I simply decided to randomly just start writing, just bcz !! My requests are open.
Oh and please don't hesitate to ask me anything about my BATB AU from the character's dynamics all the way to how I'm writing this!!
literally writing nsfw from my experience of reading books and ao3 but that's irrelevant :)
QUICK RULES !!
Minors DNI
18 + Only
No hatred is allowed at all
FYI !!
just know that I'm currently a college student and that I'm still working to perfect my writing skills, so please don't hesitate to give me constructive criticism!!
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Masterlist
Ongoing
Of Liquor and Speakeasies, ch2
_______________
On Hold
Tale As Old As Time: prologue, ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5. ch.6 , ch.7
⁀➴☕︎ | one night stand with Rafayel who can't take a hint
Somewhere between too many sangrias, a lot of dirty dancing and groping, you'd ended up in the back of a cab with Rafayel, eating each other's faces off and barely toeing the line between propriety and public indecency.
Rafayel is so lost in the softness of your lips, the heavenly moans that escape you and only beckon him closer that he doesn't even realize he's handed the driver a hundred instead of a twenty, asking him to keep the change as he carries you into your building.
"What's your name?" You manage between kisses as the railing of the staircase digs into your back while he bends you over it, teething at your throat while his thigh rubs between your legs.
You can feel his smile against your skin as he hikes you up higher on his thigh, licking the skin he'd just broken in "Didn't your parents warn you about strangers?"
"Didn't your parents warn you about serial killers?" You shoot back and it's gratifying to make a man as beautiful as he was to laugh as pretty as he did.
"Let's just say-" He's whispering right above your lips as his luminescent eyes search yours "I have no self preservation. Especially not against a woman as beautiful as you"
You both stumble through the door, hands tearing at his jacket and your coat as he drives you up the wood, holding your weight against the surface as his tongue plunges into your mouth again.
The bedroom is preferable but the couch is closer and you both try to make a fair attempt to reach it except Rafayel's already got two fingers breaching the waistband of your panties, teasing your soaking folds as you pant into his mouth "Right there?"
You nod, a whimper lodged in the back of your throat as he plunges the fingers into your waiting warmth, groaning when he feels just how wet you are for him. Curving his fingers, he's pumping them against that sweet spot that makes you moan, your head banging into the door behind you.
When he's made you cum so hard that you're still recovering from the aftermath, he's leaving kisses against your skin, rubbing his thigh between your legs again, breaking a whine out of you from how sensitive you were "Uh oh" He whispers, pulling your dress low enough to free your breasts, covering one with his mouth "Stranger danger"
Despite yourself, you laugh but it dies a short death when he pulls at your nipple making you moan, wrapping your legs tighter around his trim waist and lining yourself directly with his very prominent erection. He groans, biting down on your areola making you squeal as he pulls you away from the door and carries you to the couch.
For a man who looked so pretty and delicate, he was surprisingly strong and freakishly well-endowed if what you felt between your legs as you grind against him was any indication. And when Rafayel pushes your skirt up, lining himself behind you, you're suddenly apprehensive about how he'll make it fit.
"You're here to kill me after all" He groans as your walls flutter around his length to accommodate his size, screaming into the pillow as you arch your back to take him even better.
One moment you remember him thrusting into you so hard the couch is moving and screeching against the wooden flooring, the next you're in your bed with your knees folded till your chest as he moves above you, cooing at you as tears escape your eyes at the overstimulation. He's licking the tearstreaks, grunting right next to your ear as your walls squeeze and tighten around him with every drawn out thrust.
"I've got you" He's nodding, forehead pressed to yours as your mouth hangs agape while you chase that peak, tears free flowing while he brushes against that spongey spot with every thrust, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in the most perfect way "I've got you, pretty. Why don't you let go for me, hm?"
You're nodding too, broken whimpers escaping as your legs quake uncontrollably before you're gushing around him. Rafayel's right behind you, growling into your skin as his thrusts grow more desperate, fucking relentlessly into your swollen pussy and pumping you full of his cum.
Last thing you remember is kissing this gorgeous stranger who had eyes that sparkled so beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the windows.
"You're even more beautiful in daylight"
Nodding, you're picking up the clothes strewn on the floor, tossing the ones that belonged to him at his relaxed figure still lounging in your bed.
You'd woken up and made love to this man in bed before the sun had come up and then again in the shower just now but while you looked like anymore action would require you to get an IV drip, not only did this man have the stamina of a God, his skin glowed like it too? What the hell was his skincare routine?
"I'm Rafayel" He goes on and you shoot him a non-plussed look over your shoulder because of course a man who looked like that and fucked like he did couldn't be named something regular like Bob or Peter. Rafayel. He was such a Rafayel.
You know he's waiting for your name but you have no interest in giving it to him. Yesterday had been a celebration and while you were brazen enough to sleep with strangers and not truly commit, you weren't in the business of hoarding the strangers for long-term relationships.
Instead, you disappear into your closet to pick out your work clothes. You had to swing by the office before an important work lunch in the afternoon and if you successfully closed the deal, last night's celebration would not be in vain.
When you step out, Rafayel has thankfully taken the hint and gotten dressed too. He follows your cue and exits the bedroom behind you, still doing his best to get you to acknowledge his existence. Or help him be privy to yours.
Picking up his jacket that was still lying by the door, you hand it to him and open the door. Your declaration despite not using any words is crystal clear. Rafayel would love nothing more than take you out for breakfast, bring you home and do a full repeat of last night but you want to set clear boundaries of remaining strangers and he wants to respect that.
Or atleast try to.
