Please

please 🙏

Oh, Miggy won’t pay attention to you? My dear…do the “removing my towel in front of my spouse” trend in front of him and let’s see how fast he’ll stray away from work and get impeccably desperate for YOU. uwu 🎀✨

CYCLONE — fluff

(hobie x pink!reader) —- WARNING: VERY SELF INDULGENT

it’s not often you exit your apartment willingly. besides walking the dogs or work, you find leaving unimportant. here you have your cats, vanilla and alfredo. the most adorable sweeties to every graze this earth. and of course rager, your chihuahua, named by hobie.

you have your stuffed animals, your beautiful pink appliances, and your fluffy, comfy, soft, heavenly, bed. you love it here, so why are you and hobie at a stadium with thousands of people?

you don’t blend in either, no you stick out. everybody here seems to be a man, middle aged, mildly balding, and dirty. and here comes you and your love, bright pink, and dressed in spikes. there’s noise.

ordinarily you’d be cowering, trying to get away. but no, you feed into it. what takes you so out of character?

monster trucks. so big, so brave, so cool. your eyes must’ve been watering, out of your reluctance to blink, because hobie reaches over and picks up a tear from your cheek.

“isn’t this so cool honey?” you yell, coughing a little from the smoke. surrounding yourself with smokers constantly may not be the best for your lungs.

“wha’eva you say love!” hobie yells back, equally as loud. he doesn’t necessarily dislike these events, he enjoys the disruptiveness of it all, but it’s far too much for his taste. although all that doesn’t matter when it comes to you.

his demeanor relaxes as he sees you yelling, with the largest grin. your favorite driver just did 20 cyclones, one of your favorite tricks.

[cyclones: a trick where a truck does donuts at very high speeds!]

a loud cheer erupts from the stands. youd think the queen just showed up. everybody showing their support for the expressiveness. monster trucks are so cool!

thirty minutes later—

you finally sit down after a while of shouting and clapping. you reach over to hobie to grab your water bottle, voice mildly hoarse from your displays of admiration. he’s been holding it there in his lap, the pink starkly contrasting with his colorless form.

“thank you baby,” you breathe out as you take a long sip. you smile up at him as he admires you. he doesn’t know how you manage to look so gorgeous after baking in the sun for two hours.

sweat runs down your forehead and your cheeks glow a bright red, and yet he’s still looking at you, practically with hearts in his eyes. he grins as you hand back the bottle.

“ ‘ow much longer do we got, lovely?” he responds, mildly sapped.

“just a couple more, they should be slowing down. we can go if you like. it’s hot out here, and i need some real food.”

“really? yo’ chill wit it?”

“i know you don’t really like these events and im overstimulated. so yes, im chill wit it.” you say mocking his british timbre. you stand up, using him up the stairs and out the stadium.

as you walk down the road, you take a deep breath. finally able to get out of the cloud of smoke. hobie takes your hand.

“wanna get some food?”

“you mean sandwhichs on a really cool house boat?”

“ ‘ome grown sandwich’s,” he winks.

“i’d love to, darling.”

his mind goes blank and his face turns red. you turn so you can’t see but you snicker to yourself. it’s rare you use a traditionally uk nickname, and hobie claims he doesn’t get flustered, but every time you drop one of those, he goes full off balance.

“mhm!” he says, gripping your hand tighter. him, shying away from eye contact, which heavily breaks his personal code. always stand up to the man, he thinks.

but what happens when this man, just so happens to be a pinks loving, chihuahua owning, monster trucks loving, beautiful, amazing, person?

he’s non-plused. he’s in love. he is going against everything he stands for. he doesn’t care. does she?

——-

#drabble #filling out a req a little??? #do we want more hobie or miguel 🤔

yall can’t convince me miguelito wouldn’t shave your pussy for you

girl I’m back after ~events~ So i got to thinking as i usually do of the punk brit. And while i praise him and think he could do no wrong,

that isn’t exactly true.

everyone has ‘cons.’ Things that are definitely not someone else’s cup of tea.

Like,

his shoes. Goddamn those shoes, now for context I’m someone who’s never wore shoes in the house. (they literally go everywhere, on every street, in every store)

And i know for a fact that man’s got crusted cop blood on those things.

