I Need Him So Bad - Blog Posts

CAN WE PLEASEEEE GET DENKI WITH “get on ur knees” WHERE HE GETS US TO BJ IN THE SCHOOL BATHROOMS OR SOMETHING?? I WOULD LOVEEEE THANKYOU

authors note - hey sweetpea!! i try to avoid making my characters students in nsfw content, so i added a little twist and made denki a soccer player, bluelock is taking over my life ><

here’s the valentine’s day event, there’s still prompts available!! ⊹. warnings - nsfw content

“stupid stupid stupid!” you muttered to yourself as you ripped off your boyfriends, (now-ex) soccer jersey, the same one you proudly wore this afternoon to cheer him on from the stands, while he dribbled the soccer ball across the field, “i’m such an idiot!” you threw the jersey onto the bathroom floor as you washed your face, the memory from seconds ago, playing over and over in your head, the girl your ex-boyfriend ran to and kissed. 

hell, he didn’t even look at you. you looked like an idiot wearing his jersey, he made you look like a lovesick fan. you could never forgive him for that, ever. 

“something bothering your pretty face?” the voice came from behind you, your eyes darted to the mirror infront of you, pairing a face to the voice. 

denki kaminari. 

your ex-boyfriends rival. 

“fuck off” denki walked towards you, you hated how calm he looked, for someone who just lost the biggest game of his life. 

“so hostile..” denki closed the space between you two as he pushed your hair behind your ear, “stupid boyfriend of yours can’t treat you right or something?” 

“none of your fucking business!” you screamed, each word with more animosity that than the previous one. 

“i’d never treat you like that ya’know” denki leaned against the bathrooms sink, as he crossed his arms against his chest, watching you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“oh yeah?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, taking him by surprise. 

“heck yeah, let me show you how a real man treats his girl hm?” he caressed your cheek, as his thumb rubbed circles onto the apple of your cheek, dragging you towards one of the cubicles, a click followed, making sure the door was shut close. 

“get on your knees.” denki pulled his sweats down, rock-hard against his boxers, you could make out how big he was, your mouth slightly agape. denki chuckled, “don’t worry babe, you can take it can’t ya?” you nodded briskly, there’s no way you can back out now. 

“you mind me recording this? wanna send it to a certain someone” you shouldn’t have said yes, but you wanted your ex to feel the same pain you did, and you were all for going lower than he did, and the bar was in hell. “be a good girl for me and take me in your mouth yeah?” 

denki waited for you to grab his dick, before he pressed record, he watched you considerately lick the slit as he twitched violently. f-fuck,” he grunts, a hand on your head pushing you to take more of his length, until your tongue is tracing along the protruding veins, until the curve of his cock is slipping down your throat, testing your gag reflex. “just like that, babe.”

he bobs your head up and down, cockhead pounding against the back of your mouth with each thrust, and you do your best to loosen your jaw, to breathe through your nose and catch a whiff of his musk, of the heady scent of sex that permeates the surrounding air as the seconds pass. mindlessly, your hands float up to your chest, playing with your tits and pinching your nipples through your bra. He grunts, brazenly gaping at the way you push your tits together, eyeing the trail of spit and pre that dribbles out of your mouth, along your throat and down your cleavage.

“shit, look up, baby, look at the camera,” he growls, keeping his cock buried in your throat as he tugs you by the hair, forcing your gaze up to the bright light. you blink back tears, widening your eyes to look more innocent, more desperate, and he groans at the sight of your clouded gaze, of the drool and spit dripping out of your mouth around his cock. “who’s fucking your mouth, huh?”

He knows you’re enunciating his name in reply, it’s just a shame all the camera can pick up is you mewling around his cock, his thick girth reducing your syllables to nonsensical garbles, to slurred, wanton moans as he pulls back and shoves himself back in once more. the coarse hair around his cock itches your nose when he holds you steady, and you can feel his cock twitch in your throat when you gulp around it before he finally pulls back to let you breathe properly. 

he doesn’t let up, though, pumping his cock in his free hand, smearing the mess of pre and spit all over your cheeks, over your rolled out tongue before he smacks the tip against the wet muscle.

“whose cock d’ya want?”

“yours,” you reply instantly, pursing your lips around the tip, and he slides his cock in further, making it poke against the inside of your cheek.

“louder, baby.”

“yoursh, den’ki,” you whine around his cock, tugging on his wrist so he’d push his cock in properly, so he’d fuck your throat until your voice turns raspy.

“yeah?” he grins, moving his hand back to your head, and you immediately take him deeper into your mouth, one hand dropping to fondle his balls, squeezing so he jolts in your hold, hips slapping against your face.

you can feel your own panties grow wetter each time he groans your name, each time you look up to admire the way he throws his head back, mouth wide and singing praise, but are greeted by the bright flash of his camera instead; just the thought of him sending this video to your ex-boyfriend, who’s gonna be fuming and losing his shit, has you clenching around thin air, leaking into your underwear. you sneak a hand down to alleviate yourself, trying to rub your clit through the fabric of your pants, and the movement doesn’t escape denki’s notice.

“look at that, you’re getting off on this? fucking touch-touching yourself with my dick in your mouth? shit, baby.”

he pulls out just to get a clear shot of the way you spread your knees and circle your nub, but the feeling is so underwhelming, muted because of all the layers of clothes in the way, and it makes you whine up at him childishly. “denki, please, need you.”