He steps out but he's still in the doorway, preventing you from closing the door completely as he stares at you for a moment too long, gaze dropping to your lips before he's looking at you again "I don't even know your name"
"It's not worth remembering" You step back, hoping he will too but he's still got that kicked puppy look in his eyes that almost- almost melts your resolve.
"I'll remember it" He promises "Want to make you forget it next time we do this. Probably have you scream mine"
He's gonna wear you down at this rate and you know it. So you put that final nail in the coffin "Goodbye, Rafayel"
When you close the door behind you, you wonder if you should've at least told him you'd had a good time. Great time, even. Okay, you weren't kidding anyone. He'd shown you the most spectacular time and you'd wanted nothing more than to do it again too.
As you checked your day's to-do, you realized you didn't really have the time to.
Rafayel sent flowers to your apartment before you even left that morning. How he managed to do that in the span of the twenty minutes it had taken between you throwing him out and leaving for work, you didn't know. Still, he was an observant man too, if he had managed to deduce from the incense burning in your apartment that your favorite flowers were orchids.
As an art curator, you'd had your fair share of bizarre interactions. This definitely ranked in the top 3.
The flowers are still on your mind when you reach the restaurant where you're having your lunch meeting. Your friend's husband, Thomas, had wanted to introduce you to someone he'd described as simply phenomenal. For someone always looking for new talent, you'd easily agreed.
Your brows furrowed and lips lifted in a sardonic smile when you noticed the name on the card he'd given you. Rafayel. It was as if you simply couldn't escape that name today.
Or him, when the waitress showed you to the table where he was already seated next to Thomas, looking refined in his three piece suit and smiling at what you're sure he found to be a pleasant turn of events.
You were supposed to be working on gesture drawings and perspective.
You had everything laid out properly: sharp blue painter’s tape sticking your paper to the desk, a ruler to the left, eraser shavings scattered everywhere, and a mechanical pencil that sharpened itself every time you wrote.
Some music was on to help you focus.
So, it didn’t make sense to be in the predicament you were in right now.
The desk was no longer in front of you, but somehow, Miguel was.
His lips were pressed against yours to shut himself up, but the creaks of your wheeled chair gave everything away.
Your hands were wrapped around his back, fingers sinking into his muscle.
The chair under you jerked back, your heart dropping as you held onto your boyfriend tighter.
“‘M not gonna let you go, bebe,” he sighed onto your lips, arms bulging as he held the back of your chair. You were sure the front wheels were no longer on the ground. Just his two feet and then the back wheels moving opposite his thrusts.
Again, you feel your body being shifted back, and your throat makes a startled sound as you clench around him, your entire body scared to fall.
Miguel only shudders, skin over his knuckles stretching as he holds the head of your chair. The position he was in was something no one should be able to withstand, sumo-squatting and making sure his girlfriend didn’t hit the ground over a hard ass chair as he dipped fast into her.
He was going to have two long, straight bruises on his thighs, but he couldn’t care less.
You were just so, so enticing. It didn’t take much for him to get riled up.
He went from laying his face in your stomach while you worked, body barely squeezing under your desk, to sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing and massaging you without a care in the world.
Thinking nothing of it, you let it slide. He had to get his fill or else he’d be mopey, unfit to work, mindless. Or so he says.
This, somehow, led to your areola matching the purse of his mouth. Somehow, the waistband of your boxers that you stole from him stretched across your thighs and not your hips. Somehow, your fingers fell into his hair and not your stationary.
Now, you’re hoping that he at least lets you find relief before the linoleum of the dorm floor finds your head.
“Guel,” your eyes kept going up to the ceiling, eyebrows pinched as he snapped his hips harder. You move your nails across his back and he groans at the lines that follow.
He was sweating, warm against your skin as he panted. His name on your lips was a warning and a plea all in one.
Jess would be back any minute. You don’t think her meetings lasted too long.
The sound of his skin smacking against yours sounded off the walls, the wheels of the chair moving against your rug. You think you were dripping onto his skin, but his voice calling your name was a lot louder than the sound of you sucking him in.
“Almost there,” Miguel whined. “I promise.”
You nod, walls closing around him as the chair leans back again.
He had to be doing that on purpose because the moan he let out afterward was too satisfactory.
Eyes closed tight, you cried as he quickened his tempo, mind hazy.
Words incoherent, you held onto him as you came, begging him for more, begging him to release.
He finishes with his chin ducked onto your head, voice running across your hair. You can feel him pulsing through the condom and your aftershocks only aid to make him louder.
Trembling thighs strain to pick you up from the armless chair and plop you onto the bed, the seat finally hitting the ground.
Miguel leans over you, huffing as his body weight shifts. You grunt when he lays on you.
“Need to work on my seated Jefferson curls,” he mumbles into your collarbone.
“Don’t start with the gym jargon-”
“I just think! That I should have lasted longer. Got too excited.”
“Just because you finish your homework fast, doesn’t mean you get to bother me while I do my own.”
“I told you to space out your sketches,” he blinks slowly. You smell like cocoa butter and your skin is soft against his face. “You’re the one who decided to wait till the day before.”
“Nuh uh,” you nudge his shoulder, barely moving him. “Don’t fall asleep!”
He made a noise of irritation, shifting his face to the other side.
“Miguel. Get up.”
“Don’t want to.”
“You make me sick.”
“You make me whole.”
Pushing his hair off of his forehead, you sigh up at the ceiling.
“C’mon, baby. You can lay in my bed but we gotta get up. Jess’ll be here soon.”
He turns and blows air in your skin, earning a laugh.
“Can I use your moisturizer? And a face mask? And a blanket?”
“Yes, Miguel, you can use whatever you want. Just hurry so we can air the room out.”
