if miguel had to pick a part of your body he loved the most, it’d definitely be your tits.
if you think he was obsessed before — you don’t wanna know what goes through his head as he watches you waddle around his house, carrying his kid, sighing every time you leak through another shirt. you had forgone a bra ever since you got pregnant, saying how uncomfortable they feel against your chest — not that he was complaining.
“for fucks-sake, again?”
he was so used to hearing you say that, he already had a shirt on hand for you to change into. you were so grateful for your doting husband that you completely missed that nasty glint in his eyes you usually only see when he’s bending you over the bed and fucking you raw — luckily for him.
“here, honey. lift your arms for me.”
as you do, he pulls the shirt up — the soiled fabric catching under your swollen breasts as he wiggles it off you. “ah, shit — thanks, baby. but fuck, am i’m so tired of changing shirts every 10 minutes!” you might be tired, but miguel cannot get enough of it. he was already so fucking hard, practically salivating at the sight of your bare breasts still leaking down your heavy belly.
“maybe you should just ditch the shirts all together, love — you know i hate seeing my beautiful wife uncomfortable.” miguel’s voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lips slowly tracing down the side of your jaw to your sensitive neck — kissing the skin so tenderly. his calloused hands gently massaged the taut flesh of your tits, probing and squeezing at your nipples to let out small trickles of that sweet milk.
“migs, how many times are you gonna say that?”
“as many as it takes for you to finally listen.”
the breathy laugh you let out did little to qualm the feeling deep in his gut — he was dead serious, there was absolutely no reason for you to be in shirts all the time when you have him to take care of you whenever you needed a good milking. his hips were already sinking into to the plush of your ass that he loved oh-so-much — especially with how much fatter it got during your pregnancy.
it was almost as if he had lost control of his body, a hand landing on your waist to bend you over the counter as he mindlessly ruts into you. “dios, nena, eres tan hermosa. vas a ser la mamá más guapa, ¿verdad? mm, my pretty, little mama.” miguel never failed to turn you on to no bounds, like, you have a walking greek god as a husband — but those fucking hormones were making it unbearable.
the force at which he was pushing against you had shifted your drenched panties to the side, leaving practically nothing between you and his drooling bulge. his fingers tightened around the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh delicious hard as his free hand flipped you over — pushing your back against the edge of the counter. “shit…been waiting to taste these all fucking day, honey.”
mindful of your growing belly, he hiked one of your legs up on his hip — craning his neck down to suck on a pert nipple. wasting no time, and at a much better angle, he continued to grind against you — his tip catching against your engorged clit. “m—migs, baby, fuck…” the way he swirled and sucked so eagerly reminded you of when you first started dating, how determined he was to knock you up before the two of you even moved in together.
the taste was so addicting, some of your milk trickling down his body — dripping onto the ground beneath you. you knew he was about to cum, hard — his eyes had rolled back, breathing in heavy pants, hands rushing to pull down the waistband of his sweats. “gonna paint my girls in my cum, love — sé una buena chica y mantenlos juntos para mí.”
“‘course, baby.” you nodded breathlessly, squishing the globes of fat together as he pumped his cock dry — head thrown back as ropes upon ropes of his hot seed coated your tits, sliding into the self-made crevice. “god, what did i do in my past life to have a wife as sexy as you, mamí?” his spent cock bobbed against his thigh as he trapped you against the counter — kissing you deeply as his wet hands reaching up to rub the cum into the skin of your breasts.
“mmph — y’know, i heard cum’s good for the skin. it, uh, helps with the blood circulation in your tits — i think we should do this more often, love.”
“migs, if you weren’t, like — a whole scientist, i might’ve believed you. if you want a titjob, just say that.”
“…i mean, you said it — not me.”
all your home shirts were promptly locked away and never to be seen again.
-new year, new waiting for cheon to get her shit together andpost!
🐝staring: Nerd!Miguel O’Hara x Queen Bee Fem!Reader
🩷preview: “You really didn’t think you could avoid me forever…did you, mutt?”
🐩summary: A month has passed since Mama’s Diner, and your pet has gone into hiding. But you always find what belongs to you.
🐝tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Blackmail, College AU, Cunnilingus, Enemies with Tension, Humiliation, Manipulation, Messy Emotions, Miguel!Defiance Sub, Obedience Kink, Phone Sex, Power Imbalance, Praise, Steamy Photos, Toxic Relationship
🩷 Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I
🦴Word Count: 5.8k
🌸Music: Animals - Maroon 5
🐝Here's Lapdog 2: Pt 1 Pt 2
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering every few seconds like they were struggling to stay alive.
The restroom was cold. Echoey.
The sharp tang of bleach clung to the air, almost metallic on Miguel’s tongue.
He stepped inside and checked each stall—empty. All of them.
Miguel’s hands gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles whitening, head hanging low as he fought for breath.
A rough exhale tore out of him. His bag hit the tiles with a loud thud as he tossed it against the porcelain walls.
‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He raised his head slowly, meeting his own reflection.
Flushed caramel skin. Tensed shoulders. Chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted across campus. Lips parted. Glasses fogged.
He looked wrecked—but not from exhaustion.
His hand moved almost without permission. Slow, shaky fingers unbuckled his belt, unzipping his pants just enough to free the throbbing outline aching beneath.
From you.
You did this to him.
You forced him into humiliating, reckless, expulsion-worthy things—and yet his cock throbbed at the idea of doing it all again tomorrow.
You ruined his morning, entered his class like a storm in silk. Hijacked every single thought he tried to have, and reduced his notes to meaningless scribbles.
Miguel hated this.
Maybe even later today.
He palmed himself through his khakis, a low hiss escaping his throat as the pressure finally eased the unbearable ache.
He loved this
‘Fuck…what is she doing to me?’ The question hit him again, harder this time, as he stared at himself in the mirror.
He didn’t see the outcast. The quiet, overlooked nerd who avoided eye contact and kept his head down.
Miguel saw a man flushed and trembling, rutting into his own palm like a dog in heat.
In a public restroom.
Because you told him to.
The door creaked and Miguel’s heart plummeted.
How had things come to this?
The entire atmosphere shifted the moment you stepped inside. Like a match had been struck, the heat bloomed into the cold air.
His hand jerked away from his body instantly, and his head snapped toward the sound—the unmistakable click-click-click of pink heels striking tile—and then you.
Bold.
Effortless.
Unbothered.
Pink purse swinging at your side, eyes already on him, your presence filling the room like sweet perfume and danger.
You walked in as if the restroom belonged to you—as if he belonged to you.
Like ownership.
Like you owned the place.
Miguel turned away from you, shoulders tight, fists clenched at his sides like he was bracing for impact.
Like you owned him.
He didn’t speak at first—he didn’t have to.
His shame spoke for him, burning bright on the tips of his ears, flushing down his neck like spilled wine sliding over warm skin.
But when he finally turned his head back toward you, there it was—
That spark.
That bite.
That stubborn flicker of defiance still fighting under all the obedience you’d wrung out of him.
“Took you long enough,” he uttered, voice low, rough—like he’d swallowed his pride whole and was still choking on it.
His breath hitched when your hips swayed closer, when your heels echoed lightly on the tile, but he didn’t step back.
Not an inch.
His legs felt bolted to the floor, heavy with the weight of every command he had followed today. Every surrender. Every humiliating photo.
You tilted your head, dragging your gaze down him slow enough to make him swallow hard.
You stepped closer. He held his ground.
And Miguel knew.
He knew you were replaying that image in your head—the one he sent.
The one where he tugged his pants low enough to reveal the thick, desperate outline pulsing beneath dark gray cotton.
The one where the wet spot shone faintly, giving him away completely.
You leaned back against the cold tile wall, crossing your arms, your rose-colored crop top hugging your body perfectly as you watched him.
You didn’t speak. Didn’t tease. Didn’t scold.
Waiting.
Miguel exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping down for breath. “This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled, like he was trying to talk himself down, trying to convince himself he still had control.
It was worse than anything you could have said.
He stepped toward you, slow and deliberate. His hand slipped under his blue cardigan.
But his body had already betrayed him the moment you walked in.
Then—without a word—he unbuttoned and unzipped the rest of his khakis.
His fingers trembled. Not from fear.
But from the weight of what this meant.
He still had a bite—a scowl pulling at his mouth, the tension in his jaw, the thick frustration simmering under his skin.
But this?
This was surrender.
Miguel eased his waistband down just enough. Then his boxers followed, elastic catching for a moment before giving way.
For now.
And there he was.
Thick.
Heavy.
Flushed dark at the tip.
Still glistening faintly from the leak you mocked him for.
Twitching at the cold air touching skin that clearly only wanted you.
Miguel didn’t look at you right away.
