber eyes looking around the table. 

Of course, being the fun queen bee you were, you took the flask.

“I mean, if you haven’t, you are missing out.” You smirked, taking another swig of the strong liquor, feeling the sting in the back of your throat when you placed the container back on the table. You could feel the heat radiating from Miguel’s body at the mention of you doing something so naughty.

You wouldn’t mind doing something like that with him only when he was ready…

A small blush spread across MJ’s cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to do it.” She said, bringing a sly grin to Peter's lips. He snaked an arm around her, caressing her arm. “Oh really? We can always do it after-

“Oh my gosh. Get a fucking room already.” You interrupted with a chuckle, eyeing the two lovebirds. “Okay, okay,” MJ said with a giggle, eyes turning to Miguel who hastily dismissed it with a head shake. 

Of course, the fucking dweeb doesn’t know how to have fun. 

With you, he’ll know nothing else, you’ll make sure of it. 

“Well, It’s your turn now.” MJ smiled. Finally, it was your turn. Instantly thinking of a proposition that can really spill some deep shit about Miguel. 

Something he's been hiding…

You sat back in your seat, pondering your answer when your eyes met Miguel. Just the sight of the massive male was making your brain sprout with ideas. Who knew how helpful he could be with just his mere presence? 

Why not reward him for the assistance?

Subtly, you sat up, turning the vibrations up to a 7 whilst starting up your round. 

“Never had I ever had a sensual encounter in a public place and secretly liked it.”

You proposed, glancing over at Miguel who was losing it. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head to try to hide his fluttering eyes and heavy pants, but your associates’ words surprised you. “Gosh, both of us.” You heard them say, drawing your attention from your puppy.

“Yeah, we did a vibrator challenge on each other and we went to a mall,” Peter said with a smile and a head shake “It wasn’t enjoyable with the many people around at the sudden bursts of pleasure but overall…it was fun,” MJ added, snuggling into Peter’s chest.

You slowly nodded, retaining the idea for further use and glancing back over at Miguel who was shaking. You felt his hand on your thigh once more and soon his soft pats as if he was a wrestler trying to tap out of the ring. 

But you weren’t a merciful referee, he can endure it a little longer…

You leaned in close to him, pretending to lean down and pick up the pencil that had accidentally rolled off the table due to his squirming. “Lift your head and play the damn game.” You spat harshly into his ear. He frantically shook his head. “Fuck, I-I can’t.” He whined breathlessly. “Mierda, I’m close. I-I can’t.” He repeated, only making you smirk. 

“Be a good puppy, hold it, and play the game, or I’ll raise it to the highest level.” You told him sternly, your fingers finding the pencil in the leather cushions. You soon rose, a smile on your lips as you placed the wooden tool onto the table. “Miguel, how about you?” You inquired in a sweet voice, the lovebirds finishing their swigs of the flask. “Done anything fun in public and secretly enjoyed it?” You asked, curious about how he'd answer and respond.

Like a good doggy, he lifted his head like you commanded. His dark eyes looked between the three of you, before simply reaching over and taking a swig of the flask. 

“Fucking hell!? The nerd knows fun.” Peter commented with a laugh whilst the rest of you looked in amazement with a grin. Miguel placed the flask down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Explain.” You urged, nudging him with a kick under the table. He jolted, shooting you a subtle glare. You raised an eyebrow, reaching over for your phone when Miguel gave you a gentle squeeze of desperation. “Okay…” He began, exhaling and trying to regain his composure whilst holding back his release and being heavily stimulated. 

“I was getting a-a handjob under the table…i-in a diner similar to this.” He said, making you smile, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “T-The girl was fucking rude and mean, but h-had skilled hands.

Very skilled hands.”

He gulped, avoiding your eyes whilst he spoke. “But t-that’s pretty much it. I liked it...Who wouldn't." Miguel said, looking down at his lap and leaving the table speechless.

You didn’t know to be flattered, angry at his description of you, or apathetic. A burning desire in your gut to simply drag him to the bathroom of Mama’s diner and see just how good his cock would feel inside of you.

The geek had surprised you with his answer, this being the only time he had spoken his mind and said his true thoughts since he sat down at this fucking booth. 

“Damn, sounds hot,” MJ said, making you turn your attention from your loyal puppy to her. “Wish I had the guts like that rude girl you described. I could never.” She said lowly, bringing a wave of pride over you. Her compliment only fueled your already replete ego. 

After the steamy encounter that Miguel explained to the group, it was now MJ’s turn, but just when she was about to speak, her phone pinged with a message. She glanced down at the glowing screen, her eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Oh my gosh, babe, we have to go. I’m needed at the university.” She quaked, turning her blue eyes upon you. “I’m so sorry to pause the game and leave so early.” She apologized, standing up from the booth alongside her ride and boyfriend, Peter. 

