One year after your divorce, you runs into your ex husband at a friend's birthday party. Neither of you expected to see each other again, and neither of you had prepared for the memories that come with it.
You and Sukuna had been married for three beautiful years, a time when your life felt completely over the moon. It was happy, peaceful, and everything you had ever wished for. In those early stages, you both thoroughly enjoyed your lives together. You went on endless dates and had sex in every location you could possibly think of.
Even on the kitchen counter and yeah even public bathroom, you never regret any of that.
That was your life with Sukuna laughing until your stomach physically hurt, sitting lazily on his lap, and watching cheesy romantic comedies. Even though he always complained that they were so boring and dramatic, you both had watched 'She’s the Man' at least six times, and he always watched it with full interest just because you were there.
He was a good man. Even though others constantly portrayed him as an arrogant asshole with an ego as high as the Burj Khalifa, or a ruthless bastard who would beat the shit out of anyone for looking at him wrong, he was never that way with you.
With you, he was something entirely different. He was the only person who made you feel completely safe in his arms. You loved spending every second with him. You and Sukuna genuinely couldn't live without each other, and he was always more than proud to admit it. He was a busy man and so were you. you worked long hours at the hospital, and he was a highly successful architect, but the dates and the effortless romance were always a priority. He would patiently paint your nails while you talked his ear off about the latest hospital gossip or a new show you were watching. And he always listened. He truly did.
If you ever felt sick, he was right there. He would immediately take a day off work just to look after you, because you were his. His sweet girl.
The age gap between you was just two years. You had initially met in high school as bitter enemies who absolutely couldn't stand the sight of each other, only to end up as husband and wife who couldn't bear to be apart.
When you turned twenty nine, you got pregnant, and Sukuna was absolutely over the world. He was so happy. He always found a way to hold your growing baby bump, gently squeezing it and kissing your skin, loving you even more with each passing day.
One afternoon, while you were standing in the kitchen making tea, Sukuna wrapped his arms around you from behind. He placed both of his large, rough hands over the small baby bump that was still growing. "I bet it's going to be a girl" he murmured gently, pressing soft, warm kisses against your neck.
Both of you simply wanted a healthy, fit child. the gender never truly mattered. Sukuna built and prepared the nursery entirely by himself. You both decorated it or rather, you sat comfortably in a chair and gave directions while Sukuna did all the hard labor, because he refused to let you lift a single finger.
Life was perfect. It was just like a fairy tale.
But fairy tales only exist in movies and books, not in real life.
You miscarried. You were driving home from the hospital after a long shift. Sukuna had called and told you to wait at the hospital until he could come pick you up, but you had refused. You told him that you had your own car, and that there was no point in him making the extra trip.
If only you had waited that day, maybe things would have turned out differently. The horrific car crash happened too fast, right in front of your eyes. A massive truck slammed directly into your vehicle with enough force to kill you, and a part of you deeply wished it had. At least then you wouldn't have had to live through the agony of losing your baby girl. It was a girl. You were seven months pregnant, and the doctors had to cut your stomach open in an emergency procedure just to take the lifeless infant out.
That loss completely broke both you and Sukuna. You fell into a deep, suffocating depression. Sukuna stopped working entirely for a solid month just to remain by your side, pulling you through every violent nightmare and every painful bout of crying.
He supported you constantly, even though he was losing himself, too. He had lost his daughter, and he had nearly lost his wife.
But your severe depression eventually led to you getting constantly annoyed over the smallest things. You started making wild, baseless accusations, claiming Sukuna was cheating on you. Deep down, you felt absolutely pathetic, but you couldn't stop. Sukuna never snapped back. he understood the immense trauma you were carrying. It went on like that for a year you constantly ignored him or showed him a terrible attitude over nothing. He was getting tired. Not tired of you he could never be tired of you. but completely exhausted by the toxic wall you had built between you.
And when he finally sighed one evening and told you to stop acting like a bitch, you completely lost it.
"Oh?! So I am the bitch?!" you had yelled at the top of your lungs, tears streaming down your face. "Really? Fuck you, Sukuna! I fucking wish I never married you! I fucking hate you!"
He never answered. He just stood there, glaring at you with a deeply broken expression before he turned and left the house.
After that night, he started drinking heavily and smoking even more. Everything came to a sudden, crashing end far too quickly. You moved out of the shared house, refusing to take a single dime of alimony because you didn't want anything from him. And just like that, after a quick and quiet divorce, it was completely over.
Now, a year later, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down a beautiful, elegant baby blue silk dress. It was completely backless, making you look incredibly chic and sophisticated. Your hair was tied up into a perfectly styled messy bun, your makeup was done effortlessly, and you wore expensive, elegant heels.
You walked toward the large house where Shoko's twin babies were celebrating their first birthday. You felt genuinely happy for her. Maybe a tiny, subconscious part of you felt a slight sting of jealousy seeing your friends move forward with their families, but you were genuinely thrilled for them. Your own love life was alright. you dated on and off, having casual sex whenever you felt the need for physical affection. Mostly, you spent your days shopping and treating yourself, because you deserved it.
You had been consistently going to therapy ever since the tragedy, and it was helping.
Taking a deep, steady breath just like your therapist had taught you to do you prepared to knock on the front door. But you quickly realized it was useless, as the loud sounds of laughter and chatter were echoing from the backyard. Shoko and her husband, Suguru, had rented this beautiful, massive estate for a week to celebrate. They were such a wonderful couple.
Holding the beautifully wrapped gift bags tightly in your hands, you walked around the side of the house toward the backyard. The spacious lawn was packed with people, covered in colorful clusters of balloons, and centered around a massive table loaded with delicious food. At least you knew you could enjoy the catering.
You walked gently over to Shoko, who was currently holding one of the twins. You didn't look around the crowd too much, not caring to see who else was there, since you had cut off most of your old social circle after the divorce.
"Oh my god! Look who's here! Auntie is looking so pretty!" Shoko cooed in a sweet baby voice, rocking the infant in her arms.
You giggled softly, walking right up to them to press a loud, loving kiss against the baby girl's chubby cheek. "Muah! My beautiful baby girl is getting so big! Where is the other one?" you asked, hugging Shoko tightly and kissing her cheek.
"Thanks, bitch! The other one just completely shit herself, you know how it is," Shoko laughed, rolling her eyes. "Suguru is upstairs changing her diaper right now. By the way, you are absolutely glowing!"
You smiled gently. "Thank you, Sho, Motherhood definitely suits you, but for God Sake stop cursing in front of this cutie pie." You leaned down to kiss little Lily again, and she gave you a wide, gummy smile that completely melted your heart.
"Alright, alright, whatever the Boss says" Shoko winked playfully. "Anyway, Suguru invited a ton of hot men today, so if you're looking to find a good one, keep your eyes open."
You shook your head, laughing softly at her antics. "Sure, Sho. Here, take the gifts. And I think this little one needs a diaper change now, too." you added, pointing at the telltale smell suddenly drifting from Lily.
Shoko made a comical, disgusted face. She quickly grabbed the bags, blew you a kiss, and hurried off toward the house.
Left alone, you felt a sudden wave of boredom. You recognized a few familiar faces in the crowd, but every single one of them was wrapped up with their partners and their children. Deciding to skip the awkward small talk, you headed inside the main house to use the restroom.
As you stepped through the back doors, you could hear Suguru and Shoko playfully bickering over the diaper changes in the next room, making you chuckle softly.
"Hey, Y/N! How are you? It's been a while!" Suguru called out warmly, spotting you near the hallway.
"I'm doing really well, Suguru. What about you?" you called back, pausing by the stairs.
"Just trying to adjust to fatherhood," he said with a friendly, tired smile. "Go ahead and enjoy yourself today!"
You nodded appreciatively and began walking upstairs, adjusting the silk of your dress. The blue fabric flowed elegantly with every step, clinging beautifully to your curves. You stared at the various doors in the upper hallway, wondering what kind of massive estate Shoko had actually rented. There were so many rooms, and absolutely none of them had a bathroom sign on them.
Sighing, you opened a random door just to see if it was a restroom, closing it behind you when you realized it was just a simple bedroom. Turning around to leave, you felt someone turn the doorknob from the other side at the exact same time. The door swung open abruptly, catching you off guard. In the sudden movement, one of your expensive earrings slipped from your earlobe and clattered to the floor.
"Tsk! Stupid" you muttered under your breath, immediately bending down to retrieve it.
But before your fingers could touch the jewelry, another hand reached down and picked it up. Your entire life completely stopped. Your breath caught in your throat. You could forget almost anything in this world, but you could never, ever forget those large, rough, heavily tattooed hands.
"Here" Sukuna said lazily.
As he held the earring out, his sharp gaze finally met yours, and he froze completely. He had just been wandering the halls looking for a bathroom to take a quick piss, casually opening doors, and now he deeply regretted it.
You were standing right there in front of him, looking absolutely beautiful out of this world beautiful. How long had it been? A year? Maybe even longer since he had last seen your face. He had tried asking Suguru about how you were doing a few times, but their mutual friends had never given him much information.
You quickly snatched the earring from his rough palm, your fingers trembling slightly as you tried to clip it back onto your ear. He stood directly in the doorway, his massive frame making it incredibly hard for you to move or slide past him.
"Excuse me" you murmured sharply, keeping your eyes trained on your hands as you struggled with the jewelry.
"Y/n?" he finally spoke.
His voice was just as rough and deep as you remembered. He still smelled exactly the same a distinct blend of expensive cologne and heavy cigarette smoke, a scent you used to love so much. He was wearing a crisp white button down shirt and navy blue trousers, making him look exceptionally handsome and sharp.
"Yeah?" you replied, firmly avoiding eye contact.
"...How have you been?" he asked quietly.
His eyes had softened. They had actually softened in a way that showed he deeply, genuinely cared about the answer. Because he did.
You took a deep, grounding breath, exactly the way your therapist had instructed you to do during moments of high stress. Finally finding the courage, you lifted your chin and met his gaze. The moment your eyes locked, a crushing wave of old memories flashed through your mind, threatening to tear down your composure.
You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I am good. really well, actually. What about you?"
You began to step forward, intending to finally walk past him now that he had moved slightly to the side. But as you stepped out into the hallway, his long strides fell right into alignment with yours, walking beside you.
"fine" he muttered, looking straight ahead. "I didn't know you were going to be here today."
"I didn't know you'd be here either" you replied, a slight edge to your tone.
"I'm surprised you even came, considering you've been completely ghosting all of our mutual friends." He said making you annoyed
"I haven't been ghosting Shoko," you defended yourself softly. "And why wouldn't I come?"
"Whatever" He muttered, a familiar spark of annoyance rising in your chest.
Sukuna let out a quiet sigh, his eyes lingering on your profile for a brief second. "You look..nice, Y/n. You're glowing. Life has been treating you right, I guess."
"Yeah, it has" you lied smoothly, keeping your chin held high.
"Alright then. See you around," he murmured. He stopped walking, turning back toward the stairs to head down to the party.
You paused for a split second, staring at his retreating back. The heavy, deliberate way he walked, the sharp clench of his jaw every single detail violently reminded you of the old times. Of the life you used to have.
When you finally made your way down to the backyard, your eyes immediately caught sight of Shoko’s mother. You had always deeply disliked that woman. You could never fully pin down why, but she had never liked you either perhaps out of some strange, deep-seated jealousy or bitterness you could never understand.
Your eyes instinctively began scanning the crowded yard, searching for Sukuna. You immediately hated yourself for doing it. But when you finally located him across the lawn, you realized he was already staring directly at you. The moment your eyes met, he sharply snapped his head away, pretending to look at something else.
Eventually, it was time for the highlight of the party. Shoko and Suguru stood behind a massive cake, holding little Lily and Liana as the babies bubbled, babbled, and screamed happily. Everyone gathered around the long banquet table to eat and celebrate. The atmosphere was filled with loud laughter and the clinking of glasses.
By total twist of fate, you found yourself seated right in the middle of Kenjaku and an older lady who was eating her food like a pig. Directly across the table, sitting right in front of you, was Sukuna. Beside him sat Shoko's mother and Suguru.
The conversations flowed effortlessly across the table, with various guests sharing funny stories from high school, talking about work, and discussing life.
Until Shoko's mother loudly cleared her throat, capturing the attention of the table. "I truly think that being a mother is a gift," she announced pompously. "Not every woman possesses the ability or the grace to have that."
Shoko rolled her eyes hard but chose not to say anything, wanting to keep the peace. You let out a quiet, sarcastic chuckle, catching the way Suguru practically gagged into his drink at his mother-in-law's words.
"And I am just so incredibly happy that my sweet Shoko is such a great mother" the older woman continued loudly, turning to face the other elderly ladies at the table with a huge, boastful smile. "She handles the entire house and two babies perfectly."
You set your fork down, a small, calm smile playing on your lips. "Motherhood is beautiful, certainly" you countered smoothly. "But I think not everyone deserves to have that blessing. I've seen some of the worst people have children, only for those poor kids to end up with severe mental health problems because of their parents."
"Of course, of course!" Shoko's mother let out a loud, forced laugh, clearly displeased at being challenged.
Across the table, Sukuna let out a rough scoff. He grabbed a fresh bottle of beer, taking a long sip before casually pouring more alcohol into the cups of the guests sitting near him. His sharp eyes shifted up, locking onto you as if silently asking if you needed a drink or if you were doing alright. You simply shook your head subtly, looking away from him.
Shoko's mother narrowed her eyes, her gaze landing squarely on you. The sweet, fake smile on her face turned incredibly malicious.
"Didn't you have a miscarriage, Y/n?" she asked loudly, her voice cutting through the chatter of the table.
Your entire body went completely still. The ambient noise of the party seemed to vanish instantly. Across the table, Sukuna’s hand froze dead in mid air, his beer glass halting just inches from his lips.
Shoko’s head snapped toward her mother, her face contorting into an absolute fury as she threw her a deadly glare. "Mom!, stop--"
You swallowed the sudden lump of ice in your throat, forcing yourself to take a slow breath. "Uhm, yeah. Unfortunately, I did" you replied softly, your voice trembling slightly. A few of the older women sitting nearby immediately began murmuring softly, trying to show genuine empathy and comfort toward you to smooth over the tension.
But Shoko’s mother wasn't finished. She let out a soft, dismissive hum, leaning forward onto the table. "Well, have you ever considered that perhaps God took your child away from you because He knew you wouldn't be a good mother? Whatever happens, happens for a good reason. Maybe that kid was just supposed to die now or later anyway—"
Before the horrific sentence could even fully leave her mouth, Sukuna was on his feet.
It didn't take him a single second. With an explosive, terrifying speed, his fist flew across the table, punching Shoko’s mother squarely in the face.
The heavy wood of the table rattled as the woman went flying backward out of her chair, crashing hard into the grass. The entire backyard erupted into absolute chaos and screaming.
"You fucking hag!" Shoko’s father roared in shock, rushing forward to violently push Sukuna away.
But Sukuna wasn't having a single piece of it. He was completely out of his mind with pure, unadulterated rage. He lunged forward again, his massive fists throwing punch after punch, completely blind to the world around him. You stood up from your chair, frozen in absolute shock, entirely overwhelmed as the screams of the guests echoed in your ears.
"And I think God thinks your fucking time has come, and that you don't deserve to live in this world anymore! How about that, huh?!" Sukuna roared, his deep voice vibrating with an terrifying, animalistic fury. "Talk about my girl like that again Idare you!-- Fucking let me go! I am going to kill this fucking hag!"
Suguru, Kenjaku, and three other men had to throw their entire weight against Sukuna, desperately pinning his arms and dragging him backward to keep him from completely destroying the older woman.
Sukuna was breathing heavily, his white shirt slightly torn as he was finally forced out of the backyard and away from the party. The celebration was entirely ruined. someone was already franticly calling an ambulance for the bleeding woman on the grass.
Your vision blurred completely as heavy tears finally spilled over your eyelashes. You couldn't believe someone could be so cruel, to say something so deeply monstrous to you about the daughter you had lost.
In a daze, you quickly wiped at your wet cheeks, walking as fast as your heels could carry you away from the chaotic house and out toward the front driveway.
As you reached the quiet street, you spotted him.
Sukuna was leaning heavily against his motorcycle, a lit cigarette pressed between his lips. His knuckles were bruised and stained with blood, his chest still heaving with residual adrenaline. As the sound of your heels clicked against the asphalt, his sharp eyes lifted, locking directly onto yours.
Seeing the sheer, protective fury still lingering in his gaze the same man who had just risked everything to defend your honor, had made completely broke down. You burst into violent, heavy tears right there on the pavement.
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
In which sukuna gets shy and forgets how to speak when you fix his chain in front of his frat brothers
A reference to this series
It’s a friday night.
You had come over to the frat house after class, by now it was normal for you to randomly show up. It was the end of the week, with your body and mind both sore and tired from all the work you’ve done all week , eyes heavy, you went straight to sukuna’s room, plopped on his bed, and drifted to sleep.
How many hours had passed since you fell asleep , Three? Four? You don’t even know , you sit up , rubbing the sleep out of your eyes , with no signs of sukuna around, your throat is so dry it feels like thorns are pricking at it.
Now you were downstairs looking for water.
Unbeknownst to you, everyone’s already there ,
The second you stepped into the kitchen, Shoko noticed you first.
Then Sukuna.
And just like always, something in him changed immediately.
He’d been leaning against the counter beside Toji and Geto, lazily picking apart some story Gojo was telling while half the room listened in amusement. Tattoos stretched beneath the sleeves of his black shirt, rings catching against the fluorescent kitchen light every time he gestured.
He looked Confident and Sharp-edged. Like he always did.
Then his eyes landed on you and as soon as they did,His posture straightened subtly.
The tension in his jaw eased.
Like his entire nervous system recalibrated.
You walked over quietly, still sleepy enough that you barely noticed everyone watching. Sukuna’s gaze followed you the entire way until you stopped in front of him.
“You okay?” he asked immediately.
“Mhm.” Your voice came out soft from exhaustion. Then your eyes caught on the silver chain hanging crooked beneath the collar of his shirt. “Your chain’s twisted.”
“Huh?”
Without thinking much of it, you stepped closer.
Conversation around the kitchen slowly faded.
Your fingers brushed lightly against the cool metal resting against his throat as you fixed the clasp, carefully straightening where it had turned sideways against his skin.
And Sukuna went completely still and no,
Not in a dramatic way.
But the kind where someone forgets how to function entirely.
His hand tightened slightly around the cup he was holding while he stared down at you, breathing quieter ,shoulders stiff beneath your touch.
Gojo blinked. Then blinked again.
“No fucking way.”
You didn’t even notice.
You were too focused on fixing the chain properly, fingers brushing against the warm skin of his neck every few seconds.
“There,” you murmured finally. “Better.”
Silence.
You looked up confused.
Every single person in the kitchen was staring.
Toji looked moments away from losing consciousness laughing. Geto had physically covered his mouth trying to hide a grin while Shoko watched like she’d just witnessed a rare astronomical event.
Gojo pointed directly at Sukuna.
“HE’S BLUSHING.”
Your eyes snapped back upward instantly And there it was.
Faint pink dusting across Sukuna’s ears and creeping slowly over the bridge of his nose while he looked at you like his brain had short-circuited.
Your lips parted slightly to say something,
“…wait.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered towards Gojo without taking his eyes off you once.
That only made everyone laugh harder.
“Oh this is BAD,” Geto said through laughter. “He’s gone.”
“To think,” Shoko sighed dramatically, “the campus plague finally domesticated.”
“Fuck off.” He told them.
But there was no bite in it.
Not really.
Because you were still standing close enough for him to feel the warmth coming off your body, your fingers lightly resting against his chest after fixing the chain.
And Sukuna looked wrecked by it.
You smiled , you just couldn’t hold it in.
“Aww,” you teased softly. “You’re embarrassed?”
His eyes narrowed immediately, but it lacked its usual sharpness.
“Don’t start.”
“You’re literally red.”
“I am not.”
“You kinda are,” Toji interrupted giddily.
Gojo looked ready to pass away from excitement. “I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS MAN EXPERIENCE HUMAN EMOTION.”
Before you could say anything else, Sukuna suddenly grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you against his chest.
A small startled sound left you as his arm settled around your waist instinctively, keeping you tucked against his side like proximity itself calmed him down.
“Enough,” he muttered lowly.
But when you tilted your head up at him, smiling still lingering on your lips, the blush deepened anyway.
And the kitchen absolutely lost its mind.
“HE GOT SHY.”
“THIS IS INSANE.”
“Somebody take a picture.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Gojo announced dramatically.
Sukuna flipped everyone off immediately.
Yet even while doing it, his thumb rubbed absentminded circles against your waist beneath the hoodie.
Like touching you had already become second nature to him.
He had learnt to be gentle with you at all times, which was kinda shocking for someone like him, but he did.
And when you reached up one more time to flatten the collar of his shirt, Sukuna leaned down automatically without even realizing he’d done it.
The room erupted so loudly someone from upstairs yelled asking if a fight broke out.
Everyone was enjoying this way to much.
Meanwhile Sukuna buried his face briefly against the top of your head, muttering,
“You’re never coming downstairs with me again.”
You could only laugh a little because you know that’s far from the truth.
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ sukuna spends six months confessing his love through flowers and their hidden meanings, only to realize you’d kept every single one without ever knowing why he gave them to you.
✿ ◞◟) ryomen sukuna 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 fluff, college!au, nerd flower!sukuna, yearning, acts of service as love language, friends to lovers, idiots in love, a lots of flower symbolism / hanakotoba, hand holding, kiss, sukuna is blushing!!, secretly romantic sukuna.
the campus greenhouse had always been sukuna's favorite place, which was something most people wouldn't expect if they only knew him from his reputation.
people only saw the sharp jawline, the permanent furrow between sukuna’s brows, the way his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than any one person deserved. they heard his dry humor, his quick wit, the way he could cut someone down with nothing more than a glance and a few carefully chosen words. they didn't see him here, elbows braced against a worn wooden table, fingers gently tracing the petal of a peony like he was handling something sacred.
you watched him from across the table, chin propped in your palm, half-listening to the lecture he'd launched into about fifteen minutes ago; something about victorian flower language, about the way people used to say things they couldn't speak aloud through carefully arranged bouquets.
sukuna’s voice was lower than usual here, way softer, as if the greenhouse demanded a certain reverence that even ryomen sukuna couldn't ignore.
"—and the thing is," sukuna said, gesturing with the hand that wasn't currently cradling a potted orchid. "people think it's all just romantic bullshit, but it's not. it's practical, really. a way of communicating when the words won't come out right."
sukuna’s tattoos shifted when he moved, those dark lines that crawled up his forearms and disappeared beneath his sleeves. you'd always liked that about sukuna; the way the boy never bothered to hide them even when professors gave him pointed looks on the first day of classes.
he was all sharp edges and hard lines, but then he'd show up at your apartment with a sprig of lavender tucked behind his ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you're not listening," sukuna said, but there was no accusation in it, just a statement of fact, accompanied by the faintest quirk of his lips.
"i am," you lied, sitting up straighter. "you were talking about... flowers saying things."
his eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
"i was talking about specific meanings. symbolic language. there's a difference."
sukuna set down the orchid and reached for another pot, something small with delicate white blooms that you didn't recognize. his fingers were careful, deliberate, the same way they were when he rolled a cigarette or tied his shoelaces or did anything that required even the slightest bit of precision.
it was hard to reconcile this version of sukuna with the one who'd shoved his way through a crowd last week just to get to the front of the coffee shop line, all elbows and impatience and barely concealed irritation.
"this one," sukuna said, holding the pot up so you could see. "is stephanotis. it means marital happiness, but also a willingness to be led. which is stupid, honestly, because why the hell would anyone want to be led anywhere? but the victorians were weird about a lot of things."
you laughed, and something in his expression softened just enough that you almost missed it.
sukuna had been leaving you flowers for months now.
not in a romantic way, or at least you'd assumed it wasn't romantic because this was sukuna, and sukuna didn't do romance. he did late-night study sessions that turned into ordering pizza at two in the morning. he did stealing your clothes and pretending he hadn't noticed they were yours. he did showing up at your door with a single yellow tulip tucked behind his ear and then plucking it out to hand to you like it was nothing, like he hadn't just walked across campus with a flower in his hair and dared anyone to say something about it.
you'd kept all of them, pressed between the pages of textbooks you never opened anymore, tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror, dried and hanging from string tacked to your bedroom wall. there was something about the way he gave them to you; casual and offhand, like he'd just happened to find them and thought of you.
but sukuna never said why, he never explained the meaning behind any of them.
well, until now.
"so then you've got your roses, obviously," sukuna continued, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
the movement pulled his t-shirt taut across his shoulders, and you looked away before he could catch you staring.
"red for love, white for purity, yellow for friendship. but that's way too simple. anyone knows that. the real interesting stuff is the obscure ones."
the afternoon light filtered through the greenhouse glass, casting everything in a warm, golden, and beautiful haze. dust motes drifted between the two of you, slow and lazy, and a bee hummed somewhere in the corner, drunk on something sweet and pink that you couldn't name.
sukuna's voice washed over you like honey, and you found yourself sinking into it despite your best efforts to stay alert.
"like gardenias," he said, and your heart did something strange in your chest because he'd given you gardenias. three weeks ago, tucked into a mason jar on your desk after a particularly brutal exam week. you'd thought they were just pretty. "they mean secret love. the kind that can't be spoken aloud. which is dramatic as hell, but victorians loved drama almost as much as they loved repressed emotions."
he said it like a joke, like he was mocking the very concept, but his fingers had gone still on the table with no fidgeting, no gesturing; just stillness, and the way his gaze darted away from yours for a fraction of a second before snapping back.
you thought about the gardenias, pressed between pages 87 and 88 of your ancient history textbook, still faintly fragrant when you opened them.
"and peonies," sukuna went on, reaching for the plant he'd been touching earlier. "they've got a few meanings. shame, anger, but also romance and prosperity. it depends on the context, really. the victorians loved context, too."
a little pause.