He couldn’t.
Because even he knew this was crossing something.
Breaking something.
Becoming something he couldn’t walk back from.
And you knew this image would seat itself into your memory forever.
But you…stared.
Miguel O’Hara.
The quiet loner.
The campus nobody.
Standing in front of you like a defiant, trembling pup—wanting your touch, wanting your approval, wanting relief only you could give.
A sight you’d absolutely touch yourself to later.
“You are a good boy,” you chuckled, pushing off the wall and gliding closer, step by step, until the heat between your bodies tightened into something suffocating. “You followed all my directions.”
Your teeth caught on your lower lip as your eyes traced him. From the dip of his pelvis to the thick, needy length hanging between his thighs, pulsing for no one but you. It made you smirk.
Miguel’s nostrils flared. “I…was merely following them since I’m being blackmailed.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head, mock-innocence dripping off your voice. “And here I thought you were enjoying yourself. You could’ve stopped messaging me at any time.”
Your eyes slid down deliberately, landing on his throbbing cock. “Plus…you are hard.”
Whatever comeback Miguel had died instantly when you reached out and touched him.
His breath ripped from him in a sharp gasp as your fingers ghosted along the dip of his hip, dragging slowly across the sharp veins of his pelvis, tickling the soft hair of his happy trail.
“Ay coño…” he choked, chest stuttering. The sound trembled in the air between you.
It wasn’t enough, but also, too much.
You didn’t realize how much you missed this—his whimpers, broken breaths, the way he unraveled the moment your nails grazed his skin.
Your sharp pink nails trailed up again, teasing, playful, cruel. “You said what?” you laughed, knowing perfectly well you were stealing the words from his throat.
It was music.
Knowing he could never form full sentences when you touched him like this.
Miguel’s large hand shot out, gripping you wrist to steady himself as he fought the rush of sensation coursing through him.
“I should stop you,” he managed to force out, voice strained, cracking at the edges.
But he didn’t move.
You lifted your gaze to him, smug and certain, because you already knew he wasn’t going to do a damn thing.
You leaned in, standing on your tiptops, your glossy lips brushing his ear. “Then stop me.”
But Miguel didn’t.
Didn’t even try.
“Fuck…” he breathed, hips jerking forward in a desperate, involuntary sputter. His cock twitched eagerly in your hand, seeking more friction, more warmth, more you.
Instead, he let you cup him. The moment your palm wrapped around him, his knees nearly buckled.
Your grin spread slowly across your lips as you stroked him—slow, deliberate, devastating. “Doesn’t this feel familiar, hmm?” you teased. “Reminds you of a diner, doesn’t it?”
Miguel tensed, his body going rigid at the memory—and the reaction only made you giggle softly.
His eyes were hooded, lips parted, cheeks flushed, glasses fogging with every pant.
And goodness, wasn’t he a looker when he fell apart.
But today wasn’t about him nor about recreating your little exhibitionist show in Mama’s diner.
So just as quickly as you took him into your hand—you let him go.
“You really…are a bitch,” he spat, breathless and furious, anger rising for what had to be the millionth time—as if speaking the word in your direction was the only dignity he had left.
Miguel’s breath hitched violently, his chest rising too quickly as the heat and friction vanished from his throbbing shaft. His brows furrowed, body lurching at the loss of contact. Then, rage flickered across his face.
“Spoken like a true mutt.” Your smirk was sharp and merciless. “But you still haven’t apologized for running off.”
Miguel’s eyes widened. “That’s what this is about?! Me ditching your sorry ass?!” he snapped, voice louder than he intended—probably because the ache in his cock made every emotion ten times hotter.
Your eyes narrowed at his tone. “Ditch me? You repeated, disgust dripping from every letter. “No, sweetheart. I wasn’t ditched. I was deserted and left waiting like a fool.”
You swept your gaze up and down his trembling, exposed body, wondering for the hundredth time why you were even bothering with this nonsense.
Your eyes drifted down to the heavy, flushed cock still twitching for you. 'Oh yeah…that.'
You could ruin him, end him, drop him like the throbbing migraine he was. And yet…something kept you rooted in place.
A growl vibrated low in your throat, annoyed, furious even, at how some lowlife, cardigan-wearing nerd had this much effect on you. Or perhaps it wasn’t just his body?
“You are my pup.” You spat the word out, shoving that horrid little thought to the back of your mind before it could root itself.
The thought rattled through your mind like a loose windowpane in a storm.
Stepping closer to him, you jabbed a pink nail into his chest, watching his scowl twist deeper.
“You are my mutt. My damn dog. My lapdog until I say otherwise. And if you ever need a little reminder—”
You snickered as you pulled your phone from your skirt pocket, waving it in the air like a death sentence.
“I’ll gladly start by sending those photos you took today straight to MJ. Maybe start a few rumors about the mystery guy with abs for days, pecs for pillows, and a killer cock wandering around Nueva York Uni—”
“Damnit! I get it!” He shouted, voice raw with rage and panic.
The walls were closing in on him again, and you didn’t care.
“Then prove you understand!” Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you stormed toward the sinks, heels thudding like the beginning of an execution.
“Show me you understand, pup.”
You bent forward, thrusting your rear up, slowly bunching your skirt around your waist. Pink lace hugged your ass in ways that made grown men stupid.
You glanced over your shoulder, locking eyes with him—cold, furious.
“Get over here.” A commanding jerk of your head.
“On your knees.”
Miguel felt cornered again—cornered by choices that all led to ruin.
His reputation, his degree, his internship prospects, librarian job—everything could be destroyed with a single post from you.
You, the Queen Bee.
Judge, jury, executioner of anyone beneath your tax bracket…
He was furious, frustrated, trapped, but he’d be lying if he said that was the core of what ran through his veins.
The truth?
Miguel felt shame.
Shame for wondering if you’d jerk him off again.
Shame for wanting to fuck that attitude out of you until you forgot that damn video recording.
Shame for still wanting to be your lapdog.
And worse—far worse—shame for how many times he’d stroked himself stupid these few days imagining himself knocking on your sorority house door just to beg you to take him back.
Only his pride kept him from doing it.
So why you?
Why did he crave you?
Bitchy snobs like you weren’t his type. Never had been.
Also, Miguel loathed people who waved wealth around like crumbs to starving ducks.
However, his spinning thoughts were cut short the instant you lifted your skirt. His breath left him.
Yet, here he was.
Those commands—”Get over there. On your knees.”— triggered something deep and involuntary.
Like a damn dog.
A part of him wanted to drop.
To bury his face between your cheeks and beg forgiveness with his tongue.
His jaw tightened, knuckled paling as he clenched his fists.
But he didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Miguel stayed frozen—not because he didn’t want you—but because his pride was hanging on by a single fraying thread.
You must’ve seen it in his eyes: that storm of humiliation, rage, arousal…and something animalistic coiling beneath.
Then he really saw you.
Bent over the sink like a sin. Spine arched beautifully, pink lace framing the ass that had been haunting him for weeks. Smooth skin practically glowing under the harsh lights.
His heart slammed like a fist against his ribs.
Blood rushed south with dizzying force.
Miguel was panting before he realized it.
“I’m not…” he swallowed hard, dazed eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “I’m not your fucking pet.”
His legs trembled. His bare cock completely flushed, his blue cardigan hanging open, pants and boxers pooled helplessly at his ankles.
Chest heaving. Fists clenched. Jaw ticking. He looked like a man trying to physically swallow his shame.
It almost made you pity him.
You didn’t flinch—didn’t react at all. You just watched him through the mirror, every ounce of his inner turmoil on display.
“Then leave,” you said simply, tilting your head—mocking him with your ease.
Almost.
The freedom you offered meant nothing, and you both knew it.
Miguel didn’t leave. Of course, he didn’t.
“You’re already mine, Miguel.” Your voice was a low, lethal hum. “You have been since I caught you in your office at the library. Since Mama’s diner.” Your eyes sharpened to his in the mirror.
His nostrils flared. His fists tightened. But, he still didn’t move.
“You just don’t want to admit how good it feels to be kept by me.”
The truth spilled from your lips like poison, because he was yours until you said otherwise. It became true the moment you pressed the record that morning.
And the second you said it aloud—something in him snapped.
And another truth lay beneath it—one he couldn’t outrun: Every command, every touch, every humiliating act…felt euphoric.
Broke.
Bent.
With no words, he walked toward you and sank to his knees.
Obeyed.
A tall, brillant, broad-shouldered man—cock out, pride in ruins—kneeling for you like he wanted to bite and beg at the same time.
It was clumsy, resentful, and absolutely intoxicating.
The cold tile kissed his skin first, snapping Miguel out of the spiral of shame and straight into reality in front of him.
It was rapturous.