In addition to that. Him putting those big ass grippers on your furniture, your coffee tables and counters are NOT safe from the feet.

his fucking lanky self. Now i know i pick on him a lot for being a goofy ass twig, (picking on my pookies is how i show love 💕) but this man FEELS like he weighs 400 hundred pounds. Laying on you HURTS, especially with his studded and spiked attire

(where all that weight going? Hell knows)

He’s confrontational and argumentative. He sticks close to his beliefs and absolutely will tell you when you fucked up or if you’re wrong,

(depending on your personality and own beliefs ((though to be honest i gotta feeling he’d probably only date those he knows have similar views to him)) you may end up in a lot of arguments)

this is getting long but i feel like this guy ain’t gonna let you know something’s bugging him in a emotional or even possible mental since. Only telling you once the ‘issue’ is solved later on. It would take him time to fully let go of past experiences, one’s that lead him to being not too upfront with his emotions.

And maybe you’re the same,

maybe it takes you doing the same to him for him to realize, the only way YOU’LL open up to him, is if HE opens up first.

yes!! always with the amazing ideas anon

homie is always putting his feet up, which would be fine if he hadn’t also just gone trudging through mud. there are so many substances on his boots, you have a rule specifically for him. ‘no boots.”

tbh i HATE feet and also i hate wearing shoes inside. it just makes my apartment feel dirty asl.

hobie def needs to learn how to be gentler. he’s super blunt and when he just calls you out in front of people, or just in a harsh way, it can make you feel horrible. speaking from experience, i’m so sensitive.

hobie would call you out and soon start hearing sniffles. you’d say nothing was wrong because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, even though he had just hurt yours.

also it would be so funny to see hobie sleeping in your bed, your bed covered in pink, hello kitty, and bows

i’m in awe. somebody get this person an award 😭 i need more like this stat

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Fear Play, Dubcon, Choking, Slapping, Mean!Miguel

Summary: He can’t decide if he likes when you cry from pleasure or from fear more. 

Word Count: 1.5K (Not Edited)

Maybe this arrangement was not so bad. 

Miguel knew nerds were full of fun. It was fun to pick on them and watch them tremble. But, that by no means meant he wanted to spend his weekends hanging out with one. He had other things to do, like go to practice and trash abandoned spots with cigarettes and beer cans with his group. But if it meant staying on the team, he could suck it up. Especially when the freak tutoring him is so easy on the eyes.  

A pretty, delicate thing, too. Always trembling like a deer caught in headlights look plastered to your face whenever he appears. Tail tucked between your legs when you spot him on campus with his friends, alarm bells ringing as you try to pass him unnoticed. It is so cute. So precious. And it is so unbelievably easy for you to shrink in on yourself. It is a fucking power trip. It feeds him, makes him hungry for more. 

His favorite pastime is scaring you. Making sudden, jerky movements so you flinch. Loves how you almost fall over yourself, bumping your knees or elbows on the table and dropping shit everywhere. Always making a fucking mess. Always making a mess of yourself. He is extra loud, displaying his power. He is throwing his bag on the ground rougher than needed to. He is pulling his chair out so hard that it flies out and scrapes marks into the carpet. He is tossing his notebooks onto the table and slamming his hand down to the point that it stings his skin. You always yelp, jolting and squeezing your eyes shut. Turning to him with glossy eyes and shaky lips. So delicious. So pretty for him. 

He needs more. More and more and more. He gets everything he wants, and he knows exactly how to get it. It is simply, easy. You are a pushover, you fold easily (a theory he is happy to test in his bed). All it takes is a call, a low tone of voice that is so purposely dark and menacing that you stutter out incoherent babbles. Perfect, absolutely perfect. You are there in an hour, fidgeting when he opens the door. You have that shy, ready to run look in your eyes as you look up at him. You are a fucking prude, gulping and scared at the sight of his bare torso. It makes him want to laugh in your face. This is the most innocent thing you will be seeing once he is done with you.