“fuck, you’re so hot,” he murmurs, voice low and husky, captivated by the way you roll your hips in search of a better angle. “how badly d’you need me?” he’s cruel to ask when he can see how anguished and zealous you are, but he takes great pleasure in seeing the way you reduce yourself to whimpers and mewls of his name, sobbing for his help.

“so badly, denki, I can’t— really need you, want your help, please, please, baby…”

“go on then.” He smirks at the way your brows cross, confused until he nudges your knee with his socked foot. “help yourself, baby.”

you’re so cute, he can’t help but think, watching your lips drop in disbelief.

“seriously…?” so fucking adorable. “denki…”

“It’s that or nothing, babe, now open up again.”

he slips the tip of his cock back into your mouth, but his eyes haven’t left yours, raising a brow as you just sit there and take what he does to you, keeping your mouth ajar so he can slide his cock back and forth, keeping your legs grounded as he taps his foot on your thigh. you shoot him a small glare, lacking any real fire, before scrunching your eyes closed, and pushing his foot off of your leg. it drops in the gap between your thighs and his smirk grows, his hips stop moving, as he watches in awe as you hover over him before lowering your hips.

“joly shit,” he wheezes, lost for words as you grind down on him. He’s stuttering, choking on his own words as the heat from your sex engulfs him-he didn’t expect you to be so filthy, but he isn’t complaining. his cock twitches in your mouth every time you rut your hips over him, digging your nails into his calf, and if this goes on for any longer, he knows he’s going to blow his load down your throat, and this is going to make for the shortest sex tape ever.

“f-fuck, shit, baby, you’re so desperate, huh? Humping my foot like a fucking dog, fuck-  fuckin’ bitch in heat, oh god, oh shit, shit-”

His legs are trembling, like an earthquake is running straight through his body, and he’s sure the camera is a shaky mess, but can’t bring himself to fix his grip when you’re sliding yourself along his foot like you’re riding his dick. 

“fuckfuckfuck gonna cum-“ cum dripped down the side of your mouth as he pulled out, ending the video. 

“let’s show him who you belong to yeah?” 

into my mouth next time, matty.

i don’t think i’ve ever recovered from this

@sessa nation IMPORTANT QUESTION

SINCE WHEN DID DOM GET A TATTOO???

i need this little freak desperately

hes got barbie doll legs or whatever

230117 - valentino on twitter and instagram

Mee. Me me me. I volunteer. I am an Izuku Midoriya enthusiast.

i rly need to discuss professor!midoriya with someone (y’all) bc there is an idea i’ve kept in the back of my mind for years. but i probably won’t write a full fic on it.

miguel o’hara thots

miguel loves watching you fall apart on his dick. you’re face down ass up, mewling and whimpering as he bullies your tight cunt with his thick hard length. you have a death grip on one of your stuffed animals as you laid there with tears rolling down your flustered cheeks and took the brutal pace he gave you. trying to match miguel’s thrusts are almost impossible as he always finds a way to one up you whenever he sees fit, not that you were complaining as having a pleasurably sore pussy wasn’t so bad.

you’ve came multiple times prior which left a creamy ring on the base of his length and a damp puddle on top of the covers. you were overstimulated to the point the pleasure was slightly painful. “m-miggy…s’too much…”you pleaded in between pleasurable sobs only to be met with no answer besides grunts that made your swollen clit throb. you took a free hand to reach behind and push his stomach as a weak attempt to get him to slow down just for him to effortlessly hold your arm behind your back and take his other hand to lay a few heavy spanks on your plush ass gaining positive yelps from you.

“deja de lloriquear como un bebé, puedes soportarlo... siempre lo haces.” he coos in your ear, nipping it gently with his sharp teeth knowing how much you love that. “you’re my big girl, make me proud and cum one more time..”

you already know one more time will mean three more times after that but nevertheless, you love being his good girl and cum as many times as he asks you to.

I'm With the Band (Band AU Dabi x reader)

a/n: EEEK I love LOV band au so much punk Touya is literally my boyfriend my muse my obsession I'm so happy I finally sat down and write a fic about him <33

cw: substances (alcohol, weed, and I always have to give Touya a cigarette LOL)

wc: 1169

"AH I'm so nervous come take this shot with me!!" your friend panicked as she jumped around the apartment kitchen. You chuckle as you accept the shot glass she hands you. Your friend has spent all day running around full of excitement and nerves as tonight she was finally meeting the guy she met online a few months ago. It just so happens that Tenko, or better known as "discord boyfriend" between you two, and his band were the opening act at a small venue nearby. You decided to attend the concert with her to offer moral support, and to make sure this guy was legit and wasn't going to kidnap your beautiful friend.

"It's going to be fine," you reassure her. "I've seen the messages that man is obsessed with you," you two clink glasses and take the shot of liquor. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Mmmmm I'm just so worried ahhh take another shot with me," your friend grabs the bottle as you roll your eyes. "Please?"

After another shot, quick smoke break, and one more pep-talk you, you two finally left the apartment. The Uber ride was about ten minutes which you were grateful for because if it had been any longer you're sure your friend would have talked herself out of going.

You two thank the driver, giggling while entering the venue. It was a nice spot, featuring two small bars and a large space for everyone to gather around the stage.