The only thing he could see—hell, the only thing he could see—was the curve of your ass.
The perfect pink thong barely hiding anything, clinging to your damp center like it was guarding buried treasure meant only for him.
You didn’t look at him directly.
You didn’t need to.
You watched him in the mirror instead—watched the flicker of surprise, awe, and hunger cross his face.
It made everything worse.
For him.
“You’re lucky I’m hard,” he grumbled, eyes narrowing up at you in a feeble attempt to reclaim control. “Otherwise, I’d be out that door.”
For you.
A pathetic lie.
You heard it.
You laughed—soft, smug, cruel. “Oh baby…you were hard before we even entered the bathroom. I have the proof.”
He heard it.
You rested both hands on the edge of the sink and pushed your ass out a little more, a silent invitation. A taunt.
And that’s when he saw it.
But the part that stole the fucking breath from his lungs was the glint of metal nestled right between your folds.
The lace, delicate and wet, shifted.
His breath shook as his hands rose, almost without permission, resting on the backs of your thighs.
Miguel froze. “What the—” He blinked hard, brows snapping together. “Are you kidding me?”
Carefully—too carefully—he spread your right cheek to see more.
The tiny piercing winked back at him, catching the fluorescent light like it was mocking him.
“You got that…pierced?” he rasped, voice cracking. “That’s real?”
A soft pink gem shimmered wickedly above your swollen clit—pretty and dangerous, like it existed solely to ruin a man—to ruin him.
You laughed at his expression, turning your head just enough to see him over your shoulder. “What? Never seen that while jerking off to your little websites?” you teased, catching the glare he tried—and failed—to hide.
Miguel watched porn—plenty of it. But he’d never seen anything like this. Never seen something so obscene and appealing that it almost made him cum untouched.
“But yes, it’s real, dweeb…You like?” You didn’t know why you cared, but that was the least of your concern as his response to such a question was even better.
Miguel’s brows rose, lips parting helplessly. “I—shit.” He raked a shaky hand through his brown hair, swallowing a groan he couldn’t fully contain.
What was he supposed to say? 'Hell yeah, I like it—I want nothing more than to suck it into my mouth until you cum.'
“It’s…insane. And very unexpected,” he muttered, clearing his throat.
But Miguel’s pride had taken enough hits today. He'd rather lick the damn bathroom floor than compliment you.
You chuckled, shifting your hips back, closer to his face. “Well…Mr. Never-Seen-A-Clit-Piercing…” Your voice dropped to a seductive lilt. “Get to work.”
Despite the defiance in his eyes, Miguel leaned forward. His large hands braced your thighs.
His breath hitched as he hovered—too close—over the thin fabric covering your pussy.
“You’re not even gonna take your panties off?” He asked, still clinging to scraps of rebellion and obviously stalling.
“No.” You sighed, your reply sharp and impatient. “You have to work for it.”
“You’re such a damn brat.”
“And you’re on your knees for me.”
His jaw clenched, grip tightening on your thighs.
That shut him up.
Miguel dipped forward, your scent hitting him full force, something sweet and warm, a dizzying punch straight to his cock. Precum dripped onto the tiles.
He stilled, overwhelmed, mouth hovering over the soft swell of your right cheek.
He’d never done anything like this.
But then his lips found your skin.
Sex once in highschool and endless porn-watching didn’t exactly prepare you for this—for you.
A gentle kiss. Tentative.
Your eyes fluttered shut, humming in approval. “Good…but you’re trembling. Terribly.” You laughed between soft sighs as he kissed again, trailing your ass with slow, shaky reverence.
Worshipful.
Miguel was trembling.
Yet he kept going—giving in to the hunger he’d tried so hard to deny.
Hands quivering. Heart hammering.
His teeth grazed your skin in a sudden bite, making you yelp. A deep and involuntary groan escaped him, his cock jumping in response.
“Fuck, I hate you.” Miguel sighed into your skin, frustrated at you, at himself, at how easily you unraveled him.
His lips moved lower, bolder now, edging toward your center. Then his tongue flicked out once to taste you through the delicate pink thong.
“Mmm…said by the guy…whose face is buried between my thighs.” You arched back against him, grinding just enough to make him whine under his breath.
“So the question is…” Your voice dripping tauntingly, breathlessly, and sweetly.
“Is it truly hate?”
Cursing under his breath, Miguel pressed in deeper, unable to stop himself.
Miguel didn’t answer.
Not with words.
Every lick, every desperate drag of his tongue only drove him wilder until he wasn’t just eating you through your thong—he was smothering his face between your cheeks.
Tongue and lips lashed at the pink fabric, now drenched in his saliva and your slick. He devoured you like he needed it to breathe.
“F—fuck,” you moaned, gripping the porcelain sink tightly.
It startled you how good he was becoming.
How quickly he learned.
How eager he was to please.
“You…can do better than tha—”
But you’d sooner surrender your black card to MJ before admitting that.
A loud, broken moan ripped out of your throat, cutting your own taunt short.
Your head fell back, eyes fluttering as you glared down at him from over your shoulder. “F-fuck, dweeb…you’re finally starting to get it.”
Your legs trembled as his tongue found your clit piercing, a sharp jolt of electricity shooting straight through your spine each time the metal clicked against his tongue.
Soon it was too much.
Too much teasing. too much fabric.
“Stop.” Your palm nudged his forehead, chest rising and falling in heavy pants.
You needed his mouth—really needed it.
Miguel lifted his head, breath hot, lips slick. Annoyance flickered over his fogged glasses, but the moment you said, “Take them off,” everything in him shifted.
The eagerness was pathetic.
Miguel wished he wasn’t so obedient. He wished he’d said something snarky instead—something sharp enough to protect whatever was left of his pride.
Miguel hooked his fingers beneath the strings of your thong, and slid it down your legs slowly…reverently. Kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed, right down to your ankles.
But he didn’t.
You parted your thighs just barely, inviting him back in. It made Miguel’s breath stutter.
Among your perfectly shaven, dripping pussy, the curve of your clit piercing gleamed. A small pink gem sat above your swollen bud, matching your lipstick, your heels, your entire cruel aesthetic.
A deliberate choice.
Something pretty.
“Estás jodiéndome…” he whispered, stunned. His cock throbbed at the sight—so hard it was painful, swollen, leaking again onto the tile beneath him.
Something dangerous.
“Cat got your tongue?” you smirked, catching his entranced gaze in the mirror.
You—Queen Bee, untouchable tyrant of campus—had a piercing like…that.
Miguel gulped, unable to speak. His brain was a mess, static buzzing from lust and disbelief.
He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and his cock spilled another bead on the floor.
Miguel scrambled closer—actually scrambled—hands gripping your thighs again as he pressed his mouth to your skin.
“Use your words, puppy,” you teased. “Or better yet…Use that tongue.”
He kissed the inside of your thighs first.
Slowly. Tasting.
Marveling…
Miguel inhaled deeply, like he wanted your scent burned into his memory. Then finally—finally—his mouth closed around your piercing.
You were warm. You were shaking.
You gasped. He moaned.
The metal was cooler than your heat, a tiny spark of sensation that shot through you each time he flicked it.
Loudly.
He tested what pressure made you jolt.
What pace made you breathe harder.
What angle made your knees shake.
His tongue flattened, curled, circled—deep, wet strokes that left you babbling.
Your manicured fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him deeper between your cheeks.
For once, your entire world narrowed down to this:
The buzz of fluorescent lights.
The cold sink under your palm.
Miguel’s tongue and lips learning you like a language he was born to speak.
Miguel growled into your cunt, chin slick, lips swollen, tongue desperate and relentless.
His free hand left your thigh to wrap his cock. Thick fingers slid along his length, matching the rhythm of his mouth as he groaned into you.
“Te gusto así, no?” His words slurred against your folds, feverish. “Desesperado… patético…”
Every pump of his fist made his precum spill faster, coating his hand. Every lick of his tongue made your thighs tremble harder.
His mind flashed with fantasies he’d never confessed—
‘This is what you do to me,’ he thought savagely. ‘This is what you make me become.’
Taking you from behind.
Fucking you until you screamed his name.
Feeling your walls squeeze the life out of him.
“Oh fuck…Miguel!” His name left your lips before you could catch it.
Any other time you would’ve swallowed that weakness. But right now?
Right now you were close.
“Miguel—don’t you dare f-fucking stop.” Your voice cracked, breath hitching as your back arched hard enough to pop.
So damn close.
Hearing his name in your mouth made his balls tighten dangerously.
Miguel cursed into your cunt, doubling down. His tongue flattened, dragging, curling, licking you like he needed to earn forgiveness he’d never asked for.
Your thighs began to shake violently.
Your grip on his hair tightened.