“I can only assume it's for the newspaper, so I’ll let it slide.” You told her as she thanked you, hastily exiting Mama’s diner. Peter watched with a chuckle, tucking his hands into his red varsity jacket, standing beside you at the table.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing you around, Queen Bee.” He smirked, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You raised an eyebrow, a smile on your lips.

When he pulled away, he gave your knuckles an affectionate caress with his thumb, meeting your eyes. “Call me anytime.” He whispered, giving you that signature charming smile and a wink that made every person on campus faint and die on the spot before leaving behind his girlfriend. 

You couldn’t lie, you were a little surprised at Peter’s forwardness.

You’ve noticed his interest in the great Queen bee, who isn’t, but he had a girlfriend, and unfortunately for him…

You don’t like to share. 

Many whiny groans and the sound of loud buzzing brought you from your thoughts as you turned to look at Miguel in the corner to see something even more astonishing. 

Miguel was panting, breathing heavily with his head pressed against the back of the leather booth. His black denims were drawn down, revealing his strained cock and the beautiful red and blue vibrator ring around his base. His eyes rolled uncontrollably behind his glasses, his mouth agape whilst he rambled in a blend of Spanish and English.

You could only make out the English phrases and words he uttered which mostly were begs and pleas all desiring one thing and one thing only. 

“Please -ay cono. Let me cum. Please, let me cum."  

He implored incessantly, his words so full of need and desperation. You could tell he was slowly losing it, the pleasure was blinding him and he was only at level 7. 

You were hoping to try the highest level on him, but maybe another time…

You didn’t want to completely ruin your new puppy…

You leaned towards him, running a finger over his sticky tip, tracing patterns across it. He whined and squirmed in his seat at your touch. “Aww, you want to stop playing already? I wanted to try level 10.” You told him with a fake pout. He frantically shook his head, gasps of air passing his parted lips. “Goodness no. Please, I-I can’t take anymore.” He begged so perfectly that you almost allowed him to.

Well,

Almost…

“I’ll let you cum on one condition.” You proposed, taking his chin in your fingers and turning him to face you. His eyes fluttered, his hands finding your wrist and grabbing on tightly to stabilize himself. His face was flushed, his defined cheeks, a rosy red, and his forehead was covered with beads of sweat. He was so adorable like that, practically begging you with his hooded doe eyes to allow him to cum. You smirked, caressing his chin.

“Tell me you are my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark.” 

You giggled, eliciting a growl that came out more like a groan. “A-Are you fucking serious?” He panted, making your smile only broaden. “Very, and I’ll only raise the level of the vibrator if you don’t.” You said with a grin, loving the look of defeat that covered his face. “Shit.” He cursed, looking away. 

“No, eyes on me.” 

You hastily yanked his chin back towards you. He clenched his jaw, making eye contact with you. 

“I-I’m your…l-little… 

Puppy.” 

He uttered reluctantly through shaky moans as you waited patiently for the best part of his whole confession. He growled, shaking his head. “I’m not barking.” 

You huffed, giving him a stern look. “Do I have to threaten you again about that video? How about I take that little vibrator and give it to the dean instead?” You said with an evil grin. “It has your…essence all over it. Wouldn’t be hard to discover it’s yours.” You cackled. He shook his head, gazing up at you through breathy moans. 

“You are s-such a bitch.” 

“Are you sure? You are looking more like a bitch than me right now.” You spat with a laugh, piercing your nails into his chin, making him hiss. “Now be my good little puppy and bark.”  You demanded once more, eyes trained on his angry and flushed face. 

You watched Miguel resist you as hard as he could. He put up such a fight, being so quiet for a good while, but just like any wild dog, they break, they snap…

They submit. 

So, it didn’t take long before the most satisfying sounds filled your ears.

“Woof…

Woof.” 

Your smirk widened. You were overjoyed, staring down at your official new lapdog. “Gosh, I’m going to have so much fun with you.” You declared, caressing his chin affectionately. Miguel’s eyebrows rose in surprise and his entire face turned red; even his cock frantically throbbed around the pulsating ring.

Like a dog wagging his tail, he seemed to like that idea very much... 

You wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him at a fast pace whilst the ring continued to stimulate him. “Be a good boy and cum for me.” You whispered. “Make a mess of my hand.”  You told him, kissing along his jawline and earning a loud groan to pass his lips. His hips left the seat, meeting your fist as he thrust upwards. “Oh yes. Fuck.” He cried through closed eyes.