Grinning he pulls you off the bed and carries you to the bathroom.
Its been a while since new members have joined so the server is welcoming new members, majority of your favorite tumblr miguel ff writers are all there as well! Come in and see updates on your favorite creators as well as fic updates as well!
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that's how you'd describe your mornings with miguel. gentle and soft caresses awakes you. the heated room of your shared bedroom welcomes you to another autumn day. the november clouds hang heavy over nueva york, almost like a blanket offering comfort to the busy people of the city below.
soft whispers of 'good morning' and lingering kisses. you can taste the peppermint toothpaste on his lips as he kisses you. with every contact you awake, one planted on your lips, the tips of your nose and finally your forehead.
neither of you have any specific commitment this morning, meaning that there's no rush to leave the comfort of your apartment.
tired limbs force themselves to pad across the room to the bathroom with miguel lingering by your side as you brush your teeth, hands wrapped around your waist. 'beautiful' he murmurs into your ear, staring at the two of you in the bathroom mirror. dressed in nothing but his t-shirt.
slow footsteps dance from the bathroom to the kitchen. just like every other morning you take your usual seat at the counter watching.
'like a cat' you recall him saying, 'always hungry to eat'
'you or the food?' you joked once, not missing the way the tips of his ears flushed pink.
with eggs frying and buttered toast on the matching plates you had bought from the local market, miguel stands between your thighs. from your position you can now see his caramelised eyes clearer. without another word, the two of you lean into a shared kiss.
intimate. the silent acknowledgement of your appreciation for each other. the taste of his lips are nothing but familiar, a craving your tongue will never get sick of.
you hope to relive this very morning tomorrow and many more days after that.
and you will. tomorrow.
reblogs are much appreciated!! thank you for reading ! :)
Its been a while since new members have joined so the server is welcoming new members, majority of your favorite tumblr miguel ff writers are all there as well! Come in and see updates on your favorite creators as well as fic updates as well!
The two conditions? Please do not be a minor, minors are strictly not allowed and absolutely no proshippers🚫
Just click on this link and we’ll see you there!
dont forget to repost as well!
Check out the Miggy Simps community on Discord - hang out with 65 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
| author’s notes: the way i had to tone it down because of how freaky it was getting. anyways enjoy the chapter and happy birthday to Miguel!!
Chapter 2
A cough echoed in Mr. Suarez’s study, the older man immersed in his paperwork, tallying the month’s sales to keep his business afloat. He adjusted his glasses, scrutinizing the numbers, when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. His assistant entered quietly. “Mr. Suarez, sir, a telegram has arrived from Mr. Prescott.” Mr. Suarez’s face brightened at the mention of Prescott. News from him could only mean updates about his beloved daughter. “Well, don’t just stand there—bring it to me,” he ordered, a sense of urgency in his voice.
Sitting up straight, his shoulders squared. Mr. Suarez felt a burst of energy, as if anticipating good news. As he took the telegram, his fingers shook slightly, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Let’s see how she’s doing Maritza,” he whispered, remembering his late lover as he carefully opened the paper.
His eyes scanned the words quickly:
To: Mr. Suarez
New York City
STOP.
Y/N SUAREZ HAS NOT ARRIVED IN LOS ANGELES AS SCHEDULED STOP PREVIOUS TRAIN CONFIRMED ARRIVAL WITHOUT HER STOP ANY INFORMATION ON HER WHEREABOUTS IS REQUESTED IMMEDIATELY STOP WE HAVE BUSINESS TO DISCUSS STOP
DREW PRESCOTT
The telegram slipped from his trembling hands and fell onto the desk. His daughter, gone? It couldn’t be. He had watched her board the ship to New Orleans with his own eyes. Disbelief gripped him. No. This can’t be right. She was supposed to be safe… His chest tightened, panic creeping in. How could she have vanished, Where had she gone? He stumbled to his feet, pushing past the haze of dread clouding his mind. There was only one thought now—finding her.
With urgency, he stormed out of his study, his footsteps heavy, and headed toward his bedroom to find the document that might offer some help. The air in the mansion felt thick, every corner suddenly filled with the echo of his racing heart. As he entered the bedroom, he immediately went to his side of the bed, rifling through his things, desperate to find the specific document he needed.
His wife, lounging on the bed with her nightgown, looked at him with a knowing, enticing smile. “Whats wrong, my dear? You look like you need a break,” she purred her eyes lingering on him. “Let me help you… you know I’m always at your disposal.” Mr. Suarez, distracted and singularly focused, barely registered her words. “Not now dear!” He muttered, his hands still frantically searching. “I have to find this document…” His wife, clearly displeased with his lack of attention, rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Oh, please, my love…it’s been a while, and I wish to have another baby.” Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper “Don’t you want to make a baby with me?”
His frustration boiled over as he shoved her hands off. “NO! NOT NOW!” He turned to face her, his voice trembling with fear and anger. “Y/N is missing. She never arrived in Los Angeles!” Her eyes widened, more from shock at his tone than concern for Y/N. The bastard is missing? Perfect. The little runt is doing the job for her by disappearing. Inside, she felt a dark sense of satisfaction, but outwardly, she masked her true emotions with a display of faux sympathy.
“Oh no… darling, I’m so sorry,” she said, stepping towards him, feigning concern. She places a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “You must be beside yourself with worry. Don’t worry… she’s a resourceful girl. She’ll turn up, I’m sure.” Mr. Suarez pulled away from her touch, unable to hear her words through the storm in his mind. “I need to think,” he muttered. “There’s no time for this.” He turned back to his frantic search, his wife watching him with an unreadable expression, her thoughts swirling behind her placid smile.