"Ohmygod there he is!" your friend whispered, pointing towards the stage as his group walked on. Since the main group wasn't going on for another hour and a half, the venue was not very crowded yet. You wasted no time grabbing your friends' hand as you ran up close to the stage. You smiled watching the two interact before the set started. You also couldn't help but notice that the bassist to Tenko's right would not stop looking at you. You smiled at him, causing him to break his gaze away from you, moving to fiddle with his instrument until the drummer came out.

"We are the L.O.V, here to carry out Stain's legacy of rock n' roll," their drummer Iguchi exclaimed before banging his drum sticks together. "LETS GET FUCKING HYPED!!" The crowd cheered as the band broke out into song. You sing along as you recognize the song from the times your friend has played it, happily showing off her boyfriend and his singing talent. But man hearing it live was such a different experience! Between the amazing sound and all the alcohol you consumed before arriving, you couldn't help but get lost in the moment. You danced happily alongside your friend, singing the words to every song they played. You couldn't help but notice the wide smirk on the mysterious bassist's face accompanied by his shiny blue eyes stuck on you throughout the set.

Once their set was over and everyone cheered, your friend ran off to meet up with Tenko. By now the venue was getting more crowded, so you decided to slip outside to catch some fresh air. As you stood in the smoking section, you happily remembered the untouched joint sitting in your jacket pocket. Sadly that happiness was short lived as you realized you didn't pack a lighter alongside it.

"Need a light?" a deep voice caused you to jump before turning your head to see who approached you. The bassist snickered at this reaction, lighting his own cigarette before holding the flame out so you could light your joint. You thank him with a quiet hum and take a puff, moving closer to him. "Saw you and your little friend dancing out there. It looked like you enjoyed our show a lot." Despite the confidence in his voice, you couldn't help but notice the way his hands were shaking nervously.

"My friend is dating your lead singer, so I had no choice but to get into your music," you teased.

"So I'm wrong in calling you a fan?" he raised an eyebrow, smirk never leaving his face. Now that you were right next to him, you were able to get a better look at him. He was tall and lanky, yet still looked very strong. He was covered in piercings, tattoos, and scars accompanied by ripped black jeans, battle vest, and distressed v-neck shirt. You were now very thankful your friend had convinced you to drink and smoke as much as you had tonight or else you would have not had the confidence to stand here and talk to the gorgeous man.

"Oh no I'm definitely a fan," you smile, taking another puff. "Helps that the bassist is so attractive." You tried your hardest to keep up a calm and sexy demeanor despite your heart trying to jump out of your chest. You were not going to fumble this!! "Though I'm sure you get that a lot."

"Yeah I hear it quite often," he chuckles, removing his cigarette from between his lips before moving in closer to you. His face was now inches away from your own, making your eyes widen. "But it's not everyday I hear it from someone as pretty as you." You felt like you were about to faint upon hearing his words, making him snicker. Before either of you could speak again, a loud crash from behind the building caught everyone's attention.

"Can someone in this band keep their dick in their pants for ONE SECOND and help me load the truck?" Iguchi angrily yelled as he loaded up a massive speaker onto the band's truck.

"Yeah Touya get over here! Hey man don't interrupt him and his game!" the man in the driver's seat called out.

"Touyaaaaa get that cutie's number!!" a young girl in buns sitting in the passenger seat chimed in. She giggled as he flicked both of them off before turning back to face you, cheeks tinted light pink.

"These idiots can't do a damn thing without me," he huffed, reaching into pocket. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and handed one to you. You looked at him confused before flipping it over where you noticed a phone number written down. He mouthed "call me," making a phone with his hands as he ran off to help pack up the truck.

Your heart fluttered as you happily went back inside to reunite with your friend, the two of you heading back to your apartment to debrief how the night went.

--------------

The next morning you had to remind yourself that the previous was not a dream, and you did in fact get Touya's number. You grab the cigarette off the night stand and typed in his phone number.

"Hello?"

"So you just keep your number on cigarettes? Bet all your fans love that," you laugh.

"Pretty romantic huh?" you can practically hear the smile as he responds. "But that's not something I usually do. See baby, you're special. Couldn't let you get away that easily."

I'M WITH THE BAND — touya todoroki smau

includes: band au, bassist! touya + guitarist! keigo + drummer! tomura + lead singer! reader, probably ooc...

warnings: fluff, crack, suggestiveness, swearing

tw: accidental edging (I guess?), mentioned ovulation, cunnilingus, allusions to squirting, basically shouta helps us unwind

~

You feel insane. Unhinged. Nauseous with desperation and ashamed of the tears that sting your eyes.

You should not be this upset—this angry and hopeless. It’s just an orgasm for fuck’s sake.

But god, you want it. You need it. You need the outlet, the release, the calm and clarity that follows. You need to get rid of the throb between your legs. It’s been driving you mad for the last two days, forcing you to hold a vibrator to your clit over and over again. Multiple times a day. Some orgasms are much easier to reach, but others are more like drawn out chases.

In this case, it’s not happening at all. You’ve gotten close a couple times, but as soon as you think you’ve found just the right angle, just the right amount of pressure, the sensation lessens, climax dancing away from you like a dirty little minx.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’ve been at it for an hour. You’d tried watching some of your favorite videos then, when that didn’t work, switched to reading erotica. Using your imagination was a last ditch effort, concocting your favorite fantasies.