"mostly, though, they symbolize a happy marriage. or a wish for one, anyway."
sukuna had given you peonies on your birthday. a whole bouquet of them, pink and lush and ridiculous, shoved into your arms with a gruff 'happy birthday, idiot' before he'd disappeared into the kitchen to make you dinner. you'd cried a little, though you'd blamed it on allergies.
your throat felt tight now, but you weren't sure why.
"basil is hatred," sukuna said, ticking off on his fingers now, counting down some internal list. "which is funny because it's also a cooking herb, so who knows what that says about italian grandmothers. ivy means fidelity. rosemary is remembrance. lavender is devotion, but also distrust, because again, context matters."
lavender. he'd left a sprig of lavender on your pillow last month after you'd fallen asleep on his couch.
you'd woken up to the smell of it, and to sukuna making coffee in the kitchen, humming something tuneless under his breath. you'd kept it tucked behind your ear for the rest of the day, and he'd looked at you differently after that; softer, maybe. or maybe you'd imagined it.
"what about camellias?" you asked, and sukuna’s hand paused mid-gesture.
your voice sounded strange to your own ears, thin in a way that had nothing to do with volume and everything to do with the way your heart was suddenly trying to escape your ribcage. because he'd given you camellias too. pink ones, tied with a bit of twine, left in your backpack after a study session two months ago. you'd found them while looking for a pen and spent the rest of the night trying not to overthink it.
sukuna's jaw tightened for just a fraction, just for a second, but you saw it because you were looking, because you were always looking, even when you told yourself not to.
"camellias," sukuna repeated, and the word came out rougher than the others. he cleared his throat. "they mean... longing. desire, mostly. but specifically the kind that's acknowledged and accepted. not secret like gardenias, not hopeful like peonies. just... wanted."
the silence that followed was heavy and thick with something unspoken. a bee buzzed, a leaf drifted down from one of the hanging plants, landing softly on the table between the two of you like a tiny green question mark.
you thought about all of it.
the tulips and the lavender, the gardenias and the peonies, the camellias and the stephanotis sukuna had given you just last week, white and fragile and tucked into your coat pocket. you thought about the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way he always, always made sure you ate even when you forgot, even when you were too tired or too stressed or too something to take care of yourself.
you thought about the yellow tulips he'd given you first, and what he'd just said about them meaning friendship, and how maybe that had been the beginning. maybe sukuna had started there on purpose, testing the waters, seeing if you'd accept something small and simple before moving on to gardenias and secrets and things left unsaid.
"why are you telling me this?" you asked, and your voice barely trembled at all.
sukuna's eyes met yours, and for once, there was nothing sharp in them. there was no challenge, no defense, no carefully constructed walls. there was just him, just ryomen sukuna, the biggest flower nerd you'd ever met with his flower meanings and his pressed specimens and his soft spot for things that grew from the dirt.
"because," sukuna said, and his ears were turning pink, actually pink, the color creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath his collar. "i've been leaving you flowers for six months, and you haven't said a single word about it. and i thought maybe you didn't know what they meant, and i couldn't decide if that was better or worse than you knowing and not saying anything anyway."
sukuna's hands were shaking slightly.
you'd never seen sukuna's hands shake before, not once in all the years you'd known him. he was always so steady, so sure, so infuriatingly composed, but now, his fingers were curled into loose fists on the table, and the faint tremor in them made something ache behind your sternum.
"so which is it?" sukuna asked, and his voice cracked on the last word. just a little. just enough. "did you know?"
you thought about the gardenias pressed in your textbook, the lavender behind your ear, the peonies on your birthday, the camellias in your backpack. you thought about the way you'd told yourself it didn't mean anything at all, that sukuna wasn't capable of meaning anything, that this was just something the boy did because he was strange like that and unpredictable and full of contradictions.
you thought about how badly you'd wanted to be wrong.
"i didn't know," you said, and something in sukuna's expression flickered, dimmed.
you reached across the table before he could pull away, before sukuna could retreat back behind whatever wall he was scrambling to rebuild. your fingers brushed his knuckles softly, and he went very, very still.
"i didn't know the meanings. but i kept all of them. every single one. they're in my apartment, sukuna. pressed into my textbooks and taped to my walls and stuffed into my jewelry box. i've been sleeping with lavender under my pillow for three weeks because i didn't want to lose the scent."
sukuna's breath caught; you heard it, the tiny hitch that he tried to disguise as a cough.
"that's—" sukuna started, but stopped, and then he swallowed. his throat worked around words that didn't seem to want to come out. "that's really fucking weird, actually. keeping flowers for months."
"you're one to talk," you said, and your lips curved into a smile that felt wobbly and fragile and too big for your face. "you're the one who gave them to me."
"yeah, well." his ears were still pink, spreading now to his cheekbones, and you'd never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. "i'm in love with you, so it's different."
the words hung in the air between you, simple and devastating. there was no fanfare, and no dramatic pause, simply sukuna being sukuna, saying the thing he'd probably been trying to say for six months through petals and stems and carefully chosen blooms.
"you could have just told me," you said, and your voice was shaking now, but so were your hands, and so was he, so it didn't really matter.
"where's the fun in that?" he asked, but his voice was rough, and his eyes were bright, and when you squeezed his fingers, he squeezed back like he was afraid you'd disappear.
outside the greenhouse windows, the afternoon was fading into evening, gold bleeding into amber bleeding into the soft purple of early dusk. the bee had gone quiet, the leaves had stopped drifting, and the only sound was your breathing and his, mingling in the warm, humid air.
"i'm in love with you too," you said.
because it was true, because it had probably been true for longer than you wanted to admit, because sukuna was a nightmare and a softy and the biggest flower nerd you'd ever met, and you'd spent six months tucking his gifts between the pages of your life like pressed flowers of your own.
sukuna closed his eyes just for a moment, just long enough for you to see the way his shoulders dropped, the tension draining out of him like water from a cracked vase. when he opened them again, sukuna was smiling. a real smile, not the sharp-edged thing he showed the rest of the world, but something small and private and almost shy.
"good," sukuna said, and then, quieter; "i have more at my apartment. flowers, i mean. i was going to give them to you tomorrow, but—" he shrugged, one shoulder lifting and falling. "seems like a waste to wait."
your heart turned over in your chest, sweet like honey.
"show me," you said, and when he stood up and offered you his hand, you took it without hesitation.
sukuna’s palm was warm against yours, calloused from god knows what, steady now that the worst part was over.
he led you out of the greenhouse and into the cooling evening, and neither of you let go, not even when the campus paths grew busy with other students, not even when someone whistled and sukuna flipped them off with his free hand, not even when you reached sukuna’s apartment and he had to fumble for his keys because he simply didn't want to release you long enough to find them.
his apartment smelled like him, like cedar and something floral you couldn't name.
there were flowers everywhere — on the kitchen counter, on the windowsill, in a vase on the coffee table that was definitely too small for the arrangement it held. you spotted roses and tulips and something dark purple you didn't recognize, and sukuna followed your gaze and went pink again.
"i might have gone overboard," sukuma admitted, finally letting go of your hand so he could gesture vaguely at the chaos. "i wasn't sure which ones you'd like best, so i just kind of... got all of them."
you walked over to the windowsill, running your finger along the edge of a potted plant you didn't recognize. it was green and leafy, unassuming, nothing like the showy blooms scattered around the room.
"what's this one?" you asked, turning back to look at him.
sukuna was standing in the middle of his own living room like he'd never seen it before, like he was seeing it through your eyes and finding it lacking. he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you'd never seen him make, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a murmur.
"basil," he said. "it means hatred, remember? i got it as a joke. thought it would be funny to have something that meant the opposite of everything else."
you laughed, and the sound seemed to break something loose in sukuna. he crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look at his face.
"i meant it, you know," sukuna said, and his hands hovered near your waist like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch. "every flower. every single one. i meant all of it."
"i know," you said, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, feeling the slight roughness of his jaw beneath your palms. "i know now."
he kissed you then, soft and careful, like you were something precious he was afraid of breaking. his lips tasted like coffee and something sweet, and his hands finally settled on your hips, and the basil sat on the windowsill behind you, tiny and green and full of meaning.
when you pulled back, sukuna’s eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his flushed cheeks. he looked sweeter like this, softer, like all the sharp edges had been sanded away by the simple fact of being wanted back.
"i'm still mad you didn't look up the meanings," he said without opening his eyes. "six months. i could have just told you in the first week and saved myself a lot of anxiety."
"but then i wouldn't have gotten the flowers," you pointed out, and sukuna snorted, and you felt the vibration of it all the way down to your bones.
"i would have given you the flowers anyway," he said, finally opening his eyes. they were darker than usual, soft with something you were learning to recognize. "i probably would have given you flowers even if you'd laughed in my face. it's a problem, really. my therapist would have a field day."
you laughed again, and sukuna smiled again, and the evening stretched out before you both, full of possibility and pressed flowers and the quiet understanding that some things didn't need to be spoken aloud to be true.
but it didn't hurt, you thought, as sukuna pulled you toward his couch and wrapped his arms around you like he'd been waiting his whole life to do it.
ᤢ . 𝓢ummary ♥︎ ੭ father o'hara has been devoted to god. that was until you stumbled upon his life like a walking sin, the most beautiful sin of all. having an affair with the bride of the wedding he’s officiating is the worst sin miguel has committed, yet, he can’t never, ever resist you. but when you come to him with devastating news, it tests his faith within himself and god.
ᤢ . 𝓒ontent ♥︎ ੭ religion!au ㆍ religious themes ㆍ catholicism ㆍ churches ㆍ forbidden love ㆍ angst ㆍ tension ㆍ infidelity ㆍ guilt ㆍ smut ㆍ 18+ mdni ㆍ male masturbation mention ㆍ unprotected sex ㆍ creampie ㆍ cunnilingus ㆍ inappropriate use of holy water ㆍ unplanned pregnancy ㆍ abortion mention ㆍ emotional distress ㆍ hurt / no comfort
“bendígame, padre, porque he pecado.”
that soft, tender voice of yours always sends a shiver down his spine. the kind of shiver that travels down to his core, which tends to throb within seconds. that familiar tension in his throat develops and miguel tries to swallow it down, recomposing himself to listen for what wicked desires you carry in your mind. despite that miguel already knows what your desires are yet still leaves him a nervous wreck. the small capacity of the confession box didn’t ease the anticipation flowing through his veins. with his black attire and long sleeves, it only fuels the heat radiating throughout miguel’s entire body and producing more sweat trailing down his neck and face.
“i’ve been having… impure thoughts of a certain man.” you start softly, but there is a tinge of seduction that lingers in the back of your tongue that makes miguel inhale a deep breath.
“w-what—” he anxiously clears his throat, trying to contain himself while feeling on edge. “what kind of impure thoughts you’d have?”
that damn soft giggle from the other side of the confession box makes his core twitch underneath his trousers that miguel bit his lips to prevent a groan. damn you and those cute noises you make. how can such simple noise can make him fall apart?
“thoughts of… his big, calloused hands roaming all over my body.” you start slowly and you can hear the sharp breath miguel takes from the other side, cussing you to smile. “starting with my shoulders, slowly down to my breasts…” you hear a light groan this time. “my waist, hips, in between my legs.”
“mierda…” miguel groans softly, imagining your exact thoughts of his hands roaming over your body like he hasn’t done it a million times before.
“one of his hands slips underneath my skirt and slowly move towards my inner thighs…”
miguel’s hands flex at his sides as if their primal instincts were to touch you. flashbacks of those late nights spent in his chambers, you laid out so prettily on his bed, releasing a chorus of the most beautiful melody his ears have ever heard, your pedicured nails digging into his muscular back leavings red scratch marks on his sun-kissed skin, bodies connected as one moving in harmony, two souls uniting as one. those haunting memories worsens the throbbing in his core, begging to be released from its confinements and be wrapped in your slick warmth.
“then what?” miguel is practically a sweating, boiling mess with the burning urge to storm out of the confession box and take you to his bed once again.
“then, his thick long fingers slip inside me,” you slowly trance your hand over the hem of your black polka dot midi skirt. a smile graces your lips when you hear another groan. “teasing me while leaving sweet kisses over my face and neck.”
fuck… miguel is gonna bust in his damn trousers inside the confession box if you keep talking like that.
“what other thoughts possess you?” the poor priest dares to ask, desperate to know more of your desires so he can fulfill them afterwards.
the tinge of huskiness in miguel’s tone causes a pleasant tingle down in your throbbing core, rubbing your thighs together for friction to ease the tension. but instead of answering his question, you lean towards the wall right beside him whispering.
“come seek answers personally then, father.”
his last ounce of self-resistance vanished.
the next thing you know, you’re being led to the altar by father o'hara, who has a light yet firm grip on your hand which is due to the unresolved sexual frustration thanks to yours truly. you adore the power have over him, a man devoted to god but worships you like you are one, a goddess. not much angel since you’re committing the biggest sin, infidelity.
yes, you’ve been having an affair with the priest who is officiating your wedding in three weeks. it wasn’t meant to happen but the moment you saw those gorgeous scarlet orbs, your heart did something that your fiancé hasn’t accomplished before. which is a terrible thing to admit how the man you’re supposedly engaged to and been together for four years. frankie morales, a retired air force pilot with a troubled past of drug addiction but recovered over time. he is a sweet and respectful man, that is what made you fall in love with him. but encountering the priest who appears to claim the handsomeness of the devil forever altered your brain chemistry. awaken feelings you never truly experienced with frankie, to shamelessly admit.
the amount of guilt you feel for cheating on frankie has been consuming for a month but miguel’s cock strips those ugly feelings away. frankie is actually fantastic in bed, knows how to make you feel good, made your pleasure his main priority. there was never a time he didn’t make you come. whether it was his cock, mouth, or fingers, frankie always made you come undone. but with miguel… it’s different, unexplainably different. yes he is a bit thicker than your fiancé but that isn’t the only reason for the difference. the sweet, filthy words he would whisper into your ear while ravishing you in impeccable ways, making you tremble. how a man of god possesses a sinful tongue and make you see heaven by his own doing. maybe it’s because the relationship is forbidden, an affair. sleeping with the priest that everyone in town adores is definitely a taboo subject, nevertheless the one officiating your wedding.
no matter how hard you tried burning those sinful, explicit thoughts of father o'hara, you never succeeded and only conjured up more. tossing and turning in your bed as the handsome priest invades your dreams while your fiancé slept beside you. you gave into temptation when you visited father o'hara one night and discovered the shocking truth that he harbored the same feelings for you as well. that was when he bent you over the altar and took you from behind, making you see god himself. sex was never the same for you since because you knew no one, not even frankie, would ever compare to miguel.
miguel was no better than you. the moment he saw those gorgeous eyes and the face of an angel, he knew he was fucked. especially when you are the bride of the wedding he was asked to officiate. the endless nights of asking god forgiveness for having desires for a taken, soon-to-be-married, woman. the endless tugging on his aching cock while lying in bed with explicit images of you in his head. biting his lips to conceal the sinful moans and groans as his hand continued tugging on his manhood. then, suddenly spurt thick ropes of semen on the white bedsheets that miguel quickly cleans up afterwards before getting on knees at the edge of the bed begging forgiveness. he held so much self-loathing, even to present day, for claiming to be a man of god while committing to the role of the biggest sinner.
you, a woman of faith, and miguel, a man of god.
oh how perfect, like god intended.
a sinful grin graces your lips as miguel leads you to the same altar where you both committed the most heinous sins in the house of god. memories of those late nights flood your mind, bringing a tingling sensation down to your throbbing core. you expected to be bent over the altar but instead miguel hoists you onto the surface and immediately stands in between your already spread legs. his actions surprise you a bit but you know what his plans are for you and you can’t help but smile in anticipation.
“do you any the slightest idea of what you do to me?” he whispers into your ear, voice laced with a husky seduction mixed with irritation. calloused hands firmly planted on your hips, fingers fiddling with the fabric of your black polka dot midi skirt.
“oh i do, father.” you hear him inhale another sharp breath as you lean into his neck, planting a soft kiss underneath his jaw. “i turn you, a man of god, into the biggest sinner and you…” you decide to be bold and slowly run your tongue along his jawline, causing his grip on your hips to tighten. “love it.”
that was his last fucking straw.
a squeeze erupts from your throat when a firm hand on your stomach gently yet firmly pushes you at on your back against the surface of the altar. miguel quickly descended to his knees, calloused hands shoving your legs apart to swiftly yank your panties off, and place your legs over his bulky shoulders. you didn’t have a chance to utter a word other than a moan when you feel the familiar sensation of his lips suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves. the back of your head hits the surface with a light thud as father o'hara ravishes you with his mouth.
“miguel!~” your sweet, angelic moans causes the man to groan against your pussy.
“me encanta cuando dices mi nombre.” miguel mutters while lapping at your weeping core, alternating between flicking his tongue at your sensitive clit and dipping it inside your pussy.
the intense pleasure miguel’s mouth was providing makes you tug harshly on those chocolate locks with both hands while rocking your hips against his tongue feverishly. “ay miguel, mas!”
as a man of his word, miguel complies with swirling his tongue over your precious pearl and dips two thick fingers into your needy cunt, eliciting a heavenly moan that makes his cock twitch painfully. his free hand travels up to cup one breast and kneads the squishy fat through your pink blouse. the additional sensation makes you moan louder and arch your back against the hard surface, but you need him more. with one hand, you guide the hand on your breast underneath your blouse to grope your through your white lacy bra instead. miguel’s fingers drag over the lacy fabric before squeezing your tit, causing you to lean into his addictive touch while losing your mind to his mouth and fingers below.
while eating you like a man deprived of food, guilt clouds his mind. how dare you make him act like this, commit such heinous sins when he’s supposed to be a man devoted to god. how dare he succumb to your pleads and let your presence consume him whole, possessing him like a spirit. no matter how many times miguel has gotten on his knees to seek forgiveness, he always ends up on his knee eating out the most perfect pussy to exist instead. despite devoting his life to god, he is a man after all with intense needs and desires. how coincidental you appeared in his life when he began seeking passion. if you weren’t engaged or nevertheless taken by another man, miguel wouldn’t have felt the shame he does when he’s with you or thinks of you. if only you were single but god has tested him.
“does he make you feel this good, hm?” miguel hums against your sensitive folds, those scarlet orbs glancing up at your blissful face. “are his fingers long enough to reach that sweet spot inside, querida?” right on queue, his two fingers indeed find that exact spot and curled, eliciting a loud moan from you. “contéstame.” he gives your pussy a light tap.
“n-no! he doesn’t!” you groan frustratingly, brows furrowed in both pleasure and frustration.
another shameful truth. frankie’s fingers are less thicker and a bit shorter than miguel’s but he still managed to reach that sweet spot. however not as deep as miguel does, that’s the difference. basically, frankie can do it all but miguel does it better.
“ah, miguel!~ asi, asi!” you chant as his fingers continue pumping into you in a perfect pace that triggers the familiar warm tension in your core.
miguel complies to your wishes by increasing the pace of his fingers pumping into you and suckling on your sensitive clit simultaneously. that warm sensation in your lower belly coils quickly and suddenly your vision goes white, as if seeing the beautiful clouds of heaven. the moan you release echos throughout the church, a symphony of ecstasy that was much more beautiful than the church choir that miguel listens to every mass. a symphony he would want to hear for the rest of his life. your sensitivity kicks in as miguel continues ravishing your overstimulated pussy, lapping all of your sweet nectar. softly whimpering at the overstimulation as your legs spasm around his head.
finally, he releases your sensitive cunt with a nasty pop and stands back up on his feet, standing in between your legs once again. looking up at him through fluttering lashes while catching your breath, you see his mouth and chin decorated in your cum. while your mind is still mushy from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave you, you were tempted to wipe off your cum off his face and make him lick it off your finger. but miguel already wipes it off with the back of his hand, a move that he knows you love. he leans down to give you a sweet, loving kiss on the lips before whispering, tasting yourself.
his calloused hands travel down to your hips and turn you around so your back is against his chest. you get the memo and bend over the altar, a position you’ve been in many times on this exact spot. you feel one of his hands lifting up your skirt while the other undos his belt to finally release his aching cock. your own rest on the surface, preparing for the best fucking of your life. sliding your panties to the side, miguel doesn’t waste time sliding into your slick warmth, causing both of you to moan unison.
“ay chingado…” miguel curses in a whisper as his cock continues slipping through your folds until the tip reaches perfectly against your cervix. a groan falls from his lips when you clench around him.
when he doesn’t start moving, you let out an inpatient whine and move your hips a little as emphasis. “mueveté, miguel~”
“espera,” another groan interprets him mid-sentence, praying to god to not come undone right then and there without even fucking you first. “pinche madre… siempre mojada.”
“ya, miguel!”
so damn fucking bossy, but miguel would be a liar if he didn’t admit how much it turns him on.
by slowing moving his hips, miguel begins with slow thrusts, softly groaning at how dangerous yet perfectly you clean around him with each thrust. soft moans and whimpers fall from your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure, relishing the way miguel’s cock fills you up so perfectly. while taking you from behind, miguel looks up at the statue of la virgen de guadalupe as if she’s looking down at him and the sin he’s committing in front of the holy mother. waves of guilt and shame courses through his veins. how dare he commit such vile acts in front of the holy mother. please forgive him.
the overwhelming shame makes him look away and focus back on nicely fucking you. one of his hands keep a firm grip on your left hip while the other interlocks with your right hand above your head as miguel leans over you until his chest rests against your back. his moans and groans perfectly against your ear, pure music to you. it causes you to turn to capture his lips with yours in a kiss, which he accepts by reciprocating, while making love on the altar. it was going good until miguel abruptly pulls himself out of you, leaving you utterly confused.
“miguel, what— oh!”
he swiftly spins you around and lays you back down on the surface, back to your old position from earlier. you don’t get the chance to question his motives when his calloused hands find the buttons on your blouse and suddenly rips it wide open, sending the buttons flying everywhere and exposing that pretty white lacy bra to miguel’s hungry eyes. the sudden movement makes you gasp with a frown.
“chingado, miguel! that was my favorite blouse!”
you make an attempt to slap him on the chest but the action hardly phased him. those crimson orbs are too focused on the pretty white lace covering those delicate breast underneath, begging for his attention.
miguel softly chuckles at your feisty attitude. “shhh, querida. i’ll buy you another one.”
his suggestion makes your eyes rolls. you expect him to start playing with your breasts but instead he rips off your bra in the middle just like your blouse, shredding off the lacy fabric off your body in an instant and making you gasp for a second time. his pupils dilate the moment miguel sees those beautiful mounds and perky nipples exposed in the cold air. his gaze linger on them a little moment longer before grabbing the gold bowl of holy water and slowly pour it over your tits. the warm, foreign sensation elicits another gasp from you before transforming into a moan when miguel gently rubs it over your tits, causing you to arch your chest into his touch. this is certainly a new thing but you ain’t complaining.
perhaps the devil possessed him in that moment because miguel isn’t sure what provoked him to do such a thing. but observing the way the water makes your skin glisten so beautifully under the light shining through the color stain glass. the sight evokes an intense, primal craving inside his chest that consumes him entirely. miguel doesn’t waste a second to bend down and lick the holy water from your breasts in a feverish manner, making you moan loudly and arch into his greedy mouth.
“miguel!~” you swiftly grip onto his hair, digging your fingers through those soft chocolate locks while endless moans fall from your lips.
miguel’s tongue runs over the swell of your breasts, collecting the water like a man deprived of thirst, before twirling it around your nipple. he alternates between both tits, preforming the same actions and providing them the attention they deserve. those pretty sounds of yours are his reward for pleasing you so well. miguel has never admitted to you before but he adores how sensitive you are, no matter how many times you’ve slept together. you completely come undone by his touch and his touch only. that fuels both his ego and shame, but the latter wins. once the water is completely licked off from your chest, miguel’s find your own and capture them in a passionate kiss, which you reciprocate.
“you should do that more often.” you admit softly against his lips, a grin tugging on your face.
that damn mischief glint on your eyes. it always makes miguel almost crumble to his knees and worship you for eternity, his own goddess.
“ven aquí.” miguel grumbles before pulling you towards him by the hips to press your crotch against his, eliciting a pretty little soft gasp from you.
once he makes sure you were ready for him again, miguel reenters your slick cunt a bit smoother. this time, you’re on your back so he can finally see your angelic face properly while pounding you into oblivion. miguel’s thrusts begins slow but soon pick up speed until his thighs are slapping against the back of yours and his balls smacking your rear. such sinful sounds echoing through a place considered the house of god yet neither of you cared. the pleasure was consuming you both to pay attention to the sins you and miguel are committing.
“bésame.” you whine, looking up at your handsome lover through teary, fluttering eyes.
father o'hara had resisted many temptations before but can never with you. only you are his exception, but miguel is to blame for making you the exception.
so, he obliged by bending down and capture your lips in a passionate kiss while thrusting into you. the chorus of moans muffled by each other’s lips, swallowing them instead. you take the opportunity to comb your fingers through his hair as your lips remain locked together and your love-making progresses. miguel almost falters for a moment because you playing with his hair makes him dizzy, in a positive way. how addictively nice your nails feeling combing through his chocolate locks, making him putty in your grasp like always. only your touch can bring miguel down to his knees and melt like a puddle, his heartstrings being pulled by your delicate fingers. oh the power you have over him.
“puta madre.” miguel’s lips break away from yours as a groan slips out, throwing his head back when your walls flutter around him like a fucking vice.
“i-i’m close, miguel~”
yeah, he can fucking feel it by how your pussy is literally choking the fucking life out of him. miguel can feel the tension in his balls preparing the load to give you, the essence of his forbidden love for you.
“damélo, preciosa.”
fuck, that really did it for you.
miguel slips a hand between you down to give a few rubs on your sensitive clit, eliciting a pretty mewl from you. those mahogany eyes admire your pretty, squirming form and angelic face contorted in pure ecstasy, miguel’s most favorite sight. with several more rubs to your precious pearl and his cock hitting your sweet spot, you cum with probably the loudest moan, almost like a fucking scream, and it echos throughout the church. mouth dropped open releasing the most beautiful melody miguel has heard and back arched off the surface of the altar.