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Flatonia, Tx…
The morning rays beamed through the window, waking y/n up after somehow sleeping quite nicely. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms with a soft yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.As she glanced around the room her gaze landed on Miguel—and her breath caught in her throat. There he was, standing by the dresser, shirtless, pulling a fresh shirt over his broad shoulders. The early light highlighted every contour of his sun-kissed skin, the defined muscles of his arms flexing as he moved. Her eyes wandered to the small bullet scars scattered across his torso, each one telling a story. Her heart raced as her eyes lingered a little too long on the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his pants. She shook her head, forcing herself to look away. No. She couldn’t let herself get distracted by him. Miguel was trouble, Dangerous trouble. The last thing she needed was to get caught up in his charm. Although she couldn’t help but to take one more peek.
Y/N snapped out of it, her face flushing bright red as Miguel caught her staring. His lips curled into a teasing smirk, clearly enjoying the attention. “Like what you’re lookin’ at darlin’?” He drawled, his voice dripping in amusement. Y/N’s heart races, her face burning with embarrassment. She quickly tore her eyes away, looking anywhere but him. “I-I wasn’t—“ she stammered, flustered. “I wasn’t looking at anything! Don’t flatter yourself.” Miguel chuckled as he tugged his shirt down, stepping closer to the bed, clearly entertained by her flustered state. “Sure didn’t seem like nothin’” He teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “Can’t blame you though. Happens all the time.
Y/N glared at him, her embarrassment quickly turning into indignation. “Oh, please. I’ve seen better,” she shot back with a lie, crossing her arms in an attempt to regain her composure. Miguel’s smirk widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Uh-huh. Keep tellin’ yourself that,” he said, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. “Ain’t no shame in admiring a little, no need to be so uptight about it.” Y/N huffed, her heart pounding as she tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” Miguel laughed softly, clearly unaffected by her words. “Ain’t the first time I’ve heard that,” he said, straightening up and finishing with the buttons on his shirt. “But I gotta admit, it’s kinda cute seein’ you all flustered like that.” Y/N’s mouth opened to retort, but she was at a loss for words.The way he teased her so effortlessly made it hard to stay mad. Instead, she grabbed her blanket and pulled it up, hiding her reddened face behind it. “Just get dressed already!” She mumbled
Miguel chuckled once more, shaking his head as he finished getting ready. “Well you better get dressed too, darlin’,” he said grabbing his belt and fastening it around his waist. “We’re headin’ out soon. Gotta make it to Cowtown, and its a long ride.” Y/N peeked over the blanket, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Cowtown?” She asked confused at the terminology. Miguel sighed “Hell’s Half Acre?” Y/N blinked at him completely confused “Cowtown? Hell’s Half Acre? You really expect me to know what that means?” Miguel smirked “Guess you got a lot to learn darlin’. Don’t worry I’ll teach you.” Y/N frowned, annoyed at how out of place she felt. This world was foreign to her—unlike the balls and galas she’d grown up with—but she wasn’t about to let Miguel think that she couldn’t handle it.
“Fort Worth” Miguel suddenly says “Ohh Okk” Y/N says, her tone a bit more composed. “What’s there?” Miguel shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Home. Or at least, one of ‘em,” he said casually.Y/N raised an eyebrow. What kind of man had more than one home? Miguel seemed perfectly at ease with the idea, as if drifting between lives was normal for him. The more she learned about him, the more mysterious he became.“You’ll see soon enough.”Miguel left and walked out leaving Y/N to get dressed.
After getting ready, Y/N joined the rest of the group as they prepared to leave Flatonia. The journey was long, but it was clear that Miguel knew exactly where they were headed. He discussed route plans, the terrain, hell he was even looking at a map while communicating with his men. Finally after a while, it was time to go. Miguel helped her mount his horse and got on immediately right after her. Y/N glanced at Miguel, still feeling the heat of their earlier interaction. She was determined to at least ease off some of the awkward tension. The two rode on the horse with each other. With the rest of the group trailing behind. The horses’ hooves clopped steadily against the hard packed dirt of the road. The sun climbing higher in the sky, the early morning chill had now faded, now replaced with the dry heat that radiated from the earth below. As they rode, the vast Texan landscape stretched out in every direction. Rolling fields of yellow brown grass, dotted with patches of wildflowers that swayed lazily in the breeze, as well as the occasional mesquite tree or cactus that broke the horizon. In the distance, the jagged hills rose and fell like the backs of sleeping giants, while the open sky above seemed endless, an expanse of blue littered with a few drifting clouds. Every once in a while, a hawk would circle overhead, scanning the plains in search for prey. The air smelled of warmed dirt and the faint scent of the horse’s sweat.
Y/N’s gaze traveled over the landscape. She had never been in such a place that felt so untouched. It was a stark contrast with the busy streets and towering buildings of New York. Although, she felt out of place, another part of her was captivated by the raw beauty the plains had offered her. After hours of silence, with nothing but the occasional rustling of the wind through the grasses. Y/N finally broke the silence. “So what exactly is in Fort Worth?” She asked, her voice carrying just enough curiosity to hide her discomfort at the foreign environment. Miguel glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smirk from his lips “The Stockyards. One of the biggest cattle markets in the country. Ranchers, cowboys, saloons, the true Wild West.” Y/N wrinkled her nose slightly. “Sounds….rustic,” she says trying not to sound judgmental. Miguel’s smirk widened. “Rustic? Guess you could call it that. But its a hell lot more free than any fancy ballroom in New York.” Y/N shot him a glance from the corner of her eye “You don’t even know the first thing about me if you believe that I prance around ballrooms,” she said defensively. Miguel’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh, but I do, Miss Transatlantic,” he teased, imitating her refined accent in an exaggerated way. “With that posh way of talkin’, you sound like you came straight from a debutante ball.”