When you walk through the door, you are so focused on taking in what his home looks like that you scream when he shoves you up against the wall. You are panicking, hips squirming against his cock just right, making him harder than he already was. He is about to punch a hole into his fucking pants when his hands hold your wrists above your head. You are whimpering, stuttering variations of his name as he holds you there. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting into the skin so hard it bruises. He can feel how fast your pulse is under his lips, and he licks at it. 

He is whispering horrible, dirty things into your skin. Sounding like an absolute lunatic as he murmurs how pretty you look so scared and glassy eyed. Rambles about how he has fantasized about the scared look on your face as he pushes his cock into your weeping cunt. How he cannot wait to make you cry as you try to get away from him. He is an absolute predator and he is dead set on making you his prey. And even though you are so terrified, even though you can feel your body shaking and something instinctual in your head telling you to run away, you cannot help the slick liquid spilling into your panties. You cannot help the way your body arches into his and how you whisper his name with something bordering on a plea. 

You spoil him with those noises. His free hand moves to your shorts, a sinister smile as you freeze up. That fight returns as it becomes more real, your hands trying to claw at his in an attempt to free yourself of his hold. It just makes him press up against you harder, causing you to whimper. You are fighting two battles: him and your own body. As his hand slips under the band of your shorts, caressing the wetness that is collected in your panties, you are more and more confident in the fact that you are losing to both. His fingers are cold, sending shivers over your body. When his fingers push your panties to the side and plunge into your dripping hole, you know you are a goner. 

You scream at the intrusion, body completely unprepared to be taking his fingers so quickly. He plunges them in and out of you rapidly, and you can feel how his hand pulls your panties down with the movement. His hand leaves your wrists, and your hands fall onto his arm as you continue to cry out. His hand comes down to rip off your shorts and panties, leaving them as a pile around your ankles. Your nails are digging into his skin, trying to stabilize yourself as his fingers hit against your walls. You can feel his blunt nails against the gummy areas inside of you as he curls his fingers. It stings slightly, causing you to whimper and uselessly push him away. It only makes him speed up. 

You scream again, getting cut off when a sharp slap lands on your cheek. You gasp, head whipping to the side before one of his hands wraps around your neck. You panic again, hand leaving his arm to claw at his hand. He whispers darkly into your ear to shut up, that you'll scare the neighbors and he’ll have to tape your mouth shut. You are so focused on his words and his touch that it takes you a minute to realize he is not really pressing down. He is definitely applying pressure, but just enough so you know his hand is there and he can make it tighter around your neck. When the fear dies away you can feel yourself clench around his fingers, causing him to groan. You like it, you realize, and you whimper up at him. 

He chuckles into your skin, fingers still moving at that relentless pace as your pussy sings out wet noises for him. Your walls keep fluttering around him, and you let out a sob. He tears his eyes away, watching the way water begins to build and flow from your eyes as the pleasure becomes too much. He gives a few more punishing pumps until you are clenching hard around him. He hisses at the tightness, paying back the favor by choking you harder. Your mind is lost in between panic and pleasure as it tries to process your ongoing orgasm and the fact air isn’t reaching your lungs. You are letting out dry moans, eyes darting around his face as your hands weakly claw at his hand. Your head is just beginning to feel fuzzy when he lets go, a few seconds after you stop coming around his fingers. 

He pulls away from you entirely, hand leaving your throat and abused cunt. He takes a step away from you and you crumble on the floor pathetically as you try to catch your breath. Your wet, doe eyes look up at him from the floor, whimpering when you can still feel your cum dripping down your thighs and leaving drops on his floor. Your hand, your entire body, is shaking as you reach for your throat. You hold the skin gently, rubbing at it to get rid of the ache and feel of his hand around it. You almost flinch back when he bends down in front of you. He looks at you with an amused look, before it becomes bored. His hand comes up near your face, and you try to press yourself against the wall. You think he is about to slap you again, but instead he wipes his cum covered fingers against your cheek. You flinch from the feel of it, it's sticky and warm and it reminds you of what you just did. 

He cherishes the wide-eyed look you give him as your chest moves up and down with your breaths. He hums as he stares. Pretty, so so pretty. He gets up, hand ruffling your hair like a dog. Your eyes track him, watching as he picks up your shorts and underwear. His fingers take your panties and shoving them into his pocket. He throws the shorts to you, vaguely telling you where the bathroom is so you can clean up the mess you made. In a dismissive tone, he tells you to hurry up and meet him in the living room to study. 