Your breath shook.
Your hips jerked into his mouth, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm tore through you.
“Right there—fuck right there—Miguel!” When your release hit— it hit hard.
You whimpered his name while shaking, shuddering, and spilling onto his tongue.
Miguel moaned into you, swallowing everything you gave him. Your slick coated his lips, dripped down his chin, and smeared across his cardigan. But he didn’t stop.
Not while your clit pulsed against his tongue. Not while you trembled and gasped and sagged forward.
Miguel’s hand worked fast, desperate. His hips bucked, heavy balls drawing up tight as he spiraled toward release.
He licked you clean until your knees almost buckled. Then he pulled back, panting, wrecked, pupils blown wide and he reached for himself again.
His fist pumped through it, milking every drop. His chest heaved, veins bulging along his pelvis as he rode it out.
“Gonna—fuck…” he grunted, head falling back. He came hard, thick ropes spilling onto the tile and splattering beneath him.
Then the restroom fell silent—except for two ragged sets of breathing.
Your chest rose and fell, hair sticking to your forehead, thighs still quivering faintly. Brushing your hair aside, you looked over your shoulder.
And there he was.
Miguel.
His spent cock still twitching as cum pooled under him.
On his knees, wrecked, with foggy glasses and a chin shiny with your slick.
The sight surprised and satisfied you.
A victorious smile curled your lips. “Still think you’re not mine?”
Deeply.
Miguel’s breath came hard and uneven, chest rising like he’d been fighting for more than just air. He glared up at you through those fogged lenses, irritation resurfacing now that clarity was setting in.
“Fuck you,” he breathed. “That wasn’t for you. That was for me.”
“Oh, really?” Your smirk sharpened as you adjusted your skirt with casual elegance. “Be careful what you say, Miguel. I might take you up on that offer.”
You let your gaze drag slowly down his wrecked body. “And your moans and the mess all over your lips—tell me otherwise.”
Miguel stayed on his knees, knowing damn well every word he’d just said was a lie.
“Get up.” Your command cracked through the restroom like a whip.
Complete and utter bullshit.
Miguel’s brows narrowed, disbelief flickering across his flushed face. ‘You serious?’ he huffed internally.
Still kneeling, he watched you saunter toward your purse.
For a man who could deadlift half the gym and jog across campus without breaking a sweat, it was humiliating how breathless he felt now—how weak his legs were after what you’d just done to him…or better yet, what he’d done for you.
The sway of your hips. The intentional angle of your lean as you bent over. Your skirt lifted just enough to flash a pink lace again—
A promise.
A reminder. A warning.
His throat tightened. He remembered that piercing. That wicked little jewel sitting pretty between your folds.
His face burned hotter as he pushed himself upright onto unsteady legs, shamefully aware he was still staring at your ass like a starving man denied a final meal.
The one he’d just had his tongue on. The one he now wanted between his lips again.
Miguel cleared his throat—too rough, too shaky.
He reached down and grabbed for his boxers and khakis still pooled around his ankles, tugging them up with stiff, embarrassing movements.
“D-Don’t expect this to…be a daily thing,” he muttered, fumbling with his zipper. His voice tried for icy defiance, but landed somewhere between flustered and wrecked. “I actually care about my education.”
And despite the glare he tried to throw your way, he looked every bit the lapdog you’d made him.
His hands shook just enough to betray him. His breath still came too fast, and his cock hadn’t fully softened.
He hated you.
He wanted you.
He was yours.
“Whatever.” You barely spared him a glance, rifling through your purse.
And he knew it.
You had a snarky comeback on the tip of your tongue, but honestly? You weren’t listening.
You were too busy searching for that one particular item.
‘There it is.’ Your fingers curled around the tub.
Turning back toward him with a mischievous glint in your eye. You twirled the peony pink lipstick between your manicured fingers.
“What do you want now?” he sighed, looking down at you with that weary frustration of someone who already knew that spark in your eyes meant trouble.
Miguel stilled. Eyebrows raised. Hands pausing halfway up his belt.
He assumed you were about to fix your makeup until you walked right up to him and stopped dangerously close.
You silenced him instantly with a single manicured finger pressed to his lips. “Hush. And hold still.”
Miguel swallowed hard as you slowly crouched down in front of him.
His heart thudded loudly—too loudly—against his ribs.
His cock stiffened in his pants again, shamefully eager at the thought of your mouth being on him next.
But instead of giving him that hopeful BJ, you lifted his cardigan and tugged his waistband down just a little.
Just enough to reveal the lightly shaven dip of his pelvis, the curve of his hipbones, the trail of hair disappearing into his boxers, the visible veins across his lower abdomen, and the growing bulge beneath it all.
Looking up at him, lips curled, you popped the cap off your lipstick and twisted the base.
His breath stuttered as you dragged your fingertips across the perfect spot—right above his V-line. Where his skin was hot, taut, and undeniably sensitive.
“Sorry to ruin your little fantasy, mutt,” you teased with that sultry tone. “But you haven’t earned a blowjob. Not yet.”
Then you raised the lipstick.
He winced at the cold, creamy glide of the lipstick against his skin.
Miguel’s brain short-circuited. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, though he didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“Fuck… what are you—”
But he didn’t breathe again until you sat back on your heels, grinning wickedly. “Hmm…it’s missing something…”
He felt the strokes and each letter forming. He could feel the anxiousness crawling up his throat.
“Missing what?” Miguel snapped through clenched teeth.
Your answer was a loud, unapologetic smooch pressed right to his pelvis.
He moaned—low, startled, involuntary.
“There,” you murmured, standing. “Now you’re mine.”
Miguel stared at you, stunned.
‘Now you are mine.’
What the actual hell?
He twisted around to the mirror, lifting his shirt and froze. Because there it was: Your name.
Miguel swallowed hard.
In bold, pink lipstick, written across his tan skin, and right over his—
The lipstick glowed against him—marking him, claiming him, branding him.
Beside it, your kiss print bloomed like a signature further showing ownership.
His jaw flexed. His chest rose and fell like he was overheating from the inside.
“You’re—insane,” he finally growled.
“And you’re hard. Again,” you shot back, watching him in the mirror as you touched up your lips with the same lipstick that now marked him.
You plucked your purse from atop his bookbag—no way were you letting it touch the dirty restroom floor—and tucked the lipstick inside.
He was going to blow another load.
“Peter B’s throwing a party after the homecoming game,” you said casually, adjusting your top. “I’m expected to be there.”
Miguel scoffed, buckling his pants, and pulling himself back together. He removed his glasses to wipe them clean, trying to erase the evidence of everything that just happened.
“So?” he mumbled, slipping them back on.
You caught his gaze. He quickly looked away.
“So,” you repeated, stepping closer. “I’m picking you up,”
Miguel’s heartbeat stumbled. “Maybe I have plans,” he lied horribly.
He had no plans. Ever.
You snorted. “You don’t. I checked your schedule.” Slowly and unexpectedly, you reached up and smoothed down his hair. Your nails grazed his scalp, making him shiver.
His boss at the library practically begs him to get a life.
“And if I say no?” he muttered, cheeks hot, breath catching.
You tucked a strand behind his ear. Your smile was cruel and pretty—a thing he didn’t believe was possible until he met you.
“I’ll send that picture of you leaking all over yourself to MJ. And maybe the dean.”
Miguel glared, but you giggled—soft, smug, and annoyingly…cute.
“And how do you even know where I live? How do you know my schedule?” He asked, voice tight.
“I have my ways.” Which was the polite and short version of saying you spiraled when he ghosted you and did FBI-level search.
You leaned in, lips brushing his. “Next Friday,” you whispered. “Be ready.” Your smile twisted. “And if you ditch me again? Same rules apply.”
Not that he needed to know that.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groaned. “You’re leaking the fucking pictures and video.”
“Good,” you murmured before you kissed him.
A soft gasp slipped from Miguel’s lips before he could stop it—and worse, a low, traitorous hum of satisfaction followed right behind it.
The kiss was brief. Nothing like the deep, hungry, breath-stealing one you’d given him in the diner. But it didn’t matter.
It still rocked him, leaving him breathless and something blazing under his ribs that he’d never admit out loud.
Dazed, wrecked, and entirely too pliant, Miguel watched you saunter toward the door—hips swaying, perfume lingering, everything about you spelling trouble he couldn’t walk away from.
‘Damn you,’ he thought hazily. ‘Damn you for kissing like that.’ The thought drifted through his fogged brain as you pulled away, leaving his lips tingling, his pulse stumbling.
He almost thought that was it—that you’d leave him in ruins again.
“Oh!” you chirped, mischief sparkling in your eyes as you reached underneath your skirt.
But then you stopped.
Miguel’s brows pinched together just a second before your pink thong slid down your legs and into your hands.