Her eyes narrowed at him, annoyed that he was mocking her speech. “It’s not a ‘posh’ accent. It’s how I was raised.” Miguel shrugged, clearly amused by her irritation. “Well, it’s a bit annoyin’,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “Sounds too stiff. Loosen up. You’re in Texas now darlin’. Ain’t nobody gonna care about them fancy accents here.” Y/N huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, as much as she could manage while balancing herself on the horse. “Excuse me for having proper diction.” Miguel let out a chuckle, his voice rumbling against her back through his chest. “Oh I got proper diction, just don’t feel like using it” he said, his drawl thick.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, they finally spotted the outline of a small town in the distance. The buildings cast long shadows across the dry ground, and a sign spelled out “Bastrop.” “We’ll stop here for a bit,” Miguel announced, pulling on the reins to slow his horse. Dust picked up around them as they came to a halt in front of a general store. Y/N looked at the store, confused, then back at Miguel. He dismounted and helped her down from the horse. “Need to get you somethin’ practical to wear,” he mumbled. Y/N blinked, glancing down at her current outfit—old, outdated, 1910s attire she’d been wearing since she left New York. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asked defensively.
Miguel’s eyes quickly scanned her dress, noting how it clung to her form. The dress might have been outdates, but there was something about the way she carried herself that caught his attention. A fleeting thought crossed his mind about how the fabric accentuated her figure, but it was just a flash—nothing he lingered on. He forced himself to look away, his throat tightening for a second, then he cleared it. “Darlin’, you can’t be ridin’ horses and walkin’ through the stockyards dressed like that. You need some proper southern clothes.”
“Southern clothes?” she repeated hesitantly. However, Miguel didn’t bother explaining further, grabbing her wrist and leading her into the store.
Inside, the dusty wooden floor creaked beneath their boots. The storekeeper nodded at Miguel in recognition. Miguel quickly scanned the shelves, gesturing towards the women’s riding clothes. “Pick somethin’ that’ll actually let you move around,” he instructed. “You’re gonna need it where we’re goin’”. Y/N huffed, clearly not thrilled by the idea but moved towards the racks of clothing anyway. Miguel leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching her with half-focused eyes. He wasn’t particularly concerned about what she wore, but he observed her with a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place. There was an air of elegance about her, even in this setting. It wasn’t just how she looked, but the way she navigated unfamiliar territory— determined yet hesitant, with a certain grace.
He liked that about her.
He shifted his weight, shaking down the thought away. What am I doing? He questioned himself. He didn’t expect this, the growing curiosity, the way she kept drawing him in. She was meant to be a complication, someone he had to drag along for the sake of the job, but the more time he spent with her, the more he began to see beyond her stiff upper-class facade. Y/N picked up a pair of riding pants and a blouse, inspecting them with mild disdain. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to even put this on,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s not like I’m planning to become a cowgirl.” Miguel smirked, pushing off the counter and stepping toward her. “Never know darlin’,” he said, his voice softer. “Might suit you more than you think.”
Y/N shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing slightly. She turned her attention back to the clothing, and Miguel found himself thinking about how different she was from the women who usually threw themselves at him. Y/N wasn’t doing that. She was independent, stubborn, and had a sharp with that clashed with his own. It was that fire in her personality that stirred something deeper inside him—not just physical attraction, but a real interest.
He crossed his arms back again, shaking his head slightly. Was it worth it? He thought back to the decision he’d made to kidnap her, knowing that it had complicated things further more than what he’d anticipated. Now, standing in this dusty old store, watching her sift through clothes with a determined frown, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. What was he doing, dragging her into his chaotic world? It wasn’t just about the plan anymore. It wasn’t just about her father or the job. Somewhere among the line, things had gotten personal, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Just as he was lost in thought, the door to the fitting room creaked open. Y/N stepped out, adjusting the waistband of the riding pants and blouse as she walked towards him. The clothes fit her well, and although Miguel noticed how they highlighted her figure, it was the way she carried herself that made him pause. There was a quiet strength in her, even as she stood there looking slightly uncomfortable. He admired that, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“Well?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “How do I look?”
Miguel hesitated, his mind still clouded with his inner thoughts. For a moment, he was tempted to tease her, to throw out some quip about her new look. But instead, he found himself saying something else, something softer. “You look… good. Practical for ridin’, like I said.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting something more, but when he didn’t offer further comment, she turned back to adjust her blouse again. Miguel exhaled quietly, watching her with a mix of confusion and something he didn’t fully understand yet. The plan had been simple—grab the girl, finish the job, and move on. But now, he wasn’t sure where the lines between job and something else had started to blur. He glanced at her again, feeling that tug of curiosity. What am I getting myself into? He thought, crossing his arms tighter as Y/N headed back into the fitting room.
comment down below if you’d like to be tagged and plz have ur age in bio!!
author’s notes: finally the first chapter to this new fic is ouuuttt, i hope you guys enjoy reading this ! Also ty ty to @monarchberrysblog for proofreading and for helping me create the aesthetic of the post and to @bluesidez for being inspo for cowboy migs in general !!
Chapter One
A baby cries in the halls of a mansion, nurses running everywhere as the main head of the household Mr. Suarez holds the hand of his beloved maid very tightly.
