**Hi I'm obsessed with Miguel OHara so have the first half of something I've been thinking about for a few weeks now! If you like it let me know and I'll add the smutty bits!**
Annoyed didn't even cover it. You were down right pissed. Not only were you missing one of the most important dates of your life, but you were being held against your will. And no, it didn't matter if said date was a farce and actually a publicity stunt. No one knew that except four-now five people. You, your agent, Octavius Brown (one of Hollywood's hottest up and coming movie stars) and his agent. And now, your bodyguard, Miguel.
Miguel had been weird all day since you told him about the โdateโ that was set to happen this evening. Albeit, he was his normal quiet and stoic self, ever large and imposing. However, ever since you mentioned the excitement for the date, his grumpiness leaked out of him in constant silent rage. As you heard him either sighing loudly or clenching his jaw to the point you were worried heโd press his molars into dust every damn near fifteen minutes, you had finally asked him to speak his mind.
When he did, however, he simply looked at you with a frown and said, โYou aren't going tonightโ. You had laughed his comment off, moving on through your apartment bedroom to finish getting dressed. You decided on a backless black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places and showed just the right amount of cleavage. That was two hours ago. Now you stood in the doorway of your bedroom, hands on your hips, wearing your highest come hither pumps and feeling fine as hell, as your mountain of a bodyguard stood in your way.
โMiguel-โ you said, huffing out his name as you breathed hard through your nose and pinched it. โโYou cant be fucking seriousโ.
โLanguageโ he said, his deep voice ever calm and even toned. โAnd yes- I'm serious. You aren't going tonightโ. You stare up at him, and he stares back down at you. Even in five inch heels he still had inches over you. Your brain slowly starts to function again. You hadn't spent the last five years of your life making a name for yourself after technically running away from home and leaving your fathers name and money behind, just to have another man try to step into and control your life. โI think you've lost your damn mind. You work for meโ you remind him. Miguel arches one thick eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a small smirk. โI do ... technically" he says simply. You roll your eyes, and then glance at your phone in your hand. You had two messages from your agent-one stating a car was outside for the date that was in 10 minutes, and a follow up text asking if you were on your way to the restaurant. You shuffle your feet again, and look up at Miguel.
โOkay this is a funny joke and all, but I really need to leave. The towncar is waiting for me downstairs. This is huge for me Miguelโ you say, hands expressive as you talk. You give him a pleading, pouty look. Even poking out your bottom lip. You see Miguel shift only slightly, and his eyes soften a fraction. His arms that are crossed over his chest flex as his hands tighten into fists.
โ...You don't need this, you are better than this andโฆโ he hesitates, his calm deep voice fluctuating a bit.
Your brows furrow, and you scoff. โI know you have been my bodyguard for three years, I hear you Miguel I do,kinda, but this could be majorโ you try to explain. Then your cell phone starts vibrating and you groan softly. โYou don't have to come, you can have the night off! You deserve it and Octaviousโ bodyguards will be there, I'll be fineโ you say, attempting to squeeze past him.
You make it one step out of the doorway when a firm, large hand grabs your upper arm. It's not hard, but it clearly feels like Miguel wasn't moving his hand anytime soon. He sighs. โPlease," he says softly. You groan again, brows furrowing together. โNo, you. Please let me go ""I can't do that ""Why?โ โIt's-not safe" โHow?โ you press. What the hell was going on? Miguel was the perfect bodyguard-quiet and always cool, calm and collected. He did his job well, and honestly you had become quite comfortable with him. Before him you didn't have anyone guarding you and things got dicey as you became more and more popular with modeling gigs, small interviews and influencer deals. Today was the first time he had ever exerted any sort of force or control over you. And you weren't having it.
You tug at his hold on you, but he doesn't budge. โYou are hurting meโ you lie. Miguel huffs- his version of a laugh. โNo I am notโ he counters flatly.
You tug your arm again, harder this time. โ I swear I will fire you," you say. You were annoyed you were now late, you were worried about what Octavious and his agent would think, you were worried about your own agent as your phone buzzed almost non stop now, but mostly you were pissed off because you couldn't think or figure out why Miguel was suddenly acting like this.