You watch him go, looking like a broken fairy as another rush of involuntary arousal drips to the floor.

Part 2

I think this is the darkest thing I’ve written?? Is this considered dark? It’s definitely not nice.

this….im shell shocked. this is a masterpiece wtf

TOO SWEET

summary: you join a small ride along with Miguel...

content warning: once again, taboo content; proceed with precaution. semi-exhibitionism (miguel fucks the reader in the forest and on his car), brat-taming, rough yet soft dom! miguel, OOC CHARACTER MIGUEL the reader has nipple piercings, unprotective p-in-v (please, do your own research when it comes to stuff like this), cigarette usage, a little TABOO, AGAIN.

word count: +3.2k words

author's notes: thank you @lemon2099 aka @sweetlemongrove and the discord server for the encouragement to keep writing 💜. Y'all are my mini family and I love y'all so much!

PART TWO TO GATITA

Miguel found him a stray cat, you unironically. Once he gave you a lick of attention, you came back for more, the same way a stray cat would whenever a stranger gave it food to eat out of pity. It felt pathetic that you would conjure up any excuse to see him again. Changing your car’s air filter, replacing your windshield wipers, hell, even trying your best to act dumb to simple repairs that you can do on your own. It was almost laughable and pathetic for you to do this, but you couldn’t help it.

The man always made you melt and become sap, like warm honey on a cold kitchen counter—no matter how much you wiped it off with a paper towel, the stick and sweetness lingered behind. But it didn’t take long for Miguel to catch on—the man was intelligent, for God’s sake. It was clear as day as you always took your shitty 1970 Chevy S-10 everywhere, and he would always recognize that iconic blue truck every time you pulled up for a simple repair. 

But the innocent visit was about to fall short as the excuses to see him began to fall short. So he decided to change things up, taking you out on a late-night drive.

“M-Miguel!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, clutching onto the glove compartment of the Impala, nearly snapping the fake acrylic nails off your actual nails underneath. “Shhh… You can take it, princesa.” He pats your thigh lovingly before lightly slapping the soft flesh. “Miguel, Miguel!” Your voice fell on deaf ears as you felt the wind knocked out of your lungs.

“Nothing wrong with going a little fast.”

Yep, you've accepted your faith that you were going to die from some freak accident with an extremely hot mechanic next to you. “But it’s so fucking fast!” You screamed out, clawing at the car's dashboard with your nails. Miguel glances over, chuckling at the sight he sees. He could have sworn that if you wanted to, he would have seen some parts of the acrylic break by how strongly you were grasping the dashboard before you. “But we’re barely hitting 100, princess.” 

“What?” You whined, not believing his words, as it felt like the Impala was going faster than that. “Don’t worry, we won’t be on the road too long. I need to make a pit stop. Let’s tame that little heart of yours.” Miguel chuckles before taking an exit off the freeway, finally giving you a sense of relief in your veins. “Oh, thank god, thank god…” Your exasperations never failed to bring a smile to Miguel’s face as the Impala pulled up to a nearby gas station.

The white, bright lights at the gas pumps created an ominous aura in the space, but the ambiance of familiarity filled your soul. “C’mon, let’s get something to drink before we arrive at the meet, okay?” With trembling legs similar to those of a baby deer newly born, you stumbled out of the vintage car, clutching onto the vehicle's door. “Okay, I’ll catch up soon…” 

Miguel walks ahead, stepping into the gas station while you stagger behind, taking slow, steady steps to the building. “Coming, muneca?” He calls out, holding the door open for you as you stagger in, feeling the cool, icy breeze against your sticky, sweaty skin from the summer heat. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” You mumble, stepping into the gas station to grab a small drink. 

After taking a sip of the cold beverage, the sight of the forest slowly came to mind as the corner stores and gas stations slowly began to fade behind you. This late-night drive became nonetheless soothing, nothing but the long road ahead, along with the low ambiance of music and the car’s engine. 