“Maritza you can make it” he says softly. The maid, Maritza, weakened from childbirth looked at her lover and whispered “i….i don’t have much time….” She exhales. A nurse comes in with the newborn babe swaddled in a blanket. “Mr. Suarez, sir….it is a baby girl…”
The man, delighted at the news, looks at his lover who is very weak.. “a girl my love. my only girl” Maritza weakly looked at him and said in a whisper, “name the girl y/n…let her have your last name so that she may live comfortably…let a governess raise her instead of your wife…for she will bear hatred for the girl until her dying days…I love you my dear…” She kissed the baby’s head for the first and last time and her eyes closed and her hands slipped away from her lover. Mr. Suarez in fear whined to her “ Maritza, no! My love - please don’t leave me” his voice trembling “you’ll watch her grow, I’ll make sure she’s safe. Just stay with me…” His voice cracks as he holds back a sob, looking down at the newborn “She needs you” Maritza croaks softly as she let out her last breath “ be…happy…”
Mr. Suarez, devastated as he felt her hand weakens hold and slip away, lowers his head to her lifeless hand, the weight of the loss hitting him all at once. He took the child into his hands, cradling the baby closer to his chest, tears pooling in his eyes, feeling the burden of this new responsibility, his only daughter out of four boys. He instructed the doctor to proclaim his lover dead and to hide the birth of his daughter from society and to instead, legally place her birth certificate under his wife’s name. “ I’ll protect you, mija. I promise….I’ll make sure no one ever knows the truth.”
Time flew and the baby was eventually raised by a wet nurse and a nanny until she was old enough to attend schooling. By the age of 5, the baby learned how to properly pronounce her name, y/n Suarez and was brought to a separate room away from the rest of the family to be raised and brought up by a governess. As y/n became older, her father constantly doted on her and visited her constantly and made sure she had her place at the dinner table as well. Of course his wife wasn’t fond of that, so she always made sure that y/n would sit at the end of the table next to her where she would always whisper to the child to remind her that she’s a bastard child and the product of an affair. Her older half brothers, doing the same behind their father’s back due to their jealousy of her receiving the most attention.
However despite that, the governess taught and raised to be a proper lady and to be forgiving while helping her to remain and grow her own personality. By the time y/n was 17, she was able to attend her first social gathering and heard the whispers of gossiping rich women like her, wondering about the possible new law that could be implemented; The banning of liquor and bars. She wondered of course how that could possibly work, but by the time she was 18 the law had passed and liquor was banned.
Her father enraged by the law decided in his business man thinking, to help the people of this country by opening secret bars where liquor will secretly be provided. By the middle of 1920, Mr. Suarez became one of the most wealthiest businessmen in the country by opening secret speakeasies while working under the guise of “owning businesses”
———————————————————————————————————————
Present time: 1923
“Father what do you mean I have to go to California to meet Mr. Prescott” y/n scoffs to her father. Mr. Suarez looked at her and strictly said “Drew Prescott owns the most famous hotels in Los Angeles… I want you to meet him, it would be a profitable marriage if he agrees to the agreement” Y/n groaned as her shoulders sunk. She looked at him but sighed “As you wish…” she says. Y/n walked out of his office and went to a maid to pack her things and book her ticket for the soonest train ride for California. As she walked down the hall to her room she spots her older brother and sighs as he approached her “What now Diego, coming here to belittle me again, to remind me i’m not one of you again ?” Diego chuckles and smirks as he leans his body against the wall. “Oh hermanita, such a sharp tongue, can’t a brother congratulate his little sister’s engagement, so quick to be defensive as well... Can’t a brother wish you luck? After all to be sent like a parcel to Prescott sounds fascinating” Y/N sighed and looked at him “I don’t need your fake concern. If you cared so much, it wouldn’t be what father gains from me”
In that same hall her second older brother, Marco walked by and stopped joining the conversation and laughing “Oh, but it is our gain as well considering the peace we’ll finally have. Mama will finally laugh for once after years.” Y/n bit her lip as her voice tightened in an effort to stay calm “you’ve always been good at making her smile anyways by just keeping quiet and pretending everything is perfect, but there is one thing i know the truth about..”
Diego leaned closer “ Oh? And what is that little sister ?” Y/N leaned in and whispered “That you, Marco, Deluca, and Juan are nothing but shadows. You say that I’m beneath you, pero… you’re more trapped in this house than I ever was. Diego’s smile falters slightly, masking his discomfort. Marco’s face hardens as the two walk away. Leaving her with feelings of disappointment as well as annoyance. However, there was no time to be disappointed as she had to start packing to meet this Prescott man. She packed some of her clothes, some dresses, some shoes, not too many though in order to not overwhelm and stuff her luggage. Drowning in her thoughts she wished desperately that somehow she could be dragged out of this, to be swept off her feet, a sign of some sort. Just about anything that would keep her from going to Los Angeles to meet this man. Y/N groans in frustration and throws herself onto her bed and sighed. She looked up and then spotted her book, a gift her father gave her when she turned 15, an old wild west book about an outlaw who falls in love for a mistreated upperclass woman. Its an old childhood book, and yet the pages were filled of a dream of freedom she longed for. She shook her head and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling of her bedroom.