“asi, preciosa~” miguel praises, admiring your blissful state like the angel you are.
his hips soon begin to stutter, groaning as miguel senses his high before cumming into the depths of your womb. spurting his forbidden love for you. it was more than usual, perhaps you really pushed miguel over the edge this time. you can feel the difference, feeling more full than usual but you aren’t complaining because you adore the sensation. you wish to be wrapped around him, figuratively and literally, all the time but unfortunately it’s not possible. once every ounce is drained from him, miguel carefully pulls himself out from your now extremely overwhelmed cunt, earning a soft whimper from you. pupils dilated at the sight of his cum leaking from your pussy, the creamy white essence dripping down onto the surface. a sight he never grows tired of and always replay in his mind.
but the sight also fuels the guilt and shame that has been consuming him for weeks. feeding that guilt demon inside him, eating away his heart in fragments in such a slow, painful manner. to see his own cum spilling from a taken, soon-to-be-married, woman whose husband trusted him to officiate the wedding, a good man and that twists something inside miguel. he has been sleeping with another man’s fiancée, bride, and soon-to-be wife. the guilt kills him slowly that’s so unbearable, miguel isn’t sure how long he can endure it any longer.
god, forgive him.
𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓. . .
it’s the night before your wedding day and miguel feels anxious about it. tomorrow will be the day your are no longer his and he not yours, you’ll forever be frankie’s love and that leaves a major strain on his fragile heart. miguel won’t have you anymore, keep his bed warm, have meaningful conversations and share secrets with you, just to have your warmth in the cold atmosphere of the church where he feels lonely all the time. all of that will vanished into thin air the moment he pronounces you and frankie as husband and wife at the same altar where he had taken you and reached true pleasure.
but the real reason miguel has been feeling anxious is because you haven’t visited him for the past three weeks, since the night in the confession box. your angelic presence hasn’t stepped through the wooden doors since and miguel grew worried. he tried calling you but you never answered and always went to voicemail. left text messages that were never read and answered. tried coaxing answers from family members and neighbors without being suspicious but no one could’ve provided proper answers, which only fueled his concern. if he truly could, miguel wouldn’t hesitate to haul ass to your apartment and check up on you himself. but that would put your forbidden relationship at risk and he couldn’t risk you. miguel wouldn’t care of losing his position as priest, you were, still are, his main priority.
the worry only worsened over time. no communication from you left him slightly losing him mind and begged god to ensure you were safe. every morning mass, miguel would mask his worries and proceed doing his tasks, but you continue lingering in his back while serving bread and wine to members. during the day, miguel was the faithful priest everyone knew. but at night, miguel was a concerned man for the woman he loved. yes, miguel fell in love with you, a shameful truth that he’s been trying to deny for a while but ultimately admitted it was true. no other woman had captured his heart and soul, whatever magic you possessed managed to do that. miguel was in love with a taken woman. a woman who he deeply cared for and worried for.
it was another late night, brief storm passing by, winds howling that cause the trees to shake. the warm lightening of the candles provide a sense a of comfort as miguel did some final touches in preparation for the wedding tomorrow, a day he’s been dreading for a while but even more now. the only hope still lingering in his fragile heart is the high possibility of seeing you after a period of silence. but he will see you in a wedding dress walking down the aisle to begin a chapter of your life with your husband. the thought makes miguel’s heart ache.
the creaking of the wooden front doors opening snaps miguel out of thought and turn around to find you, alive and well, entering the church. he swore he felt his heart soar in relief and mentally thanked god that you were okay. his feet are already carrying him directly towards you, walking down the aisle with concern illustrated on his sun-kissed face.
“what happened to you? i’ve been trying to reach you but you ignored my calls and messages…”
his words died down as miguel approaches closer until he is directly in front of you and notices the distress illustrated on your angelic face. the sight makes his brows furrowed in concern.
“¿qué paso?” miguel asks concerningly.
his eyes remain on you but yours refuse to do the same and instead look anywhere but him. like you’re afraid to make eye contact with him and that makes miguel more concerned and confused. but miguel doesn’t push you for an answer and remains patient to allow you to find your words without pressure. his eyes moved down at your outfit. a white coat concealing your clothes underneath and a pair of matching kitten heals. bits of your hair is damped due to the rain, giving him the impression that you walked your way here and tried to cover yourself with your coat presumably over your head since there was no hoddie attached. still beautiful as ever.
but then miguel also realizes this is the first time he’s seen you in three weeks. there are so many questions on the top of his tongue that he wishes to blurt out and release his worries but miguel knew that wasn’t the smartest decision. he takes note of your slightly shivering form and swiftly yet gently wraps an around you and guide you further into the church.
“tienes frío, ven.”
you let miguel guide you towards the candles for warmth. although you weren’t that cold, you do appreciate his kindness by flashing a small smile at him, which pulled his heartstrings.
he pulls up a chair. “siéntate.”
you shake your head. “no, it’s okay, thank you.”
his frown deepens a little. “preciosa, por favor—”
“i’m fine, miguel.” you softly cut him off.
a strange tension blossoms between you two. the kind of tension that hasn’t really been felt since the beginning of your affair, the moment you first met. but it felt more… tense, uneasy anticipation. miguel can sense it in his chest and he doesn’t like it because that means something happened. so, miguel decides to bite the fucking bullet.
“why did you disappear?”
there was no anger or frustration in his tone, but rather concern. genuine concern.
the question makes you wince, miguel noticed and grew more concern. he takes note of your body language, eyes scanning your form. arms wrapped around yourself as if you’re trying to provide yourself comfort. head lower a bit to avoid his gaze and tensed shoulders. a sad frown settled upon on your features and lips formed in a slight pout. the sight makes his heart ache and miguel wants nothing more than to comfort you and pull you into his arms.
for a split second, miguel’s mind conjured up a possible reason that frankie had did something to you or at least was responsible for the distress you entered in with. did he do something? did he hurt you? the deeper he thought, miguel’s blood began to boil in anger. he swears, regardless if he’s a priest, if that asshole hurt you in some way then miguel is going to commit the worse sin of all. a much worse sin than sleeping with a taken woman.
“did frankie do something? did he hurt you? i swear, ese pinche cabrón—”
“no!” you quickly reassure him, unfolding your arms to place your hands on top of his. looking up at him with wide eyes. “no, he don’t hurt me.” you watch his frown deepen. “i promise, i’m fine.”
well, that’s a lie but for a completely different reason.
frankie never, ever hurt you. that is a fact. he knew hurting women is absolutely wrong and believed men who do aren’t real men but rather pieces of shit.
“then, what?” miguel inquires.
a sad sigh escapes your lips as you turn away and miguel has half the mind to pull you back to him. you inhale a deep breath to prepare yourself to reveal the true reason you disappeared. exhaling that deep breath, you slowly turn to look back at him with a racing heart and anxiety flowing through your veins.
“i’m pregnant.”
suddenly, the whole world fucking stops.
everything just freezes. a large, unbearable silence stretches between you two.
miguel felt his heart suddenly dropped to his fucking stomach, his soul abandoned his body. his tall, bulking form utterly frozen in time. chestnut eyes blown wide, the color from his face drained in an instant, and unable to breathe. all the emotions completely abandoning him immediately.
“¿qué?…”
you feel your chest tightening and anxiety consuming your body at his horrid expression.
“i’m pregnant,” you confess again a bit louder but still soft, voice a bit shaky due to the anxiety invading your veins. “it’s yours, i haven’t slept with frankie since i’ve been with you…” you added.
miguel’s heart stopped beating for a moment, like blood stopped flowing through his veins in an instant. like frozen in time. it also causes his breathing to pause, as if he forgot how to. in that moment, everything became silent and blurry to him. standing there with tons of emotions throw at him like bombs and collapsing inside his head.
oh how could he be so foolish?
sleeping with you for various nights, it was only a matter of time before the consequences caught up. you often used protection to prevent this exact situation but that one night, the last time he saw you before disappearing, miguel made the mistake of discarding protection and spill into you raw. oh how foolish he was for not thinking properly and taking responsibility. the least miguel could’ve done was pull out but lust consumed his mind in that moment so of course no proper thought was there when he was fucking you on the altar. now you’re painted with his seed, a small fragment that will grow inside the warmth and safety of your womb, his heir.
a child, one that’ll possess several of his characteristics while living life with their mother and a man who isn’t their biological father.
the thought makes miguel’s heart ache immensely. one, for the mistake of sleeping with a taken woman. two, for getting that said woman pregnant with his illegitimate child. three, for that child to grow up with their mother and a man who isn’t their biological father. miguel felt overwhelmed with guilt, shame, and anger. not at anyone but himself.
this is god’s punishment for his sins. now, miguel has to suffer the consequences of his foolish actions.
his silence only fuels the anxiety consuming your mind and body. miguel’s reaction was expected since this is earth-shattering news. the lack of color on his face and pure silence are sufficient evidence.
“i don’t expect anything from you.” your choice of words makes his eyes snap up at yours with shock but you continue on. “i knew what i was doing spending time with you and it was only a matter of time until the consequences would show up. i’m taking responsibility for my part on this—”
“espera—” miguel cuts you off, stepping closer towards you with a expression mixed with concern and shock. “perdóname pero… are you…”
“sí…” you confess. “i’m keeping the baby.”
an uncomfortable tension rests on his throat and chest, making it difficult for miguel to breath. although he partakes in catholicism, miguel believes in women making choices for their bodies and health. he despises men who oppose abortion and women’s healthcare rights. no soul should order a woman what she should do with her body other than herself. you made the choice of keeping the baby and miguel respects that. although, it only fuels the fear that has been tearing him apart since you revealed the news.
miguel is unsure of how to respond in the moment and could only offer a silent nod. he wasn’t upset with your decision, no absolutely not. it was yours regardless and he respects it indefinitely. it’s the fear of having a child who originates from an affair and putting you in this position. the self-loathing has never reached its peak than ever before.
you take his lack of response as an answer and proceed to say, “like i said before, i don’t expect anything from you. i’ll just… figure something out with frankie, maybe make up a story or—”
“what you do mean you don’t expect anything from me?” miguel proceeds to step forward until he’s directly in front of you, towering you as you crane your neck up just to meet his concerned gaze. “i’d like to help since i…” he releases a heavy, disappointed sigh. “since i put you in this position.”
you shake your head. “no it’s okay, miguel. i don’t wanna jeopardize your position here. i just wanted to come here and let you know—”
“me vale. i put you in this, let me help you.”
“no, miguel.”
“¿por qué? es mi bebé, debería ayudarte—”
“¡miguel, por favor!”
your yelling echos through the walls of the church. miguel’s lips immediately close into a thin line, afraid of making you more frustrated if he chooses to speak. so, he instead shuts up with a worried look.
“you can’t, we can’t…” a very faint voice crack escapes mid-sentence, causing the same affect to miguel’s heart. “we can’t risk it.” the guilt was too much that you couldn’t look him in the eye any longer. “we can’t risk each other’s lives, at least not anymore with this…” you place a hand over your lower abdomen and miguel’s eyes follow, heart aching at the sight. “we can’t risk them.”
those thick eyebrows furrowed as miguel’s eyes linger on your belly where his unborn child rests comfortably barely developing inside.
his child.
that makes his mind dizzy.
“then what do you want me to do? not help you? take care of you?” besides the devastating news of having a secret affair child, miguel is more upset with your choice of insisting him to not help with this issue.
“yes because it’s not your responsibility.”
miguel’s mouth was agape in pure disbelief. “it is my responsibility. i put you in this—”
“enough, miguel!” you cut him off, sternly, and the man is shocked but remains quiet. “you’re not doing to do anything because none of this happened.”
miguel’s expression transforms from frustration into pure confusion and disbelief. jaw slacked, slump shoulders, eyes widen, corner of his lips turning downward, frowning. miguel couldn’t believe what you were saying. none of this never happened? these past weeks meant nothing to you? he meant nothing to you? you are gonna pretend it was all for nothing? pretend he was nothing? miguel can’t deny the ache in his heart to hear those hurtful words from you, the woman he has grown to love deeply.
it hurt miguel, creating a wound in his heart.
“none of this never happened? are you serious?” he can’t help but feel a bit more frustrated. “how can you pretend none of this ever happened and expect me to do nothing about it?!” the boiling frustration causes his voice to escalate, causing you to step back not out of fear but of annoyance.
“because tomorrow you’ll officiate my wedding, frankie and i will be married, and we go our separate ways without speaking to each other.”
miguel simply stares down at you with wide eyes of pure disbelief. how can you even pretend that everything will be fine while carrying one of the most difficult secrets? how can you ask if him to allow this to continue on as if nothing ever happened and all is fine? how can you ever think miguel would be okay with this inane decision? all of these questions are at the tip of tongue but nothing comes out his mouth.
“i’ll be married, have and raise this baby with my husband as a true family, that’s final.” you spoke firmly. “there’s nothing else we could do but go on without anyone getting hurt.”
miguel can’t believe what you’re saying.
‘without anyone getting hurt?’
he feels the hurt tearing apart his heart and miguel best believes you’re experiencing that pain too by making this extremely difficult decision.
no further words escape his lips because miguel isn’t sure of what else to say. the man is utterly speechless, drowning in pure disbelief by this new revelation. a revelation that is tearing him apart more than the devil or a demon could ever do.
how can miguel accept this?
leave you and his unborn child to live life without him? not be able to raise his child and guide them in this strange, chaotic world? not be there for you both if case either of you needs him? to have a child that will never know of their biological father?
the anxiety flowing through his veins increases as the thoughts consumed his mind. all overwhelming that miguel had to turn away for a moment to tame his heavy breathing and not faint. head lowered, hands on hips, chest heaving, eyes screwed shut to conceal the bits of tears gradually forming inside. this is the most difficult, painful decision he has to make in his life and miguel isn’t sure if he can live with it. this is indeed god’s way of punishment for committing vile sins and miguel has to live with that burden. a much worse punishment than making a deal with the devil.
you take miguel’s silence for his way of processing this life-altering information and you can’t blame him for his reaction. this decision is also painful for you. not only you’re pregnant with another man’s child but you have to give up the man you’ve grown to love to secure your unborn child’s future. yes, you’ve fallen for the handsome priest. not even the devil could’ve made you fall for him the way miguel did. how unfaithful of you to fall for another man while having a whole fiancé by your side and about to become your husband tomorrow. a consequence that you will have to pay for your sins. a painful one but you’ll do anything to protect your unborn child.
so, you decide to take a few cautious steps towards miguel, whose back is still facing you. “miguel…” you whisper to not startle him as you slowly approach until you’re a few inches away from him. unsure if you should’ve move closer. “i know it’s… the most difficult decision to make and i don’t blame you for being angry, especially at me for coming to you with this and choose an impossible decision.” you eyes glance down at one of miguel’s hands rested on his hip and felt tempted to reach out but you don’t.
miguel remains silent, still processing the information and emotions tumbling in his mind, but he can, as if, sense you behind him. he isn’t angry at you for coming to this conclusion, miguel can never be angry at you. it’s himself who he’s angry with for not being careful like he should’ve when the affair began, yet his mind was consumed with other priorities. his heart flutter when he feels your gentle fingers touching his, causing miguel to look over his bulky shoulder and see your angelic face beside him. the man almost crumbled onto his knees by the look of guilt illustrated on your beautiful face that miguel so desperately wanted to kiss away but resisted.
“i know a ‘sorry’ won’t make a difference but… please know that i’m feeling what you’re feeling.” a single tear escapes your right eye and slowly trails down your face until it’s gently wiped away by miguel’s finger, making your heart flutter. “i know i’m taking away an opportunity from you… i just—”
miguel gently cuts you off by placing his large, calloused hands on your shoulders. “i understand your decision, mi alma. i’m not angry, at you but myself for putting you in a position that comes with a difficult choice.” he spoke sincerely, those mahogany eyes are a reflection of that. “it’s just…” a heavy, disappointed sigh escapes his lips because the words suddenly disappear on the tip of his tongue.
silence blossoms between you and miguel. not necessarily uncomfortable but a bit painful. the beating of two broken hearts, shattered like red stained glass scattered across the floor. no amount of prayers or angels can rebuild both your damaged hearts from this sorrowful situation. you and miguel remain standing in each other’s arms, drowning yourselves in painful silence. his calloused hands remain on your shoulders, keeping you close to him in fear of you pulling away. having you close and in his arms is the only thing keeping him sane while navigating a life-altering moment, like you’re his anchor. the one maintaining his heartbeat from leaping out of his chest when miguel experiences anxiety. the one who causes all of his worries to vanish instantly the moment you’re in his presence.
but it seems miguel would lose all of that now.
your eyes glance past his towering form at the grandfather clock in the far corner and read that it’s past nine. it was time to return home before frankie gets off from work or suspicion will rise for why his fiancée is not home yet. much to miguel’s dismay, you slowly break away from his hold, eyes casted down at the floor but notice the way his hands try to reach out for you but retract themselves.
“it’s getting late, frankie will be home soon.” without a final glance at him, you begin walking away but you sense miguel right on your tail.
“wait—” the upset priest reaches out to stop you by gently grabbing your upper arm, causing you to stop and turn to face him with a surprised look. “the storm hasn’t passed yet, it’s not safe.”
“i heard the rain and wind calmed down, i’ll be fine. my car is parked right outside—”
“ni modo,” miguel shakes his head with a frown. “it’s cold and pouring, i don’t want you or the baby getting sick.” his own words surprise him by referring to his child as miguel’s eyes descended upon your belly, despite no bump yet. you seem to have the same reaction but he continues on. “you know you have a place here, at least until the storm passes—”
“no, miguel.” you’re the one to shake your head this, growing a bit agitated by his persistence. “i can’t stay here any longer than i have to. if i’m not back by the time frankie gets home, he’ll get suspicious and that is the last thing either of us want.”
“mi alma, por favor—”
“no, miguel!”
your yelling echoes throughout the church, bouncing off the holy walls, as you yank yourself off his hold and take a few steps back. miguel winces at your raised voice, like a child being reprimanded, and solely stares at you with a sorrowful expression.
“it’s over, miguel.” you confess, as painful as it is and you can see the hurt in those mahogany eyes you’ve grown to adore. “there’s nothing we can do rather than just… move on.” a little voice crack at the end.
miguel can’t move on. how can you say that? perhaps the selfish side of him is consuming him in this moment but miguel truly doesn’t want to let you go because he loves you. falling in with a taken woman isn’t the most ideal thing to do but there is no denial of his affection for you in his heart. no other woman throughout his lifetime has ever made such an impact on him and made him feel those feelings the way you did. now, you’ve come to him to tell him you’re pregnant with his child and have to break your secret relationship the night before your wedding. how can he deal with this overwhelming information and have to make the most painful decision in his life? letting go the woman he loves to protect her and their unborn child. the guilt was torturing him.
you can see the wave of painful emotions illustrated on miguel’s face and it breaks your heart. you can’t bare it, yet you’re the cause. “i’m sorry, miguel…”
your words were so little yet painful that it would never repair his broken heart.
with a final heartbreaking glance at him, you slowly begin walking away. the soft clicking of your heels bounces of the walls as you head towards the front wooden doors. miguel’s watches you leave with sorrowful eyes, utterly heart broken. he wants nothing more to run up to you and beg you to stay with him, but ultimately he can’t and it only breaks him more. once you reach the front doors, you pause for a moment as if you wanted to say something else. miguel’s body freezes in anticipation, wondering if you’ve changed your mind and stay with him. but you don’t turn around or say anything, much to miguel’s dismay. instead, you open the door with a heavy, sad sigh and leave in silence. leaving the poor priest to drown himself in heartbreak alone.
the moment you walk out and wooden door closes behind you, the church reverts back to the coldness miguel always felt. especially when he is alone. the only time the church felt warm was with you. only your presence could warm up the cold, lonely atmosphere of church he’d spent days in. miguel was heavily convinced were you indeed an angel. he swore he saw a warm glow radiating around you, shining bright and ethereally like a star. he felt it the day he first met you and craved it ever since. it’s as if miguel can’t live without your warmth, how it provided him a sense of comfort. a smoothing feeling that he never wanted to let go.
but now he has to and makes his heart ache.
now miguel has to revert back to that usual cold and emptiness that became so familiar to him, a feeling he hates with a burning passion. it will never feel the same without you and your warmth. he even considers not even staying at the church anymore and he can’t bare the coldness and isolation like before, not before you. with you walking away from his life, the light has vanished and is replaced with an empty void, settling perfectly in his broken heart.
the lonely priest remains standing here with a broken heart, wanting to have the woman he loves to come back and have her in his arms. but only loneliness comes back and wraps around him a like painful hug, suffocating him as miguel struggles to accept his unfortunate fate. his own personal hell.
now he dreads for your wedding tomorrow.
dreadfulness invade his veins like a virus as father o'hara stands at the altar while your guests talk amongst themselves before the ceremony begins. hundreds of hushed voices travels throughout the church as they await your arrival. miguel recognizes your mother in the front row on the left side, sitting amongst your nina and tias. your siblings sit behind scattered with their own families as well as the rest of your relatives. one of the many things, or the main issue, that fuels the dreadfulness is the groom standing on miguel’s left. frankie seems to be a bit anxious by the way he constantly tugs on the collar of his dress shirt or fix his suit jacket. but the smile on his face is evidence that he is elastic about the happiest day of his life. miguel can’t help but feel envious of frankie, as selfish as it is. that man will have the honor of being married to you and spending the rest of his life with you. he will be gifted the honor of creating memories with you, not miguel and that stabs him directly in the fucking heart.
miguel isn’t sure if he can truly go through this wedding, arranging you to be married to another man. he almost decided to back out and assign another priest to preform the ceremony but miguel had to do his duty as priest. for once, he had to push aside his feelings and do what is needed to be done, regardless of how heartbroken he is. not only watching you marry another man is painful but also being pregnant with his child. miguel didn’t sleep well last night because of nightmares of you and your child living life without him consumed his mind. unfortunately, that nightmare is soon to come true and miguel is still not ready for it. in fact, the man is absolutely terrified to face the unfortunate reality.
a piano version of “here comes the bride” begins playing and causes miguel to snap out of those sad thoughts, placing his attention up ahead. the chitchatting immediately dies down and everyone turns in their seats facing the doors in the back eager for your arrival. the only one who feels the opposite is of course miguel. never has he felt so afraid in his 30 years of life. afraid to witness the woman he loves enter his church and walk down the aisle to married to a man that isn’t him and desperately wished so.
his anxiety spikes when the wooden doors open and sees you standing there with your father beside you. miguel’s jaw hangs slightly open in pure astonishment as you began walking down the aisle, drinking in your enthralling appearance. you look absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing in your wedding dress. the beautiful lace veil covering your angelic face. an angel descending from heaven and blessing everyone with your presence. the most precious angel. miguel swore he felt his heart leaping out his chest because your beauty is truly divine.
the priest was completely enthralled by your angelic beauty that he didn’t realize you were standing directly in front with of him. those gorgeous eyes that he admires so deeply looking up at him, two precious dazzling gems. miguel was so mesmerized by you that he almost forgot he was the priest for your wedding. thanks to the subtle glare you gave him, a look miguel is very familiar with, he finally recomposed himself and proceeds with the ceremony, much to miguel’s dismay.
while speaking throughout the ceremony, miguel is internally struggling to compose himself with the woman he loves standing there in a wedding dress that was not meant for him. that is a huge, gruesome stab to his already broken heart. he maintained his professionalism but deep down he was hurting. what hurts the most is watching you stare up at frankie with the same adoring look you once gave him from those late nights in miguel’s chambers. the little smile on those delicate lips that miguel misses so dearly and never wanted anything more than to feel them on his one last time. to feel the softness of them pressed against his rough, slightly chapped ones. but that possibility is forever gone.
but can you blame the man? the woman he loves stands right before him in a wedding dress and is destined to marry another man while his heart aches and yearns for a woman he can’t no longer have.
when it’s time for the rings, miguel actually looks away the moment frankie slips on the wedding ring on your ring, symbolizing your commitment to one person only. but it also symbolizes that you are no longer miguel’s and he not yours. another painful stab to the heart. miguel finally looks back once the rings were placed and he feels a ache in his chest at the sight of the pretty wing wrapped around your finger. it was getting real and he couldn’t accept it.
now, it was the moment he’s been dreading for…
miguel knew this was coming but he still couldn’t believe it was happening, you finally leaving him behind and fulfill a life with your husband. suddenly, his breathing becomes a bit difficult like something is compressing against his chest. his vision is a bit blurry and his heart rate increases, feeling the blood rushing through his veins. like the world is collapsing and he is losing control. miguel is a man of control but that ability is slipping through his fingers. for once, he can’t control his emotions because they’re controlling him. he’s losing you forever and miguel can’t grasp on that because he loves you. but he can’t love a married woman, god forbids it.
so, with a deep inhale he prepares to announce the final part of the ceremony. the part miguel has been dreading since the first night you stayed with him.
“by the power of god invested in me, i pronounce you husband and… wife.”
the gut-wrenching words left a bitter taste in his mouth and almost made him wince because this marked the beginning of the end. an end miguel has feared for so long and it unfortunately came true.
however, miguel can’t look away this time because he has to bare witness the signifying moment of yours and frankie’s marriage. his grip on the book tightens as he watches frankie gently guides you closer by the waist, an action miguel used to do frequently, and press his lips against yours, marking your first kiss as husband and wife. the sight makes his heart ache immensely. the audience cheers for you two while miguel was collapsing internally into a hell of heartbreak and torment. it worsens when you pull back from the kiss with a smile, beaming up at your husband. the same look you used to give miguel during those intimate moments together. the same smile that always made his knees weak. the same smile as the first thing he would see after waking up beside you in bed the morning after. the same smile that he won’t have the honor to see anymore.
as if it couldn’t get any worse, you don’t even look at him or sneak a glance anymore as you turn to face the cheering crowd. as if he doesn’t exist, which produces another stab to miguel’s heart. he just pronounced you married and you’re already ignoring him like you’ve forgotten his existence. it breaks his heart, making the pain more intense than it already was before. throughout the ceremony, you rarely acknowledged him with only a few glances but your eyes always remained off to the side or at frankie. but now more than ever, they will never land on him. it’s sufficient proof miguel has lost you completely.
it hurts even more as you and frankie descend from the stairs and walk down the aisle together as newlyweds, leaving miguel behind with a broken heart. he didn’t even follow you, only remain standing there with a hurt look in his eyes. watching you walk away to begin a new chapter of your life with your husband, all while carrying another man’s child in your womb. his own child, the one miguel will never get to meet and watch them grow. another man will take his place as their father and it kills him. not only did he lose you but also his unborn child, a family he will never get to have. that is the greatest consequence miguel will have to endure, the biggest yet hardest test god has given him. miguel knew this affair with you would eventually end with you getting married but it still hurt, even more with the baby.
those eyes filled with remorse watch you waltz through the aisle until you reach the large wooden doors. for a moment, you stop and miguel’s eyes widen just a smudge in hopes of you looking back at him one last time before you walk away from his completely. a spark of hope, a candle lit up. but that candle immediately burns out when you don’t turn to look back and instead continue walking through those wooden doors. miguel felt his heart drop, all the hope suddenly stripped from him and replaced with an everlasting sense of loneliness and hurt, as he watched you walk away from his life forever.
the guests follow you and frankie as you all exit the church, leaving behind the poor heartbroken priest at the altar. the same altar where he had you in his arms and display his affection for you. standing with pain his heart, miguel reminds standing there until the church was empty. the familiar lonely coldness that miguel hated returns, consuming the space of the church once again. all alone once again, a feeling he never despises so much because it all felt too familiar. now with you vanished from his life forever along with your unborn child, miguel has to succumb to that agonizing loneliness once again.
succumbed to his own personal hell.
૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა note ♡ i drew the priest outfit over miguel on picsart because i wanted to lol and this fic is inspired from “altars” by charli xcx because that song slaps !
PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ
𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟕 — 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢
⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 30th, 10:37pm
⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: garters + assistant manager! reader + pleasure dom! higuruma+ cunnalingus + fingering + office sex + overworked!higuruma + creampie + shower sex + squirting + use of squirt as coffee creamer + public sex + standing sex + fluff + higuruma courts you like an old man jdfbhsdb + higuruma folds you like a pancake + reader is a bit delulu and spirals lol.
⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6390 (~4.5K of it is pure smut lol)
𝐚𝐧: sorry this took so long! i ended up changing the theme a bit on this one cause using the same got so boring to me after a while, ya know? i dont think ill do that again for a series if its not the same story. art creds: both @/reaperpie
𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
If this goes on any longer, you're going to have to apply for flood insurance.
For your panties.
And for what? Simply standing beside Higuruma?
Yup, that'll do it.
Mere proximity to the man who once had you bent over the very desk he's chained to now.
You busy yourself at the file cabinet, fighting to keep your breathing even. But it doesn't stop your eyes from drifting to him—his pen moving and brow furrowed while fully consumed in drafting a judgment entry.
He won. Well, the case got dismissed.
Same difference.
You're just relieved it's finally over.
It's been over a month since this case consumed him and consequently also over a month since you last had his fingers buried inside you.
Shit.
You can still feel the phantom strokes of them curling deep enough to rearrange your guts and dragging out moans you didn't know could be made in pleasure. "There. Right there, babydoll. Let it all go for me."
And you did—skirt bunched, stockings torn and your slick dripping down his hand onto cuffs he hadn't bothered to roll back—
"Grab me the folder with the October 3rd case files, please, dear."
Higuruma's request snaps you out of your daydreams—body jerking as heat burns your cheeks.
"O-Of course!"
You know exactly where to go, at least. Every misplaced document, every obscure reference—you've long since mapped the chaos of Higuruma Hiromi's filing system.
Locating the folder within seconds, the brief contact of his fingers grazing yours as you hand it over makes you clench.
"Thank you, doll."
Higuruma doesn't look up, his eyes are already scanning the document. Clearly your touch doesn't stir anything in him.
Right.
You get it. You do.
It's not cruelty—just a single-minded determination from a habitually overworked and underfucked attorney moonlighting as a sorcerer.
Higuruma is well practiced in putting his own needs to the side for others, his entire life has been dedicated to it—you can't bear to fault him for that.
So you retreat. Back to the sofa in the corner of his office, the sting tucked behind a tired smile. Higuruma isn't the only one who knows how to compartmentalize.
Still, the thought lingers—is there even a point in staying?
He doesn't need you. Not really.
Higuruma managed for years as a public defender before the Culling Games. He's more than capable of grabbing his own files.
Besides, it's not like the jujutsu higher-ups assigned you here for your legal expertise. The "Executive Legal Assistant" line is just civilian window dressing— a polite way of saying leash.
Your real title? Assistant Manager of Jujutsu Tech.
A handler for a newly ranked special-grade sorcerer too stubborn to give up his day job entirely.
Higuruma compromised just enough to move to private practice, but still takes most cases pro bono after a reduced retainer.
He knows exactly why you're here—and he's never once made you feel lesser for it.
Which makes the guilt so much worse. He's buried in this case: a scholarship kid bullied into a false confession, parents who scraped together everything for his retainer.
Meanwhile, you're sulking because he won't touch you.
God, his noble to a fault principles make you damn near feral though.
Pouting from your spot on the sofa, you steal another glance at Higuruma.
You decided long ago it's enormously unfair for a man to wear exhaustion as well as he does. The warm glow of the desk lamp traces his profile—his sharp nose, strong jaw, the thick column of his throat and the strain visibly knotted across his broad shoulders.
The same coiled tension he'd carried that night a month ago that obliterated all lines of professionalism.
It’d been straight off a mission. Higuruma dealt with dual first-grade curses, nasty work—and then went right back to his desk. But he was wound too tight and although determined to finish his work, could not keep his fingers from digging into the crook of his neck.
When you offered to help him, you were only being considerate.
A friendly massage. Honestly, that's all it was.
Higuruma even tried to refuse you but one firm press into his stiff muscles and he groaned. The sound was purely guttural, vibrating through your palms and straight to your cunt.
Immediately all protests silenced as his head drooped forward, breath going ragged. His grunts continued and by the time you fully worked out the second knot, you were dripping.
It took everything in you to steady your hands, to hide how much his pleasure was affecting you. But then you slipped—and a soft, needy sound fumbled out of you, impossible to swallow back. Your breath fanned warm across his neck, scattering goosebumps along his nape.
Everything after that blurred together.
His hands hauling you into his lap.
His mouth devouring yours.
The expensive oak desk slamming against the wall as he drove into you like a man possessed, your name caught between his teeth like a prayer.
You don't remember how it ended—only that eventually, Higuruma untangled himself from you and led you wordlessly to the private shower attached to his office.
One of the few perks of private practice he'd actually come to appreciate.
He washed you with reverence—slow, thorough, like you were something precious. And then he ruined that image entirely by dropping to his knees and lewdly slurping his cum out of your cunt like it was his last meal. Nose buried in your clit, tongue pushing deep, water pouring down his face. He was half-drowning—between the shower and your squirt—and couldn't have cared less.
Legs like goo, you still don't know how you remained standing through it all.
You were still catching your breath as you toweled off when he murmured something about feeding you, fingers tracing your hip.
Twenty minutes later: you were at an all-night izakaya, just the two of you.
Your first date, technically. Confirmed by the way he slid into the booth beside you instead of across—his hand finding your thigh like it belonged there. It never left. Only crept higher, fingertips ghosting over your clit through thin silk while you pretended to study the menu.
The owner lingered too long taking your order, teasing you for something as plain as eggs and furikake rice, his tone edging toward flirtation as he challenged if your date was too cheap to buy you a real meal. You stumbled over your defense of Higuruma as Higuruma's knuckle replaced his fingertips, grinding against your clit.
That's when you learned how possessive Higuruma Hiromi could be.
"That man is testing my patience," Higuruma murmured the second the owner turned away. His mouth barely moved against your ear, voice terrifyingly calm, knuckle still working slow circles through your folds. "Should I sit you right here in my lap? Let him watch you come undone, doll, hm?"
You were already plenty undone though—your slick leaking onto beat-up vinyl seat. “Don’t worry, I won’t. This noisy girl attracts too much unnecessary attention—” Higuruma leans forward to shield you from view as more patrons walk in “—we don’t need a public indecency charge, hm?”
He wasn't wrong. The slick click-click of your pussy squelches were already obscene—a few patrons' eyes flickered around, searching for the source—and it only got louder as he nudged past the lace, stroking you wider, fingertip dipping teasingly into your core.
“H-Hiro…”
With a sly quirk of his lip, he pulls back, reaching casually for his coffee before slipping the mug under the table.
“Alright, alright. At least allow me some of your cream for my coffee as a consolation, dear.”
He paid, of course. You tried to protest, but it's hard to argue when you can barely stand—legs still trembling from an hour of relentless teasing.
He'd ordered three cups of coffee total. Every single one required a fresh dollop of your cream.
By the time you reached his condo, you needed him desperately again. Engine off, keys still in the ignition—you climbed into the backseat and sank onto his cock. You rode him until dawn crept through the fogged glass and your legs gave out.
He invited you to stay but you were possibly in enough trouble already if your family noticed you hadn’t returned. Working late was understandable—but there’d be hell if you missed breakfast without prior notice.
That was a Saturday.
Come Monday, this case landed on his desk, and he hadn't touched you since.
Instead?
Fresh flowers rotating through the vase on your desk.
The occasional delivery of white strawberries.
Macarons from the French bakery Higuruma pretended to overbuy when you knew he only bought them for you.
The closest to real intimacy you got all month were stolen moments where he’d sweep your hand into his, lips brushing your knuckles when he was certain no one else could see.
Sure these breadcrumbs were enough to keep you hoping but not nearly enough to keep you sane.
Who the hell courts you like a Regency novel heroine—after you’ve already spent a night all over each other fucking like rabbits?!
You don't think even Elizabeth Bennet suffered this kind of agonizing tension—she certainly didn't have the memory of Mr. Darcy's tongue swirling in her cunt to keep her up at night.
But what could you do? You couldn't seem needy or immature—not to a man a decade your senior. Not if you wanted this to mean something.
You were doing fine. Keeping it together. Right up until last week.
Junior lawyers crowded the watercooler, loud and willfully oblivious to the fact that women also use the break room—braying about No Nut November like overgrown frat boys comparing notes. You kept your back to them, cursing the espresso machine to hurry the hell up.
Relief flooded you when Higuruma appeared in the doorway.
Finally, an escape.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Some of us don't find distractions quite so difficult to set aside when the work matters." His gaze swept over them. "I'd recommend you develop the same discipline, gentlemen."
Distractions.
You'd previously told yourself this case had forced you both into accidental celibacy. No Nut November participants by circumstance, not choice. But the way he'd said it—distractions—so cool, so clinical, like sexual urges were just clutter to tidy away.
You'd think a man who fucked you that desperately would be crawling back for more?!
But he hadn't.
And that distance made you wonder if you'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe the gifts weren't courtship—just consideration. The polite gestures of a man who'd used you and wanted to keep things friendly on the rare occasion he needed an indulgence.
Like a work wife with benefits.
The fact the office cleared out hours ago and he’s hardly looked at you for more than a few seconds convinces you of this more and more, the thoughts spiraling as—
"You know I hate to keep you late." The words yank you out of your head. Right. You're still here. He's still here. "If you need to leave, dove, I can manage."
Your stomach drops. Higuruma asked you to stay tonight, so you thought maybe—
"No, I'm fine. Really." Unconvincing, even to yourself.
"Mm." He nods—eyes already back on his files.
Dismissed in a syllable.
Trying to push aside the hurt, the files in your lap blur as you pretend to read them, legs crossing and uncrossing, the leather groaning beneath your restless shifting. Now on top of everything else, your feet are screaming—new stilettos, three inches higher than normal.
You'd dressed to kill all month hoping a part of him would be superficial enough notice.
Wincing, your arches are aching from your red-bottoms. You're starting to suspect it's less about the lacquer and more about the crime scene your heels will leave behind if your arches just so happen to split in two. Still, they make your legs look sinful—and you'll plead guilty to first-degree pick me-ism if it gets Higuruma to look up from his goddamn papers for more than a minute.
"Take them off.”
Flustered, your eyes snap up to see Higuruma appraising you over the document in his hands.
When did he start watching you again?
"Your shoes, dove."
Higuruma follows up when you don’t respond, faint amusement lingering on his words.
"It's fine, really—" You wave off his concern, gesturing vaguely at your feet. "They're still new. Haven't broken them in quite yet."
"You've been wincing for the last twenty minutes." Higuruma’s voice is firm but not unkind as he regards you. His eyes linger on your legs long enough for you to notice this time.
"Take them off."
"I don't want to be unprofessional—"
"It's nearly midnight." The corner of his mouth twitches a sly smile. "And…I think we're well past professional civilities, don't you?"
Are we?
You swallow the retort as Higuruma examines another folder on his desk. Part of you wants to be a big brat about it—to punish him for ignoring you. You want to crawl onto his desk force his eyes onto you.
But the thought alone makes you shy away. You're much too proud for that.
So you ease the shoe off slowly, quietly, propping your stockinged foot on the sofa's edge to reach the second strap. Your wool skirt rides up your thighs in the process—but you're almost certain he's not watching anyway.
Except you hear papers fluttering and when you glance up, Higuruma's pen is frozen mid-stroke.
His gaze isn't on your feet.
It's fixed on your thighs, more specifically, the black lace of your garters clipped to stockings that have your soft flesh swelling over them.
His throat bobs as he white-knuckles the pen in his grasp.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just looks at you as his eyes trail lower and the proof of how needy you've been for him all night is evident in the way your panties clinging to every fold.
Higuruma resembles a man who's been presented a ten-course meal after a strict fast.
Yet his next words still surprise you.
"You've been punishing yourself."
"What?"
"For my attention. You've been wearing new heels, every night this week." Higuruma’s tone is stripped of its usual composure although he's still clinical in his assessment. "You usually wear the round-toed black pair. Two inches, cushioned sole. These—" His gaze flicks to the discarded shoes, then back to you. "Your legs don't need the extra height, doll. Never did."
Heat floods your cheeks. He'd noticed?!
This whole time, drowning in case files, barely sparing you a glance—
"The blouse is new too." Higuruma notes, almost to himself, like he’s reading off the facts in a case file. "Tuesday it was the silk one. Wednesday, the black skirt with the small slit at the back."
Your heart slams against your ribs as he continues to recall your outfits.
"I-I thought you weren't paying attention."
"I wasn't giving you any." Higuruma’s mouth twists—bitter and self-directed in his ire. "That's not the same thing."
"It's okay. You've been busy—"
"Don't."
The word is soft but final as he rises from his desk walking over to you on the sofa.
"Don't make excuses for me—or I'll hate myself even more than I already do..."
Higuruma drags a hand down his face as he deflates with a tired exhale. "Watching you walk in every morning looking like that. Knowing exactly what sounds you make when I—"
He stops. You watch him swallow it down—whatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do. His eyes have gone nearly black, looking like he may pounce on you at any moment.
"I couldn't only give you ten minutes between depositions. Couldn't touch you the way you deserve and then casually ask you to hand me a file or drive me to the next mission like nothing happened."
Your head is spinning at the revelations, wanting to say something but you are at an utter loss.
"So I kept my distance." He confesses. "Thought if I could just finish this case—I could give you a night where I could take my time with you. Take you apart properly, then put you back together after."
Higuruma is standing over you now, his presence like a physical weight. "Like a fool, I was so consumed with self-martyrdom I never stopped to consider if I was forcing yours."
You move to stand, to reach for him—
“Stay.”
It's less command than it is a contrite supplication.
"Stay right there, doll," Higuruma repeats—and the crack in his voice betrays him—as does the tent in his slacks.
The sound he makes when he catches you staring is barely human—a low, rumbling growl. You watch his cock twitch harder against his slacks.
You search for his eyes, but his focus is locked on your tongue sweeping across your lips.
Higuruma loosens his tie, slowly as his eyes begin their descent—down your throat, your breasts, your stomach—until it lands between your thighs and stays there. Fixed on the wet patch darkening your lace.
He crouches before you, hands finding your calf. His thumb strokes the curve of the stocking covered muscle with reverence, he's memorizing the shape of you not only by sight but touch as well.
"Bring the other up." You've never heard him sound like this—barely holding on. "Y-Yes, just like that. Now lay back—hips forward."
Pulse hammering, you sink deeper into the cushions, propping your leg up as his hands find your hips, guiding them forward, bunching your skirt around your waist.
"Good girl."
Your pussy is fully on display now and Higuruma makes a wounded noise as his eyes rake over the panties that have given up pretending to hold in your swollen folds long ago.
"Christ."
The word punches out of him. His fingers skim the lace edge—barely grazing—and still come back glistening with your slick.
Higuruma swallows hard. "It's criminal the way my girl's been hiding all this under those prim little suits."
His girl.
Higuruma lifts one of your legs, extending it slowly until your stockinged foot rests flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your arch, the beat syncing with the pulsating ache of your clit.
His hands work down your leg, firm and thorough, pressing into sore muscles until pleasure bleeds through the ache. Your head tilts back as you stifle a moan and his grip tightens in response.
"I know I don't deserve it, dove, but at least allow me to hear you while I worship you, my dear."
Simultaneously, his thumbs dig into the ball of your foot, and the tension you've been carrying all night unspools in a single, embarrassingly loud whimper.
From the devious look on his face, it's exactly what he wanted.
Higuruma presses a kiss to your Achilles—another apology—and you shiver. He sets your foot down gently, repeats the ritual on the other side. Just as slow. Just as thorough.
A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he guides your legs up, stockinged feet sliding over his shoulders until you're spread open before him. He leans forward, nuzzling into the fold of your knee—and the scrape of his stubble makes your hips jerk.
“You know, at times I swore I could smell how badly she missed me.” He murmurs into your stockings. “Right through your pretty little skirts."
Higuruma’s actions follow his words, tracing a slow path with his aquiline nose from your knee to your pussy. "Mmm. I was right. She's been weeping so sweetly through your panties like a needy little thing for weeks, hasn't she?"
Your whines answer for you.
"What about No Nut November?" you whisper, breathless, raising your hips to push his nose in deeper. "I wouldn't want to be a distraction..."
Higuruma inhales deeply, savoring your raw scent. "Never." He exhales breathlessly.
"Everything else has been a distraction from you." His voice drops to gravel, vibrating through you.
You haven’t even savored the admission properly before there's a sharp snap and his teeth bite through one of your garters, tugging the ruined elastic away with a growl before repeating the action.
"Please, Hiro—" You mewl, thighs trembling.
He looks up at you with those dark, knowing eyes. Exhausted and hungry in equal measure.
"This is part of my sentence, doll." His thumb strokes the crease of your thigh, maddeningly gentle. "Trust me—it's far more agonizing for me."
You doubt that.
But you don't dare contradict him—not when there's something sadistic lurking behind all that apology. Something that tells you a part of him would get off on deny you just a tiny bit longer.
His tongue drags flat over your panties, pressing wet fabric into your slit, sucking your slick through the lace like he's trying to wring every drop out.
"These are in my way." He doesn't bother with his teeth this time—just hooks his fingers in the lace and tears.
Riiiip.
You squeal as cool air hits your bare cunt for half a second before his mouth replaces it. The second his tongue splits your folds, every other thought dissolves.
Your head falls back against the cushions as his tongue drags through your folds with long, broad strokes. Like he's been dreaming about this exact taste for a month and finally, finally gets to indulge.
His lips seal over your clit and suck, hard enough that your hips buck off the sofa. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, pinning you open, holding you still as they quake in his grasp.
"Told you to stay."
The command growled against your cunt, but your body isn’t listening, still squirming as he dips into your entrance, gathering your slick before dragging it back up to your clit—then he spits, letting your own arousal drip onto your swollen nub before his mouth descends again.
"H-Hiro!"
Higuruma doesn't answer.
He's much too occupied with his repentance. Tongue extended, his face is pulled back just enough so you can see the exact pattern being cruelly branded on your sensitive bud as he roughly flicks under your clitoral hood, pushing it back. It's methodical and devastatingly thorough—like he's building a case with his mouth and your orgasm is the verdict.
Though for a defense attorney, the way he's attacking your cunt feels suspiciously prosecutorial.
Your hips tilt up, desperate to ride his face, and he lets you—lips releasing your clit only to plunge his tongue straight into your core, rimming your entrance before fucking into you rapidly. Every thrust grinds his nose further into your clit. His hands find your ass, gripping soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he lifts your hips to help you rock against his mouth.
This man would happily perish between your thighs.
You're certain of it now.
His own broken groans echo inside your cunt, high off the fact of simply giving you pleasure—and that's what sends you over. You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the sofa as the orgasm tears through you in waves, ecstasy coursing in your veins.
But he doesn't stop.
His tongue keeps working, lapping up your release, his face slick and shining with you. When you try to squirm away—oversensitive and trembling—his grip tightens on your thighs, dragging you back to his mouth.
"I'm not done with you yet, doll."
The words come out ragged, muffled against your puffy cunny as Higuruma's cheek rests against your inner thigh, lips swollen and spit-slick, still connected to your pussy by a thin string of your arousal. He's panting—actually panting—looking genuinely pained by the fact that he has to stop to breathe oxygen instead of burying himself deeper in your folds.
You don't think you could deny Higuruma anything like this.
"One more, Hiro." His breathing quickens at your permission. "T-Then fuck me. Please."
Higuruma doesn't bother with words. Just action—diving back into your depths like a man possessed.
One of his hands releases your thigh, finds your wrist and drags your fingers into his hair.
"Pull." The command is muffled but unmistakable.
You oblige—or rather, you're forced to when his teeth graze your clit and your nails dig into his scalp on instinct. Higuruma growls in pleasure, the sound rumbling through your core.
He has to be aching. Hard enough to hurt, trapped in those slacks. You can't see him from this angle, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's leaking through his slacks from the way he's moaning into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. A pool of your creamy juices has already gathered on the leather beneath you, obscene and growing in size by the second.
Delirious words spill from his lips between licks—praise and filth whispered directly into your cunt like prayers.
"So sweet—"
A broad lick from entrance to clit.
"So pretty—"
His tongue fucks into you, curling.
"—my divine atonement—"
Your slick coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his jaw, and he only gets hungrier. More desperate. More crazed. Every gush of arousal you give him is an aphrodisiac—he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, shows no signs of stopping, no signs this will be your last orgasm, only growing more feral as you unravel beneath him.
"P-Pleaseeeee ohh—!"
The second climax builds faster than the first—sharper, meaner, your whole body wound tight as a wire. His tongue relentlessly assaults your clit while two fingers sink into your cunt without warning, crooking against that spot inside you, and your vision whites out.
"That's my pretty girl."
Higuruma pulls back just enough to let you ride out the aftershocks, fingers still drawing merciless circles on your oversensitive clit.
Somewhere behind the roar of blood in your ears, you hear a belt click as fabric shifts. You force your eyes to focus—watching his slacks fall as he stands, his cock springing free—flushed and heavy, bobbing as his cockhead smeared with pre drips down the length of him.
Fuck. Somehow Higuruma looks even bigger than you remember, thick enough to make your whole body clench with want and fear in equal measure.
He kneels, dragging your hips to the edge. His hand wraps around himself, stroking, and you hold your breath—finally, finally—
But he just slaps his cock against your clit. Tap, tap, tap. Precum and spit and slick mixing obscenely
You squirm, clearly overstimmed which draws a smug chuckle from him.
"Is it terrible that I enjoy teasing you?"
"Hiro—" You whine, hips jerking toward him. You pout up at him sweetly—and watch his cock twitch in response. His resolve visibly cracking.
"Yes, doll. Say it again." Higuruma's cock notches at your entrance, pressing but not pushing. "Scream it this time, for me yes?"
You expect more teasing, more torture.
Instead, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrust—splitting you open until he's buried to the hilt.
You scream his name so loud you don't even hear it leave your throat.
You might have cum again—you only know because of the string of expletives spilling from Higuruma's mouth, his composure finally shattered.
"F-Fuck, dove—" He's panting, forehead pressed to yours. "She's choking me. You need to relax." A strained laugh escapes him. "She feels like a noose—and I'd prefer to avoid capital punishment tonight, if it's all the same to you."
You can't answer, tears streaming as you gasp from him filling you so completely. Higuruma leans down and licks them up too, tongue tracing the salt tracks on your skin. You're starting to think he's genuinely obsessed with your bodily fluids.
Higuruma pecks your lips gently, letting you adjust.
"Have you not been touching yourself?" His voice is softer now, curiously teasing as he admires the state simply sticking his cock in has reduced you to. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?"
"I w-wasn't g-gonna" You swallow, cunt fluttering around him. "B-But it wasn't enough. It wasn't y-you."
"'Wasn't gonna', huh?" He mocks you, his rich baritone tickling your senses as his thumb returns to your clit to flick over her languidly.
"Naughty girl." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "But I suppose I'll argue a plea deal in your defense this once. It was my fault after all for neglecting you."
Your thighs burn from being spread around his broad hips, the sheer weight of him pressing you into the sofa, his knees braced on the floor. When you finally loosen around him—walls relaxing, body surrendering to him—he slips his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to move.
Small thrusts at first. Micro-movements. Like he can't bear to have even an inch of himself outside the warm embrace of your slick walls.
Then his hand presses down on your lower belly, and your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll back.
"There it is." He groans, grinding deeper. "Can you feel how she makes room for me?"
Higuruma doesn't give you the chance to answer before he picks up the pace, hand staying pressed to your stomach, savoring every twitch of your muscles. The exact movement of your guts shifting around him—how your body so lovingly allows him to ruin her from the inside out.
His teeth find your bottom lip, biting down as his other hand slides up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the column of your neck. He squeezes lightly, rhythmically, matching the desperate clench of your pretty pussy around him.
Higuruma wants to cum with you. But he can feel you're already there—already tipping over the edge—
"Hiro... 'm gonna—"
"Oh?" He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder. "Without me, dear? How inconsiderate." His thumb presses into the side of your throat. "Go ahead. But I won't be granting leniency. You cum now and then you're going to keep coming until I say stop."
"P-Pleaseeee, m-mercyyy—" You're babbling, desperate. The word slips out before you can stop it: "—Judge."
Higuruma almost cums right then and there, hips stuttering.
"Oh, you're pushing it now, princess."
