miguel o'hara x reader 18+
slipping on an oversized shirt [with nothing underneath] after taking a hot shower >>>
imagine being laid out on your stomach while working on your computer and miguel walks into the room, inevitably catching an eyeful of you 😌
you yelp as he jumps onto the bed behind you, nearly sending your laptop flying off the edge of the mattress.
"miguel!"
of course, your concerns fall on deaf ears.
large hands spread your legs and prop your hips up, exposing your bare bottom-half to the cool air.
you grip the comforter under you as he leans in and presses a cheek to your inner thigh. "how was the shower, mi vida?" you can feel his warm breath brush gently against your bare pussy.
"g-good"
"good, hm?" you whimper as he traces the seam of your pussy with his thumb, easily making a mess of you with how he spreads your slick to your aching clit. "looks like you missed a spot..."
he gently pushes against your dripping hole, teasing you until your start to roll your hips against his touch. he groans as he watches his finger disappear inside of you, mere inches away from his face. "mm...f-fuck--don't worry, cariño. i'll help you clean up."
your whole body throbs with anticipation as he nuzzles his nose right against the area where your thigh meets your cunt.
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it is so vitally important to me that after a shower i smell like the soap i used for at least a few hours. i hate weak scented soaps more than anything in the world. i would risk letting sniffer dogs find my scent while on the run to smell like freshly cut flowers.
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Okay welp my other post hit 200 notes so I might as well show off that bonus pic I mentioned
Tbh I’m not entirely sure on how it turned out but hey a deal’s a deal
Also gonna tag @xenasaur because obviously, @lilithtransrights because I think she’d enjoy, and @i-am-fucking-desperate because she’s fucking desperate and I wanna give her a treat :3
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mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.
he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.
you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.
in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.
"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."
standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.
"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.
and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.
with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."
silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.
"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"
had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.
his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.
(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.
you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.
you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)
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