Then—you tossed it.
Instinct alone made him catch it one-handed.
His breath hitched, pupils blowing wide behind his frames.
They were still damp, warm, and held the scent of your release clinging to the fabric like a brand.
“You’re keeping those,” you said with a smile that could slice through steel. Adjusting your skirt, you turned with a flick of your hair.
Miguel stood frozen, clutching your panties, heart pounding and cock stirring like he hadn’t just spent himself all over the floor.
“See you around, pup.” You blew him a kiss and walked out—heels clicking, hips swaying like you owned the whole damn world.
You left him wanting again.
And as you stepped into the hallway, a soft breeze kissed the heat between your thighs, coaxing an even deeper, more triumphant smirk onto your lips.
Needing again.
Obeying again.
Your lapdog was back.
And this time, you planned to keep him on a much tighter leash.
A/N: This is the end of Lapdog 2! I hope you enjoyed it, because I ADORREEE this series so much, yes, there will be a third. That said, please bear with me, as I can’t promise it’ll be coming soon… but it will definitely be a future work.
Thank you all so much for the love you’ve shown the Lapdog series. I’ll do my best to post more in the new year!
Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you’d like to add a request to the kink series Entangled Desire, or if you have an idea in general, feel free to message me or submit an ask. Don’t be nervous—your idea could be really good!
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a/n this is kinda rushed cause i wrote it in like five minutes and im too lazy to edit it, also not proofread!
nerd!miguel who couldn’t get enough of your taste once he ate out your pussy
nerd!miguel with who things started when you manipulated him into agreeing to do your homework in exchange for a blowjob
nerd!miguel who’s dick turned out bigger than you thought possible, he could barely fit into your mouth
nerd!miguel who begged you to let him do more of your homework and continue on with your deal
nerd!miguel who broke the scale for coming the most times in one night once you allowed him to fuck your ‘tight’ pussy
nerd!miguel who’s next goal was eating you out, and once he achieved that goal everything became on background for him
nerd!miguel who could only think about you and your cunt. He was in class trying to listen to the professor, but instead thinking about how good your pussy tastes. He was showering, thinking about your pussy. Suddenly once he got a taste that was all he could think about, every hour, every minute, every second.
nerd!miguel who was obsessed with your cunt
nerd!miguel who’s head you had to pry out of between your thighs from the overstimulating pain his magical tongue was causing you
Description: A soft moment with Nerd!Miguel.
Nerd!Miguel masterlist
You look beautiful. He always thinks that, but especially now as you fit yourself into his side, watching as he flips through Netflix for something to watch.
It wasn’t like this before, with Ava she would leave when it was done, put her clothes back on without sparing him a second look. But not you, you stayed, slipped his t-shirt on, climbed back into bed with him, clinging to him like a teddy bear.
“Do you want any more water?” Miguel asks, turning his head to you.
You shake your head then rest it on his chest. “No, I just want to stay right here for a bit.”
He’s pretty sure you can hear his heart pounding against his chest, his face burns, and he wants to melt into the mattress, his affection for you overflowing. “Yeah, no problem, you know you can stay as long as you like.”
You hum in response and place your hand on his chest, right over his heart.
“How about this movie? I’ve heard it’s good.” He suggests, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat.
“Whatever you think is best, I trust you.” You say sleepily, curling further into him.
I trust you. Is he dead? Is this heaven?
He clicks the movie and settles in, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed and draping it over the both of you.
You and Miguel chat back and forth for a while pointing out inaccuracies in the movies, laughing at the jokes, cringing at the cheesy acting then fall silent, absorbed in the movie playing on the screen mounted to the wall.
Miguel gently trails his fingers up and down your back, the TV casting a soft glow across the floor, rain tapping against the window, the fuzzy blanket arranged haphazardly, your head still resting on his chest, flooding his senses with the scent of your perfume.
“As if you could splice DNA that quickly.” He snorts, eyes still locked on the screen.
When you don’t respond, he glances down. Your eyes are closed, your face half-buried in his sweatshirt, your fingers gently curled around the fabric keeping hold of him, your breathing soft and even.
Miguel smiles, warmth flooding through him, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in the sight. He never thought he would be here, with you, the pretty popular girl from his lab, the one every guy wanted, every guy fantasied about. But here you are, in his room, wearing his t-shirt, curled up and sound asleep on his chest.
How did he get this lucky? You could have anyone you wanted, he’s seen the way guys on campus look at you, but you never seem to notice. You say it’s because you’re always looking at him, and maybe you’re right. It’s intoxicating, the way you look at him. All pretty and perfect, looking up at him through your lashes, a smile toying at your lips. Or when you’re concerned, the emotion brimming in your eyes, the way you latch onto him, cling to him.
He bites the inside of his cheek as images from earlier make their way center stage. The feeling of your nails digging into his skin, the warmth of your walls desperately trying to coax him deeper, the hunger in your eyes as they met his. Of course, you’re tired, he did everything he could to pull climax after climax from you until you begged him to stop.
He pushes the memories away, wanting to soak in this peaceful moment. The sound of your breathing, the way you sigh softly and bury more of your face in his chest.
You’re so beautiful, so perfect, he wants to freeze time, wants to never let you go, wants to live in this moment forever.
An explosion lights up the TV screen, the sound rousing you from your slumber, and you lift your head blinking at him blearily. “What’s going on?”
He brushes his lips across your forehead, already missing the comforting weight of your body resting on his. “It’s just the movie, I can turn it down.”
“Oh no, the movie, Miguel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You tell him, smoothing your hair down with your fingers, now wide awake.
Miguel shakes his head, his voice dipping low. “Don’t worry about it, you obviously needed the sleep.” A catlike smile spread across his face at your flustered expression.
You smack his shoulder playfully. “Perv.”
“You like it.” He teases, slipping his hands under your bare thighs and pulling you closer.
You yelp at the sudden movement, but soon relax into him, tracing his facial features with the tip of your finger. “I guess I do.”
He marvels at you, at the beauty of you. Even with smudged makeup, and your hair a bit tangled, you’re still breathtaking.
“What?” You ask, smiling down at him, radiant as the sun.
“You’re just so…beautiful.”
“Miguel.” You drag out his name, smiling embarrassedly, turning your face from his.
“Y/N.” He mimics, turning your face back towards his, and kissing you.
You melt into him, like you always do, as if he’s the only one who knows how to kiss you, the only one who should ever kiss you.
“You’re really handsome, you know? Insanely so.” You say between kisses, wanting to return his compliment, unable to just accept his praise.
“Oh really?” He asks. He can feel himself blushing, so he presses his lips to the corner of your lips.
You nod the best you can, eyes fluttering shut when Miguel’s lips drift lower, tilting your head instinctually, allowing him more access to your already marked skin. “Yeah, it’s not fair.”
“Dulzura, dulzura, dulzura, have you not heard the saying all is fair in love and war?” He presses the words into your skin, preening at the sight of his earlier marks. Later you’ll chide him for leaving such obvious hickeys, but right now he knows you don’t care.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just kiss me.” You say, cupping his cheek and bringing his lips back to yours.
He does so happily, humming against you, endorphins and dopamine blooming, traveling across his synapses with unparalleled speed. “As you wish.”
A/N: so basically, this is my interpretation of a scenario that happened in the nerd! miguel lore!! obviously this isn't 'canon', this is just my interpretation of the wonderful storyline by @nymphomatique !! always go check her out, her stories are honestly the best <33 hope you all enjoy and welcome to the club!!^^
'he's not good for you y/n!' 'he's a freak y/n!' 'he's such a weirdo compared to you y/n!' 'get rid of him y/n!' 'get rid of his ass y/n!'
that's all your 'friends' ever said to you about miguel o'hara. they hated your relationship with him. he was a nerd sure, but all your 'best friends' were adamant that he was no good for you. or your name, for that matter
he was a bit of an outcast and nerd, sure, he used to sit alone at lunch, he would get bullied by the football team, he never got invited to parties, and don't even get started on his glasses.
but, no matter what, you wanted him. you had a reputation of popularity and cockiness sure, but you wanted to introverted freak nonetheless. he was just so.. sweet. and no matter what, you wanted him.
eventually you listened to your friends, cutting off everything you had with miguel so you could stop hearing the constant nagging of 'when are you gonna get rid of him?'
miguel being miguel, he was heartbroken. he cried for days, while you were enjoying your free time partying or sleeping with randomers.
a few weeks swings by, and parker's usual summer party is just tonight. he has one every year, and without a doubt they're the best parties of the whole school year. you were obviously first invite, and you happily agreed. but what you didn't expect, was the conversation in chemistry class that parker and his other 'popular' football friends were saying.