You thought you had it that time, that familiar pulse in your pussy growing, fresh slick dripping from your hole, and then…

Your vibrator died.

It took a monumental effort to not throw it against the wall.

Fine. Fucking fine. You’ll just use your fingers. Back to basics, right?

The sun is starting to set, sky darkening behind the curtains in your bedroom. The blankets are in a heap on the floor, kicked away in frustration.

It’s just you in the middle of the bed, legs splayed, fingers working over your clit, somehow both overstimulated and desensitized at the same time.

It’s no use, though, and you let out an honest to god sob when you feel the previously swollen bud begin to shrink and soften under the pads of your fingers.

At this point your best option is a cold shower, but the thought alone makes you shiver as you glare at the ceiling. It probably wouldn’t even solve your problem, just hold it at bay until your body is able to warm back up.

“Stupid, so stupid, fuck—”

“Love?”

Shouta’s head suddenly appears in the doorway, home from work and looking pleasantly surprised by the sight of you. That is, until you hiccup out another sob, immediately throwing an arm over your face.

“Woah, hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

A few quick steps and then the bed dips and you feel him hovering over you. Even with your eyes covered you can see his concerned expression, all furrowed brow and parted lips—God, he’s so handsome and good and warm, and one of his knees is between your thighs, not touching but still close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from it.

It’s too much, and you’re too pent up, and Shouta actually startles when you suddenly shout, “I can’t fucking cum!”

Ever vigilant, his first thought is, “did you get hit with a Quirk?” Ready to track down a villain and beat them to a pulp. If only it was that easy.

“Nooo, I’m ovulating,” you whine, take an uneven breath before adding, “‘m so god damn horny I can’t think straight, and nothing is working, and my vibrator fucking died and my fingers aren’t enough and I’m about to swan dive off the roof!”

Another deep breath and then you lower your arm, immediately regretting it when you see the way Shouta is staring at you—eyebrows raised, lips just barely curled into an amused smile. It’s as infuriating as it is attractive, and you’re tempted to shove him off the bed.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you grit.

He doesn’t, just leans a little closer and coos, “my poor baby,” which makes everything so much worse, the heat in your gut flaring dangerously.

“Shouta, I swear to fuck—”

You don’t know what you’re about to threaten him with, but it doesn’t matter, not when he trails a hand between your legs to cup your mound.

You sigh—or maybe sing?—under the touch, whole body jerking when he starts stroking over your folds, hypersensitive from blood flow.

“Look at you,” he rumbles, clicking his tongue before he sits back on his heels. He runs his fingertips over your lips a few more times, thumbs soothing heated skin before spreading you open.

Shouta inhales sharply as if taken off guard, then his voice drops so, so low, rattling your bones.

“Fuck, you’re so…” Gently, like he’s afraid you’ll break, he ghosts over your clit. It punches a gasp straight from your lungs, eyes going wide as more tears form. “You look raw.” Shouta’s gaze flicks to your face, heated words curling from his mouth like smoke, “desperate little thing.”

All you can really do is nod in agreement, pitiful when you beg, “please, Sho… need your help.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, just relax.”

He moves slowly, but it isn’t due to apathy. It’s calm, reassuring, confident that he’s going to take care of you. After situating a pillow under your hips, Shouta lays between your legs and spreads you open again.

His tongue feels like Heaven—warm, wet, and soft. There’s no urgency, just slow, soothing strokes. He laves over your clit rather than flicking or sucking, lets saliva drip from his lips to help lubricate. His facial hair drags against your thighs, but he stays mindful, doing what he can to avoid rubbing against your sensitive skin.

It’s perfect, drawing a long moan out of you. Tears stream from the corners of your eyes, leaving sticky trails, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything except for Shouta’s mouth.

He hums when your clit starts to swell under his tongue, and the subtle vibration makes you keen.

“Good, so good, so good thank you thankyouthankyou—”

He squeezes your thigh, an acknowledgement, a reminder, I’m right here, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you.

And he does. Thoroughly. Tenderly. You melt into the sheets, body turning to a liquid state

Shouta drinks everything you give him. Then he slides two fingers into your heat, angles them just right, and ends up swallowing even more.

the bro himself

rip old man hunter i just know you would LOVE fleetwood mac🗣️‼️

What am i doing here i dont even work at this mcdonalds

HE IS SO PRETTY TOO

you’re so real! this man has driven me to insanity, I fear my 🐱 will never recover

Again

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.7k

summary: miguel finds out you can squirt, and he wants to make you do it again

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being kinda needy, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), a bit of praise and degrading :), creampie (bc i have a breeding kink), a lot of italics bc how else would y’all know what I mean?, also Spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: this thought would not leave my head, so this happened. also, I know there’s a lot of debate ab squirting and how it happens/what it is…I don’t have time to get into all that, just enjoy the short little fic // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Keep reading

IVE BEEN DRIVEN TO INSANITY FR

On mating seasons there was nowhere you could hide from Miguel. Be it on another dimension, up in the roof, some hidden spot in the city, he didn't care. He'd always bring you back to his private quarters and wouldn't let you go until your womb was full of him.

Hands held by his webs above your head, body slick in sweat as he ripped another crushing orgasm out of you. Legs shook in a poor attempt to prevent him start another. The count was lost after the fifth one.