Your doe eyes blink up at him, and somewhere beneath the desperation, you find the brat in you after all.
"What's wrong, your honor?" The words drip from your lips like honey, saccharine and deliberately provocative. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
Higuruma's grip tightens on your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who's in control here. His hips still, cock buried deep, twitching inside you.
"Careful, dove."
You clench around him deliberately.
Something in him snaps. No more warnings.
Higuruma pulls out and you're immediately feeling the loss of him—but before you can protest, his hands are hooking under your thighs and hauling your ass up off the sofa.
Drenched in your combined mess, and his grip slips once before he adjusts, hoisting you higher. Your legs end up over his shoulders, folded nearly in half, and you have nothing—no wall behind you, no leverage, nothing to hold onto but the thick column of his neck.
Completely at Higuruma's mercy.
Your nails dig into his skin on instinct—the only anchor you have.
"There we go." He groans at the bite of pain, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Hold on tight, princess."
He slams you down onto him in one brutal drop.
You scream.
The angle is devastating—deeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock splitting you open while gravity does the rest. You have no control here. Can't set the pace, can't shift positions—can't do anything but cling to him and take it. Every thrust jolts through your entire body, punching the air from your lungs.
Your nails rake down his neck and he hisses, but his eyes roll back in pleasure, not pain.
"Harder." He commands. "Mark me up. I want to feel you for days."
You're too fucked-out to process it fully—is he sadistic or masochistic? Both? Does it matter when he's bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing, arms flexing as he lifts and drops you with terrifying ease? You're nothing but a vessel now, suspended and speared utterly for his pleasure.
"I'm going to take care of you, princess. Take care of this pretty pussy." His palms grip your ass, fingers digging in white-knuckled, desperate for leverage as he fucks up into you. "Going to make sure she never goes hungry again. Every morning. Every night. Whenever she asks for it."
"Hiro—" You're sobbing, pleasure cresting unbearably high, just gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust. "Please, I need to—I can't—"
"Not yet." Higuruma's jaw clenches, fighting his own release. "Hold it."
"I-I c-c-can't—" Your walls are fluttering around him, clenching involuntarily, and you see stars at the edges of your vision. "P-Please, please, J-Judge, I'll do anythinggggg—"
"Anything?" His hips stutter at the title, cock kicking inside you. "Dangerous words, doll. I'll hold you to them."
His grip on your ass tightens, nails biting into the soft flesh now—mirroring what you're doing to his neck. The wet slap of skin echoes obscenely through the office, your slick dripping down his thighs, pooling on the hardwood beneath you.
"From now on—" He's losing rhythm, thrusts turning erratic. "—this pussy gets what she needs... you'll come to me? You'll tell me exactly what she needs?"
"Y-Yes—y-yes!!! Jusss p-pleaseeee—"
"Every ache—" A brutal thrust. "—every need—" Another. "—you bring it to me. Understood?"
You're babbling incoherent confirmations, head lolling back, eyes rolling into your skull.
"Cum, then. Give it to me, babydoll—"
The orgasm tears through you like a live wire—blinding, violent, your pussy clamping down so hard he chokes on a moan. Your nails draw blood on his neck and he growls, burying himself to the hilt—
And then you feel it.
The first hot pulse of him flooding your insides. His cock kicking against your walls, swelling impossibly thicker as he empties himself into you. Rope after rope of cum painting your clenching cunt, so deep you swear you feel the warmth in your throat.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. The noises of your breathing filling the space.
His cock is still buried inside you, softening but not quite soft, and you can feel his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies—dripping down your thighs, onto the floor, adding to the mess you've already made of his office.
Higuruma's forehead drops to yours, hips grinding through the aftershocks, working every last drop into you. "You feel that? How much I saved for you, dove?"
You can only whimper in response. You do feel it—the obscene heat spreading through your core, the way his cum has nowhere to go with his cock still plugging you full. When he shifts his hips, grinding deeper, some of it squelches out around the seal of your bodies.
"Taking it so well—" His voice is shot, barely above a rasp. "Milking every drop—good girl—"
Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.
"Hiro..." You're slurring, drunk on him. "Can't... can't feel my legs..."
A breathless laugh rumbles through his chest. "Mm." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear tracks still drying on your skin. Unbearably tender after everything he just did to you. "That's what happens when you taunt a man who's been starving for a month, doll."
"Worth it," you giggle.
"Brat." But there's only fondness in his voice.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts his grip—one arm hooked under your ass, the other cradling your back as he finally lets your legs slide off his shoulders. You wince at the change in angle, cunt clenching involuntarily around him, and he groans.
"Easy." His voice is strained. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the shower."
You're tempted to test him. But exhaustion wins out, your body going limp against his chest as he carries you toward the bathroom.
"Let's get you cleaned up." His lips brush your temple. "Then I'll take you home, hm?"
You pout. After everything—after a month of waiting, of longing, of convincing yourself you were nothing but a convenient release—you're not ready for this to end.
Not ready to go back to your empty apartment and pretend tonight didn't change everything.
Higuruma catches the look on your face and chuckles softly.
"I mean my home," he clarifies, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "We can clean up properly there. I'll cook you breakfast." He sets you down on the counter, and you shiver at the cold marble against your bare skin—but he doesn't pull out, not yet, his half-hard cock still nestled inside you like he can't bear the separation either. "Then I can worship you the way you deserve. Properly. Without a deadline or a case file waiting on my desk."
Your heart stutters. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and his eyes—god, his eyes are so soft now. Tired and tender and looking at you like you're something precious. "I should have done this a month ago. Should have made time. Should have told you what you are to me instead of assuming you'd wait."
"I would have." The admission slips out before you can stop it. "Waited, I mean. For you. I would have."
Something fractures in his expression. He doesn't say anything—just pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead like he's trying to seal a promise there.
"You shouldn't have had to. No more waiting. No more silence. From now on, you tell me what you need—and I'll give it to you. Understood?"
"Understood, counselor."
His lips twitch. "Careful. You keep using titles and we'll never leave this bathroom."
You grin, exhausted and fucked-out and deliriously happy. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." He kisses you then—tongue gliding against yours, your taste still lingering. When he pulls back, his cock twitches inside you, thickening again.
"Definitely both."
"Mm." You pull back, pretending to consider. "I don't know. A month is a looooong time. I might need extensive compensation."
"Is that so?" Higuruma quirks a brow.
"Yup! Emotional damages. Pain and suffering." You tick them off on your fingers. "Loss of consortium—"
"You don't know what half those terms mean."
"I know what I want them to mean." you say slyly, clenching around him once more.
Realistically, you don't think either of you are leaving this office tonight.
𝐚𝐧: ahhh i love writing higuruma as an EATERRRRRRRR. this one was a lil bit more angsty, well not really angsty, reader is just super horny and it's making her a delulu pick me cjksdbfkjvhsb. i mean the way he dicked her down tho, who could blame her? lol this one was a bit more cute endings than im used to writing. i feel like its a bit cheesy but w/e, we ball. im tired of editing it hfdjkvhbf. so also sorry for any errors or duplicate sentences as i reworked alot of this fbsdhbsd.
𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.
ᤢ . 𝓢ummary ♥︎ ੭ a dumb fling in college resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. miguel never knew since you ghosted him and never saw each other again. seven years later, you’ve been living a double life as a single mother and a thief, taking risks to provide for your daughter. who would’ve thought the famous spider-man you keep running into is also your baby daddy.
“gabi, you need to brush your teeth or you’re gonna be late for school again!”
“can i finish this episode of gumball first, mamá?”
“no mija, you have to get ready.”
“but mamá, por favor.”
“gabriella.” a tinge of sternness but gentle.
the seven year old pouts before rising from her chair, walking to the kitchen to place down her bowl of recent eaten cereal, and head to the bathroom. your heart aches every time you see that disappointed look on her face. it’s understandable but you all have to get a move on in the world if you wanna keep your job and not get gabriella in trouble at school.
that’s how life has been for the past seven years, you going to work and gabriella at school. well, two years of school since gabriella recently started 1st grade. it was all in a blink of an eye. remembering her very first day of school and how you cried while watching her walk to her classroom with the other kids, letting go of your baby girl into the world. remembering when she was born on a rainy afternoon. it was a family reunion when your water broke and everyone panicked. next thing you knew, a little girl wrapped in a pink blanket like a cocoon was laying in your arms. sun-kissed skin, a plethora of brown hair, and the most beautiful pair of brown eyes. you didn’t question where she got those features from. you thought of him in that moment, a shame he wasn’t there but it was your fault he wasn’t.
it was back in college, a time of exploration and experimentation. there was this boy in your biology class. soft brown hair, thickest eyebrows, sharpest cheekbones known to man, thick black rimmed glasses settled over the prettiest browns eyes and cute nose, way above the average male height, a total gym rat but the nerdiest dude ever.
miguel o'hara.
a name you never forgot.
even to this day, it still haunts you.
he was your assigned tutor since biology wasn’t your strongest subject and the last thing you wanted was to fail the class. it was a little awkward at first since you were both introverts, especially miguel because that boy barely socialized at all. kept to himself, only had one friend, rarely went out. despite being a total antisocial creature, miguel was damn smart. carried such intelligence and had a passion for science, specifically for biology. hence why he majored in that field. because of his big brain, you were able to pass the class. eventually, the tutorship turned into friendship until one night at a party where you both drank a little too much and lost your virginities to each other in the bed of some mutual friend. his calloused hands roaming your body, whispering soft praises into your ear as he slowly pumped himself in you. it was the night that changed everything.
friends with benefits is what you put it as, or a situationship. two friends who would occasionally fuck. neither you or miguel considered officially being together yet the feelings taunted you both like a virus. you weren’t his girlfriend but damn did you feel like it. it was a fucking mess of mixed signals. miguel being so sweet and caring towards you yet felt so distant at the same time. in public, you put on a show of a simple friendship. but behind closed doors, his cock was shoved deep inside of you and made sure you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. at the time, you didn’t think of it as much. you and miguel still maintain your friendship while hooking up. despite the feelings you harbor for each other.
until the consequences caught up.
it was a week before graduation when you found out you were pregnant. that morning you shed so many tears, your roommate xina was worried when she found you balling your eyes out in the bathroom. despite her words of comfort, you still felt like shit. she knew of you and miguel, although she did warned about this stupid situationship but of course your dumbass didn’t listen. now it was biting you in the ass. a harsh slap in the damn face. but the unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the only worst thing.
a weeks ago, miguel mentioned he got an internship at alchemax, a company he’s been dying to join. you never witnessed so much enthusiasm and happiness in those pretty brown eyes when he told you. he was so genuinely happy, your heart fluttered with joy. you were happy for him. he already had his life planned after college and you didn’t want to ruin that. just imagine you’re about to start your life then a bombshell of an unexpected pregnancy comes out and now you can’t achieve your dreams? you didn’t have the heart to tell him. you couldn’t do that to him because you loved him too much to hurt him.
so you made the worst decision of your life.
you never told miguel about the pregnancy.
instead, you ghosted him right after graduation. during that last week of school, you avoided him at all cost. ignored the numerous texts, calls, voicemails that blew up on your phone. every time you stared at his name on the screen and never answered, a piece of your heart broke. avoiding him on campus was hard. the numerous times xina told you when miguel was looking you, the sad look on his face when she told him she hadn’t seen you shattered your heart more. it hurt so fucking bad to ignore the man you loved. yes, you did loved miguel. you gave him your heart and the idiot didn’t even know.
the fucked part was that you never knew he was looking for you during graduation. the moment everyone tossed their caps in the air, you walked out of the stadium with tears running down your cheeks and a broken heart. since there was hundreds of students, it was impossible to find you in a sea of people wearing that same damn thing. you didn’t know how desperate miguel was searching for you. you didn’t know how heartbroken he was when miguel never found you and figured out you blocked him on everything when he tried to call you.
you never saw each other again.
it was the worst summer of your life. pregnant and unsure whether to keep it or not. after many serious conversations with your parents, you decided to keep it. with the support of your family, you were going to be okay. however, of course they weren’t happy when you first told them about the pregnancy. oh the look of murder on their faces when you told them miguel was the father, you knew he would’ve been way under than six feet in the ground. don’t be mistaken, they were pissed at you too for being irresponsible and not telling miguel. the sad thing is that your parents liked miguel, a good young man. they even thought you two would get married someday. but unfortunately that never came true.
that first year after college was fucking rough. it was actually an okay pregnancy, it was just the fact you were pregnant and couldn’t start your life the way you imagined it months ago. eventually, life went on and you had your beautiful baby girl gabriella. the greatest gift you could ever received. until she was three, you had been living with your parents while looking for jobs and have someone take care of gabi. you did manage to find a secretary position for some company that paid well enough to the point of you moving out and getting place of your own. unfortunately, that ended horribly when the CEO of the company was exposed for having multiple sexual relations with employees and gambling issues. losing that job heavily effected you and gabriella. it was terrible to the point of almost getting evicted but in the nick of time you found another job you have now, waitress at a diner. significantly lower pay than your previous job but you took what you could get and pay those damn bills and provide for gabriella.
however, the waitress pay was still not enough to support you both. there wasn’t much alternative options, it was both frustrating and a struggle. endless nights of silent tears trailing down your cheeks, desperately trying to find a better job while gabriella was sleeping in her room. you felt like a terrible mother, not doing enough for your daughter. all you wanted is to give her a good childhood, grow up in a safe and loving environment. you were doing everything you could for her, even if costed your mental health. a parent would do anything for their child. so, you decided to take a risk.
there were local jewelry stores around, owned the most prettiest elegant pieces. during nights when gabriella was babysat by your parents or a neighbor, you slip into black latex suit and sneak off to the jewelry shops. thanks to the two years of gymnastics when you were a kid, you were pretty flexible and swift through the city effortlessly. being stealthy was natural to you, it was easy to break in and steal whatever jewelry you could snatch. you knew this was bad, you knew you were committing a crime. all of your life, you were a good decent person. held good morals and never indulged in bad habits. well, besides getting knocked up in college. until you’re left with no options, you had to make a sacrifice. you were a mother now, you had to do it for the sake of your daughter. no matter what.
that’s how you became the infamous black cat.
a hardworking single mother by day, a thief by night.
it’s been like this for a few years and you’ve yet to be caught. it is the reason why you’ve been able to remain living in the same apartment and have food on the table for your little family. you also got a dog, weiner dog cocker spaniel mix named bella. since gabriella is often alone and didn’t have anyone to play with at home, a dog seemed like the best option. besides, you’ve always wanted a dog. gabi loves bella so much, always playing together. laughter and squeals echoing throughout the apartment as bella happily chases gabi. a sight that melts your heart. your perfect little family that you love dearly.
“gabi! let’s go, mija!”
you hear little footsteps running, making you smile. “i’m here!” gabriella runs in with her backpack.
“here’s your lunch.” you hand her monster high lunchbox that matches her backpack.
“gracias, mama! did you put the gummies in there?”
“i did, just remember to eat it after your quesadillas, okay?” you cup her cheek.
“yes, mama.” she nods, smiling brightly.
you smile back before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “bien, let’s put our shoes on.”
“bye, bella! i’ll miss you!” gabi crouches down to hug the dog after putting on her twinkle toes. she started learning to tie her shoes on her own, smart girl.
you kiss bella goodbye before heading out the door with gabi holding your hand. exiting the apartment building, you make it to gabi’s bus stop where other kids are waiting with their parents as well.
“you have a good day, mija. te quiero mucho.” you crouch in front of her, holding her tiny hands in yours.
“te quiero, mamá. bye!” you gave her a final kiss on the forehead before letting her run off to the bus, babbling with her friends as she gets on.
once she finds a seat, she looks at you and happily waves goodbye through the window. you wave back at her with a smile as the bus begins taking off. you briefly greet some of the parents with a gentle smile then head to your car and drive to work.
luckily it was friday, meaning gabriella is staying at your parents for the weekend along with her cousins. they wanted to spend time with all their grandkids. that means you and your siblings get to be kid-free. honestly, it’s a win-win situation. which also means another night of jewelry shopping, just not spending. once the moon is shinning so beautifully in the sky and most of nueva york is asleep, you slip into your iconic black latex suit. a small mask to cover the upper half of your face, exposing your nose and glossy lips. white gloves with fake nails, emphasizing the cat part of your name. a silver wig to conceal your true hair as a cherry on top. with one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you escape through your bedroom windowsill and venture into the night.
the night sky looks beautiful as always. the shimming moonlight illuminating the city. the cold breeze hitting your face as you jump from rooftop to rooftop. the distant beeps and sirens ring in your ears. in your beg, a diamond set worth thousands of dollars was your prized possession tonight. this will cover definitely expenses for months. maybe you finally buy that boujee ass dollhouse gabi has been wanting for weeks. maybe treat yourself a trip to the spa after all the reckless working you’ve been doing.
“give it back, gatita.”
ah shit, you know that heavy ass voice.
it was only a matter of time before he showed up.
turning around, you see that familiar red and dark blue figure. spider-man, the famous hero of nueva york. it was only a year ago when he started his whole charade. a strange man clad in a red and dark blue suit with spider abilities. stopped major catastrophes and saved hundreds of lives. the public praised him for his heroic efforts. the police were first skeptical, considered him a vigilante but later on referred to him as a hero to the city. his impact is so significant to the city, there’s a whole damn national holiday dedicated to him as thank you for his service. on halloween, the streets are filled with kids dressed up as him. spider-man is the town’s savor.
the first time you met him was during a jewelry trip and he caught you. but of course with your stealthy and seductive antics, you were able to escape. you never realized how tall he was until he was standing up close to you. the man is a fucking skyscraper, practically almost 7 feet tall and insanely buff as hell. the man is a pure greek god. but what really caught your attention was that handsome voice. every time you hear him, a shiver goes down your spine. a good shiver, to be exact. he sounds so attractive, you’ve always wondered who is underneath that glowing mask. but something about him feels so… familiar. his presence reminds you of someone, someone you haven’t seen in years. that familiarity has always struck you but you can’t pinpoint it.
ever since your first encounter, he’s been catching you but ultimately fails. you can’t help but secretly love when he shows up. a rush of excitement flows through your veins every time his attractive voice reaches your ears and find him standing there. but what you love the most is teasing the poor spider. oh you adore how fluster he gets when you gently brush a hand against his broad chest, abs, arms. although he’s wearing a mask, you know his face is burning. arch your back a little extra when you accidentally drop something. let out soft noises while stretching, showing off your latex suit. anything to tick him off and it works every time. you just love messing with him. it’s been like this for several months now.
“what took you so long, arañito? thought you died or some shit.” you tease, tilting your head a little with a pout on your lips, pretending to be sad.
“your life would be boring then.” he approaches with hands on his hips. “dame la bolsa.”
“well, someone forgot his manners.” you tease. “how rude… your mother would be disappointed.”
spiderman groans frustratingly, rubbing the temples of his forehead through the mask. “no me jodas, gatita. dame la pinche bolsa or else—”
“or else what? gonna tie me up in your pretty webs?”
“if i have to.”
damn, he might consider it. not to mention how his tone went down a pitch, more seductively. that sends another shiver of anticipation down your spine.
your eyes light up in amusement. “oh… bondage, huh? okay, i’m down for that~” you giggle when he runs a hand over his face, obviously flustered.
“por dios, mujer. just give me the—” he attempts to snatch the small black bag from your hand but you swiftly move out of his way with a twirl.
“lo siento, arañito pero mamí has to feed her kittens so… muchos besitos~”
just as you blow him a kiss and about to make a run for it, a large hand catches your wrist that holds the bag. eliciting a yelp from you when you’re suddenly yanked to his chest. one hand holding firmly against him and the other holding the bag away from you.
“you’re not escaping this time, gatita.”
you try to push him away by the chest but of course it doesn’t do shit since the man is heavy like a fucking tank. “suéltame, cabrón.”
“push and punch all you want, gatita, but you’re not going anywhere this time.” his grip on your waist tightens as you squirm in his hold. an annoyed groan escapes his lips when you continue fighting. “stop fighting, it’s not gonna help you.”
“those diamonds are gonna help me if you give them back.” you continue squirming.
“not happening, i’m sure your kittens will be fine while your ass sits in a jail cell.”
suddenly, panic invades your body like a plague. gabriella comes through your mind. “no! my daughter, you asshole! i need them for my daughter!” now you’re really panicking, punching and kicking him. you can’t go to jail, abandon your child. you can’t leave gabriella alone, live without her mother.
spiderman looks down at you with shock, the eyes of his mask widens. “daughter?… you have a daughter?…” his grip on you loosens. “you’re a mother?…” he sounds so speechless, shocked.
you finally get the chance to escape his hold and angrily push him away by the chest, making him stumble a little. “yes, i am a mother and yes i have a daughter! if you don’t give me the damn bag—”
“why does your daughter need diamonds?”
a frustrated groan escapes your lips. your patience is wearing thin. “goddamnit! i need to sell them for money so i can provide for my daughter, alright?!”
for once, spiderman is speechless. he simply states down at you in complete silence. a shame that he wears a mask so you can’t tell his expression.
“you’ve been struggling?… financial issues?”
“in this shitty ass economy, yes. my job isn’t enough so i have to make a little extra money just to keep up with rent and other expenses.”
he goes silent for a moment, glancing down at the small bag in his hand then back at you. “this is why you’re doing this… to help your family.”
you sigh sadly, shoulders sagging. “ugh yes, alright? i do this shit for her. chingado, why the hell am i telling you about my personal issues?” you turn away, feeling the frustration bubbling up inside you.
why the hell are you explaining your financial issues to spiderman? he’s not your goddamn therapist. the son of a bitch is about to take you to jail. you really think he is gonna understand? highly doubtful. you fucked up real good this time.
another silent pause between you two. only the distant car beeps and sirens keep the air busy.
“just forget it and take me away already—” you’re cut off when you feel you’re hand being raised up and the small black bag is in your grasp. your brows furrowed in confusion as you look up him. “what are—”
“take it before i change my mind.”
your frown deepens. “why the change of heart? you were literally about to throw my ass in jail.”
“i won’t let a child lose their mother.” he sighs quietly, shoulders slightly slouched. “look, i understand why you do this. you’re struggling and out of options, you’re just trying to help your daughter.”
now, you’re the one who’s speechless. suppose he is understanding and that surprises your for some reason. yet nevertheless, you’re grateful.
“well um… thank you… for being understanding.” you say awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.
“i know i’m overstepping here but… is it just you?”
you nod, still not looking. “yeah… just me and her. the father isn’t in the picture.”
god, it feels awkward talking about this. especially with the goddamn hero of the city.
“i’m sorry… he must’ve been an ass.”
“oh um no… he actually doesn’t know.”
“oh…”
awkward silence. yeah, totally should just dip.
“well… what you’re doing is still wrong but i understand that a parent should do anything for their child.” from your peripheral, he takes a step closer.
finally, you look back at him. taken aback by how close he is. “so all i had to do was say i have a daughter and you would’ve let me off the hook?”
spiderman scoffs and shakes his head, definitely rolling his eyes under the mask. “no, i— chingado, leave before i change my mind.”
you can’t resist a giggle. “well, muchas gracias spidey. didn’t think you were the sentimental type but i appreciate it.” you offer a wink before walking away towards the ledge. “adiós, arañito.” you blow a final kiss at him then jump off with a backflip.
your perspective of spiderman changed tonight.
perhaps he isn’t all that bad and annoying.
you and gabriella have a shopping day. you visit one of stores that she likes and buy a few new clothes for her. with the recent money you’ve made from that diamond set, you decided to treat yourself and your daughter a shopping spree. you’re in the middle paying for the clothes when gabriella sees a cute dog walking by, causing her to let go of your hand and run outside the store to chase after the dog.
“gabriella!” you quickly pay the clothes, thank the cashier, grab the bag, and rush out the door.
gabriella is too focused on the dog when she accidentally runs into someone, knocking her off balance until the stranger catches her by the arm.
“whoa- you okay, chiquita?”
the little girl looks up to find a very tall man with brown eyes and hair, dressed in a simple white sweater and gray sweats.
“oh, sorry mister! i didn’t mean to hurt you!”
the man softly chuckles as he crouches to match her eye level. “it’s okay, chiquita. don’t worry about it.” his eyes briefly glance behind her searching a potential parent. “where’s your parents? are you—”
“gabriella!”
both of them turn to see you rushing towards them until you suddenly stop when you recognize the man who your daughter bumped into. suddenly, your whole body is frozen. everything around is a blur and in slow motion. heart dropped to your stomach and panic invades your veins like a virus. the bag of clothes almost slips out of your hand.
“miguel…?”
it can’t be… the boy you loved from college stands before you. the boy you haven’t seen in seven fucking years is standing right there in flesh next to your daughter, the very same daughter you had with him and doesn’t know about.
oh my god…
he looks so… different yet the same. more muscular, no more glasses, older. he’s not that boy from your biology class, he is a full blown man. god, he still looks handsome. even more now, dear lord.
after 7 years, you see miguel for the first time.
miguel, on the other hand, is as speechless as you are. utterly dumbfounded and shocked to see the girl he fell in love with from college standing in front of him. even after seven years, you still look beautiful. you were always beautiful. fuck, you look like a goddamn angel. especially in that pretty sundress you’re wearing. suddenly, his heart beats faster.
you’re… here. you’re actually here… standing in front of him like an angel. this very moment is the one miguel has been dreaming for so long. so damn long that it’s unbelievable. he hasn’t seen you since college, seven fucking years ago. he hasn’t seen your angelic face since, his heart aches at that realization. all this time miguel has been wondering what happened to you. the memory of you blocking him on everything after graduation makes his heart ache immensely, an unsettling feeling in his chest. even after years, he still wonders why you did. your sudden disappearance left a deep hole in his heart, an area that hasn’t been repaired since until this moment.
he softly calls out your name like you did with his, shock and surprise laced in his tone.
“it’s really you…”
god, his voice… that rich, handsome voice-
“mamá.”
both of you snap out of trance and look at gabriella, who is confused by the situation. realization kicks you in the ass that your daughter is awkwardly standing between you and her father, who neither know of each other’s existences.
“i said sorry to the man for bumping into him.” the little girl explains, pouting.
honestly, you don’t care she bumped into him although you appreciate her polite apology. but the fact it’s miguel is what your mind focuses on.