โ[name] pleaseโฆpor favor escuchameโ he says, his voice dropping lower, like he was about to tell you a secret. โWhy? Why should I listen to you?โ you ask fervently. Then Miguel pulls your arm so that you spin and fall against his chest. When he has you close enough to feel his heat through the black cashmere shirt he was wearing. One of his large hands slides to your side and holds you steady as the other comes up to your face and caresses your cheek lightly. He looks at you intently, his deep amber eyes burning hot with a sudden passion you hadn't noticed before. His sudden movement and close proximity takes your breath away. Sure, you've had moments and interactions with men, but they had either been curated for photoshoots or as personal as a business interaction. The way Miguel looked at you now made butterflies tickle your stomach as you momentarily forget how to think.
โYou can't go because I refuse to let anyone date you, even if it's fake. I refuse to watch another man who isn't worthy of you waste your time. Especially to just use you like you are only some object to enhance him and make him seem better. Because youโฆ.โ he sighs, thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheekbones. His eyes take in all the features of your face, and for a moment, you see a flash of a furrowed brow and an almost pained expression- like he was holding something back, barely.
โEres mucho masโ he says, barely a whisper. His eyes glance down at your lips and you swear that you suddenly feel like the heat was turned up in your apartment. You stutter softly. โW-where is thisโฆcoming from?โ you ask, trying to make sense of the sudden situation you found yourself in as well as the sudden feelings you felt stirring deep within you.
โIt's always been there, I just, I cant hold it back anymore. You areโฆtoo important to meโ he says softly as he glances at your lips again. His hand that was caressing your cheek softly moves to the back of your neck and cradles your head. โIf you feel nothing, tell me to stopโฆbutโฆ se que sientes algo carinoโ he breathes.
You shiver, before the tickling heat in your core combined with your curiosity pushes you over the edge. Your hand comes to his firm and broad chest and you pull him into a soft kiss. As your lips meet his, he sighs softly, his hand gently tilting the back of your head to deepen the kiss. His touch was firm, overwhelming,loving and full of reserved emotions. Your head was spinning as he pressed against you softly before you pushed him away softly, and he let you break the kiss and pulled his arms away.
You steady yourself on your feet, touching your mouth gently as you stare at him. Your bodyguard. Your comfort. Your safety. And the butterflies increase five times before you turn away. โN-no, we-this can't be happeningโ you say softly, almost to yourself. โI'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed youโ you say, though realizing that you fully had wanted him to kiss you at that moment. And quite honestly, maybe even more.
Miguel lets out a soft groan, already missing your warmth. From just that simple kiss his heart thudded in his chest and he subconsciously licked his lips, eyes still burning as he looked at you. He felt the swell of emotions in his chest- from having a taste of you. And he wasn't going to waste it. He decided at that moment there was no going back.
โWhy are you sorry?โ Miguel said, voice calm and controlled again. But there was that fire in his eyes, and that proved that the calm he executed was barely holding back a storm. He took a step towards you, following you. He needed to have you in his arms again.
โI-i, I don't know because you are my bodyguard?? You can't, just-we can't Miguelโ you say, trying to take back some control of this situation. You take another step back, knowing if he touched you again, there would be no stopping the sudden desire rising in you.
Miguel made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. โYou think I give a damn about my reputation? About what other people might say or think?โ he asked. He took a step toward you, stepping into your personal space and consuming it. โThe only thing I care about is you, carino. Protecting you, caring for youโฆtasting you again. Nada mas importaโ he says, his voice wavering from the sudden admission. Then his hands came up to grasp your face gently.
โIf none of that matters to you ...then tell me and I'll leave right nowโ he breathes.
Your eyes search his and find nothing but the startling truth. Realization hits you as your mind speeds through the last three years with Miguel by your side. All the soft touches and small gestures. The times where groceries were suddenly in your kitchen, or meals would arrive when you were too focused on work to eat. The time your favorite chocolates and feminine products would suddenly be in your bathroom the day before your period happened to start, or how your phone was always uploaded with audible books or podcasts that you didn't remember downloading but ended up liking. You release a deep breath you didn't realize you had been holding after he held your face.
โ...it mattersโ you say softly. Then you pull him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned. The moment your lips touched his, he knew he wasn't going to be able to stop himself this time. It was like pouring gasoline onto a fire. His desire for you had finally burst into flames, and he was going to show you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as his hands gently caress up and down your body, feeling your curves. The thin fabric of the black backless dress you had worn for the date now caused delicious friction as his hands explored your body gently.
warnings: smut, tooth rotting fluff, miguel wears grey sweatpants, soft and loving sex, domesticity, unprotected piv
summary: miguel ft. grey sweatpants
A gentle drizzle splatters on the windows of your bedroom, tapping its soft, irregular crystal drops onto the glass only to wake you from your blissful nap.
