Tender Talons (Miguel O'hara Smut)

Tender Talons (Miguel O'hara smut)

Warnings: 18+, mdi, around: 400 words

Talons circling gently around her nipple, making her shiver, too scared to take full breaths.

Miguel´s face is only a few inches away from hers, their noses slightly brushing, feeling their hot breaths on each other’s faces.

"That´s it, bebita, you´re so good to me" Miguel whispers against her lips, before kissing her tenderly while his talons keep circling her nipples on each side.

Whimpering she spreads her legs open for him and he understands the inaudibly request.

He breaks the kiss only to nibble on her neck, leaving hickeys all over it.

His hand slides down to her panties, tearing it apart which leaves him growling against her due to the wetness he feels from her.

The other hand retracted his talons and instead starts massaging her chest firmly.

Now she feels his talon against her clit which makes her scared but also so very excited, that leaves her wetter.

Loving the way her body is trembling with fear and adrenaline.

Miguel now, satisfied with his work on her neck, leans back to get a good look on her; cheeks red, glossy eyes, plump red lips and her neck covered in purple hickeys.

"Look at you, mi vida... muy bonito, only for me" he praises her, with his low voice while letting his talons slide down her slits.

Biting her lips to keep herself as quiet and still as possible but unable to stop the shaking of her legs with the way he touches her.

He gently dips one of his talons inside her only enough as to be covered in her slick, before bringing it up to her mouth, demanding her to lick it clean.

And she obeys by giving it little kitten licks, tasting herself on his finger and talon.

Miguel then retracts these talons as well, just to push his middle and ring finger insider her mouth.

"Be a good girl and taste yourself, bebita" he says with lust in his eyes which never left hers.

Eager to see her every expression and reaction.

His hand which kept kneading her breast gives her a firm squeeze before sliding down her belly and slowly pushes his middle finger inside her.

Moaning against his fingers at the new penetration, making her rocking her hips for some movement.

Miguel curses in Spanish under his breath, seeing how eager his little doll sucks on his fingers and moving her hips only for him.

🕷🕸

Hope you enjoyed this little drabble. Its kind of a very mild version of knife play, where instead of a knife Miguel uses his talons (which I think is pretty hot 🥵).

Men who have no idea just how big they are. Like he’s massive, but he’s absolutely oblivious to it. Doesn’t understand why you start crying the moment the head of his cock is buried inside your cunt. Likes to keep you on his lap while he cradles your head, inching deeper and deeper inside you. Assures you that it won’t hurt as much, that he’ll be gentle. But the moment he grabs your forearms and pulls you down, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating pussy, he’s in heaven. Almost immediately begins pounding away at your poor, throbbing pussy, going deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips. And his thick, fat cock comes with the most fullest and heaviest set of balls that slaps against your clit every time he drives himself inside you. If you’re reluctant to let him fuck you again because ‘it won’t fit’, well, you don’t need to worry about that with him.

“Come on, baby. Just the tip, I promise.” “Don’t worry, love, it will fit. I’ll make it fit.” “You’re doing so good for me, come on, just one more inch.”

BOKUTO, Ichigo, Chrollo, Denji, Izuku, Armin, Giorno, Chuuya, Iwaizumi, Asahi, Hisagi, Kita, Ranpo

My hyperfixation on chrollo lucilfer is officially over idk if it will ever come back buuuut my new one is 🌟Miguel o'hara🌟

And I think I'll slowly turn this account away from chrollo since I'm more active on my side blog

Idk why but I felt like I have to tell this :/

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when being thrust back into society and the public eye after being isolated for so long... there could be no way that you blow it, right? you, of all people, would never betray the love of your life. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: unnamed yandere x reader, i had chrollo in mind but it doesn't matter. sfw! just a short drabble to get back into the swing of things!

“Come on, now.” 

His hand was extended, fingers twitching slightly as he beckoned you to his side. You could see this in your periphery and almost feel his culminating impatience.

The cashier’s grin was so radiant; so full of life. Perhaps it was all just for show, the obligatory kindness, similar to her sugary, high-pitched tone of voice as she wished you a good day. Maybe she hated her job, though. How could you know what was really going on in her mind? Perhaps she despised working in a quaint grocery store that must have had more grumpy customers than kind on a regular basis; that tended to be the case in small towns like this. You wished that she knew what was really going on in your mind.

“Y/N.”

His tone was firm.

Her smile widened, eyes squinting a little as her cheeks pushed up against them; her expression was so warm.

Then her smile faltered for a moment, her irises becoming a little more visible now as she mirrored the face you had been making throughout this entire interaction. You had been so busy analyzing how cheerful she seemed, you hadn’t even noticed that her initial smile was also one she gave the first and only time she looked at you since walking through her register queue. 

Her eyes opened up large, her eyebrows furrowed inward until her now paling skin wrinkled in the middle; she had gone from upbeat to concerned and borderline terrified within seconds, maybe even less.

Just like you.

“Y/N, let’s go.”

“Please.”

You hadn’t actually spoken–your voice was gone. It wasn’t even really there to begin with, though. Your throat had gone dry as soon as you entered the public space, forced to stay hand in hand with your captor, so shocked that he had finally allowed you to reemerge into society so soon. Well, maybe not reemerge, but at least you were able to walk around somewhere other than the same little room that became your residence for the last few months. Or maybe… years? How long has it been now?

Please is what your expression would have said if it could, and how you wished it could. For now, all you were able to do was nearly push your eyes out of their sockets in a silent, desperate plea for rescue. Would the cashier understand? Had you stared at her in enough of an uncanny way to unnerve her soul, in the deepest pit of it; to communicate that you were not just some happy camper who was here with your boyfriend on a quick grocery stock-up, then maybe a cute little coffee run? 

She glanced between you and your captor–who you were too petrified to face since you knew now that you had been staring away from him for a little too long, too hyper-focused on communicating speechlessly with the once luminant woman who now looked as reduced by fear as you did. 

Cold fingers wrapped around your wrist.

Eyes shifted away.

“Have a good day!” she repeated her previous words that you had momentarily forgotten; momentarily, had they not been a complete repeat of the last thing you heard her say. As if her speech had been cut, copied, and pasted.

Her body turned away. You had been turned away.

Her figure grew smaller, more distant as you were pulled along then, the grip on your wrist slid up to clutch your forearm and keep you as close as possible while your torso brushed against his with every near-trip of a step that you were forced to take. 

“What a shame, I misread you Y/N. We’ll try another outing again in a few months.” 

The subtly condescending mention of such an extended range of time between now and the next occasion where you were permitted to breathe fresh air could have made you cry if your gaze wasn’t still fixed behind your back; cramping your neck and shoulder, your mind still utterly convinced that keeping another person in your viewpoint would surely get them to notice you and understand your situation just by looking. But as new twists and turns through the store’s exit and into the parking lot drew you further away from civilization; returned you to the vehicle that you knew would chauffeur you back to the makeshift prison you’d been forced to call home–that small flame of hope in your thoughts began to dim into nothing. 

The irritable slam of the car’s back door shutting you out managed to quell that flame instantaneously. 

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

the muscles? his voice? the song? the weeknd? his walk? the degrading?