“it’s okay, mija. let’s just go home, okay?”
miguel observes the interaction, slightly confused about the little girl you’re talking to. is she your little sister? but you’re the youngest in your family, your parents stopped after having you. maybe she’s a younger cousin? but none of your cousins live in nueva york. that only confuses him more, causing him to frown a little. who is this little girl? but then his ears catch the ‘mija’ and his eyes widen in shock.
wait… this little girl is your daughter?
you have a daughter?
you’re a mother?
that is what happened these past 7 years? you ghosted his ass after college then turn out to be a mother to a daughter who seems about that old. the girl does appear to be 6 or 7 years old.
wait… that’s…
miguel concentrates on you and your supposed daughter, but mainly on the little girl. brown hair and eyes, sun-kisses skin, oddly familiar nose.
hold on… that is very familiar.
he has those traits.
oh shit… oh no, no, no, no, no.
there is no fucking way it’s possible… but now really looking at the girl, she looks so similar. way too fucking similar to him. holy fuck…
you briefly sneak a glance at miguel and recognize the shock illustrated on his face.
oh no…
fuck, you and gabi need to leave before miguel figured it out. that’s your biggest nightmare.
he can’t know, he can’t know.
you need to leave now.
“let’s go, gabi.” you take her hand in yours, just about to turn and bolt the fuck out of here.
“wait!” miguel calls out.
you don’t even answer back and continue walking with gabriella by your aide, feeling your heart pounding immensely with anxiety.
“mamá, that man is talking—”
“i know but we need to leave.” you try to not lash at your daughter despite the anxiety bubbling inside and consuming every inch of your body.
“espera, por favor!” miguel pleads, walking by your side. “just please—”
you shake your head, too afraid to look back at him while trying to escape. “no, please.”
he calls out your name again, a bit louder, and reaches out a hand to grab your arm.
“don’t touch my mama!” gabriella shouts as she slaps off his hand from your arm, making miguel wince and back off immediately.
you turn around in shock by your daughter’s erratic behavior, stopping in your tracks. “gabi—”
“leave my mama alone!” the little girl yells, standing in front of you to defend you from the man.
those mahogany eyes widen in shock, fear. miguel immediately backs away, hands in the air surrendering. panic flowing through his veins. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt your mama.” he panics while the girl stares daggers at him. truthfully, he never meant to hurt you in any way. he would never, ever. he can’t blame your daughter’s frustration.
unfortunately, the mini chaotic scene captured many eyes which only made it worse.
you let out a quiet sigh. “vamos, gabi.” taking her hand in yours, you bolted without bothering to spare a final glance at miguel or give him a chance to speak. you just want to go home and forget.
but ever since then, you’ve been a panicky mess.
miguel found out.
you know it.
that look in his eyes, the way they widen. it was a look of realization and disbelief.
you can’t let him find you and gabriella. fuck, you should’ve known staying in nueva york was a stupid idea knowing miguel still lives there too. honestly, you didn’t think he still did since it’s been a long time. however, it was only a matter of time before you run into him and the truth spills out. panic has been plaguing your body for days, taking a toll on you. extra jumpy, shaky hands, rapid beating heart, constantly checking your surroundings making sure miguel isn’t there. you aren’t afraid of him, no, you believe he’s still the same sweet guy before. strange part of you knows he would never hurt you. you always knew that. you’re just afraid of his reaction.
gabriella has noticed your panicky state. she may only be seven years old, but she is smart. occasionally asks if you’re okay, what’s wrong, why are you acting scared. those questions stung deeply in your heart. panic has consumed you entirely that your own seven year-old daughter notices and is worried about you. oh your sweet baby girl. she loves her mama very much and it melts your heart. but what hurts more is lying to her about it. you explain it was stress about work. truthfully, you are stressed out but for completely different reasons. it’s unsure how long these lies will be satisfying enough for.
now, you’re heading to work. the clicking of your heels hit the concrete as you pass multiple people, adjusting the skirt of your waitress uniform. despite the anxiety coursing through your veins at the thought of miguel finding you, life doesn’t stop. perhaps being at work would takes your mind off it.
until your name is called by a familiar voice.
your body froze the moment you recognize that voice, swiftly turning around to find the very man you have been avoiding and scared to run into. miguel is quickly approaching you and you don’t hesitate to walk away as quickly as possible, panicking a little.
“wait!” he calls out, trying to not knock out passing individuals while catching up to you.
you continue speed-walking, even in those heels as much as they allow you to. adrenaline pumping through your veins, heart beating frantically.
you have to get away. you can’t let him catch up to you, can’t let him get you. you can’t face him.
“espera, por favor!” due to his long legs, miguel is able to catch up to you quickly and gently grabs one of your wrists. “please, don’t walk—”
you turn around with a gasp and yank your wrist from his grasp. “¡suéltame!”
miguel says your name pleadingly and raises his hands cautiously, afraid to touch you again. “just please… i need to talk to you.”
you shake your head, turning around to leave. “no, just please leave me alone.” a gasp escapes your lips as you stumble on one heel then a strong arm wraps around your torso and catches you.
“cuidado, amor.” miguel is right at your side, his arm wrapped securely around your torso and carefully helps you stand properly. standing in front of you with now both hands on your waist. “you okay?”
his touch makes your mind dizzy and ignite your skin. oh you haven’t felt his touch in so fucking long, seven long years and damn you miss it so much. those calloused hands holding you gently, caressing your skin with such gentleness. those strong arms wrapped around you securely, always made you feel safe. even years later, there is no other pair of arms you would rather be in than miguel’s. and god, did he miss having you in his arms. holding you so delicately, right where you belong. like you are meant to be him his arms, even after all these years.
your eyes hesitantly meet his and suddenly you’re lost in trance. both your bodies pressed against each other, miguel’s muscular figure against your smaller one. those hands calloused hands holding your waist as if you’re the most precious thing in his grasp. heavy breaths hitting each other faces well, his hitting your forehead and your against his chest due to the height difference. utterly hypnotized by each other’s eyes, filled with a lovesick glint. memories of college invades both your minds. flashbacks of a younger version of you and miguel secretly in love with each other, standing the same position with smiles plastered on your faces. a nasty wave of nostalgia coursing through you both.
you’re so lost in trance that you don’t realize one of miguel’s hands caressing your cheek. the same way he uses to do when you were, unofficially, together. the ache in your heart at the memory makes you snap out of it and back away from his hold.
“i-i have to go…” you avert your gaze from his, afraid you’ll get lost in them again.
miguel stops you with holding out a cautious hand, a pleading look on his face. “por favor… just please, amor… just for a minute. that’s is all i ask.”
god, he is killing you. that pleading tone never fails to make your knees weak, even years later.
reluctantly, you close your eyes with a slow head shake. “no, miguel… i can’t. i’m sorry, i have to go.” you try walking past him but miguel blocks your path, beginning to feel frustrated.
“not until you talk to me first.” he looks down at you with a serious look and slightly furrowed brows.
now you’re getting a little agitated. “there’s nothing to talk about, miguel. alright?”
miguel watches you try slipping past around him with a frown, following you. “what the hell do you mean there’s nothing to talk about?! i haven’t seen you in seven years and you think there’s nothing to talk about?! estas loca, huh?!”
“just leave me alone, miguel! forget it!”
unfortunately, the heated aggressiveness was drawing eyes from several bystanders.
“forget it?! you think i can just forget never seeing you for seven years and believing you were gone all this time only to find out you’re still here?!
“UGH! just stop it!” you continue walking away, frustration boiling in your veins.
“just tell me!”
you whirl around with bloodshot eyes. “STOP IT!”
a sudden explosion erupts from a bank a few blocks away. a sudden puff of smoke explodes into the air, breaking the glass windows sending shattered pieces flying, then followed by bursting flames. the ground shook underneath, causing you to fall with a scream. arms covering your head from the shattered glass. smoke fills your lungs and eyes immediately, coughing it out as you slowly look up to see what’s going but a sharp pain in your right ankle makes you whimper. looking down at your injured ankle, there is a small shard of glass inside. small trails of blood slowly flow down, decorating your ankle in red. while whimpering in pain, you suddenly feel a pair of strong arms wrapped around you.
“are you okay?!” miguel panics, eyes widen with pure fear as they trace over your figure searching for any injuries. hands gripping onto you tightly as if he’s terrified to let you go. he spots your injured ankle and the small streaks of blood trailing down. “fuck!”
fuck, you’re hurt. shit, shit, shit. he needs to get you to the hospital quick. he only just found you after so long, no fucking way he’s losing you now.
miguel doesn’t hesitate to carefully pick you up in his arms and carry you in bridal style. the painful whimpers you let out make his heart ache immensely, like multiple stabs. he almost fucking cries. fuck, he can feel the tears stinging in his eyes.
“i know, i know, lo siento…” he presses soft kisses against your forehead as miguel quickly rushes to the nearest hospital with all of his fucking might, thanks to his spider abilities. “lo siento, lo siento, mi alma…”
soon, he manages to find the nearest hospital. the doctors and nurses were a bit anxious to a very panicky, frustrated man built like a god carrying an injured you in his arms and barking at them to help you. if you were not in pain, you would’ve told miguel to calm down. he’s always been a dramatic man, overprotective of you. even years later without seeing each other, he still strongly cares for you. it warms your fragile heart. luckily, one nurse offered and quickly lead you both to the nearest room. a close call for security was made after miguel heavily refused to leave the room after the doctor and nurses told him so they could help you without distractions. he couldn’t leave you. he even threatened to punch the poor doctor, who is only trying to do his job, before he was given a final warning by one nurse. very reluctantly, miguel finally leaves the room by slamming the door on his way out. but not before giving you one last glance making sure you were fine.
while you were getting patched up, miguel paces back and forth outside in the hall. one hand resting on his hip and the other running down his face in frustration. heart pounding in his chest, anxiety flowing through his veins. never has he been so scared in his life. seeing you all scared, in pain, tears in those gorgeous eyes he loves, it fucking killed him. all miguel can think about is you and how badly he wants to rush inside to know if you’re okay. no, he needs to know how you’re doing but the doctor hasn’t come out to say anything yet. the longer he waits, the more worried he gets. normally, miguel is a patient man. but when it comes to you, that shit flies out the window. okay, terrible pun but point still stands. all miguel cares about is you. never has he stopped, even after seven years, he still does.
he will always care for you.
after several more minutes, the doctor comes out and informs miguel that you’ll be okay. a huge wave of relief courses through his entire body. he profoundly thanks the doctor and nurses for their assistance then quickly heads inside, desperate to see you. the relief truly hits when he sees you laying on the hospital bed, back rested against the pillows as support and ankle wrapped with a bandage.
“hi.” you whisper with a soft smile, the same one that always melts his heart.
the first time he sees that smile in seven years.
a smile miguel never forget.
“hey,” he mirrors your smile as he takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. “how are you feeling?” a bit of concern laced in his tone.
“i’m fine, it didn’t tear anything major and only needed a few stitches. should heal in a few days.”
he slowly nods, understanding. “that’s great.” those mahogany eyes land on your hand resting at your side. the urge to reach out and hold your hand consumes him but miguel isn’t sure if you’d like that. so, reluctantly, he decides against it.
a small silence fell between you two before you spoke again. “the doctor and nurses were a little nervous. i mean, being pressured by a man built like a damn god wasn’t exactly helpful. especially almost calling security.” you softly chuckle.
he scoffs with an eye roll. “you were bleeding, i wasn’t gonna leave you alone in here.”
“i wasn’t bleeding to death, miguel. it was only a little, nothing serious.”
“ni modo,” he shakes his head, not pleased with you brushing it off easily. “i’m not gonna lose you again.”
a huge silence falls in between you two. the tension that has been lingering since the day you reunited weighs heavily, like an anchor suddenly dropping. the silence was painful and the tension was dreadful. a conversation both you and miguel have been afraid of to discuss. the moment you’ve been dreading since you reunited with him. anxiety invades both your bodies. sitting there fiddling with your hands in your lap, miguel looking down at his own with an anxious expression illustrated on his face. it was only a matter of time until you had to tell him the truth, to tell him he’s s a father. you’ve never been so afraid, more than giving birth to gabriella all those years ago, more than finding out you were pregnant. confronting the truth is the scariest thing ever.
miguel looks up at you and notices your anxious expression. the way you fiddle with your hands, a habit you’ve had since you were a kid. he knew because you told him once during a tutoring session after he noticed it. he knew you, even seven years later. he always noticed everything about you. especially the anxious look on your angelic face. miguel has never seen you so nervous and it worries him. the strong urge to comfort you consumes him.
very slowly, he reaches out a hand for yours as he leans a bit closer towards you. “mi alma, i—”
“¡mamá!”
the sudden burst of the door opening makes miguel quickly pull back as he watches your daughter rush into the room and immediately hugs you.
“mama! are you okay?!” gabi cries, hugging you tightly. “i was so scared!”
you embrace her tightly, softly shushing her. “i’m okay, mi amor. i’m okay, i’m sorry for scaring you.” a hint of guilt squeezes your heart.
you feel her shake her head. “it’s okay, i know you didn’t mean it, mama. i was just scared you got hurt.”
oh your sweet baby. heart heavily swelled with love. “i was scared too but i’m okay.” you slowly pulling back away but keep gabi close, gently holding her arms. “it was just a little scratch from glass, nothing bad.” you gingerly wipe her tiny tears.
gabi nods before noticing the man sitting beside you, realizing it’s the same mean man who was bothering you the other day. the smile on her face dies and is replaced with a frown. “why is the mean man here?”
miguel’s eyes widen in concern at the little girl staring daggers at him. he was too in awe at the cute moment between you and your daughter to realize that she’s still mad at him for the way he mistreated you a few days ago. how protective she was of you and yelled at him in front of people. he can’t blame her though. she just wants to protect her mother and that is admirable for a seven year old.
“he saved me, mija.” you reassure her, causing both gabriella and miguel to turn to you with wide eyes which makes you giggle but squeezes your heart. the same expression, like twins. “he saved me from the accident and got me to the hospital super fast.”
gabriella’s expression is a mixture of surprise and confusion, like she couldn’t actually believe the same mean man saved you. “really…?”
you softly laugh at her expression, nodding. “yes mija, he saved me and i’m very thankful for him for helping me.” you spare a brief glance at miguel, who continues staring at you with wide eyes before his expression softens and offers a small smile.
the same damn smile that made your heart flutter.
gabi slowly turn her gaze from you to miguel. not giving him a death stare anymore but a little smile instead. “thank you, mister… for saving my mama.”
his broad shoulders deflated in relief. she isn’t mad at him anymore. “of course, chiquita. i know how much your mama means to you.” miguel softly smiles.
for the first time, gabi genuinely smiles at him and, oddly enough, that warms his heart immensely. yours too because that’s when you realized.
this is the first time they smile at each other.
a sight you never thought you would live to see. another painful squeeze to your heart.
before any of you could say anything else, your parents come rushing in with a million times worse worried expressions on their faces.
“mija! ay dios mio, we were so worried! when we got the call and the doctor told us everything, we—”
your mother stops as she and your father stop dead in their tracks the moment they see miguel sitting beside you. the very same miguel who was the sweet boy from your bio class that tutored you, visited during weekends, treated him like family. the same miguel who got you pregnant and left you alone to deal with raising a baby, even though was your fault for never telling him. he never knew and they never blamed him but he got you pregnant nevertheless.
your parents arrival and your dad’s extremely pissed off expression causes miguel to swiftly stand on his feet, making the chair screech against the floor. he addresses them with respect, hands behind his back. “it’s great to see you again—”
“¿por qué este güey esta aquí?” your father asks curtly, glaring at miguel.
“papá—” you warn him.
“mi amor, ya.” your mother calms her husband down, gently patting his shoulder. “gabi esta aquí.” she whispers in a warning tone.
your father, reluctantly, backs offs because he knows your mom is right. the last thing any of you want is to create drama in front of gabriella.
your parents look back at you.
“pobrecita, mi niña.” your mother coos, gently cupping your face and gives your forehead a kiss. “the doctor told us everything and you were going to be fine pero you’re sure you’re okay?”
“sí, mamá, i’m fine. i’ll heal soon.”
“gracias a dios.” your parents said in unison.
“we should thank him, too!” gabriella chirps in, pointing at miguel with a bright smile. “he saved mama and got her to the hospital!”
your parents turn and look at miguel in surprise. he just as surprised as they are but because your daughter gave him credit for helping you. your parents share a glance then look at miguel.
“you did?” your dad questions.
“sí, señor.” miguel said politely, nodding. “i brought her here as fast as possible.”
his answer seemed to satisfy them both. mainly because they know much of a good man he is and how much he deeply cares for you, even still to this day, that miguel will do anything for you.
“gracias, mijo,” your mom offers an appreciative smile. “for helping our daughter, we’re grateful.”
“siempre, señora.” miguel smiles in return. “anything for her.” he means it with all his heart.
they know it, so do you.
the ongoing screams from outside reminds him that the perpetrator is still on the loose. the city needs their spider vigilante. now that you’re safe, miguel can go fulfill his heroic duties.
“i’ll uh… leave you be.” miguel clears his throat as he makes his way towards the door.
“miguel.”
your soft voice makes him stop by the door, looking back at you. eager to what you have to say.
“thank you.” you say softly.
it makes his heart flutter. miguel offers a small nod, eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before finally walking out of the room, leaving you be with your family. he exits the hospital and finds a hidden alleyway. with a few taps on his gizmo, his spider suit replaces his normal clothes and miguel swings away to save nueva york from another threat.
after a while, your ankle healed completely and you’re already back on black cat duties. effortless cartwheels and flips over rooftops in the night. it feels amazing to be back in latex and shifting through the beautiful night after being cooped up in your apartment barely doing anything. one of your neighbors, a nice elderly lady, offered to take gabriella to her bus stop since you couldn’t walk with a damaged ankle and you thanked her tremendously. your boss was kind enough to give you recovery time and it wouldn’t affect your pay. you hadn’t seen miguel much since the hospital. he didn’t have any way of contacting you anyways, no address given or no phone number. but you knew in your heart he was looking for you, thinking of you, and wanted to know if you were okay. you hoped to run into him soon.
another gig at a different jewelry store. this one has more diamonds accessories which means more money. while jumping from rooftop to rooftop, faint grunts and shouts reached your ears which makes you stop in your tracks. following the sound, you find a secluded alleyway where a huge fight takes place. appears to a gang of criminals, six guys against one individual clad in familiar hues of red and dark blue.
spiderman.
he seems to be whooping their asses. let’s be real, nobody has a fucking chance with a guy who is freakishly tall and insanely buff like a fucking god. even if it’s a whole damn army, their asses will be on the ground before any could get the chance to take a swing at him. there is even rumors that spiderman has bitten some of his enemies. now that sounds fucking insane. what the fuck is he? a damn vampire? you had to very hard time believing that when you first heard of it by a fellow colleague at the diner. at first, you were hesitant to run into him again during your nightly runs in fear of getting bit by the weirdo. but your curiosity got the better of you. one night when you ran into him, you asked him about the biting rumors and spiderman frustratingly denied it, which furthered your curiosity and teased him about it. now you wonder if you’d get to witness that.
but instead panic invades your veins as you notice one gang member whips out a pistol aimed at miguel’s back, who is currently too occupied beating up three other members. he’s gonna get shot. suddenly, you body goes into autopilot. without hesitation, you swiftly jump down and land right behind the bastard then knocked him out by kicking the back of his head, causing him to lose aim and fire the bullet off to the side instead. the gunshot startles spiderman and he swiftly turns around in concern only to find you standing there with the asshole on the floor. the eyes of his mask widen in disbelief.
“what the hell are you doing here?!”
“saving your ass from getting shot at.” you kick the gun away. “you’re welcome.”
“you need to get out of here now!” spiderman warns, shooting out webs to take down two approaching guys without looking away from you.
you were about to argue back when another guy comes running towards you both and you kicked him in the face knocking him out. there wasn’t any time to argue with a group of dudes attacking you so you teamed up together. miguel knocking them out with his webs, throwing punches here and there. you whooping their asses, kicking and punching while doing flawless flips and tricks. it’s actually quite fun fighting alongside the infamous spiderman. for once not fighting him but with him. watching the masked hero in action, it’s attractive as fuck. maybe you should interfere with his fights more often.
one idiot was pissing miguel off more than usual. the fight was getting aggravating and he was losing patience. aggressively grabbing the guy’s face with one hand and yanking him towards his face, miguel’s mask disintegrates and opens his mouth revealing those pearly sharp fangs. watching the guy’s eyes widen in pure terror before biting into his neck, causing the bastard to yelp in pain. the sound makes you turn around after knocking out the rest of the gang and your eyes widen in shock at the sight in front of you. spiderman is… biting the guy? what the actual fuck? the hero’s face is concealed since it’s buried in the guy’s neck, whose body squirm’s underneath him. you can’t believe what you’re seeing… what the actual fuck is spiderman doing?
once the venom is injected into the idiot’s veins and he feels his body weakened underneath, miguel lets him go causing the body to collapse on the ground without a care. glaring down at the paralyzed bastard, chest heaving and veins flowing with adrenaline. he wipes the blood off his lips with the back of his gloved hand then turns to you, not realizing you were watching the entire time.
your heart fucking drops.
drops into your fucking stomach. entire body completely frozen. blood gone too damn cold.
no fucking way… it can’t be true.
spiderman, the same man who saves and protects the lives of nueva york. the same man who everyone adores and praises for his heroic deeds. the same man who always caught your ass during a jewelry run. the same man who you’ve been teasing and sorta been developing some strange feelings for. the same man who is the boy you loved since college.
the same man who is your damn baby daddy.
miguel is fucking spiderman?!
the masked vigilante who has been chasing after you these past several months is the man you’ve never stopped loving and the father of your child?!
this whole fucking time it was him?!
“miguel?…” you whisper, standing there in pure disbelief. like you refused to believe it’s him.
his whole body freezes and fears settles in his bones when you said his name, his real name. those mahogany eyes widen in shock. “¿qué dijiste?”
“oh my god… it’s you…” you tremble, chest beginning to heave before the fire bursted into flames. “it was YOU! IT WAS YOU THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME!”
miguel winces confusingly at your sudden burst of anger and accusations. “what the hell do you mean it was me? who the hell you even—”
you swiftly yank off your small mask, revealing your true identity and miguel fucking crumbles.
it’s… you?! you are the infamous black cat?! the same woman who’s been stealing jewelry. the same woman who’s been a pain his ass for months. the same woman who’s been driving him fucking crazy. black cat is the same woman he’s been in love with since collage and disappeared from his life for seven fucking years. the same woman who he’s been desperately searching for and found her after all these years yet only to find out she’s the fucking jewelry thief dressed in black latex this whole time.
the woman he never stopped loving is black cat.
miguel softly calls out your name, as if confirming himself that it’s actually you. “it’s you… you’re the fucking black cat?!” now it’s his burst of anger being unleashed. “it’s been you after these months?!”
“don’t fucking yell at me!” you point at him. “you don’t fucking get to give me shit when you’ve been fucking SPIDERMAN THIS WHOLE TIME!” you shouting echos throughout the alleyway.
“you think i was just gonna give away my fucking identity?! no!” he argues and takes a few steps closer. a huge frown settled on his face, pissed off as much as you are. “so you don’t give me shit for not telling you when i didn’t know it was you!”
“BABOSO! (asshole)” your boiling anger causes you to kick miguel in the chest before he can closer to you, making him stumble a bit with a groan.
with a frustrated groan, you turn away from him. running both hands down your heated face. miguel closes his eyes for a moment to calm down, pinching the bridge of nose and taking a heavy breath.
“it all makes sense now…” you whisper, slowly shaking your head. miguel looks back at you with furrowed brows but remains silent to let you speak. “no fucking wonder you felt so familiar. i thought i going crazy, that no fucking way it was you. it couldn’t be you…” you turn around to face him again but with a tender look that warms his heart.
“i felt it too…” miguel breaths out heavily, head hanging low and hands on his hips.
“what?” you’re surprised.
“the familiarity.” he confessed, looking back at you. “I felt it too. i thought…” he heavily sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i thought the same, thinking it was impossible for it to be you but… it’s true.”
silence falls in between you two. tension, feelings, unanswered questions lingering in the heavy air. a moment to sallow and digest the hard truth.
glancing back at miguel, you take a really good look at him. specifically at his face. those two piercing crimson orbs. with your past encounters with him, you heavenly really paid attention to his eyes and the fact they are red, not the brown ones you adored so much. those chestnut eyes that you’d stare at for hours, mesmerized by how beautiful they were. but now they were replaced a fierce shade of red. vehement, ominous, intimidating. but it doesn’t strip them of their beauty. it’s a vibrant kind of red, like a red gem. dazzling in the back of dark cave. like the pretty gems the seven dwarfs mine for in snow white, one of gabriella’s favorite films. his eyes, no matter the color, are nevertheless breathtaking. below are those sharp fangs that you just witnessed moments ago. pearly white, shape canines that possess some type of poison or something to knock someone out.
“what happened?”
as if he read your mind, miguel knew what you were referring to, making him sigh heavily. “alchemax. after my internship, i got a position there. deal with genetic machinery.” he turns away, concealing the shame. “there was an accident… some bastard screwed me over and… caused this.” he gestures at his eyes, fangs, and talons. “half-spider DNA.”
your eyes slightly widen at the reveal. half spider DNA? insane. “the spiderman name is no joke.”
miguel shakes his head, biting back a smile at your joke. still manage to crack jokes in serious matters, you never changed. a part he loved about you.
still loves.
looking back at you, miguel takes in your appearance and remembers why you do this. “how long have you been doing this?” he gestures at your latex suit.
“a few years. waitressing doesn’t really pay the bills much so i went against my morals. i know what i’m doing is wrong but it’s worth it for my daughter.”
miguel’s expression softens when you mention your daughter, remembering the little girl. the one who yelled at him in public for bothering you. the one who ran into the hospital room worried about her mother. the one who smiled at him for saving her mother. a sweet little girl you have. but then he remembers how similar she looked to him, like him. the features and traits he carried, she did too. when he pinned the points together, miguel wanted to crumble. not only he’s been dying to talk to you to know how and where the hell you’ve been the last seven years but also to ask about your daughter. a question that’s been infiltrating his mind since the day he saw you.