"T-Too much" you whined in between coarse breaths. His hands melded you like putty, this time he brought your knees up to your shoulders as he propped above you in a mating press position

"Cute you think I care, preciosa." as he spoke, you felt the so ever good stretch of his cock deep in your already punished and full pussy.

"Uno más y ya está.*"

To your luck, that's what he had been saying to you for the last couple of hours.

----

Uno más y ya está*- One more and that's it.

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

wc: 6k

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

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

where she goes ᅳ miguel o’hara

“mami, te vo’a a dar hasta que te duela la popola como a glou.”

｡･* +18. dom!miguel. messy throat fucking. cumshot. use of toys. spit k.

“buena niña, look at you drool all over my cock.” miguel´s groan was rough and deep, watching the spit drip from your mouth as you held him as far as you could take him down your throat; spit running over your chin and dripping down to his balls.

it was one of miguel´s favorite things to do: thrust deep into your throat, over and over again to make you gag around him, taking himself out to let you breath but having a firm grip in your hair, it was a proper scene to be filmed, for miguel to remember your face full of tears as you took him whole into your mouth.

“you look so pretty when you’re a mess for me. quién habría dicho que mi pequeño ángel era una zorra...” miguel groaned as he pulled himself off your drooly mouth, taking his thumb and opening your mouth, he leaned down, spitting on your open mouth before sliding his cock back in to mix it together, your spit and his now all over his hard cock. (who would´ve said my little angel was such a slut,)

you looked so pretty with your face flushed and eyes watery, chin slick with spit and the hungry glint in your eyes, miguel was aware that you loved this as much as he did.

“se siente bien, no es así?” he said, inside of your cunt, the tiny bullet toy sat snug, low vibrations that were controlled by miguel making you soak through your thin panties, feeling your desperate hum around his cock only added to his pleasure, head tilted back while his fingers ran through your hair. (it feels good, doesn´t it?)

knowing his baby was getting pleasured and genuinely got off on making him feel good? it was a good cycle to have, you both worked to make sure each other got what you needed.

“what do you think? quieres más? i want you to come while you suck me dry.” he murmured, holding your cheek in one hand and the remote to the toy in the other, your lips were wrapped around his tip as you gave him the most pathetic little whimper paired with a nod. (you want more?)

your moan at the rush of new vibrations were enough to make his cock fall out of your mouth, but it was quickly resolved when miguel grabbed your hair with one hand and threw the remote back on the side, keeping a tight grip on your head while he fed you his cock, your nose grazing the small hairs on his base while he made you take him whole.

“i didn´t say to pull off, mami.” he warned. "you gotta do better, baby.” with a new eagerness, he helped you bob your head up and down, watching you closely, seeing that you enjoyed it, your little noises of satisfaction made it even better.

miguel knew your reactions and your body better than you, and when he felt you get squirmy and your nails digging into his muscular legs, he knew you were about to cum. "i knew you were dirty, baby, but getting off with this? eres mi pequeña zorra.” he smirked, pulling you off his cock for a moment. (my little whore.)

“mhm, miggy, i can’t....” your eyes crossed slightly when he pressed the button on his remote to speed up the vibrations. “ungh- miguel.” your mouth fell open as you moaned his name.

“no puedes qué, niña linda? no puedo entender que necesitas, princesita.” he cooed, looking at his lover. you looked always so beautiful, but seeing you a complete mess, on your knees all because of him made a rush of blood go straight to his cock, getting him closer to his realease. (you can´t what, pretty girl? i can´t understand what you need, little princess.)

“please, please, i-i want to cum.” your voice got higher pitched, breathless as the vibrations rocked you, pulsing inside of your soaked cunt, it lacked the stretch his cock gave on your gummy walls, but you was happy with it in your mouth.

“oh my.... god, miggy, please....” the desperation in your voice was obvious and to him, it was delicious, miguel´s always been a weak man for begging.

“hazme venir como la buena niña que eres, and then you can.” (make me cum like the good girl you are.)

as soon as your mouth was back on him, your start sucking and licking, drooling all over his cock, and his vocals come out to play, moaning your name and groaning deeply.

“mi ángel bonito, you make me feel so good.... joder, right there. suck right there.” he hissed through the lewd actions, the slick sound of your sucking, the vibrations and your whimpers filled the room. “listen to how dirty you get me. soaking my cock with your spit, como lo haría una verdadera zorra. mierda.” (my cute angel/like a true whore would.)

knowing his weak spots, it isn’t hard to make him cum; right at the tip, rubbing your tongue up against that spot while your hands work on his length, stroking up and down while his curses continue, sometimes slipping your hand to his tightened balls.

“mierda, justo así. you dirty slut, just got to get that cock in your mouth and you show what a dirty little girl you are.” his hisses are heard through the messy strokes of your hands.

it was when you began to whimper around him that he felt the orgasm bubble over.

“oh yes. mhm, that’s it. keep moaning for my cock, voy a correrme en tu boquita.” and with one more press of the vibrator remote, the both of you became a mess, his cum in your mouth, your thighs shaking as you came around the toy and held onto him for stability. (i´m gonna cum in your little mouth.)

pulling off to moan at your orgasm, his cum started dripping from your mouth as you moaned his name.

“ah, my messy angel.” he chuckled, rubbing his cock through the mess of your lips and chin while stroking himself to get every last drop on your face.