He continued his movements, the leather seat squeaking a little. His cock glided in and out of your palm, completely slick with his precum. You could even feel how powerful the vibrations were on his sensitive cock as he continued to fuck into your fist.

“Voy a- voy a- mierda.

 I’m cumming.” 

A guttural, deep moan erupted from deep within his chest, his thick thighs quivering. His veins bulge along the underside of his abdomen upon his climax. He thrusts one final time into your fist before shooting his load. 

And the four-eyed male just kept impressing you over and over again. 

His release seemed to be endless. More and more of his seed dripped from his slit, coating your hand and the buzzing toy. The vibrating ring and your fisting only seem to milk him for all he’s worth causing him to whimper and whine uncontrollably, continuing to paint his shaft, your hand, his beige sweater, and the leather seats white. 

When he was finished, you looked down at the huge mess he’d made. “Look at what you’ve done.” You purred, grabbing a few napkins to clean your hands. Miguel didn’t respond, only babbling softly, his words unintelligible. 

You laughed at his face which was completely fucked-out. You relieved him of the vibrator, turning it off and removing it from his swollen shaft. The toy was completely coated and sticky with his fluids.

You smirked, eyeing the white-coated ring. It was so enticing and you couldn't help but bring the ring to your mouth to give it a taste. Like savoring the sweetness of honey upon a wand, you ran your tongue along the toy, all whilst humming in ecstasy. 

Your eyes fluttered at the taste. His seed was different…

You couldn't quite put it into words, but his essence was something you’ll definitely want more of in the future…

Something you had to taste straight from the source…

After sucking the ring clean, you placed it into your bag and slid closer to Miguel. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving up and down. His body spasmed as small tremors spread through his massive being. 

You turned his face towards you, a finger resting under his chin. His eyes fluttered open to meet your satisfied gaze. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself, puppy.” You whispered, an airy chuckle passing his lips at your words. “I had no choice…

So I might as well enjoy it.” 

He muttered breathlessly. His response made you even prouder. 

Your little puppy was understanding the game, the fun. You couldn’t help but love the stupid dork even more. 

You leaned closer to him, your nose brushing against his. 

“Finally, you are starting to get it.” 

You uttered, pressing a rough and searing kiss to his mouth. Miguel, completely exhausted and shocked, instantly lost the fight, giving you control. 

You devoured his mouth hungrily. His plush lips felt just right and tasted even better as your tongue entered his parted lips. He groaned, kissing you back, but not enough to dominate nor challenge you.

Which you adored so much…

You kissed him until you were satisfied, sucking his lips until they were pink and swollen and tasting his mouth with your tongue. You then pulled away from his enticing lips, the both of you panting heavily. You looked him over with a smirk, patting his head and running your manicured fingers through his dark hair, and to your satisfaction, he didn’t pull away.

Either from weariness or pure enjoyment, it seemed your puppy had accepted his role…

 But you couldn’t be so sure….

You smiled, sliding out of the booth and picking up your $500 Prada bag from the seat. His amber eyes were full of confusion as he looked you over. You gazed down at your adorable lapdog, standing before him in your lavish clothes of a white crop top, pink Gucci jacket, skirt, and heels. 

You gave him a sly grin, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Clean yourself up and have my homework done by 10. 

I want you at my sorority house tonight.” 

You grinned, watching his tanned cheeks turn a deep red. Your eyes took him in one last time, taking in his little mess, his flustered, stunned expression, softened cock, his massive body, and stupid, dorky glasses. 

All of that and so much more was yours now. 

All yours…

“See you then.” You giggled, blowing him a kiss and turning on your pink high heels, leaving Miguel flabbergasted.

You swung open the door of Mama’s diner, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the bustling streets of Nueva York. You placed on your pink cute shades, the evening sun beaming upon your face, as an unshakeable smile dressed your glossy lips. 

You were excited, no, delighted. 

You had something better than a measly assistant that you had desired before. 

You had a permanent peasant, a puppy who was none other than the outcast of your college…

The student at the bottom of the student hierarchy and hated by all was officially yours. And you couldn’t wait to have so much more fun with your little bitch boy, Miguel O’Hara.

Your new lapdog…

A/N: I enjoyed writing this soo much!! 😆

I hope u guys enjoyed it as well, I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 but...idk 🤔😏

But hope u guys liked!! 💗💗

P.S: Part 3 of 'A Fate Worse Than Death' would be up next week, my apologies, I just had to write this one. 😌

<3 Taglist:

~@oscarissac2099

~@powerful-niya

(Let me know in the comments if you'll like to become a part of the taglist! ❤️)