/

His hands grasped your wrists, and you felt his calloused hand engulf your wrist almost. “Please stay still, hermosa.” He croons to you. With his free hand, his touch roamed over your body, occasionally letting his hand caress your curves, soon letting his hand grope your breast gently before rubbing the side of his thumb against your clothed nipple, lightly grazing the sensitive bud. Your back arched slightly, moving your back away from the hood of his car and towards his body. His hand lets go of your breast before tracing your figure slowly. His hand raised your skirt slowly before seeing what awaited him. 

The gusset of your underwear decorated a thin, wet line before him. “Seems like you were anticipating for this to happen?” Without letting go of your wrists, his free hand went down to your clothed entrance to trace the soaked, thin line with the pad of his thumb. A soft groan escapes from the back of your throat before his fingers forcefully grasp the gusset and move it to the side. “Do me a favor and don’t move, okay?” He lets your wrist go and gets down on his knees to see your fluttering, aching core. “Be still, okay?” He whispers, raising your skirt more, letting it rest on your stomach. Nodding to his words, you laid back on the low rider and waited anxiously. 

The sound of fabric ripping filled the space, causing you to look down. The man ripped your underwear, specifically from the gusset, vertically with precision. At the sound, you propped yourself up on the car's hood and looked down. You can only see his soft, wavy brown hair between your legs, leaving so much to the imagination. “I’ll get you new ones, hermosa. Don’t worry, your pretty little head.”

His middle and ring fingerpad lightly traced the entrance of your folds, gathering the clear slick. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking off the clear arousal you left behind, and scooted you closer to him, dragging you down onto the hood of the car, bringing you down to his lips. “Miguel-” You panicked before his nose bumped into your clit. Your hands grasped his thick, wavy black hair, not following his words or demands. “I told you to stay still for me.” He demands, grabbing onto the back of your knees with a grasp that can be mistaken for alligator clips used to jumpstart a car.

“Sorry…!” The apology fell on deaf ears as you mewled to his tongue, licking a long strip on your entrance, letting the flat of his tongue rest on your clit. “Now, stay still, and don’t leave a mess on the hood of my car.” He gruffs.

“I just got this shit painted, princesa.” He pauses before giving your entrance a test lick before delving into you. You seethed through your teeth, feeling his mouth delve into your entrance. The bridge of his nose occasionally bumped into your clit, creating the perfect amount of friction for you to squirm your hips closer to his nose. “You poor thing…” He mumbled before licking a long strip of your core with a flat tongue. “You want it?” He croons, pulling away from your aching entrance. Your fluttering hole ached for his company again, the same sight he saw for the first time months ago. “C’mere…” He grasped onto the back of your knees, sliding you down the hood of the Chevy before your bare cunt made contact with his clothed erection. The heat from his bulge is almost too irresistible not to grind against his aching package, waiting to be accessible under your hands and control. 

You looked up from where you were lying down, and the sight before you was a sight you didn’t want to erase. Miguel kept his grasp on you but grated the aching bulge against you. “Please, please, please.” You lingered on your last plea, reaching down to his belt buckle, poorly attempting to unbuckle. “Hold on for a moment.” His hand gently grasped your wrist and moved it away from his bulge. “Let’s prep you for a moment, okay?” You nod with a breathy sigh and lay back, expecting to feel his tongue, which you don’t mind. 

But something else entered, enough for you to roll your eyes back in ecstasy and to scream out, allowing your voice to echo in the forest. “I know, baby, I know…” He quiets, planting soft kisses on your temple, keeping his ring and middle finger around your rapid, wavering walls. The soft grinding motions drew out soft mewls from you, enough to soak his fingers almost immediately. 

“Let’s raise this.” With his free hand, he reached to the hem of your shirt and yanked it up with vigorous force. The sight of two silver dumbbells was the first thing he saw before him, showing off the sensitive buds. “I didn’t get to see these last time…” With a careful hand, he caressed the soft mound before directing his attention to the sensitive nub, tracing the pad of his fingers around the areola. 