VIRGIN BOB HAS MY WHOLE HEART

Mission Accomplished | Bob Floyd

Masterlist | One Year TG Celebration

synopsis: It's Bob's 30th birthday and the boys set up a mission for him to conquer.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: it's porn with a dash of plot. Virginity, Oral sex (f&M receiving), unprotected sex, PIV, pet names, hair pulling, cockwarming, cursing.

“You just need to do it, no one’s gonna wanna fuck a 30-year-old virgin,” Fanboy said as he sipped his drink. 

Bob groaned and put his head in his hands. Rooster laughed and shook his head, placing his hand on his friend’s back. It was Bob’s 30th birthday, and he just wanted a quiet night and to share a few drinks with his friend. Sadly, Phoenix was out of town so Bob was left to the devices of Fanboy, Rooster, and Hangman. The conversation of his virginity always seemed to rise after Fanboy had a couple of drinks in him.

“I mean, what are you waiting for?” Fanboy asked.

Bob honestly didn’t know. His teenage years were spent studying chemistry, working for Old Man Leuellen, and riding bulls on the weekend. He was the quieter type, not loud and outgoing as some of the other guys he rode bulls with. They were loud and crass and caught the attention of all the girls walking by. While most of them went out after the rodeo, Bob went home with his cash envelope and gave it to his momma to help pay the electricity bill. Sure, he had his fair share of girlfriends and there were always girls hanging around after the rodeo. He’d been involved in heavy makeout sessions and dry humping, but it never went farther than that. Fanboy joked that Bob was bringing down the sex appeal of the squad because he was still a virgin. 

“The right moment, I guess,” Bob mumbled, messing with the tab of his root beer 

“That shit never fucking happens,” Hangman laughed, “That only happens in the movies. I lost mine in a barn on my family’s ranch. Rooster lost his in the back of the Bronco.” 

“I sat back there,” Bob said with a disgusted look on his face. 

“If you think that was bad. . . Fanboy, where did you lose yours?” 

“My parents’ bed,” Fanboy smirked and Bob gagged, “Hey! I changed the sheets after. Besides they had condoms in the bedside table, readily available. Robert,” Fanboy sighed and put his arm around his friend, “You turned thirty today. . . it’s time to grow up. And as your best friend and confidant, I have someone for you.” 

“I-I don’t want a. . .” Bob looked around the bar and lowered his voice, “A prostitute.” 

“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Jake shook his head, “Here, go to this hotel and this room. We’ll send her over soon.” Jake took a white business card out of his pocket. Bob looked at his three friends and took the card, running his fingers over the writing. 

“You guys have really thought about this, huh?” Bob said his heartbeat racing. 

“Do you want to do this or not? If you don’t want to, we understand,” Fanboy said to his friend. Bob took a deep breath and nodded. He trusted them with his life and knew they wouldn’t set him up or put him in a situation he didn’t want to be in. If anything, they probably already had someone in mind for Bob, “Good, we’ll text you when she’s on her way.” 

Bob nodded again and downed the rest of his drink before heading to the hotel written on the card. He shook with nerves as he walked down the street. He rolled his eyes, they really did think this shit through. Bob kept his head down as he sped walked through the lobby. He felt like everyone in the building could tell what he was about to do. He punched the button for the 24th floor and tapped his foot on the floor. He just hoped whoever they picked was nice. 

Rooster, Jake, and Fanboy had really thought everything through, even picking out the right girl to spend the night with their quiet friend. Y/N was a friend of Jake’s and worked at the Hard Deck. Jake was the one who pointed out the googly eyes Bob would get every time he saw her. Bob suddenly forgot what English was anytime she walked into the room. She was the perfect person to hook up with Bob. 

“You think she’ll do it?” Fanboy asked, as he down the rest of his drink, “I mean, she didn’t seem against it when we talked to her the other day. She’s as googly-eyed for Bob as he is for her.” 

“Hope so, otherwise, Bobby Boy is gonna spend another night using his right hand,” Jake said as he texted Y/N to meet them at the hotel, “Alright, the plan is set. She’s already there waiting for him.” 

Fanboy raised his empty glass and clinked it against Jake’s, “We should buy him a cake.” 

— — — 

Bob took a deep breath, shaking out his nervous hands as he scanned the key card to the room. When he opened it, his wide eyes scanned the room, noticing the soft lights and the music playing softly in the background. He was cursing his friends, they had already set him up and didn’t even tell him with whom. 

“You’re here,” Bob turned to look at you, sitting in a chair by the bed, a glass of Rose in your hand, “They said you left 20 minutes ago. . . did you get lost?” 

“Y/N? A-Are you lost?” Bob asked you. You smiled and set your drink down on the table, pushing yourself up from your spot, “Th-they uh. . . they didn’t mention you’d be here.” 

“I know,” You said, as you walked over to Bob. He froze slightly as your dainty hands came and touched his clothed chest, “Happy Birthday,” You whispered. He took a deep breath as you moved your hands to push his jacket off his arms. Bob opened his mouth to ask how you knew, when you answered for him, “They told me everything.”

“Oh, okay,” Bob said nervously. He jumped at the feeling of you pressing your body against his. His hands flew to your waist, “I-is this okay?” 

“You really haven’t done this before have you?” 