You had fallen asleep with your head on his chest, invaded by the warmth of his body next to yours, the fascinating feeling of being home with him. You couldn't ever dare to ask for more than that.
With a spine-bending stretch, you step out of the cosiness of the king-sized bed following the realisation of his absence. Leaping down the stairs, you seek the comfort of him being near you like a throat-gripping vice.
You hear the water running, occasionally overlapped by clattering, dishes clanking and drawers being pushed shut.
You step out into the hall of your open-concept kitchen, linen stockings preventing even the subtlest noises of your movements from reaching him through the ambiance.
Your weight on the wooden floor is merely a gust of wind as you sit yourself into the corner of the sofa in order to watch him from up close.
You hug your legs to your chest in an attempt to adapt to the temperature change of the room, your flimsy top and panties doing little in covering your middle.
He hasn't turned to you since you hopped off the stairway. Arrogance tugs at the furthest corner of your mind after having sneaked behind his hyper vigilance, completely unnoticed. You seize the opportunity to study him in the absence of his piercing gaze fixed upon you.
Your eyes linger over the expanse of his broad back, the navy blue, short-sleeved shirt creasing in thin, cascading lines over his shoulder blades as he shifts his weight to his right, bicep bulging when he stretches his hand up into a cupboard.
You're more than delighted to note the easiness with which he attains things normally out of your reach.
Not only once did you call for his help to get you something from any place higher above you, having him stand behind you when doing so, and without fail him making sure to push his groin up against your ass in the process, prompting you to bend just slightly forward onto the board or sink in front of you before the simplest request for aid turned into you, taking him against any surface around the house.
It became quite the signal after a while. Whenever he heard you, 'Miguel! Come here for a second, babyโ, his cock would fatten in advance at the sound of the command.
"Should've stayed upstairs, muรฑeca. I was making something for you." he snaps you out of your reverie, the sleepy raspiness in his voice deliciously running late over the last syllables of his remorseful disfavour.
While still not facing you, it turns out he was well-aware of your presence.
"Don't worry about it. I'll just watch." you excuse yourself, draping your midriff over the armrest, hands supporting your head on the soft cushions as you thaw at the sight of him cooking for you.
He returns to the kitchen island, his index finger mindlessly following the instructions he was mentally revising, before his eyes find you on the couch, scanning every patch of skin you have on display, as if sizing you up for his dessert.
He allows his vision to wash over your silky smooth thighs, your waistline that moulds into the hill of the pillows, the exact same way it moulds so erotically against him when he pistons his hips into yours.
With your pleading gaze inviting, thighs squeezed together in frustration, he is unsure of what to finish next, the pancakes, or you.
Your attention drops to the chubbed, prominent curve of his stiffening cock in his sweatpants, the shade of it nearly obscenely large, evident on the grey fabric. His hand slips down his crotch, lazily palming his dick through the material. You feel the heat pooling between your thighs, yearning growing unbearable.
"I have to let it rest. I'm all yours now." he suggests smugly, and part of you suspects that he had been needing to take you since you decided to flutter your eyes shut on the bed, arms coiled around his waist.
You shamelessly keep your eyes on target as he sets the dough bowl aside, approaching you with a heaviness in his pace that you know oh so well.
His dick twitches ever so slightly in his pants, hardening until its outline becomes lewdly evident, straining upwards into his pants in all its length and girth that ruptures you unforgivingly whenever he stuffs himself inside you.
Before he can even reach the sofa, your eager hands clutch his waist, feeling the rigid muscles underneath his shirt as you start planting gentle kisses down his abdomen, having him shudder at the contact even through the cotton fibre.
Your soft breasts meet his bulge in the process, offering nothing more than a few mere brushes that only rile him up more than he had hoped.
He drops his weight next to you on the cushions as the only way to avoid the urge to pull his cock out and shove it down your throat through your pretty, plush lips. He opts to rest his head back on the pillows, legs spread wide in front of him, taking up nearly all the space next to you.