'yeah i invited that o'hara kid, it's gonna be so funny!' peter said, as one of the boys joined in. 'i say we throw him into the pool!' he said, as you chimed in. 'don't be dicks you think you're all so cool and popular bullying a kid? grow up.' you snapped.
peter smirked. 'aw, is little y/n getting possessive over her little ex fuck toy? i swear if you two are gonna fuck in my bed-' 'even if we do i'm sure it'll be better then having another night with your 2 incher. at least he knows where the clit is.' you replied snarkily, the boys laughing as peter went red in the face in anger.
'you're such a slut!' he snapped, you smiled. 'yeah well at least i didn't fuck mandy simpson in the back of english lit last semester.' you said, as peter was livid. he turned around, as you and your friends laughed.
the party arrived, and you wore your favourite black tight dress. it was a spaghetti strap, paired with gold hoop earrings, a gold necklace and some black strap heels. you packed a black and gold bikini just in case the boys decided their usual 2am pool dip.
you grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring 50% in, mixing it with some coca cola. you noticed the usual hockey boys sniffing some sort of substance you didn't really care, you then saw the pick me girls all over peter and his friends. your friends were smoking back in the garden, beside the pool. you decided to walk over to them.
'hey girl! you want a smoke?' gracie asked, as you smiled and lit a cigarette, smoking it with your friends.
'hey, is that.. o'hara?' kate said, pointing to a corner. you turned around quickly, seeing the boy you oh so fondly missed (but you would never tell anyone that).
he looked more ripped. he had been going to the gym, you noticed that when you stalked his instagram story last week. he wore a pair of black jeans, and a polo shirt that was a little too tight for him. his hair was slicked back, and his glasses were a little crooked as usual.
'what a nerd, who invited him?' grace whispered. 'i heard peter invited him just to take the piss outta him. a little far fetched if you ask me.' maddy said, as abbie chimed in. 'well after making y/n look like an absolute freak for dating him, i'm sure the nicest thing o'hara could do is at least look popular so y/n doesn't look like a complete moron.'
'say that again?' you swung your head to abbie, who immediately shut her mouth. 'you can't talk abbie. i swear you fucked hobie brown during spring break?' you replied, as your friends laughed, abbie nodding. 'i deserved that.'
a few hours rolled by, and you were.. tipsy. your friends were either dancing, drinking or making out with one of the hockey dudes. you however, was searching for miguel. and when you found him, your heart boiled.
'cmon o'hara! we so kindly invited you to our party, why don't you just take a little swim with us?!' peter said, pinning miguel up to a wall. miguel was a shaking mess. you sighed, walking up to peter. 'hands off him.' you said, sternly.
'cmon y/n, you two ain't even together anymore. let's just show this little freak what parties are really about hm?' peter replied, as you smacked him swiftly, causing peter to lose his grip on miguel.
'WHAT THE FUCK?!' he snapped. 'touch my boy again, and i'll fucking end your career. you hear me?! one snapchat story and you could lose everything parker, you hear me?! now fuck off, enjoy your little party, and leave me and MY man alone!' you yelled, as peter's friends were awe-struck. they knew you were mouthy, but jeez.
'stupid bitch!' peter yelled, before walking away. tears welled miguel's eyes, as y/n grabbed his hand, taking him into her car.
she started the car, as the two were silent on the way home. 'w..where are we going?' miguel asked. 'my dorm.' you said in reply. '..i'm not your boy y'know. not anymore.' miguel mumbled. that made you raise a brow. 'i'm sorry, what?'
'you said i was 'yours' earlier, a-and..' tears fell down miguel's face. 'i'm not. n-not adfter y-you dumped me.' he said, as you sighed.
'..you're supposed to be smart, o'hara. why the fuck can't you see why i dumped you?' you said, as miguel looked away. 'i do know. i- i know it's because your friends said so. th-they didn't want you to be unpopular and weird.' he said.
'..i'm.. fuck man.' you mumbled, sighing. 'you know me, miguel. you know i hate saying this. but.. i'm sorry.' you said, that made his heart stop. you're.. sorry?
'i do want you. i've always fucking wanted you. but my friends they.. they just- they were in my ear for so long i-' 'tell me.' he cut you off. 'what?' you asked. 'what were we? we weren't exactly together, b-but we weren't not? i.. all i know is that we weren't just friends.' miguel stated.
he had a point. technically speaking, you two were just fuck buddies. 'we.. we were just fuck buddies.' you said honestly. 'and i stopped that because of my.. stupid fucking friends.' you parked outside the dorm. 'and y'know? i don't give two shits what anyone thinks about us.' you said, looking at miguel. he wiped his tears.
'do-does that make us.. something again?' he asked. '..get out.' you stated, as you got out the car, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the dorm.
---------------------------------------
'm..mistress p-please..' he begged, his legs shaking. you had been sucking him off for about an hour now, not stopping. it was his nth orgasm, and he couldn't feel anything.tears were streaming down his face, but you weren't done. not yet.
'let your mistress please you, yeah baby? i've been neglecting you for so long..' you cooed, stroking his cock as his eyes rolled back. you tutted. 'aww, so sensitive.. is my little dweeb tapping out before even touching mistress?' you teased, as he shook his head.
'n..no.. w-want to feel y-you mistress.. p-lease..' he whimpered, as you let go, moving to sit on his lap.
'trust me baby, we aren't stopping until i say so.'
Summary:
You bullied him out of protection, he was an easy target to others. 4 years passed by in a blink after graduation and you thought you'd never see your high school crush again.... Not until you were transferred to a new department. 1.4k words
Warnings:
Mentions of past bullying, Mild profanity, verbal teasing
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌・❥・﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
╰┈➤ Y/N's POV
The alarm buzzed harshly across my room, dragging me out of a dream I didn’t want to leave. I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. College, again. Great. Coffee might fix this, if I could even find the motivation to get dressed
I huffed and slammed my clock silent before pausing, letting the warmth of the sunlight spill on the floor. Silence filled my room, the chirp of birds the only present sound that made me stretch my arms above my head
Oh how I wish things would stay this peaceful. No rushing, no lectures, no deadlines. Just a little peace before the chaos starts
But alas, time wasn't on my side
It never was
How long has it been since I last saw him? I thought to myself as I padded over to my bathroom to rinse my face with cold water
It felt as if it was yesterday that I was shoving that stupid nerd into his locker, laughing as his books scattered across the hallway floor, papers sliding under lockers while he knelt to pick them up
Four years since I last saw the guy whose life I made a living hell in high school. I mean, I'm sure he liked my public threats about shoving his glasses into the nearest toilet
But in my defense, Miguel O’Hara had this horrible habit of existing while being painfully cute and completely unaware of it
Which was dangerous because high school was full of idiots who thought picking on the quiet nerds was peak entertainment. And if there was one thing I hated more than stupid people, it was watching them gang up on someone who wouldn’t fight back
So I did whatever rational thing my 16 year old mind would do
I claimed him
Loudly. Publicly. Relentlessly
If anyone wanted to mess with MY nerd, they had to go through me first
Unfortunately, protecting him also meant tormenting him just enough to make it believable;)
Did it make sense? No. But did it work? Absofuckinglutely
No one touched him after sophomore year and Miguel never knew of my claim over him. As far as he knew, I was just the resident nightmare who made his life miserable for fun
That's how our life went. He was my nerd, and I was his typical high school bully. And most of all, he was mine
And then graduation happened...
The smell of burning eggs snapped me out of my thoughts and I cursed under my breath as I turned the stove off. I coughed and fanned the smoke away then grimaced when I saw the most charcoal-looking egg that humanity has ever seen
"Ugh, so much for that delicious breakfast in mind..." I huffed then ate the burnt food, I didn't exactly have enough time left before I'm late to school
Damn Miguel for making me lose my focus... He always did and I hated him for that
And damn me even more because even after all this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him
✧
The lab was more crowded than I expected
Every station was already filling up. Students claiming stools, setting down notebooks, arguing quietly over which equipment belonged to which table. The usual first-day chaos
My eyes scanned the room, brows furrowing as every seat that my eyes landed on was taken
Almost
There was an empty seat next to a guy and my eyes bulged out of it's sockets to the point that I had to double check because I would've thought that my mind was playing tricks on me
Of course fate had to pull the back of my hair, slam me against the wall, and violently take my eyes out just so they could bring back the only person that had quietly claimed a piece of my attention without me ever admitting it
Because on the first day of my fourth year in the university’s biochemistry department, I walked into the laboratory expecting nothing more than another long semester of experiments, research papers, and sleep deprivation
But instead, I got him
When did Miguel O'FuckingHara get built like that???