“I-I have j-just not with someone as p-pretty a-as you,” Bob said and cursed himself out in his mind for stuttering, “You make me nervous.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing,” You smiled and caressed his jaw. You brought your lips to ghost over his neck, your hot breath making goosebumps rise on his skin, “Relax, baby. I got you, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Bob said, as you placed a kiss on his pulse point. Bob let out a moan, as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling it softly, as you kissed up his neck to his jaw. You grabbed his jaw in your hand and made him look at you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” You said, “I know the boys are behind this, Jake seemed a bit too happy when I said yes to meeting you here. But if you don’t want to, you can tell me.” 

“I-I want to. Please, Y/N,” Bob said shyly and he innocently bucked his hips. He was painfully hard. He didn’t even know he could get that hard. He was silently begging for more, but he wanted to play it cool. As far as he knew, Y/N didn’t know he was a virgin. He wanted her to believe that. 

“Take your pants off.” You said. 

You smiled and kissed his lips. Bob pulled your body into him more and walked you over to the bed. This part he had done before. He pushed you onto the bed, and you smirked at him. You climbed back on the bed as Bob got on top of you, attaching your lips together again. One of your hands found his jaw and the other tangled back in his hair. You loved Bob’s hair and he clearly loved having you pull on it. Bob grinded his hips into yours and you moaned at the feeling of his hard-on grinding against your core. 

His lips went from yours to your jaw, kissing and biting softly. The dress you were wearing was low cut, giving Bob the perfect view of the tops of your breasts. He left kisses on your collarbone before kissing the top of your cleavage. His large rough hands were warm against your thighs, as he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his lip, so he grinds into you more. 

“Oh fuck, Bobby,” You moaned. 

“I want to make you feel good,” He whispered against your skin. 

“Another time,” You said, “I’m here to make you feel good.” 

You pushed Bob off of you and scurried out from beneath him. He shuffled so he was laying in the middle of the bed. You stood at the foot of the bed and shed your dress. Bob sucked in a breath seeing your naked body. You climbed back on top of him and kissed him again. His shaky hands went to your hips and lightly guided you to grind on his cock. You grabbed his wrists and gently pinned them above his head. Your lips went back to his, as you took control. You moved your hips slowly, feeling the growing wet spot in his boxers. Bob withered under you as you kissed your way down his jaw. Your hands went to his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up over his head and off his body. 

“W-wait! I-I’m a virgin,” Bob said and felt his face get hot with embarrassment. 

“I know,” You responded. 

“H-how?” 

“Cause you look ready to cum and I haven’t even done anything. . . And Fanboy told me.”

“Oh,” He blushed. 

You smirked and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “We don’t have to do this. I am perfectly okay with making out and ordering some cake via room service.” 

“I want to do this,” Bob assured you, grabbing both of your hands in his, “I trust you.” 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. Your hands went to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. He got the hint and sat up to shuck it off. Bob was beautiful. His tall slender frame was always the perfect sun-kissed tan color. You kissed down his chest, swirling your tongue over his nipples as you worked your way down his body. The moan Bob let out as you delivered a kiss to his clothed dick was absolutely pornographic. 

“I’ve barely touched you,” You smirked. 

“I know,” Bob said breathlessly. He already looked fucked out and you hadn’t done anything besides grind and make out, “Touch me? Please?” 

“Anything for you baby boy,” You said and placed a kiss right above the waistband of his boxers. You dragged them down his legs slowly, watching as his dick slapped against his stomach, rock hard and red. A small drop of pre-cum fell from the tip, which you licked up. Bob thought he was going to cum just at the sight of you in between his legs. 

“Oh. . . fucking shit, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob mumbled as you placed a kiss right on the tip. He was squirming around and about lost it when you licked from his balls to the tip, “Please. . . please, please, please.” 

“Bob shut up.” You demanded and he bit his lip nodding. You spit on his dick, before slowly taking him in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” Bob moaned loudly, flopping his head back against the pillows. You lowkey felt bad for who was next door, because Bob was loud. His hand went to your hair, not entirely sure what to do, he held it softly out of your face. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, relaxing your throat to take him in deep. You bobbed your head up and down, using your hand for whatever didn’t fit. Bob guided your motions lightly, but couldn’t help but thrust into your mouth. 

Bob couldn’t focus on anything but the bliss he was feeling. He couldn’t stop the moans that left his mouth. He was thankful that no one he knew was nearby or could hear the noises Bob was making, he’d never live it down. But to you, it was like music. You swallowed around him and Bob’s thighs started to shake, the grip on your hair tightening. 

“Y/N, I think, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob started saying as you pulled off of him, “What?” He looked like you just told him you killed a dog, “I-I. . . what?” 

“I want you to cum inside me,” You whispered against his lips, kissing him. You gently climbed into his lap. 

“W-what about you?” Bob asked, “Are y-you w-wet?” 

“I’ve been dripping since the moment you walked through the door,” You ran a finger through your folds, collecting your slick on your finger, “Open,” Bob’s jaw opened and you stuck your finger in his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. 

“C-can I t-taste you?” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to- no, I need to,” Bob said and you nodded, “Lay down, sweetheart.” 

You nodded and rolled over to switch places with Bob. You lay down and opened your legs as Bob crawled between them. You could see the blush on his face, as he placed a kiss on your thigh. You moaned as he placed another kiss right on your clit. Your moans were his encouragement as he licked your entrance. 