She was ripped from her thoughts as she heard a knock on her door. Y/N immediately stood up and flattened out any wrinkles on her dress with her hands and cleared her throat while she spoke up “come in!” The door opened and there entered her father’s wife. Mrs. Suarez. Y/n immediately looked down and made sure not to make any eye contact or wrong movements around her. Mrs. Suarez took a turn around her room, her tone saccharine as ever “I see that you’re finally leaving, y/n. Took long enough. I thought I’d have to endure your presence forever” Y/N keeping her eyes down asked “Is there anything I may help you with ma’am ?” The older woman chuckled, circling her slowly “Help? Oh no, you’ve done more than enough. Soon, you’ll be out of the house, and I’ll no longer have to look at the mistake my husband brought home.” Y/N tensed slightly as she spoke softly “ I’m sure that Father only wants what’s best for the family.” Mrs. Suarez laughed bitterly at her words “Family? You’re not family. You’re a stain, an embarrassment. And once you’re married off to that hotel heir, you’ll be someone else’s problem.” She then stepped closer, grabbing y/n’s shoulder harshly, whispering to her “Just remember, no matter where you go, you’ll always be a bastard. And when you’re gone, I’ll make sure that your name is erased from this household.” Y/n flinches bur holds her composure as she spoke softly but firmly “That won’t change who I am” ….The woman smiles at her disgustingly and walked away “oh and by the way, your ship to New Orleans will be tomorrow…. I’ll make sure of it…maybe I’ll do it by making my husband a real daughter tonight” she then now finally left the room.
Y/N stared at the door once she left and simply muttered “I did not need to know about you getting all nasty with my father…” That night, y/n didn’t come down for dinner at the table as she was too busy staying in her room absorbing her surroundings and her current reality. She also didn’t want to come down simply because she was slightly disturbed due to hearing her father and Mrs. Suarez earlier moaning their heads off having sex which was unfortunately a hall away from her isolated bedroom. She should have known that Mrs. Suarez probably had that planned in order to torment her, which to y/n’s dismay did work.
The next day, y/n was at the port ready to board the passenger ship that would take her to New Orleans, there she stood with her father as she hugged him softly and whispered “please be happy and at peace now” she handed her luggage to a porter and went in line to get onto the ship. Finally making it inside after a bit of questioning and looking at her passport, she walked around to explore the ship a bit. Each step she took, she felt the weight of every step dragging her closer to a future she didn’t want. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: “A profitable marriage.” Was that all she was to him? Another business transaction? Of course she could only see the first class section of the ship as she was not allowed to even mingle with the commoners. As y/n walked around her heart raced as she glanced at the other women in their pristine dresses, their eyes filled with envy or pity as they stared at her outdated clothes. Her attire being from the 1910s, clothes that not even commoners wore anymore.She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling more out of place than ever. Y/n eventually found her cabin and sat down onto the bed. Looking around to familiarize herself with the window, the vanity, the dresser, and the bathroom. She sighed as she relaxed and closed her eyes for a bit of a nap in her temporary room. Time passes and the ship departed from the port and headed its way to New Orleans in three days time. Each passing mile to New Orleans felt like a nail in her coffin. The city that held the key to her future up ahead.
3 days later, the ship docked and y/n had officially arrived at New Orleans, there was people everywhere, jazz being played, a more warmer environment, the smell of the ocean clashing with the fresh smell of the nearby bayou. She then went through some questioning, some security to make her way to domestic arrivals and finally was able to get her luggage with her. She found her escort who would take her to the Union Station to finally get aboard the Sunset Limited, a steam train that has a route from New Orleans, directly to Los Angeles. As she walked with her escort she felt her hands getting clammy, her palms sweating, her breath shortening. Once she gets on that train, she will officially have to accept that she’s being sent off for marriage.”Drew Prescott” she mumbled quietly. Her escort brought her to the ticket stand and presented her paperwork and reservation for her seat. The ticket seller looked at her documentation as well as her passport and gave her the ticket. Y/N looked down as she read her ticket “platform five….huh…” Y/N eventually makes her way onto that platform and waited for a while in the first class seating lounge. An announcement was made, to alert all passengers to make way to the platform as the train was arriving. Y/N followed the other upper class men and women as to not get lost. Finally once she reached the Sunset Limited platform, she felt a sense of dread and fear. I can’t do this, I can’t marry a man I’ve just met. She holds the hem of her dress tightly to ease her anxious feelings.
A loud horn was heard. A huge black pullman train, the trains cars each having 6 wheels and painted with dark olive green paint with black roofs. The piece of machinery was a beauty, but it was also the one way ticket to her eventual fate. Y/N sighed once more and got on aboard. The train’s first class cars had spacious seating and chairs made with cushion and refineries. She kept walking to the next train cart and passed by the dining room, there was two rows of seating, the tables were made of either oak or mahogany, each table covered with a sheet of linen, the ceiling had chandeliers with soft illumination to bring a more softer ambiance, the carpet had an intricate design of what would be seen in baroque art. Finally she made it to the third train cart where the sleeping compartments would be. Since it was her alone traveling, she had her own compartment, y/n checked and noticed that her seat could convert into a soft bed. There was soft overhead lighting as well as folded sheets of the highest quality in the corner. There was also a bell to call for service from a pullman porter to make her bed and or to bring her refreshments. It was truly a compartment of the highest quality, and to even make things better her luggage was already tucked away in a small area in her compartment. At least she could take solace in this room of hers for a while. “Drew Prescott.” The name was already bitter on her tongue. Again after waiting for a while, the train departed. Her trip to Los Angeles finally starting, with the first stop being Baton Rouge. It was already nighttime considering the time she arrived by ship which was early in the morning. She knew it would be a good 8 to 10 hours until they reached to at least Houston. So she called for a porter to mend her bed, so that she could go to sleep and wake up in Texas.
The next morning, y/n woke up due to the announcement of the train nearing Houston in about 1 hour. She looked out her window and noticed the lush green farmland of Texas, lots of cows she had never seen before, even horses of different breeds she didn’t recognize. Y/N stretched her arms and got up from her bed and got dressed in a different abhorrent outfit that did not fit with the times. She once again called for a porter to make her bed into a seat again and went to the dining cart for some breakfast, by that time the train had officially made a stop in the growing city of Houston. It was much more different from her beloved New York, but she appreciated watching how this city was filled with different kinds of people. She watched as some people got off and how some got on the train and simply watched people as she ate a hearty breakfast For a good 30 minutes until the train departed again to San Antonio.