Excuse me? He no longer looked like the timid nerd that would curl in on himself as if he was trying to disappear
Oh no, he was way taller now. Broad shoulders strained lightly against a dark button-up, sleeves rolled up just enough to expose forearms that definitely did NOT belong to a stick-thin kid
Now he sat straight, focused on the notebook in front of him, pen moving quickly as he scribbled something down. He looked serious, calm even
Completely unaware that my brain had just short-circuited
I blinked once, twice. I took in a sharp inhale of breath, praying that I accidentally fell asleep on my way to school and started dreaming
Nope, he's still here
The same sharp jawline, the same dark hair that never seemed to behave, the same intense concentration like the entire world could burn down around him and he’d still finish his calculations first
He may look like a completely different person now but the familiar glint in his eyes reminded me that he was still the same geek back in high school
And apparently, my traitorous brain had decided this was the perfect time to remember that I used to have a massive crush on him
I dragged a hand down my face then huffed. Get it together, Y/N
He probably wouldn’t even recognize me
Four years changes people. Especially when you’re not wearing a wrinkled uniform and threatening half the student body before lunch
His pen moved in perfect, steady loops. He didn’t even glance up when I sat down beside him, completely oblivious to the fact that my entire internal system was screaming at me to run away
Pen kept moving steadily across the page, brows faintly drawn together in concentration like the rest of the world simply didn’t exist
Fuck it
We were in the same class anyways. It won't be long before he recognizes me due to my name
I tilted my head slightly and spoke "Still hunched over like the world’s ending if you misplace a decimal?"
A beat of silence passed
My embarrassment grew with each passing second that he ignored me and continued to scribble on his paper. There is no way that a bunch of numbers was more interesting than I was
then his pen stilled. He slowly turned his head to look at me "Do I know you?"
Wow...
if you wanna play strangers then fine! I don't know you either!
I let out a forced chuckle and smiled "Oh, sorry. I thought I mistook you for my boyfriend. He's all big just like you but a little more good looking"
I turned my head away and rolled my eyes. I mean, I couldn't blame him for trying not to interact with me. 97% of our interactions in the past involved me laughing at his face while I ridiculed him
But I swear I saw him tense up a bit when I mentioned 'boyfriend'? nah, maybe I just lack sleep...
I leaned back against my seat. All my nervousness leaving me, since Miguel wanted to act like a jerk, I'll treat him like a jerk
The chatter finally died down as Professor Selver swept into the lab, clipboard in hand and glasses sliding dangerously close to the tip of his nose
"Good morning, everyone" he said, voice carrying over the chaos "Today we’ll be continuing our work on enzyme kinetics. Please pair up, each of you will need a partner for the lab experiment"
My stomach did that thing where it falls and flips at the same time then hopped on a skateboard only to crash against a graffiti-covered wall
Please don't tell me that I'll be paired up with-
"Ms. L/N? you'll be paired up with Mr. O'Hara"
Well, fuck me slowly with a chainsaw
Great! Just what I needed, don't I? Paired up with the stupid nerd that pretends he doesn't know me to avoid interaction
Thanks fate, you're doing a bad job. 0 stars for my review, would NOT recommend
I heard Miguel snort and I turned to look at him
"Well" he muttered dryly "isn’t that convenient?"
I scoffed then turned away, no longer wanting to see his stupid handsome face. Gosh, why did he have to turn cute to hot? I was ok with the cute version!!
I internally screamed, oh I knew I should've picked finance instead of biochemistry
And just like that, four years of "I will never see him again" vanished in a single, impossible, terrifying chemistry class
Nerd Miguel, who always goes to the university library to be able to concentrate more easily and advance a large amount of work, reviewing notes and details related to the syllabus that all professors give at the beginning of the semester.
Sitting at the table farthest away from the group of people, being close to a window that gave way to one of the classic “green areas” of the university, noticing how one girl in particular seemed to struggle to carry her books, it was obvious that it would not be easy to carry eight books, but that slight concern disappeared when he saw how another girl approached to help, making Miguel return to pay attention to his studies.
Nerd Miguel, who upon entering one of his last classes in the lab, ran into the same girl he had seen through the window. Normally Miguel was not late, but that day he had been distracted between some work and ended up running to the lab, grateful that there were free seats, he sat next to the girl, the closest seat, but as usual, he just kept silent while he began to take notes.
Nerd Miguel, is surprised when the girl next to him asks him about what is written on one of the blackboards, arguing that he can't make out the words.
-Thank you, you saved me- the girl murmured with a smile on her lips.
Miguel couldn't help feeling how his heart skipped a beat, feeling a slight warmth in his face, not knowing if it was because of his nerves or because of the closeness the girl had taken with him.
-Oh, I'm sorry, my name is T/N- said the girl quickly, thinking that she hadn't even introduced herself.
-Nice to meet you T/N, I'm Miguel - he answered with a soft tone, trying to mumble while he adjusted his glasses, which sometimes fell a little down the bridge of his nose in the course of the day.
-Very well boys, I want you to pay attention to your classmate next to you, you will be lab partners, at least in my class,- said the teacher as she looked up from the book she was holding in her hands.
Miguel didn't know if he should be grateful that T/N became his lab partner, that feeling of nervousness came to him just by listening to T/N, at least this way he had an excuse to talk to her.
Nerd Miguel, who at the end of the class started to get his things ready to finally go home, until the teacher commented about a project that would be sent to them through the student platform.
-Miguel - T/N's soft voice caused Miguel to pay special attention to him, not only because they were now lab partners, but also because he wondered what you were looking for in him.
-Would you like to give me your number? - the question made Miguel's brain short-circuit a little -So we can organize ourselves.
Sure, it had to be that, the job they had been informed about, there must be no reason and that was not something that was going to upset Miguel, they barely knew each other.
-Sure
Miguel said with a smile, giving T/N his phone number with a promise to contact her when they had to organize the lab work.
Nerd Miguel, who upon arriving home leaves all his things in his room and then goes to take a shower, the heat of the day had been enough to bother his comfort a little.
After a few minutes and after enjoying the cool sensation of the water running through his body, he checks his phone, noticing a message from an unknown number. A bit confused, he opens the chat, only to discover that it was from T/N, his lab partner.
Checking the message, he went straight to the small desk in his room to turn on his computer, indeed seeing the notification of the paper the professor had commented on. As she opened the file her jaw almost dropped when she saw the ridiculous amount of stuff they had asked for. But as she listened to the notification on her phone she noticed the message from T/N.
T/N: Did you see that it also asks for a video about the practice?
-What?
Upon reviewing the information, it certainly asked for the work to be submitted as a video, an exhibit where they were to explain the topic along with a practice demonstrating the development.
While technically not that complicated, the time to devote is quite a bit, at least if they wanted a good grade, the biggest problem was that this was not the assignment for a single class, they had several I didn't know if their schedules were going to coincide enough to get it done.
Nerd Miguel, who is glad that you proposed a schedule between classes to be able to complete the assigned homework, taking advantage of the free hours. That moment was one of those moments, they had two hours free, in your case an hour and a half. Both of you had gathered on some benches near the cafeteria, at that moment Miguel observed how you arrived with an iced coffee, it wasn't strange, the heat of the day made that even the cold of that coffee was enough to enjoy the drink, what had really surprised him was that you had also arrived with an extra coffee, saying that since you didn't know what he liked you bought him one just like it.
A little embarrassed, Miguel smiled and accepted the glass of coffee, taking a sip that had refreshed his body, even the slight shy feeling when T/N had considered Miguel for even a small detail.
Nerd Miguel, Who as he got to know T/N better as the days went by, became aware of T/N's tastes and pleasant personality, from wearing sweatshirts and looser clothing on exam days due to lack of time, to learning that he didn't much like to drink energy drinks unless he really couldn't handle the sleep.
Gradually, Miguel began to admire T/N's personality, her kindness, her humor, the way she cared about him and considered him, even sending funny videos to cheer him up, making Miguel's heart feel more and more excited, warmer and warmer.
“The way she makes me feel, I really like her.”
This time I will publish it fast because I am busy these days, if I have any mistake you can tell me and I will correct it, I am still improving in my english writing.
HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU
But request time gurl!😘😌✊, so what about a nerd!Miguel\dom x nerdygirl!reader LIKE IMAGINE THE FLUFF AND THE SMUT THERE BOTH BE A BLUSH MESS but I feel like Miguel would take the lead and show he dom when doing it like dont blame me! 😭✊ like he still nerdy Miguel we all know the sweet boy but let make the nerd that friend s with the popular group and have a girlfriend who is nerdy!reader and which is a very shy person then Miguel is.
Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following
-🐈
miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)
*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
SMUT
you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷
cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!