He lowers his head down and takes in a sensitive nub into his mouth, allowing his tongue to trace the silver jewelry along the sensitive nub. “Give me a second…!” You mewled out, feeling his teeth lightly tug at the barbell piercing but letting go. “I’ve heard that saliva is a good stimulant to heal this type of piercing…” He mumbles before suckling onto your nub before his fingers slowly thrust into your aching core, awaiting to be stuffed and abused. “Oh shit,” You paused, taking in a shaky breath, feeling his calloused fingers massage your gummy walls. “Oh shit…” You repeated, soon taking labored breaths. “C’mon, princess…” Miguel whispers as he pulls away from your nipple and moves to the other, keeping his fingers at the same slow pace. “Tell me… tell me that it’s too much…” He croons. “Is it too much, princess?” 

“No…” You bluff, feeling like a puddle of sap against his fingers at the slow pace. “No? Let’s pick it up, m’kay?” He innocently asks, slowly increasing the pace and curling his ring and middle finger. “Miguel…” You whimpered, at the brink of finishing all over the hood of his Impala. “Don’t even think about it, princess,” Miguel commands, picking the pace up. A yelp escapes the back of your throat, and you soon feel your legs tremble against his hold. “Please, please, please…” You whine, feeling a bit of anticipation to gush out your release. “Don’t,” He croons. “You better not finish. I finished the paint job on this car.”

You looked up with pleading eyes at the brink of tears. “Please, please, please…” You continue the mantra, knowing you are getting on Miguel’s nerves now. “No.” He demands before the familiar, wet slapping noise fills the space around you. “Is it too much?” He pushes the question again, letting the forest area get overwhelmed with a wet slapping noise. “No.” You repeat, too stubborn for your good. “I refuse to believe that. Look at you.” 

He paused his words and kept up with rapid motions. “Milking my fingers, your legs trembling under my hold, I think your body says otherwise.”

“Don’t finish on this car’s hood.” He repeats, keeping the same motion and pulling his fingers out of your aching core.

/

Miguel’s Perspective

The look on her face is enough to laugh at. Pathetic. The look on her face made it look like she was a stranded kitten left in the rain, wanting to seek shelter in a warm space away from the cool air of the piney forest. But that wasn’t the case. She was laid out on the hood of my car like a dish served on a silver platter, waiting to be devoured and consumed. Her nervous but anticipated look is enough to send me to the edge. The urge to just take off my pants and to make her drunk on lust came to mind immediately, but no, she needs anticipation and patience other than lust. 

The sight of her glistening arousal coating my fingers soon drizzled down onto the hood of the Impala. “I told you to hold it in.” I fumed, seeing the glistening arousal pool onto the hood of the car, creating a small puddle. “God, you can’t even do this one thing correctly.”

I yanked her aching core down to my bulge, seeing her glistening arousal coat a thin layer on the denim of my pants. “C’mere…” Her hands rush down to the belt buckle of my pants, moving in a manic manner to free my aching cock free. “It’s yours. You know what to do with it.”

/

“I don’t…” You replied, playing coy with his words. “I don’t know…” Your hands grasp the band of his boxer, yanking on it playfully. “You know how.” He croons as your hand yanks down his boxer briefs, freeing his aching cock. A low “fuck” escapes him deep from him, and it is enough for you to finish everywhere on the hood of the Impala, literally. The pink mauve-colored tip ached for your attention, showing tiny beads of precum accumulating on the head, with some sliding down his shaft, specifically tracking a prominent vein. “C’mon, you know what to do.” He repeats, wanting you to initiate these events instead. 

With a forceful grab, you lead his tip to your aching core and grind it against your aching core. Your core began to kegel against the sensation of his length, feeling it rub against your clit gently. “Don’t tease me,” He insists, bucking his hips, feeling his cock free itself from your grasp. You grasp onto it again, guide his tip into your aching core, and slowly guide him in. “Shit…” You whimper, feeling the familiar pressure push up against your aching core. 

“How do you feel bigger than last time?” You whined, slowly sinking into his length. “Take deep breaths for me, m’kay?” He hums, mused by the sight before him. “I know it’s a lot, baby, I know…” You take in deep breaths while he ground the tip against your cervix, to the point where it did hurt a little, but it was pleasurable. “Take your time, it’s okay…” He croons, moving a hand down to your clit, lightly grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves. A breathy whimper is the only response he receives from you. 