Not a single moment is wasted before you take his cheeks in your hands, fingertips grazing his rough, barely visible stubble, pressing rushed, obsessive kisses all over his face.
You slide one leg over his, seeking the pressure of his broad, firm thigh to your clothed cunt.
His own hands are quick to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, your chest flattened on his. His lips find yours through your loving pecks, deepening the kiss he caught you with, swiftly interrupted by a soft gasp of yours the second your ass meets his boner.
You teasingly lower yourself onto him gently, revelling in the feeling of the tip pressing harshly into the thin fabric of your panties.
Letting your hand travel down his firm chest, down his abdomen and over the sizable bulge in his sweatpants, you cup him through the material, applying just enough pressure to coax a groan out of his throat.
His wide thighs involuntarily flex on your sides and he twitches in your hand, a reminder of his force, his size in comparison to you, his ability to have you any time he wanted despite the position, despite your teasing.
His head leans back on the couch exposing his throat, eyes dazed out and fixed on the view of your breasts peeking from under your crop, visibly satisfied with the angle he found. Your boobs, round and soft, ever so inviting for him to knead in his large hands, he thinks.
Warm palms leave your hips to slide up your waist, disappearing under the cotton shirt, idly groping your chest.
You reel at the feeling of his rough, calloused hands on your smooth skin, touching and fondling in all the right places.
His knuckles protrude every now and then through the thin textile as he keeps massaging your breasts, feeling your pulse quicken with each deep breath you take.
Before you can even decide on your next move, you feel the blistering warmth of a splayed out hand on your back, propping you gently as he tilts you to the side, a familiar bow of such a dirty dance that has your thoughts melting out of your brain, your whole existential purpose being resumed to him alone in a matter of seconds.
He lays you down over the length of the couch with such care, such strength that has you submitting mindlessly, wrapping your frail arms around his neck. Legs up in the air, he has you just like he always does. Your blood boils through you, the ignition of nerves only he could ever cause.
He descends upon you, veiling your entire body in his, hands eagerly running over your body, playing you like an instrument that only sings for him, that only he can hold.
You sigh, taking in the scent of him, letting it invade your lungs like inhalants. The visceral musky cologne, with shades of a pine forest that had your thoughts run wild and senses sharpened.
Half lidded eyes accentuate his savagely, crimson irises and dilated pupils, the sheer sight of you under him never ceasing to rile him up bad enough to make him beg for your touch.
You squirm weakly; quickly enough he takes the hint and hooks his thumb around your panties, dragging them down your soft skin, impatience evident in his movements.
You feel the weight of his hard cock on your thigh, head going dizzy at the thought of its girth stretching you open, the thought of the pained groans that crawl out of his throat when he comes, his dick pulsating inside you.
He stills above you, eyes darting over your face, as if searching for something he had just remembered he was missing, a gaze condimented with adoration, curiosity, and a hesitancy you may only interpret as astonishment.
"No puedo creer que seas mรญa" (โCan't believe you're mine.โ) he mutters, barely above a halted whisper, following the realisation of your rather perplexed demeanour when confronted with such antics. โMakes me think that maybe", he pauses, "pushing through all the shit in my life made me worthy of you.โ, he confesses, vulnerable and wounded.
You've caught smudges of this view of his before, only not this categorical. In a way, you find it quite the most heartwarming yet peculiar thing there is to know about him. He seeks the comfort of believing that all the suffering he endured meant something, a sacrificial lamb for him to ultimately earn the limitless love of your embrace, your affections and unwavering devotion.
It wasnโt pride that clawed at his memories of having conquered and survived when so many others didnโt in the same circumstances he faced. It was relief, the relief of a man that swam the ocean to find paradise.
And there you were, silk-smooth, gentle hands cupping his face with such infatuation he did not think possible, looking up at him like there wasnโt anything more beautiful in existence you would rather see.
His heart had inevitably melted into yours; now soldered together against all odds fate could bestow.
โI love you, Miguel. With or without your scars.โ, you pull him into a reassuring, promise-sealing kiss, which he softly reciprocates, regaining his confidence and unyielding want.
His lips ghost over your jugular, relishing in the way your exhales halt in your throat, pausing in expectancy as his hot breath excites goosebumps over the satin skin of your exposed neck.
โI love you more.โ he teases, lips latching onto your pulse point, lightly sucking hungry kisses down to the valley where your throat meets your shoulder.