2k+ words
@cheonstapes: thank you sm lovelie🩷🩷 apologies it took so long but this was so fun to write and i love your mind. i hope you enjoy beautiful! also tumblr keeps fucking up my italics and bolds so im gonna add them on later!
you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.
who would’ve guessed the two biggest nerds on campus would’ve gotten together — especially when it was because of your shared interest in genetics. but to miguel’s friends, it was so sweet — a little cringe, but sweet. seeing that it had already been a year since you two started dating, the two of you not being able to hold a conversation without stuttering and blushed profusely was quite concerning.
every time you looked him in the eyes, your heart would suddenly beat a million times faster — face flushing, hands trembling as you try to come off as calm as possible. it was so embarrassing, you could cry just thinking about it. he had such pretty eyes hidden behind those thin frames, didn’t make it better that he would stare into your soul every time you talked.
but miguel wasn’t any better — in fact, he was worse. his whole friendship group being the talk of the college helped miguel to open up more, the persistent attention meaning he had to adapt to being surrounded by people. the incessant staring? that’s him trying to make himself less nervous by making you more nervous so you would stop looking at him so he could admire you without you realising — long, i know. but he loved how sweet you were, the way you were so deeply in love with him — just like he was with you.
walking out of your biology lecture, he speeds up walking to catch you on the othwr side of the room — gently slipping his hands into yours. you tense, looking up at his handsome face before relaxing — “ah, m-miggy!” he smiles so softly, wrapping his beefy arm around your waist. “hey, pretty — you finished for today?” his fingers squeeze the fat of your hips, pulling you into his chest as he leans against a nearby wall.
he always knew how to make you so fucking nervous, staring down at you like you were the centre of his world — which you in fact were. “yeah! i was just gonna go back to my dorm and study. would…well, it’s ok if you’re busy — but do you, maybe, wanna…” god, why is it so hard to ask your boyfriend to hangout! he knew what you wanted to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it. “do i wanna what, hm? i mean — i don’t have any plans later either, i was thinking of going to pete-“
“no!” a brief flicker of slight panic takes over your face, you refuse to be that much of a mess to the point where you can even ask your own boyfriend out. “i mean, would you like to come my dorm tonight? t-to study, obviously.” amazing job, girlfriend, amazing job. once again, he wore that stupidly handsome smirk — fingers kneading the soft flesh of your waist. “study? of course, babe — why didn’t you just ask?” prick.
miguel always said he found it easier to study when you were right next to him — as in, resting in between his legs as your head lay on his chest. “did you get the answer to number 8? i think i missed that lesson…” you tilt your head, looking up at him. you looked so cute with your little glasses as you studied, a small pout on your lips as you tap on his leg for him to help you out.
he was thinking a lot of things right now, and none of them were the answer for number 8. before he met you, miguel was always deep in his studies — head buried in a textbook every night. but now you’re his, he can’t think about anything else. the outline of your chest against your tight shirt, pert nipples straining against the fabric since you insist you feel better without a bra — he wasn’t a perv, but damn if you were making him feel like one.
“u-uh…i think — uhhhh…” he was really fucked. your cute little giggle and the way you shimmied around to sit on your knees, hands clutching his cheeks. “migs, you’re burning up! you ok?” he was no ok, not by a long shot. despite having so much attention on him simply because of the people he’s friends with, miguel was still very much a virgin. yeah, he’s jerked off before — but that was only after he met you. your entrance into his life awakened a part of his brain that he thought was forever stored away — and he did not know how to deal with it.
sex was something the two of you were yet to talk about, 2 years into the relationship and it was like you were kids about to have their first kiss. there were lingering touches here and there, but oh how badly he wants to feel your sweet pussy around him. “can… i touch you?” he could barely register the words that came out of his mouth before he takes in the way your face changes completely. the heat radiating from your cheeks could melt the arctic, that was the one thing you weren’t expecting to hear. at all.
of course, you were a virgin too — all in all saving yourself for miguel for when the time comes. you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. he looked so depraved already, panting softly — hair tousled from when he was laying down, you want him so, so bad. “u-uh, yeah — go ahead!” you didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but miguel didn’t care — a hand immediately trailing up your plush thighs, toying with the edge of your panties under your skirt. “you’re…you’re so pretty.” he could feel his hands shaking, heart pounding in his chest — the warmth of your skin and the small moans leaving your lips were fucking with his head.
the tender skin was so sensitive, causing your thighs to tremble under his touch. he didn’t expect you to be so sensitive. fuck, did he want to tease you for it, but he couldn’t talk — not when he was already about to bust when you haven’t even touched him yet. “mmm — m-miggy.. please..touch me.” you could tell he wanted to, he just didn’t know where to start. his fingers ran up your inner thigh, teasingly running over the small wet patch on your cute panties.
he felt like a newborn learning how to walk again, the rugged rhythm in which he was working your little clit showed how inexperienced he is — but you didn’t care, especially not when you yourself couldn’t even notice his lack of technique. he fully pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them to the side — there was a sharp in take of breath from him as he stared at your bare cunt, his bulge pressing harder aganst the mattress.
“g-god, baby, can… can i taste you, please?” miguel couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, he had dreamed about eating your pretty, little pussy out for ever now, the thought of you denying him that now would break him. “y-yeah, fuck. please, miggy.” his tongue immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers probed your tight hole.
he knew you would need some extra prep to be prepared for taking him, so he made sure to make you feel as good as possible — he wasn’t about to let your first time be your worst. the fat of your thighs were tight around his head, holding him in place as he steadily fucked you with his tongue. for someone who was a virgin only 20 minutes ago, he sure knew how to work that tongue — your breathy moans breaking through the sloppy squelching noises of your wetness.
“migs…i — mmph!” the sensation was unknown but not unwelcome. a firm pressure in your tummy that felt like a dam about to burst all over your boyfriend’s face. miguel’s watched enough porn to know what that sound meant, reluctantly sitting up from his position between your legs to peer down at you — drooling cock bobbing between his thighs. he licked your arousal from his lips, shakily grabbing onto your legs to push them over his shoulders.
“baby, ‘m not letting you cum until you’ve had my cock in you — ‘s not how it works.” he felt like he was going insane, the sight of your pussy, so tantalisingly close to his length — the chubby tip poking against your entrance. you could only nod, you couldn’t argue with that — not when you’ve been waiting for this moment. upon getting your approval, he wrapped a beefy hand around his cock — smearing his pre-cum along your puffy folds.
he was so slow when he pushed into you, the sheer girth of him stretching your poor pussy thin. “fuckin’ hell, baby— s-so, so tight.” his strong hips pounded against your pelvis, your skin tinging a faint shade of red. your body was jostled against the headboard with every thrust, a thick rim of cream forming at his base. miguel was lost in the feeling of your cunt, drooling mindlessly against your neck as he rammed deep inside of you.
“m-miguel…!” the harder he fucked into you, the shakier your voice was — whiny moans and heavy grunts reverberated through your small dorm room. he couldn’t believe how good fucking you felt, your velvety walls gripping onto him like a life line. miguel was completely delirious, only letting incoherent mumbles — a bruising grip on your waist as he brings you back against his cock.
“ohhh, f-fuck…! iloveyou, so — shit, so much!” your pussy was so good, he didn’t even realised it slipped out — i love you. he really did, and in this moment — there was nothing else but the two of you, connecting so beautifully as you give yourselves to each other fully. he messily sucks on the skin just below your ear, simply grinding into your womb as his hand trails down your back — squeezing the flesh of your ass to pull you flush against him.
“i…i love you too, migs.”
you..you love him too? fuck. his hips stilled, gooey cum filling your cunt raw as he pours all of his love into you. miguel’s back heaved, his arms giving out under him as he falls on top of you — wrapping an arm around your waist as he carefully rubs your clit. his heart was soaring, smiling down at you as he fucked himself into overstimulation — determined to see you cum all over his cock.
“my pretty girl, you’re all mine — wanna see you cum. you gonna cum for me, yeah?” god, his voice was husky and deep — tickling your ear and sending tingles down your spine. your legs trembled, cunt spasming as it gushed out that clear liquid. it coated the sheets below you, splashing against his stomach — a low, gravelly moan leaving miguel as he filled you with his cum once again.
the two of you laid in silence for a beat, panting softly as he rested on your chest. one of your hands moved up to cup his face, picking up his glasses from your bedside stand — placing them on his face, albeit with wonkily but it matched that dopey grin on his face. “i swear to god, i’ve turned you into an animal, migs! you sure that was your first time?” giggling, you kissed his lips softly — nimble fingers brushing through his sweaty hair.
“guess i got a bit carried away, huh?” he sighed, softly rubbing your tummy. “‘s not my fault i’ve got the most beautiful, sexiest, most loving, caring, perfect, goddess of a girlfriend anyone could wish for.”
miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