“your daughter…” miguel hesitates for a moment, preparing himself for possibly the hardest truth he has ever faced. “is she…?”
you close your eyes. the moment you’ve been dreading for, it has finally come.
“yes.”
his heart shatters. he brings up a hand to conceal the painful expression on his face. if he didn’t had enhanced strength, miguel would’ve collapsed.
he is a father. to a bright little girl.
tears swell up in his eyes. it’s earthshaking, unbelievable. these past seven years, he had a daughter. a daughter he shares with you, the love of his life, the girl he fell in love with from college. thinking back on college, miguel remembers you disappearing from his life after graduation. blocked him on everything, unable to reach you.
now it made sense.
but there’s one question bothering him.
“why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers, bringing down his hand from his face but refuses to look you. as if he’s scared to, scared to face the truth.
tears prickle in your eyes. the emotions that have been buried inside for so many years finally start boiling up. the dam breaks, the volcano erupts.
“because i didn’t want to hurt you.”
miguel looks back with shocked eyes, in pure disbelief. “what?”
hurt him? how could you possibly hurt him? he is the one who did the hurting, leaving you alone to carry and raise a baby. but a baby he never knew of.
the tears couldn’t hold back, now trailing down your face. “the week before graduation, i found out i was pregnant. i-i was so s-scared. angry at myself for being so fucking careless but we both were.”
yes, you both were stupid careless barely young adults. miguel should’ve known better, that his pull out game was terrible and should’ve stacked up on condoms more often. god, he wants to smack himself. such an irresponsible fucking idiot.
“i was so scared, miguel, i-i didn’t know how to tell you.” you sob, unable to control the tears any longer and honestly you don’t care. “then, i remembered you told me about your internship at alchemax a few weeks before and how excited you were. you looked so happy, miguel…” you offered a teary smile that shattered his heart into a million pieces. “i knew how much that meant for you and i was so happy for you. you had your life planned and i couldn’t ruin that. i couldn’t, miguel… i couldn’t hurt you. i couldn’t ruin your life with an unexpected pregnancy. it felt wrong, i loved you too much to hurt you.”
the truth finally revealed after seven years.
miguel’s heart crumbles into more pieces. he can’t believe it. physically, mentally, emotionally, all of the above. this heartbreaking revelation completely destroys him. you kept the most life-changing, earth-shattering secret because you didn’t want to hurt him? ruin his life? his heart aches terribly with immense guilt. he feels like the biggest fucking asshole. you went through so much painful emotions and inner turmoil while he was what? celebrating about his internship and graduation. what a fucking asshole. it breaks his already broken heart.
“that’s why i left you. blocked you on everything right after graduation. i left the stadium crying because i couldn’t face you. i couldn’t tell you so i left… it’s my fault.” you confess through teary eyes. “it’s my fault you never knew, not yours. please don’t blame yourself, you never knew. you shouldn’t feel bad for not knowing, not being there because it’s my fault. and no matter how many fucking times i wanted to call you, reach out to you to tell, i was too scared. scared that you’d be mad, that you didn’t want to be a part of it.” you wipe some tears off your face, not caring if it ruined your makeup and look like a melted candle. “i’m so sorry, miguel… for hurting you, keeping this from you, keeping her from you.”
now miguel is crying too, silently.
“i’m so, so sorry!” you completely break down, burying your teary face into your palms. the guilt caught up to you, consuming you entirely.
miguel swiftly charms in and takes you in his arms before you could collapse, holding you tight against his chest. one arm wrapped tightly around you and his other hand cupping the back of your head. each sob breaks a piece of his heart, causing him to tighten his hold on you as you continue sobbing into his chest. miguel has always hated seeing you cry, but this one hurts more, too painful. even though you said it’s your fault, miguel still believes it’s his too. it takes two to make a baby, he is the reason why you never told him. he is responsible too.
“i forgive you.”
you pull back a little to look up at him confusingly. “w-what? but i lied to you, hurt you for keeping—”
“i forgive you,” he states softly, bringing his hands up to gently cup your face. “because i love you.”
your eyes widen in shock. “w-what?”
“i love you. i’ve loved you since the moment i met you in biology.” the pad of his thumbs gently wipe your tears. “the day i became your tutor was the best day of my life because i met the most beautiful girl ever.” a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “i was stupid to not tell you, it was the biggest mistake in my life and i hated myself for it. because of that and our stupid mistakes, i lost you...” the thought makes his heart ache. “when you started avoiding me, i was worried and thought i did something wrong and tried reaching out to you but you never did. then, i never saw you again after graduation. i looked for you everywhere, called you, text you but then when i realized you blocked me completely… i broke.” he swallows those emotions building in his throat. “i… i cried… because i lost the love of my life.”
his confession makes your heart swell with intense love and a thousands other emotions. unbelievable and overwhelming but in a positive way.
“i tried looking for you everywhere, tried reaching out to your friends and family but they never answered. all i could think about was wondering what happened to you, why you disappeared, why you never told me anything.” those crimson orbs bore into your soul. “i never stopped looking for you.”
your breath hitches, staring up at him with wide eyes. all this time, he’s been looking for you?
“i never stopped thinking about you, wondering where you were, if you were okay. i never stopped.” miguel confesses. “then when i saw you that day with… your daughter… i couldn’t fucking believe it. after seven fucking years of wondering and searching, i found you. i actually found you…” he lets out a heartily chuckle. “beautiful since the day i met you, even more now.” his compliment makes your cheeks warm, something he always manages to do. “but then seeing you with her…” you know he’s referring to gabriella, your guys’ daughter. “seeing you as a mom wasn’t what i expected. i couldn’t believe it but then when i noticed how familiar she looked, i thought i was going insane.”
the shocking realization on miguel’s face from that day flashes through your mind. you knew he put the pieces together and figured it out at that moment.
“i’m sorry for avoiding you,” you softly inject, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “i-i was scared, of your reaction, what you’d say, if you were mad. i freaked out and couldn’t bare to face you.”
miguel shakes his head. “i wasn’t mad, never. i just was… shocked.” his eyes shift down for a moment while his hands caresses your face. “shocked that i had a daughter…” then, his gaze returns to yours. “she has my nose, the first thing i noticed.”
that elicits a soft chuckle from you. “yeah, i noticed too when she was born. she’s your mini you.”
a soft moment bonding over your daughter.
“i never stopped loving you, miguel.” you quietly confess, placing your hands on top of his. “even years later, i never stopped either. every time i look at gabi, i see you.” your lashes flutter and heart soars. “she’s so smart and passionate like you. sometimes i wonder if she even got anything from me since she’s so much like you in so many ways.” a soft chuckle slips past your lips. “she is you in every way.”
his heart soars too, with such love. this furthers his desire to get to know his daughter and build a possible relationship. most importantly to win you back, to be in your life again if you want to. to be part of yours and gabriella’s life. to be a family. something miguel never thought he could have.
“now… i know this is a lot for you. i mean, come on, you just found out you have a kid after years without knowing. so i want you to know that i don’t expect anything from you at all.” you assured him. “i don’t wanna pressure you into this. it’s your decide if you want to be part of her life. i know i took away those first seven years from you and i’m sorry. but… you have the choice if you want be there or not.”
“mi alma, of course i want to be there for her.” miguel doesn’t hesitate to answer. this news doesn’t stop his world from spinning. an opportunity to not miss. “but i want to be there for you… if you let me.”
his words caught you off guard.
“you… want me?”
“sí, mi vida.” miguel leans a bit closer, a loving smile tugging on his plump lips. “i’ve always wanted you, to be with you. officially, this time.”
your heart swells with intense love, a bit overwhelming but in a good way. he truly wants to be with you, part of your life, as well gabriella’s? it’ll be a new change but you gladly accept it, especially if it means for your daughter to have both loving parents.
“i’ve always wanted to be with you too.” you confess softly with a light smile and fluttering lashes.
miguel’s heart is swoon, swollen with adoration. words he has been dreaming of for years. he’s not gonna lose this opportunity. he’s not gonna lose you again. there will be many changes to come but miguel is willing to do that for you, and his daughter.
when you told gabriella the truth, it took her some time to process it. even for a seven year old, learning a difficult truth can be hard to understand. all her life she has only known her mother and never learned much of her father. in the beginning, you simply explained that her dad went away. although it was not entirely a lie, you had to explain to your daughter why she didn’t have a dad like other kids. but now with the truth, it was a little challenging. gabriella wasn’t convinced at first. mainly due to the fact that her father is the same guy who was bothering you at the store and also saved you from the accident. she was honestly shocked. interrogated both you and miguel, mainly him. never had he felt nervous because of a kid. you both were an anxious mess when you all gathered in your living room, you seated next to gabi and miguel across. despite wanting to be together again, to give it another shot, you had to make sure gabriella was comfort with it all. comfortable with knowing her father, welcoming him into her life, and being a part of it. prior to the conversation, you thought to yourself: would gabi be okay with this? okay with miguel being in her life? okay with him and you together? despite how happy you and miguel were about the possibility of a future together, you still wanted to make sure she was truly comfortable with it. you didn’t want to push the idea on her or make her feel uncomfortable. like every parent, the child must come first.
but over time, gabriella accepted it and welcomed miguel into both your lives. in fact, she was elastic to finally have a dad in her life. the moment she jumped into his arms, miguel’s heart swelled with immense love and happiness. forever grateful for her acceptance and to finally be her dad. tears swelled up in your eyes when you witnessed that heartwarming moment and joined in the hug after gabi begged you to. it was the beginning of a new chapter for your family, welcoming a new member. one of the happiest days of your life. a day you dreamed of but never thought it would happen. as time passes, new adjustments were made. miguel being part of your life now is so… different but amazing. he really stepped up into the role of a father. offering to take and pick up gabi from school. show up to her soccer games, proudly wearing a jersey with her number on it and being the loudest parent in the crowd cheering her on. participating in family outings like going to playgrounds, movies, the beach, cool restaurants, and amusement parks. attend any school events, volunteer as a chaperone for field trips. the man is really putting the effort and you can’t be any more grateful for it.
currently, you’re doing your nightly routine. freshly washed, skin lathered in lotion, dressed in a mini lilac satin nightgown, your playlist softly playing from your phone, candles glowing softly in the dark. a perfect evening for selfcare. gabriella is staying at your parents for the weekend, meaning you have the apartment to yourself for the next two days. a chance to relax and enjoy being child-free. while fixing up your hair (in whatever way you usually do depending on your style/texture before going to bed), you hear a light thud coming from your room which makes your head snap in that direction. sudden anxiety does through your veins. what the fuck was that? black cat mode turns on. grabbing the blow dryer since it was heaviest object accessible, you quietly exit the bathroom and steadily move towards your room. hiding behind the wall, right next to the doorframe, you turn a little to catch a sneak peek of the intruder. your eyes widen in shock. that sneaky son of a bitch dressed in red and dark blue climbs through your window, which you idiotically forgot to lock. a huge wave of relief courses through you as you lower the blow dryer in your hands and come out from hiding approaching him.
“what the fuck, miguel?”
you notice those crimson orbs briefly scan your figure, trailing over the silky nightgown. lingering a little too long on, what you suspect, your cleveage. the top of the nightgown is quite low, giving him a nice glimpse. typical but it doesn’t offend you, rather makes you smirk a little. a simple nightgown can make him his mind go haywire and you love it.
his eyes finally meet yours then the blow dryer in your hand. “you chose that to defend yourself?” he deadpans, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“shut up,” you scowl, rolling your eyes. “it was the heaviest thing i could grab.” you place the hair dryer on your vanity. “why the hell did you climb through my window? i thought you were an intruder.”
“why didn’t you lock your window?”
“no me jodas, miguel.” you cross your arms, matching his stance. “contéstame.”
your feistiness is one thing he loves about you.
“i wanted to see if you were okay.”
your heart flutters. “well, i’m fine despite the fact you almost gave me a damn heart attack.”
“dramática,” that earns him a glare, causing him to chuckle a little. “i’m sorry, i was out on patrol so i couldn’t be seen by your neighbors.”
you roll your eyes but you understand. “just give me a heads up or something next time.”
he nods. “and gabi?”
“with my parents, remember? for the weekend.”
“ah, sí…”
small silence falls in between you. only the gentle tunes of your music playing from your phone lingers in the background and distant beeps of cars flying outside. although, it wasn’t awkward silence but there is some tension. you and miguel have been alone together numerous of times before, but strangely enough this time feels different. you notice it when miguel starts averting his eyes from yours, looking down or around your room. the clenching of his jaw, tensed shoulders, sight frown on his face. he’s thinking, conflicted with something.
“what’s wrong?” you ask, slowly stepping closer.
“nada… i just…” he paused before sighing. “lo siento, mi alma for disbursing your night. ya me voy.” he turns to leave but you quickly yet gently grab his wrist, stopping him and looking back at you.
“don’t leave… please.” your soft plead almost makes miguel crumble to his knees. “what’s wrong? i know you’re thinking, you can tell me.”
those thick brows furrowed, crimson eyes glancing at the ground instead of your own. a glint of hesitation in them. he sighs before finally speaking.
“do you want this?”
now your brows furrowed. “do i want what?”
“this,” his eyes finally meet yours. “me being part of your life, gabi’s life. are you really okay with this?”
your expression softens a bit but the confusion remains. “of course i’m okay with this. i’m happy you’re part of this family, miguel. are you not…?”
you can’t help the doubt clouding your mind, afraid that he is having second thoughts about this because the truth is miguel being a part of it all has been amazing. in fact, your life has been better since miguel became more involved. not only for you but for gabriella as well. it feels like a true happy family and you didn’t want that to end.
his eyes widen worryingly, internally panicking. “no, no, no, mi alma. of course i’m happy, the happiest i’ve ever been in my life.” his large hands gently rest on your upper arms, holding you close. “it’s just… i know we’ve been doing this for gabi pero…” a small pause to release a sigh. “i wasn’t sure if you wanted to be with me again, if you were okay with me.”
your expression softens even more, replaced with a sympathetic one. insecurity gets the best of us, you understand where he’s coming from. “i meant what i said back in the alleyway that night. i’ve always wanted you, miguel. i’ve always loved you since that day you became my tutor for bio.” you smile at the memory. “so yes, i do want to be with you and i do want this.” you lean closer. “i want you.”
that confession and tender glint in those pretty eyes were all he needed to give in. his hands very slowly rise to gently cup your cheeks as miguel bends down to reach your face, not giving a shit about the potential back pain. those scarlet orbs boring into your pretty ones, overflowing with immense adoration. the close proximity makes your lashes flutter and both your hearts racing.
“¿puedo?” he whispers against your lips.
you roll your eyes, grinning. he’s still respectful even when you desperately want him to kiss you and devour your lips after what feels like an eternity because goddamnit you miss those plump ass lips.
“ya bésame, miguel.”
your inpatient attitude makes him grin before leaning forward to finally capture your lips with his after a fucking lifetime. the moment you both have been waiting for, dreaming of for years. like fireworks exploding in both your bodies. the longing, the desperation all expressed in the kiss. two souls finally reconnected after what felt like an eternity. goddamnit did he miss those soft lips, the same ones that haunted his dreams for seven years. too damn long and he ain’t gonna waste it, leading miguel to apply more pressure into the kiss which earns him a heavenly moan that almost makes his core throb. the kiss advanced more heated and desperate, savoring the taste of each other. a full blown makeout session. soft moans and groans lingering in the air, hands roam over each other’s bodies. your hands gripping his thick neck, one hand gripping his brown locks which elicits a groan from him. softly gasping when miguel’s large hands squeeze and grope your curves over the silkiness of your nightgown a little possessively, leaving you hot and bothered.
while messily making out, miguel hoists you in his arms and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he walks towards the bed. your lips never detached as he carefully placed you down on the plush mattress, your back against the silky sheets and him settled in between your legs. fingers digging and gripping those soft brown curls, hands roaming over those muscular shoulders and thick neck, sending shivers of pleasure down miguel’s spine. those same damn muscles you missed touching, the rippling sensation underneath your fingertips, digging your nails into them. miguel has always worked out since those college days, had muscle since but definitely gained more these past seven years and you can feel how muscular he’s gotten. maybe that half-spider DNA thing had some influence, enhanced his muscles and build. but besides that, you just miss touching them. thankfully you recently got your nails done, a fresh set ready to mark your canvas. you’re even more eager to do so because you know digging your nails into his back drives miguel crazy, to hear those heavenly groans.
a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel one of miguel’s gloved hands slowly slip the hem of your nightgown up your thigh, his fingertips reaching your inner thighs. a move you’re familiar with and always made you tremble, still remember even years later. god you miss him touching you. those calloused hands roaming and groping your curves, every inch of you, melting under his additive touch. miguel moved away from your mouth but eases your concerns as he travels down, leaving a trail of kisses from your jawline to your neck. soft moans fall from your lips at the addictive sensation, mind becoming putty. one hand rested in his hair and the other gripping onto his shoulder, feeling the holographic particles of his suit under your fingertips. his hands continue roaming your body as miguel leaves wet kisses on your neck, intending on marking you.
“missed this,” he mumbles in between kisses and licks, drunk on your skin. “missed you, bebita.”
that old nickname from college, the one you adored, makes your heart flutter, responding with a soft whimper and a tug on his hair. “miguel~”
“seven fucking years…” a gasp escapes your lips when you feel his fangs gently prickling your skin. “you have any idea what that did to me?” his voice drops an octave, seductive. “the love of my life taken from me for seven years? drove me insane, bebita.”
another soft whimper falls from your lips when his fangs gently nipping your skin then leaves kisses over the sensitive area, making you arch your back. so utterly desperate to feel more of him. also, him calling you the love of his life? drove you over the fucking edge even more. god, you love this man.
“seven years without you, your voice, your laugh, your scent, your lips…” he whispers while his hands slowly roam and grope over your body, sending shivers of please through you and making your mind putty. “drove me fucking crazy, hermosa.” another few kisses on your neck before he lifts his head up to look down at you with intense adoration, lips hovering yours. “i’m not wasting a fucking second.”
your heart flutters and you don’t waste a second either by cupping his face and yanking him down to your lips together in a kiss filled with intense love, reuniting your souls. miguel swiftly trails down to your chest and buries his face in your cleavage, making out with your covered breasts. soft moaning as his calloused hands squeeze and knead your tits through the silky material of your nightgown. your hands play with his hair again, digging in those soft brown curls as endless soft moans spill from your lips at the incredible sensation miguel is providing you. moaning out his name and arching your back as his tongue slides over the roundness of your exposed breast. alternative between each one, kissing and licking the soft sensitive skin as his hands continue kneading and squeezing the squishy fat.
“miguel!~” you moan a bit louder and arch your back as he sucks your nipples through the silky nightgown, leaving a wet stain on the fabric.
he responds with a muffled groan, busy with providing much affection towards your delicate breasts. miguel then slowly trails down your body, kissing over the silky fabric of your nightgown, mind hazy from your fingers combing through his hair. god he misses that addictive sensation so much. like your nails were meant to be digging and playing with his hair and it always made his mind putty. miguel reaches towards the hem of your nightgown and slowly raises it, exposing your stomach and cute white panties. the cool air hitting your core makes you gasp softly. miguel grins at the wet stain on your panties but his attention is on your belly. he peppers it with adoring kisses and sinful licks, eliciting more of those cute soft noises he adores so much. that same noises that drive miguel fucking crazy. he’s drunk on your soft skin, savoring it and worshiping your body like a temple. to him, you are his temple.
a soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel his own on your clothed pussy, a bit too eagerly inhaling your scent. “still have that same sweet fucking scent, years later and it still drives me crazy.” he murmurs against the fabric. that sweet scent of yours is a like a fucking drug, intoxicating and addictive.
“miguel, please~” you whine, your needy fingers gripping onto his hair as a sign. he’s right there, your core throbbing terribly, and you’re losing your mind.
the bastard has the audacity to chuckle at your neediness. “¿qué quieres, bebita?” the teasing is inevitable, you’re adorable when you’re needy for him. but he’s also losing his mind too.
“no me jodas, miguel.”
that earns him a slightly harsh tug on his hair, causing his grin to widen. miguel has always adored when you’re bossy. the man may be 6’9 of pure muscle but will succumb to his knees when bossed around by a woman. a major turn on for him.
“relájate, bebé.” he softly chuckles. “i’ll take care of you like i always do, lo prometo.”
he is right, miguel always took care of you during sex. teasing but always a gentle provider. flashbacks of all your guys’ hookups during college ran through your mind. he always made sure you were comfortable, asking if you were okay no matter how steamy or soft the moment was. that baritone voice laced with tenderness whispering sweet praises, like dipped in honey while his body provided you pleasure in impeccable ways. hitting that sweet spot so perfectly, releasing intense yet fantastic ecstasy like waves coursing through your body. calloused hands roaming and groping every curve that makes your mind droopy. every touch, thrust, praise is overwhelming pleasure. you had always appreciated miguel’s care and thanked him every time, which resulted in him responding that you deserved to be treated with gentleness, every girl does. made your heart flutter every time. seven years later, he still cares the same and your heart still flutters.
using his talons to grip the edge of your panties, miguel slides them down your legs. “chinga… estás mojada, preciosa.” miguel curses at the fucking fountain between your legs. seven years later and you’re still wet for him? drives him fucking insane.
the mouthwatering sight fuels that burning desire inside him, causing him to quickly toss the discarded panties somewhere in the room as miguel gets on his knees at the edge of the bad and grab you by the thighs pulling you closer towards him. you squeal his name but miguel is too focused on your glistening folds, licking his lips in anticipation for the greatest meal that he has been dying for after what feels like an eternity. there is no time to react when miguel swiftly puts your legs over his bulky shoulders and immediately dives into your glistening pussy. yelping in surprise as his lips viscously suckles and tongue rapidly flickers your clit. one hand instinctively gripping his hair while the other does the same with the bed sheets as you throw your head back in pleasure. the alternation of him sucking and flickering your sweet bundle of nerves causes intense waves of ecstasy coursing through you.
“oh!~” you moan loudly, gripping tightly on those brown locks like a lifeline. “miguel!~ oh my g—” cut off by your own moaning as he continues eating you out like a damn starved man, basically making you see stars sooner than you expected.
miguel is too lost in the pretty valley between your legs to form any proper thought other than how fucking sweet you still taste after all these years. the same sweet taste that he was addicted to, his own drug. brought back memories of all the times he ate you out, which was very often. the first time is a memory still imbedded in his mind to this day. oh his life changed forever that day, nothing never tasted better than that sweet pussy of yours. that sweet, addictive essence. pretty cunt weeping and swollen in pure arousal that burned his senses. a taste that lingered on his tongue for ages and still craved for more. this moment now was like he found an oasis after suffering from eternal heat for centuries.
“fuck…” his moan vibrates against your pussy, causing you to shudder while moaning endlessly. “seven years later and you still taste fucking sweet, bebita.” his tongue feverishly swirls and flicks your precious clit, eliciting endless pretty moans and whines that makes his cock twitch. motivates him to hear more of those pretty sounds like are music to his ears. his lips give your little pearl a few sucks, making you squirm cutely, before shifting down and dipping his sinful tongue into your throbbing pussy.
a loud squeal erupts from your throat as miguel’s tongue starts penetrating you. “miguel!~” your back arches off the bed like waves as the wet muscle maneuvers that send jolts of pleasure shooting throughout your body. a chorus of moans and whines bouncing off the four walls of your bedroom.
that sweet chorus is proof he is doing it right, providing you pleasure that you deserve. it fuels his desire to continue, to make you come undone on his sinful tongue. those crimson eyes look up at your panting figure in admiration. pretty lips opened letting those heavenly sounds. pretty back arching off the bedsheets like ocean waves. pretty belly contracting due to panting. the most gorgeous angel experiencing immense pleasure above him. a sight that miguel loves. if he could stay in between your legs forever, he would and die happily.
miguel’s tongue continues fucking you mercilessly as he uses one thumb to rub your precious bundle nerves. the sudden sensation elicits a loud moan from you, almost a scream. your cute reaction puts a smile on his face. his thumb draws slow sinful circles on your sensitive clit before sliding it up and down, side to side. the way your legs tremble on his bulky shoulders makes him chuckle.
“you remember that, bebita?” he whispers against your sensitive folds as his thumb continues playing with your clit, admiring your squirming form.
god, yes you do.
he pulled that move all the time when he ate you out back in college. those slow sinful circles on your delicate bundle of nerves. his thumb slowly moving it up and down then side to side. playing with you until you’re seeing stars and forgetting everything.
only miguel could do that to you.
“brought back memories?” his thumb keep toying with your clit while admiring you. “years later and i still remember, preciosa. i still remember it all.”
memories of your time in college flooded his mind. all the nights you and him hooked up. miguel taking you back to his dorm, barely opening the door while eating each other’s faces off and hands roaming each other’s bodies. clothes spread across the floor and hard to find the next morning. the dents on the wall from the headboard repeatedly banging against it due to miguel’s powerful thrusting which earned him multiple complaints from the guys next door. your sweet scent lingering in his sheets for weeks and refusing to wash them until it completely worn off. the few bras or panties you’d forget after leaving his dorm and he’d keep in his drawer for later purposes. some miguel would give back but keep the rest. endlessly changing the bag for his trash bin due to the big amount of used condoms filling up like a mountain and didn’t want his roommates to see it. the few times you’d hook up in the shower, whether at his dorm or yours. the bathroom mirrors fogged up, moans bouncing off the tile walls of the shower. the times you two would sneak off from public events like hanging out with friends. finding a secluded spot and miguel fucking you against the wall, trying to be quiet as much as possible.
the flooding memories makes miguel’s mind hazy and cock throb terribly. but his heart also aches because all those times neither of you confessed your feelings. just two stupid kids messing around until the consequences came up. he should’ve confessed back then and maybe you’ve been together raising gabi like a family. you wouldn’t have been alone raising her and dealt with the issues you’ve been through. a ping of guilt stabs his heart but miguel shakes off the feeling away, not wanting to to ruin this passionate moment. the confession and feelings have already been addressed. this moment now is rekindling your relationship.
miguel glances at you one last time before focusing back on your fluttering folds with his tongue. drawing patterns among your wet walls that elicit more heavenly sounds from you. the more flicks of his thumb and tongue, that warm feeling in your lower belly increases and your moans become louder and pitchier. a small whine almost falls from your lips when miguel removes his thumb from your swollen clit until it’s replaced with his tongue and two fingers slip pass your soaking folds, making you moan and gasp simultaneously. you moan out his name and he gently shushes you while continuing on pleasing you.