Despite knowing how adamant you were about your own love being immeasurable, let alone any lesser than his, he took great joy in dramatically rivalling you on the matter, beclouding your fondness only to start a competition of who manages to sway the other with their words of pure worship and fidelity.
Whether there was another underlying reason for his racing I love you moreโs, you do not know. Maybe a reminiscence of his mistrustful, defensive nature, reflecting its last slither of bewilderment into a seemingly innocent insistence that he, indeed, loved you more than you loved him.
How could he not? You had no knowledge of the things he had to do for his job, what it truly meant to risk everything for someone, to risk your life for another.
And he prefers it this way, to have you shielded away from the horror of finding yourself in that situation, from the heartbreak of even imagining the circumstances in which you may decide to give your life for him in all your passion, let alone pondering upon the choice and place the verdict upon your declaration of love, weighing it down in all gravity and seriousness of the pledge. In the depths of his mind, he dreads it, hearing you say, โI love you, I would give my life for youโ, although he would do so for you without thinking twice.
He dreads knowing that his presence in your life could scar you so that you may have to die for him, that his soul alone could be stained in your blood, even only in hypothesis.
Therefore, he feels far more content thinking that you donโt quite love him as much, thinking that you, as perfect as you are, would not suffer should anything happen to him. That your attachment to him will only ever bring you nothing but joy.
And oh how he brought you joy. Pure bliss and paradisiacal rapture. Even more so when he held you so dearly against him, painting you in doting kisses, marks of which linger on your skin long after heโs departed.
His warm, broad hand sails down over the plushy mound of your breast, indulging in a layover just to squeeze lightly. To drift below; its tender, round shape fitting in the junction between his thumb and index finger; his palm seemingly continuing its travel down your waist before returning unexpectedly, massaging your soft tit after a run down and up your waist, making the butterflies in your belly grow agitatedly.
The meagre shudders of your body underneath his unpredictable and exciting touch, the silent whines that die in your throat as he kisses down the crook of your neck have his cock twitching in his pants, beads of precum gathering on the flushed tip, staining the material. You feel the unmistakable length of it poke your thigh, hard and thick.
"Eres tan buena conmigo" (โYouโre so good to me.โ) he breathes deeply, voice hoarse with restraint, lacing his words with a poised thread that wraps around your neck, earning him a fractured moan. โTell me what you want and Iโll give it to you.โ
Grabbing onto his massive shoulders for support, delighted with the way his muscles ripple under your soft hands as he continues his attack on your most sensitive spots he knows so well, you press your leg tentatively into his hard-on, an unspoken, considerate request for him to cease the teasing and chase his own pleasure.
โI want youโ, you whisper breathily, finding your voice on the last word, accentuating the singularity of your need, the force with which you crave him, only him. โI love you, Miguel, I wanna make you happy.โ you declare desperately, planting another suffocating kiss on his slightly agape lips, having him gasp softly into your mouth, a killer whale surfacing above the waterline for a superficial breath before diving back into the depths of the ocean.
He kisses you with such ardour, savouring the addictive taste of your delicate lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth like you hadnโt seen each other for months, like one of those desperate days in which he has his way with you right after he returns from a bone-chilling mission throughout the multiverse.
After ending the kiss with an unnecessarily harsh smooch, he draws back, making you giggle through unrelenting panting. He scans your face, absorbing the image of you, in your most defenceless self, so full of what can only be adoration for him.
He takes in your half-lidded, love-struck eyes, the look he thinks not even the bestest of painters of the world could capture on canvas. The look he thinks would be perverted in blasphemy should it be, even in attempt, recreated on any portrait, any sculpture, any photograph.
He follows the line of your jaw that cascades sharply into the crook of your neck, the only safe place for him to lay his head at night, the place he reveres to place the sweetest of kisses upon, having you either laugh or melt in his arms.
His vision then lands on your sore, reddened lips, exhaling the very air he breathes, uttering the same words that echoed in his head out in the field; โI love you, truly, entirely and through my whole being. With my body, heart and soul, oh, I love you.โ
He dips his head down your waist in reverence, leaving gentle pecks down the line of your stomach. In any other instance, you would giddily chuckle at his ministrations, a chuckle that would soon turn into a hearty burst of laughter, as he knew just the spots to touch and tickle and make you reel in retaliation when play-fighting on a particularly lazy Sunday evening.