“Use your fingers too, baby,” You encouraged. 

Bob nodded and lifted his hand up to you. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, getting them wet. Bob took his hand away and ran his pointer finger up your folds before gently pushing it into your core. You threw your head back as he pumped his finger in and out of you gently. His tongue went to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and licking it. Your hand pulled on his hair, pulling him closer to you. Your legs went over his shoulders as he laid down flat to grind his own hips into the mattress to get some kind of friction. 

“More, Bob, add another finger,” You said and Bob did as told, “God, you listen so well. Do you want to make me cum? Keep going, just like that. . .” 

You couldn’t help but grind against his face. Bob moaned at the feeling as he was eating you out like it was his last meal. His fingers curled up against your g-spot and you let out an encouragement for him to keep doing that. He felt you clench around his fingers and didn’t stop moving them and sucking on your clit until he felt your release. He looked up at you with wide eyes as your head was thrown back, you riding out your high. Bob placed a soft kiss on your thigh as he slowly pulled away from you, his mouth and jaw glistening with your release. 

“Lay back down,” You said, your eyes darker with lust, “I’m gonna ride you.” 

Bob nodded silently, flopping down next to you. He made grabby hands towards you as you climbed on top of him. You spit on his dick and pumped him a couple of times, before holding it at your entrance. Bob let out a low groan as you sunk down on him, filling you up to the brim. 

“Oh Jesus, Bobby, you fill me up so fucking well,” You said as you started to move up and down slowly. You grabbed Bob’s hands and pinned them above his head. You rode him slowly, taking your time to watch Bob’s face contorted in pleasure. 

“Y/N. . .” He breathed out, “I-I’m n-not going to last.” 

“That’s okay, baby,” You whispered, kissing right below his ear, “Tell me how it feels?”

“So fucking good,” He shuddered. The feeling was nothing compared to Bob using his hand or pocketpussy. You were tight and warm, and Bob wanted to soak up everything felt. The pleasure was clouding his mind as he thrust up into you. He broke free from your grip, to wrap his arms around you and thrust up into you. You moaned at the feeling as Bob was chasing his own release. His vision was going white as he held back a moan in his throat. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum!” He whined. You pushed his arms down, taking back over, keeping the pace he had set. The loud cry of pure pleasure that broke through his lips was pure music. He was like a masterpiece, arching off the bed as he came in you. You moved your hips up and down, milking his orgasm. He shuddered with every movement, already feeling sensitive, “Baby. . . I-I can’t.” 

“Overstimulated, Bobby?” You smirked, still moving your hips. He grabbed your hips, causing you to still. He was breathing hard and nodded shyly. He sat up so he was chest to chest with you, and wrapped his arms around you again, “You did so good for me.” 

“I-I like being in you,” Bob whispered, “Feels good.” 

“I like the feeling of you in me too,” You said back, placing a kiss on his lips, “Do you want to take a bath or a shower?” 

“Can we just cuddle?” Bob asked you softly. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” You answered, “I gotta clean up first, okay.” 

He nodded and laid back gently. You slowly lifted off of him, and he groaned at both the feeling of overstimulation and the loss of heat from you. You grabbed Bob’s t-shirt as you walked into the bathroom to put it on. You did your usual after-sex routine and washed your hands. You sighed at the sight in front of you when you walked back out. 

Bob had put his boxers on and curled up on the mattress, snoring softly. You smiled and climbed into bed next to him. You were ultimately stuck as the big spoon and wrapped your arms the best you could around his giant frame. You could feel him relax into your touch and you smiled. You easily drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace. 

— — — 

“Be quiet,” Jake hushed his fellow aviators the next morning. They hadn’t heard from you or Bob the whole night, so they were praying they didn’t just waste fifteen bucks on a cake and frosting for nothing.

“What if they didn’t even do anything?” Rooster asked him. 

“Then we smash the cake in his face,” Fanboy said, pulling an extra key card out of his pocket, “They totally did something, there’s no way they didn’t.” 

“He did say he was waiting for the right moment,” Rooster shrugged and Jake rolled his eyes unlocking the door. Fanboy’s words were quickly proven to be false as they were both greeted by the sight of Bob having you on all fours as he fucked you from behind. 

“Oh my god! I told you!” Fanboy yelled, a smirk on his face. Bob froze and looked up at the door. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, chucking it at his friends. 

“Get out!” You yelled. 

“Congrats!” Rooster said, putting the cake on the table and quickly pushing the other two out the door. The door slammed shut behind them and they all looked at each other and high-fived. 

Mission accomplished.

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SLUT

HAVE TOU SEEN QUINN MAN SPREADING OMG

Trust and believe that I saw that man slutting it out on that goddamn couch. When the fuck did this become a whore house? God, just one fucking chance. One chance with this man, I beg and I plead.

It's giving CEO!Quinn and I'm kinda here for it…

Kitty is PURRING 🐈‍⬛

• NSFW version on my Patreon Tier 1, link in bio! ♡

kento nanami the man that u are.

content:: breeding.

bokuto has a breeding kink and i do not make the rules.

he just loves to fill you up and watch ur cunt drip of his essence :3 but oh no, it’s leaking out! looks like he’ll just have to fuck another load into you, making sure you don’t waste a drop ♡

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