The soft kisses against your temple are enough to ease you as the soft kisses make you giggle underneath him. “That’s enough,” He breathes out, soon grasping your hips with his hands. “Are we okay?” Miguel questions, allowing his thumb to trace the skin on your hips, specifically the stretchmarks painted on your soft skin. “Yeah, I’m okay…” 

The slow thrusts slowly came to a steady pace, allowing you to get comfortable with his size. Soft mewls and whimpers escaped from the back of your throat as you laid back on the hood of the car and felt your breasts bounce a bit from the thrusting. The sight of the silver barbells decorating your nipples while your breasts bounced with his tempo displayed the sight for him. “There we go, you’re getting used to me more now…”

The feeling of the virgencita charm from his necklace lightly booped your nose, occasionally touching your lips, staining the golden charm with your lipgloss. “Is this bothering you?” He chuckles, seeing the charm bump against your lips and nose. “No, not at all…” It was a bluff; the sensation of the chain and charm tickled you while you chased the sensation bubbling against your core. 

“You’re almost there?” The slight bulge in your stomach amused Miguel, seeing the bulge appear and disappear with every thrust. He lets go of your hip with one hand and pushes his hand down onto your lower stomach while keeping a steady yet hard pace. “How does that feel?” He questions, looking down to see your reaction. “Yes…” You breathed out, not giving him a proper answer as you squirmed under the pressure rise. 

“C’mon, I know you’re almost close…” He praises, bullying his tip into your sopping cunt, no longer worrying about the hood of the car or the paint job that he’s been telling you about since you two arrived at an odd location in the forest. “Finish with me, come on…” He pushes, not caring how loud the two of you are. “Please, Miguel…” You scream out, no longer pleading quietly. “Finish with me.” He croons.

The chase slowly came to an end as the sudden splurge of you squirting everywhere on the hood of the Impala, following along with Miguel cradling you close in his arms, finally giving you a couple of last thrusts into your core. “There we go…” He mumbles, placing a shaky kiss on your temple and slowly pulling out. Your whine greeted his ears as he pulled out his softening cock, and a thin white line at your entrance decorated your cunt, no longer empty. “There we go, keep it in there.” You felt as if your body took a screenshot from laying on the car's hood while the sound of clothes ruffling and a belt clinking filled your ears.

The next few moments felt blurred. You felt Miguel help you off the car's hood and straighten out your now-ruffled top and skirt. “I don’t need anyone else to see you like this,” he mutters before making his way to the vehicle's passenger side. What are you doing?” You huff out, leaning against the side of the car for support. “Give me a moment,” he continues to rummage around before he grasps a small red box in his hand.

“Do you fuck with cigarettes?” He questions. You weakly nod, slowly coming down from your high. “Do you mind which brand?” The sight of the Marlboro flashed your eyes before Miguel nudged the box gently, allowing the two cigarettes to slide out a bit, enough for you and Miguel to grab. You grabbed the cancerous stick and placed it between your tinted pink lips, smeared with pink lipgloss at the corner of your lips. Reaching into his pocket, the lighter looked tiny in his grasp as he flickered on the measly lighter. 

“Here,” You reach for the small lighter and take it from him with a gentle grasp, soon flicking at the small wheel. After a couple of flicks at it, the small flame appeared, emitting a tangy orange close to your hand, soon flickering along with the breeze. “Oh…!” You shield the small flickering flame with your free hand, allowing the flame to flicker about before settling its movements. 

As he took a deep breath, Miguel reached for the small flame and brought the cigarette closer to it. Without removing the cigarette from his lips, he leaned down towards you and used your flame to light his cigarette. As he did so, he kept his gaze locked on yours, retaining eye contact for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes. His eyes are like embers of fire waiting to be ignited again, waiting for the next moment to be triggered. 

“Here…” He grabbed the cigarette and pulled it away from your lips as he inhaled his cigarette slowly. Wary of the lit cigarette between his fingers, he gently grasps your chin and kisses you while exhaling the smoke into your mouth. He slowly pulls away from the soft kiss and lingers eyes on you.

For a moment, there was a glisten in his eye when they softened; it didn’t go unnoticed…

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