However, now, there was no impulse to laugh. You watch him closely as he reaches the crease of your pelvic bone, looking up to meet your gaze.
You feel your face heat up at the sight of him, a strong hand wrapped around your thigh, the other holding your middle.
Satisfied with the moans he successfully drove out of you, breaths getting heavy at the thought of how wet you have to be by now, he sits up on his knees to hurriedly haul his shirt over his head.
His dick grows harder at the familiar picture of you, laid back on the sofa, eyes glazed with drunken want and the remembrance of his feverish touch on you.
Letting your hands roam his chest and firm abdomen while he disposes of the shirt, you curl your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, carefully dragging them down his bulky thighs, eyes widening as his cock springs upwards from the grey fabric, hitting his stomach before ever-so-slightly bending to the right under its generous weight.
You let yourself fall back into the cosy corner of the couch, parting your legs with lascivious speed while watching him stroke his now glistening cock, eyes trained on yours.
A vigorous, bulging forearm anchors next to your head, the other guiding himself inside you. His mountainous shoulders block any view of the room aside from him, and you obey the impulse to run your hands over his biceps, his pecs, his jaw.
You draw in a sharp breath at the contact of his fat tip on your wet folds, rubbing into the dampness at the entrance before breaching you.
You whimper softly, trying to adjust. No matter how many times you have sex, it always takes you time to adapt to his size, to fit him inside you to the hilt.
His forehead rests against yours as he pushes further in, a gentle hand coming to collect a few unruly strands of hair from your face. It stops to cup your fiery, rosy cheek, his thumb grazing your dainty skin protectively, soothingly, before his arm docks symmetrically to the other, beside your head to balance his weight on top of you.
Your tear-welled eyes flutter shut, the dip between your brows deepening and rising into an unspoken plea for a one-second pause. He stops, knowing of your struggles despite your fervent insistences that he may always bottom out regardless of your aches.
He cannot bring himself to cause you discomfort in any way, even under the greenlight of your sincere consent.
โI know, love, Iโm sorry.โ, he pacifies you, and youโre overwhelmed by his attentive care, starting to rain messy, fatigued kisses over each patch of skin on his face within reach. He returns the gesture in earnest, covering your features in slow smooches.
It calms you, allowing him to push all the way inside your tight cunt, grunting into your temple as you tense around his shaft the moment his tip presses against your cervix.
A loud sigh that swiftly leaves your agape mouth tells him to proceed. His hips start gyrating languidly, his dick exits you only halfway, coated in your juices, before driving back in with a quiet squelch. You throw your head back on the pillows, legs coiled securely around his waist as he makes love to you, laying you onto a cloud of pleasure.
"Ugh, oh-," he groans, his voice deep and rugged, mirroring his own mind-numbing bliss, โyou feel so goodโ. With his head now leaned into your chest, his heavy breaths are hot on your skin, timed with the drive of his hips into yours.
He starts going faster, yet the force of his thrusts still soft. The second he finds the puffy nub of nerves that snaps firecrackers in your lower belly, you grab at the mattress, gasping and moaning weakly. Muted whines are put out in your throat as you close your mouth to swallow a kiss your body had craved to give him.
His shoulders flex under his weight as he picks up more speed, nearing his high and finding the rhythm you know only leads to those desperate grunts that have you coming only from their sound alone.
He pushes into his thrusts, rubbing the coarse hair above the base of his cock on your clit. Your back contorts and arches in response, gifting him an even more delicious angle for the precise rolls of his hips.
You choke on a pained scream that dissolves into your limbs as you come hard, your orgasm washing over you in drumming tidal waves, crashing onto you with every drive of his fat cock into your soft, drenched cunt.
"Oh-- ugh, yeah- so good," he groans into your rose, kiss-marked neck, seemingly taken aback by the force of his own euphoria, as if he had been expecting a gentle current of ecstasy as result of his intendedly soft and gentle session of lovemaking, instead being met a fierce jolt of elation. He stills, holding a breath from erupting out of his throat into a shaky moan.
The bridge of his nose is pressed perfectly into your neck, a sculpture-worthy puzzle of two souls sewn together. His hot palm seeks the feeling of your smooth skin, landing shy of your waist, holding you against him with the firmness of a man who heeds every longing you had ever voiced, who heeds the closeness you had always coveted as you rode the rapids of your orgasm.