“m-miguel- oh my- OH!—” your back arches off the bed to an insane degree, thanks to your flexibility, as his fingers reach that sweet spot inside.
the combination of his tongue flickering your clit and his fingers pumping inside you was sending you to cloud fucking nine. miguel provides passionate licks on your sensitive little pearl before suckling on it, lowly moaning at the sensation. his fingers continue pumping inside your wet sensitive walls, curling them as they repeatedly hit your sweet spot. both his fingers and tongue pick up pace, determined to make you cum. miguel knows you’re close by the increased volume of your moans, urging him to go faster and make you see the whole damn universe.
“ah~ i’m gonna— miguel, i—”
“dámelo, bebé.”
his voice dipped in lust and adoration like honey was the cherry on top. more flicks of his tongue and fingers, you finally cum with the loudest moan ever, almost like a wail. back arched off the sheets and stars in your vision as you gush all over miguel’s face. the pleasure is so intense you even squirt, which he doesn’t mind at all but enjoy it all. miguel devours all of your sweet nectar like his life depends on it. acting like a greedy little shit and he isn’t ashamed of. slurping all of your cum like there is no tomorrow. his favorite meal ever and damn does he miss it so much. seven fucking years without your sweetness is torture. obscure noises flooded the room, the wetness of your cum and miguel’s muffled groans. your thighs tremble around his head, feeling overstimulated by the never-ending pleasure he is still providing with that devious tongue of his.
“m-miguel, stop~ please~” you whine, squirming in his hold. “it’s too m-much…” if he continues, you’re for sure you’re gonna pass out from pleasure.
his greed consumed him, still savoring your sweet cum. licking and sucking every ounce, not allowing a single drop go to waste. it’s been seven fucking years, miguel ain’t wasting this moment. finally once he has his fill, miguel releases your poor sensitive pussy with a pop! and has a huge smug ass grin. oh he really enjoyed his meal and ain’t afraid to show it. his lips and chin glistening with your cum. you’re too fucked out to even open your eyes, laying there breathless and a bit overstimulated. miguel wipes his chin clean with the back of his hand and licks the leftover of your cum around his lips as he gently lifts your legs from his shoulders and hovers above you.
“are you okay?” he looks down at you concerningly with a gentle hand on your cheek, a major contrast to his lustful attitude moments ago.
you respond with a weak ‘mhm’ due to your breathlessness, eyes still closed. that man really did a number on you and hasn’t even fucked you yet.
those scarlet eyes scan over your fucked out, angelic form. eyes closed, chest heaving with a coat of sweat glistening in the moonlight, breathless, hair disheveled, thighs trembling, cunt swollen. the afterglow looks so beautiful on you.
“you’re glowing, preciosa.” he coos with a heartfelt grin on his face, caressing your cheek.
“stop it~” you whine softly, trying to turn away from him but your tried body refused to. your cheeks are already warm, now you feel like a furnace.
he always complimented you after a steamy moment and it made you flustered every time.
even now, he still does.
miguel softly chuckles at your cute flustered expression. “es la verdad,” he leans down closer towards your ear. “you’ll be glowing more soon.”
the drop in his tone makes you shiver. finally opening your eyes and looking up at him, you admire his pretty face in the dark atmosphere of your bedroom for a moment. crimson eyes filled with adoration staring down at you. remembering the old chestnut ones you adore. no matter the color of his eyes, they are still beautiful and you never get tired of admiring them. raising your arms, you cup miguel’s face with your hands and pull him closer to kiss him, which he gladly reciprocates. you can taste yourself on his tongue as the passionate kiss continues.
much to miguel’s dismay, you pull away from the kiss and he frowns a little. a soft groan almost escapes his lips as he tries chasing yours but you keep moving away. his grumpiness makes you chuckle.
“take off the suit, arañito.” a hint of seductiveness in your tone, grinning up at him.
his body shivers at that. with no hesitation, miguel’s suit disintegrates by command. revealing his muscular nude form in all its glory. a soft gasp falls from your lips at the glorious sight above you. thick muscular arms caging you in. bulky shoulders that need to be gripped. broad chest decorated in scrumptious body chair. delicious abs followed by a mouthwatering happy trail that leads down to the thing you’ve been anticipating for.
throbbing cock sprung out, tip leaking with precum. damn it looks bigger than before. well, it’s been seven years so of course it has grown. that spider DNA really did some enhancements in all accepts. staring at it makes you wonder if it’ll fit.
miguel senses your apprehension, his expression softens. “i’ll go gentle, preciosa, lo prometo.” he brings up a hand and caresses your cheek with such tenderness, hoping to ease your worries. “if you need me to stop, dime. don’t be afraid to.”
your eyes shot up back at him, seeing the soft glint in his eyes before nodding. “i know you will.” you offer a soft smile, leaning into his touch.
his heart swoons, a feeing miguel hasn’t felt in a long time. a feeling that only you could make.
miguel stares at you for a moment longer, making sure you’re truly okay with this before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, which you gladly accept. he pulls away to position himself in between your legs. one arm holding himself above you while using the other to grip his throbbing cock in his hand. just as he aligns himself with your entrance, you strip yourself from the nightgown and toss it somewhere across the room, leaving yourself completely bare to his eyes. miguel’s breath hitches and pupils dilate drastically as those crimson eyes roam over your nude form. admiring your soft skin, stretch marks, supple breasts, perky nipples, every curve like a piece of art. you are a masterpiece.
“hermosa…” he whispers, mainly to himself but doesn’t mind that you heard him.
he can’t help it, you are utterly breathtaking and miguel isn’t afraid to admit that.
his compliment makes your cheeks warm and heart flutter. before he could properly align himself, miguel grabs a pillow and carefully slips it underneath your hips for support after softly asking you to lift them. once you’re comfortable, miguel realigns his cock with your cunt and slowly begins sliding in. a soft mewl escapes your lips as his thick length slowly slides through your warm, wet walls.
“fuck…” miguel curses, brow furrowed at the sensation of your slick cunt gripping onto him like a vice. “breathe, bebita. okay?”
you can only answer in a small mewl, trying to follow his advice but goddamn this man so big. it’s been seven years since you had him inside you and he feels a bit bigger now. will he even fit?!
the small frown on your face makes his chest ache. he’s hurting you. “i’m gonna stop.”
“no!” you quickly grip onto his bulky shoulder preventing him from moving away, leaving miguel surprised. “just give me a sec…”
“mi alma, you’re in pain. i’m stopping right now—”
“if you move right now, i’m gonna kill you.”
miguel stares down at you with a firm expression. you look back at him with the same look.
“i’m fine.” you reassure him, a sincere glint in your eyes. “it’s just… you’re… different now.”
he raises an amusing brow. “different?”
your eyes roll in annoyance. “oh shut up, you know exactly what i mean and don’t gloat about it.”
the bastard chuckles, which only fuels your annoyance and impatience. “no, preciosa, i don’t know what you mean. dime.”
that stupid smug ass grin on his handsome face.
ugh you just want to slap him.
“¡chingado, miguel!” you exclaim. “it’s been seven fucking years! of course you’re different!”
seeing you frustrated is utterly adorable. “oh so you feel a difference, huh?” his grin widens.
“ugh, yes! it’s been fucking ages since i’ve done this so that’s another thing!” you admit frustratingly, removing your hand from his shoulder.
that smug ass smirk completely wipes off his face and his expression turns more serious, eyes softened. “wait… you haven’t… been anyone since?…”
a sad sigh escapes your lips, turning your head away from him to the side concealing the embarrassment spreading across your face. “yes… i haven’t. especially with gabi, i haven’t had time to so…”
it’s true, since gabriella was born, you’ve been focused on taking care of her. no time for new romances. sure, there were a few gentle callers when your older siblings encouraged a few date nights. most were nice men but things never got serious mainly due to you rejecting afterwards and using gabriella as an excuse. which wasn’t entirely not true since she was, still is, your main responsibility. never participated in one night stands either, never liked the concept of them anyways. there wasn’t time to fulfill personal needs. for the last seven years, you’ve been focused on being a mother. perhaps now the lack of romance and pleasure is biting you in the ass now and god you never felt so embarrassed.
but besides that, your love for miguel never vanished. he still has your heart after many years. no other man could steal it the way he did. it was always him.
miguel’s eyes widen at your confession. all this time, you haven’t been with anyone but him since? seven years is a long time. you’ve actually… loved him… all this time? your heart still beats for him all this time, the same way his beats for yours? your love for him hasn’t outgrown? you truly still love him? miguel’s heart is overwhelmed with adoration for you. part of him is in disbelief because you, the woman he never stopped loving, still love him after everything you went through. never once your heart changed? it still beats for him after these many years? honestly, miguel believed you had moved on for the longest time. forgot about him and gave your heart to someone who truly deserved it, someone who wasn’t afraid to admit their feelings for you. although the thought of another man having your heart made his own ache but miguel believed you deserved a loving, caring partner. yet here you are confessing your underlying love for him all these years.
miguel allows your words to process for a moment, still hovering above you with only his tip slipped through your slick, throbbing folds. those crimson eyes meet your face, still turned away from him, and his brows frown a little in concern. he may not possess a spidey sense but he definitely senses your discomfort and wishes to fix that immediately.
“mi alma…” he calls softly, carefully bringing up a hand to caress your cheek in hopes of getting you to look back at him. “don’t feel guilty, it’s okay. i understand, i…” he grows quite for a moment, finding the right words. “i haven’t been with anyone either.”
his confession makes you turn and look back at him with surprise. “seriously?” you ask softly.
“sí…” he nods lightly, a bashful grin on his face. “there was never time for me either. always cooped up in the lab, sometimes stayed overnight.”
“miguel!” you whisper-yelled, gently nudging his shoulder as reprehending him.
his grin widens as he chuckles. “i know, i know.” he gently grabs your wrist that nudged him and give them a little kiss before resting your hand against his cheek. “some nights my coworkers and i would head to the nearest bar after work. they would try to get me drunk enough and hook me up with random women but i never did, was just never interested.”
the thought of miguel with another woman makes your stomach churn. but you can’t blame him if he wanted to since you disappeared from each other’s lives and went your own separate paths. during that time you never really thought of that possibility, only when you thought of miguel at times. but here he is reciprocating the same feelings. now both of you realize you haven’t been with other people since college, evidence of your love for each other.
the thought causes you to break into laughter, leaving a slightly confused miguel above you.
“¿qué?” miguel can’t help but crack a little smile, relishing the sweet sound of your laughter.
“sorry.” your laughter dies down, now softly chuckling while covering your eyes with a hand. “it’s just… that proves that we never really stopped thinking about each other.” you admit bashfully.
his smile widens into a toothy grin, his fangs peeking out. “no, we never did.” a soft chuckle slips passed his lips, leaning into your hand on his cheek. “and i won’t stop.” with his free hand, miguel gently removes yours that is covering your eyes. “nunca.”
there he goes again making your heart flutter. bringing up your other hand to cup his face completely, you stare up at him with a soft smile.
“me neither.”
you and miguel share a smile before colliding lips together once again. a symbol of unity.
much to your dismay, miguel pulls away for a moment. “do you still want this?” he glances down at the space between you two for emphasis.
you quickly nod, a bit too eagerly. “yes, i’m gonna fucking explode if you don’t get inside me right now.” that earns you a snort from him.
“alright, alright. i’m coming, amor.”
“oh you will for sure.”
a moment of shared laughter before settling down. after confirming you were okay one last time, miguel slowly slides through your slick walls. his thick length ever so carefully slipping through, letting you feel every inch, until he was balled deep. mouth hung open at the overwhelming stretch of his cock, a feeling you miss so damn much. a shared moan mingles in the air as your bodies connect. bulbous tip rested against your womb, making you whimper.
“¿estas bien, mi amor?” miguel softly asks, caressing your cheek as comfort.
you hum, eyes fluttering. “mueve, miguel~”
he could’ve cum from that whiney plead alone. with a staggering breath, he slowly draws his hips back before rolling them in. a slow deep thrust, making you moan and arch your back. miguel’s brows furrowed in concentration, keeping a steady rhythm to not overwhelm you. lifting himself on his strong forearms rested on each side of your head against the sheets. muscular form consuming your smaller one, clouding your vision. yours hands on his back, nails digging into the muscles that miguel adores. legs wrapped around his waist, thighs above his sturdy ones, cores connected as one. bodies moving in harmony, releasing pleasure within you both. this is the moment you and miguel have been yearning for after a very long time of separation.
miguel’s pupils dilate immensely at the sight of you underneath him, taking everything he is giving you. pretty lips shaped in an “o” shape releasing the prettiest sounds his ears have ever heard. eyes screwed shut and face contorted in pure ecstasy. back arched off the bed, gorgeous body moving in waves at each thrust he makes. it all drove miguel over the edge, creating a sense of pride coursing through his body. all those sounds and movements of ecstasy were because of him. also this the first time you’re having sex since him back in college so that also adds to his pride. all so overwhelming but miguel relishes it, causing his thrusts to increase.
“miguel!~ oh my—” you cut yourself off with a moan as his tip hits that sweet spot inside so perfectly. back arched off the bed and nails clawing his back.
your reaction makes his lips curl into a smile of pride. “qué hermosa.” miguel leans down closer, admiring your squirming form of pleasure while thrusting in your slick heat. “after seven years, you still take me so well, bebita. all this time you could’ve chosen someone else but never stop thinking about me, huh? thought about all those nights like this?” his hips thrust a bit deeper for emphasis, eliciting a gasp mixed with a moan from you. “did you, bebita?”
“y-yes i always did~” you moan shamelessly.
that inflates his pride and ego. “all those nights alone, in bed… you always thought about me, hm?” he decides to tease you a little, just like old times.
“f-fuck- yes!” a frustrated whine leaves your lips while acting like a moaning mess, causing him smile to widen before gently shushing you.
“shhh… relájate, bebé~ lo siento… ” one of his hands caresses your cheek, easing your growing frustration. “i always thought about you too.” his lips capture yours in a kiss while continuing making love, swallowing those pretty moans he loves dearly.
the air is mingled with your moans and miguel’s groans as the love-making progresses. the tip of his cock repeatedly kissing your sweet spot, driving you on edge. leaving your mind a putty mess. your hands rested on his muscular back, nails digging into his skin leaving indents and scratch marks. the burning sensation makes him hiss a little bit miguel doesn’t mind because they’ll be a reminder of you and your love for him. one of your hands slide off his back and sluggishly lands on the bed. miguel gently takes it with his own and pins it beside your head with fingers intertwined, making it more intimate.
you part away from his lips as he does a deep thrust. “oh miguel~” you moan breathlessly. head thrown back against the sheets, brows furrowed and mouth agape in ecstasy. god he feels so fucking amazing.
miguel gazes down at you with pure adoration and in his eyes. a grin tugging on his lips. “qué linda.”
in one swift motion, miguel flips you both over the bed. the sudden movement makes you gasp in surprise. if you weren’t indulging in intense pleasure right now, you would’ve smacked the back of his head as reprehending. now miguel sits up on the bed and you in his lap straddling him. you wrap your arms around his bulky shoulders, nuzzling your face into his chest as more moans spill from your lips. miguel securely holds you, one arm wrapped around your upper back and the other around your waist, as if he’s hugging you. his face buried in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. the position is so intimate, embracing each other as you make love.
your head tips back releasing endless moans as miguel continues thrusting into your heated core, his bulbous tip angled perfectly in this position hitting that sensation spot. the intense the pleasure grows, the tighter your grip on his hair gets which miguel doesn’t mind but rather relishes it. he loved when you’d tug on his hair, it was a sign that you were feeling good. he missed that feeling, you gripping onto him in every possible way, reflecting the pleasure you were experiencing. with your head ripped back and neck exposed, miguel seizes the opportunity to plant delicate kisses on the soft skin. kissing, sucking, licking. even a little bite which makes you squeal. miguel couldn’t resist the urge to dig his fangs into your celestial skin, only just a tiny nip and that was it. he would never hurt you. only a little love bite, a reflection of his love for you. but miguel really wanted to use his fangs on you to fulfill a strange sexual fantasy of his. he knows you’ll give him shit about it later but right now he doesn’t care.
lifting away from your now hickey covered neck, miguel admires your blissful form. holding you like you’re the most delicate piece of art. witnessing you experience immense pleasure is a sight he will never ever get tired of. his beautiful angel.
“mi amor hermosa~” he coos, grinning when you let out a whimper. “qué tan hermosa~”
“miguel~” you whine softly, feeling flustered by his sweet words of affection and overwhelmed by his thick cock thrusting in and out of you.
“mírame, mi amor.”
you let out another whine in protest, already feeling too flustered to look at him but you do anyways. reluctantly opening your eyes, your blissful ones finds those scarlet orbs already looking at you filled with lust and adoration. seeing your gorgeous blown out eyes makes miguel smile lovingly.
“there’s my beautiful girl.”
the sweet endearment warms your cheeks, staring up at him with fluttering lashes before tugging him by the neck to press your lips against his.
“té quiero, miguel.” you whisper against his lips. the kind of whisper containing a sprinkle of love meant for his heart and his heart only.
and his heart was swoon with intense adoration by your soft confession. like it sealed the deal, a heart-shaped locket around your souls and forever together. never letting go of each other ever again.
“té quiero, mi alma. té quiero tanto.” he whispers in between kisses. “i never stopped loving you,” one deep thrust. “and i never will.” a much deeper one, sending you over the edge. back arched, head thrown back, moaning prettily. making him smile.
the love confessions makes the love-making more intimate, beautiful. desperately holding onto each other in a loving embrace. your nails clawing his bulky shoulders and biceps. miguel’s hands roaming over your body, worshiping you in his lap. another deep thrust from him causes your back to arch, exposing your bare chest to his hungry gaze. without hesitation, miguel dips down and captures a perky nipple with his lips, suckling it before swirling his tongue around it. eliciting more of those heavenly moans that are music to his ears. his mouth provides much affection towards your breasts as his cock continues pumping into your slick sensitive pussy.
very slowly and steadily, miguel fills you both over back in the old position, him above and you underneath. your grip on his bulky shoulders tighten when his thrusts quicken, increasing that burning sensation in your core. miguel knows it, senses it, and it motivates him to keep thrusting until you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy. utterly lost in that sweet cunt of yours, greedily sucking him in and squeezing the fuck out of him. seven fucking years and you still have a vice grip on him.
“miguel, i—” cut off by your own moan as the burning sensation in your core intensifies with each thrust, like a firework is about to combust.
“i know, bebé. i fuck—” miguel groans, brows pinched together in pleasure as he feels you clenching around him so damn tight. reaching down with a hand, miguel flicks your clit to give you more pleasure. each flick in unison of his thrusts. “cum, mi amor.” he coos when you squeal at the sudden stimulation, observing you with pure adoration.
several more flicks and thrusts, you cum beautifully with a loud moan of his name. probably the loudest moan of the night that the whole neighborhood can hear. the most beautiful moan falling those gorgeous lips, pretty back arched, head thrown back in ecstasy, your sweetness gushing over his cock. miguel savored it all, a sight meant for him and him only, forever imbedded in his mind. after a few thrusts, his hips stutter before spilling himself inside of you, hot white spurts into your womb, and pumping you full. the warm, filling sensation makes you moan softly. feeling utterly filled by him. you both remain like that while recovering from your intense highs. sweaty bodies connected. your synchronized breathing echoing in the room.
“you okay?” lifting himself by the elbows, miguel looks down at you with a concerned look. “did i hurt you?” he caresses your cheek lovingly.
you lean into his touch with closed eyes, softly humming. “no, i’m fine. just had a nice workout.”
miguel huffs, rolling his eyes but has a grin tugging on his lips. “tonta…” he leans down and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, eliciting a soft whine from you. he gently shushes you with another soft kiss then slowly rises off the bed to fetch a towel from your bathroom.
you simply lay there, allowing exhaustion to flow through your sweaty overheated body. not even a minute, you hear him come back and softly hum when you feel the fabric of the towel down your inner thighs. he’s being gentle as possible to not overwhelm you. giving your thighs tender rubs and kisses as comfort while cleaning you up. even years later, miguel is still ever so gentle with you and providing the aftercare you need. it brought you back memories from your college days. a younger version of miguel, who wore glasses, being so gentle with you and whispering the sweetest praises after a good fucking. still carries that gentleness but now as a man. a man you wholeheartedly adore.
once you’re cleaned up and cleaned himself, miguel tosses the dirty towel in the hamper and digs into your drawers for new panties. you hear the ruffling, causing your eyes to open and turn your head to the side. grinning at the hunk of a man digging through your dresser. almost laughing when he opened the wrong drawers before finding the correct one. as your lips part open to say something, your eyes detect the fresh cold water bottle on the nightstand. the sight brings a smile to your face.
always thoughtful.
once he finds a new pair of panties, miguel returns and kneels by the your side carefully slipping the new garment for you, which you deeply appreciate, then proceeds to slip into his boxers. you sit up and reach for the water bottle on the nightstand but miguel swiftly steps in and grabs it, opening it for you.
“loving the royal treatment.” you can’t help but giggle at his chivalry and he shakes his head. you definitely caught that little grin.
kneeling by your side, he brings the bottle up to your lips while his other hand is placed on your back as support. “drink, hermosa.” you so do, taking a few sips that leaves him unsatisfied. “más, mi amor.”
complying, you drink bigger sips. relishing the cool, refreshing water down your bit irritated throat from all that moaning and screaming. once you’ve drank enough that left him satisfied, miguel drank some himself while you get under the covers. he leaves the bottle on the nightstand and joins you in bed. his muscular arms scoop you up, bringing you to his chest. you softly sigh as you snuggle into his warmth that always felt comforting. his heartbeat against your ear, soothing you into a relaxed state. embracing each other in comfortable silence as the weight of tonight’s events slowly soothes down.
“did you seriously bite me?”
miguel groans embarrassingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i knew you were gonna mention that.”
“got a biting kink?” you tease.
“it was just… in the moment.”
you snort, lightly slapping his chest. “in the moment, my ass. you definitely got a biting kink and went to town on my neck. probably gonna look like dracula bit me… oh shit, you’re basically dracula.”
miguel swiftly looks down at you with a frown, baffled that you compared him to one of the most famous gothic fictional characters. “i’m not dracula and i don’t have a biting kink.”
oh that’s a fatass lie. he does have a biting kink after attempting it on you. but of course his stubborn ass refuses to accept it, mainly due to embarrassment.
“mentiroso.” you give his chest another teasing, heartfelt slap. “pinche dracula.”
“ay por dios, mujer.”
the nickname may not be pleasing to him but hearing you laugh makes it up for it.
“i mean- i don’t mind, just don’t get too crazy or else i’m not gonna have enough foundation to cover it and gabi is gonna ask questions.”
that makes him laugh. miguel can already imagine the shit ton of questions she would ask and honestly can’t blame her. he should be more careful.
“oh, i should probably tell gabi her dad is dracula—”
“¡mujer!”
his reaction makes you laugh. lost in laughter before miguel swiftly turns you both over the bed, making you yelp as he lays on top of you with all his weight. now he’s the one laughing and you annoyed with his dumbassery. not long until you’re laughing too.
the night ended on a cute note.
the cool breeze of the night flows through you as you jump from one rooftop to another. a smirk grows on your face when the faint sounds of webs slinging from behind reaches your ears. smoothly landing one random rooftop, you silently admire the beautiful night sky when you hear a light thud and footsteps approaching from behind. that smirk turns into a smile when a certain pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and gently tug you against a solid chest.
“though you retired from this?” miguel asks, mask already disintegrated. allowing the cool night breeze flow those his dark brown locks.
you shrug nonchalantly, leaning into him while still staring at the sky. “just wanted relive old times.”
“being a pain in the ass, stealing all the time?”
“a girl gotta make a living.” another nonchalant shrug. “but it was for our little girl.”
he immediately softens the moment gabriella is mentioned, causing his arms to give you a gentle loving squeeze. “i know… but we’re better now.”
“we are…” you glance down at the pretty diamond ring on your finger, gleaming in the moonlight.
it’s been a year since you and miguel reunited. finally became a family but made it more official when you two got married a few months ago. sure, it seems like a short time getting back together but you and miguel knew you were meant for each other. no more waiting, hiding feelings, sneaking around, doing dumb shit. this time is official, the real deal. miguel continues to work at alchemax, which most of the income comes from. after the wedding, you quit your job at the diner and became a writer for a highly acclaimed fashion blog with an incredible pay. bought a beautiful house with a big ass backyard that includes a pool. the perfect place for your family to create wonderful memories together.
“we should head back.” he suggests. “we have to pick gabi from your parents early tomorrow.”
“it’ll be fine. besides, they love having her there all the time and she loves their house so it’s okay. let’s just stay here a few more minutes, please?” you look at him with fluttering lashes, knowing that he can never resist that cute pleading look.
“fine, five more minutes.” miguel mumbles, biting back a smile as he holds you closer.
the two of you silently admire the gorgeous night sky, holding each other close, relishing this cute intimate moment. bringing back memories of your black cat and spiderman days when neither of you knew of each other’s true identities. silly, fun times.
but it’s even better now you and miguel are back together, officially this time. being great parents to your precious daughter and being a happy family. a dream that you’ve longed for, now came true.
perhaps curiosity killed the cat but in a good way.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓒ontent ♡ྀིྀི smau ㆍ twitter!au ㆍ fluff ㆍ goofiness ㆍ pure crack ㆍ sorta mutual pining ㆍ jealousy ㆍ little angst at the end
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𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
𝓢ummary ♡ྀིྀི the day miguel joined social media, the spider gang was shooked. but they soon find out the real reason why, you. everyone works as one to get you and miguel together.