The pressure hammers into you in aftershocks, hauling you back down in fading flutters, pulsing into your lower belly as he tenses, pushing his hips flush against your ass with one final blow, releasing into the warmth of your cunt.
You clench faintly at the feeling of his fat cock spasming and twitching inside you, catching on to the last gust of your high.
He groans in oversensitivity, pulling out before carefully placing his broad hand in between your thighs, tenderly cupping your dripping pussy to prevent his come from staining the peppered grey couch. You flinch at the contact, not having fully recovered from the stimulation.
He leans into you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You turn to him instinctively, unable to find your voice or enough strength in your arms to do anything but gaze up at him with the face he knew so well; the euphoria-painted face you grace him with when his love overflows your body, teeming into your watery eyes.
Sitting up, he unpacks a thin, white blanket from the opposite edge of the sofa, cocooning you into the clean, fresh fabric. You hum in comfort, struggling to chase the warmth of his arms as he tucks the edges of the material underneath the contour of your body.
โJust stay here for a bit.โ, he whispers into your red cheek, sending shivers down your spine. โ Iโm almost done with your surprise.โ
โYou want me to help?โ you resort to a last-chance inquiry in hopes of finding an excuse to sit beside him for longer, even in the kitchen.
He knows youโre well-intended, but decides to better value the total credit of his courteous offering.
You will most certainly keep the stakes up and stubbornly get dinner ready for him on the very next occasion you find, so he might as well echo your stubbornness and finish his task alone, meeting great satisfaction in spoiling you with the opportunity your body has given him.
โNo te preocupes, (Don't worry.) Iโll manage.โ
You dramatically reach for him with your extended arms as he heads towards the kitchen. He throws you a sympathetic smile before resuming his cooking, fully aware that a considerable part of him would have wanted nothing more than to rush back into your arms and spend the rest of the evening smothering you into his warm embrace, play fighting you into submitting to his self-indulgent caresses and kisses.
divider by @cafekitsune
spanish translations by @bookished ๐ค(tysm!!)
50% requested by @badbitchhour (ik u wanted a wedding night but my brain short-circuited when i tried to write it, it's still coming tho!!! meanwhile made the very soft and emotional lovemaking part til i get around it and start feeling it)
a/n: don't pick on me for the extremely creative! title i wanted to make shit clear from the start. (clickbaiting)
also smut authors try not to use the same words and phrases for every sex scene without using things like 'wand' and 'shaft' (challenge impossible)
I know Its been SO LONG and I pray you all are doing well and staying safe and healthy!! During this crazy pandemic I have unfortunately lost my job and due to health conditions I am out of work ๐ BUT I'm staying positive!! I have started my own small business and am doing well, but need some tools and funds to really promote and get myself out there!
If you feel it in your heart to help a girl out, I will be accepting donations (of any amount!) through my CashApp $nubianeuphoria, and will return the kindness the best way I can, complete nude photo sets of 3! Any donations under $5 will get three photos ofy choosing. Amy donations more than $5 will be allowed to customize their three photos of any specific body parts or poses! $10 or more and you can customize your photos of me AND get 5 photos!
If you are interested in this deal please message me here on Tumblr with your CashApp name, and after payment is received we can talk details of when I will send your photos โค๏ธ
PLEASE, IF YOU ARENT FINANCIAL SOUND TO PAY YOUR OWN BILLS AND FOOD AND WHATEVER TAKES PRIORITY IN YOUR LIFE, don't feel obligated to donate!
Any support is MUCH appreciated and if you even too the time to read this whole post, you are an amazing person and thank you for your time ๐๐ฟ๐๐
*If you are interested in my snap, please message me!!
*Snap is $15 every 2 months, and will offer videos, pictures, nudes and direct access to talk with me 24/7
*I will ONLY accept payment through PayPal, and usernames will only be added once confirmation has gone through
*I will keep the privilege and right of deleting and blocking anyone WITHOUT REFUND who do the following: unsolicited dick pictures/videos without previous consent or asking
*Private/Special request videos will be $5 extra and will be sent directly to the user
*Under no circumstances EVER will my face be revealed, and asking or insisting to see my face will result in being deleted/blocked from my snap WITHOUT REFUND
*These rules are liable to change but you will always be notified ASAP ๐
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