Somewhere in the middle of the route between Houston and San Antonio. Y/N was in the lounge cart doing some light reading in her old wild west book until the train came to a sudden halt. Y/n looked around confused and asked the nearest porter and asked “excuse me but why is the train halting?” The man responded with “oh nothing, they’re just refilling the coal and re oiling the metal for this lug to move on ma’am… nothing more” he popped off his hat a little to bid her a quick goodbye and walked through the train carts.
About 2 hours later, the train was still at a standstill, however a few miles away stood a bunch of men with their horses. One man however was loading up his revolver and some pocket knives in case of an emergency. “Alright gentleman, it has been exactly a long week of planning, this train will move in exactly 30 minutes and the security will get to the first class passenger car in 20…we have exactly a 10 minute window to loot the bags and find the diamond….take anything valuable” All of the men cheered in excitement and started putting on their bandanas and saddling up their horses. Their leader immediately got onto the back of his black steed and led the gang out from the shadows and straight to the first passenger car. Immediately the gang gets to work and managed to bust the car door open the leader stepped in and publicly announced “Mornin’ folks, sorry to bust y’all trip but this train car got somethin’ I want and imma get it….” The passengers yelped in surprise and scurried away in fear due to the man having a revolver in his hand. He then walked in between the empty space between the seats and spotted y/n, immediately he was confused onto why a woman was wearing something so out of date compared to the other ladies, he then carried on and continued as she lingered in his mind. A pretty woman simply sitting there reading a book not even phased by his appearance, not only that a rich woman as well. He couldn’t put his finger on it and kept walking and simply looted anything valuable that could be worth the money. Right before he left, he looked back at y/n deciding that he would kidnap her to ease his mind from questioning so much “cuse me young lady, but imma be kidnappin’ you now”
Y/n who was absorbed in her book looked up and saw the cowboy and her eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a moment she felt a bit of fear, the revolver in his hand, the confidence stance. Everything about him screamed danger. However, he looked interesting to look at. He had tanned skin and a muscular build. His eyes were a deep brownish red with short, brown wavy hair. He wore a long sleeve light blue shirt and had two buttons undone where you could peek at his pectorals and spot his chest hair. His jeans had red and blue chaps with a flame design and fringes on the side. The bottom of his boots were visible as well as a large belt with some ammo, a lasso, and another revolver hidden away by his torso. His face however was covered by his yellow bandana. Y/n stared for a minute, appreciating the clearly attractive man’s physique, if only those existed in New York she would have appreciated the city a bit more, but then realized what he said about her kidnapping her or something considering that the man had a deep souther drawl to his words.“pardon ?” She blinks a couple of times, then looks at him closely, as if weighing her options. But then something shifted, A sudden thought flashed in her mind. This is it. This is my way out. She looked at the man more closely, his rugged features sharp against the backdrop of a train car. A sign. This is the sign I was waiting for. Y/N quickly concluded that this was the sign. Y/N then paused with a slight smile crossing her lips and said “Alright then. Just let me take my book and purse”
The man looked at her in confusion, he expected the woman to jump, protest or scream, but the fact that she was quick to accept flustered him “ Wait…What? You’re not gonna scream or…I don’t know, protest?” Y/n rising to her feet, adjusted her dress and looked at him “Why would I? You’re offering me the adventure I’ve been waiting for.” She meets his gaze with a bold look. “Besides, it’s not really kidnapping if I’m willing to go.” As she packed her things, Y/N’s heart beat faster- not from fear but from the rush of freedom. For the first time, she was taking control of her fate. If I’m going to escape Prescott, it might as well be with this stranger. She simply then walked to the car’s door and hops out. The man stared at her confused, thrown off from his mood he muttered “Well, I’ll be damned.. wasn’t expectin’ this” but shrugged it off as he also needed to get off the train as soon as possible. He then quickly helped her mount his horse and got on right behind her. He pulled onto his horse’s reins and directed his steed and gang to the nearest town that was an hour on horseback. He chuckled to himself softly “You’re a strange one darlin’.”
During that ride however, y/n looked around the swampy area and asked “erm…do you know what town we’ll be arriving at ?” The man looked down at her and gruffly said “about a few miles out from Flationia…” y/n nodded as she understood despite not knowing where that was and kept quiet. About a few more minutes she then asked “what is your name…uhh sir?” The man quickly responded “My name is Miguel O'Hara” y/n nodded as she remembered his name “I’m y/n Suarez, it's nice to meet you..” she says. Miguel’s eyes widened at the familiar name, surprised to see that the grown woman with him wasn’t a child. “Suarez, huh, you look nothing like the missus or your father..”
y/n looked down and said “well uh...I am my father’s daughter...but not really his wife’s…” those words were enough for him to understand that she’s an illegitimate child. “A bastard child ey…” he mumbled. Y/n nodded at his words and looked into the distance “yea..” Miguel looked at the young woman for a bit then back at the terrain. The young woman clearly had some sort of history with being illegitimate, but he wouldn’t pry onto the subject.
Finally they arrived at the small town of Flatonia, a small bustling town that was slowly growing. He then got off his horse and took y/n gently as possible, then tied his horse onto a post, as his men did and they all walked into a single story inn. There were a few people already drinking at the bar and in booths. Miguel led them through the front room and headed to the counter. The innkeeper looks up to him and is surprised to see a man in a cowboy hat. “Well hello, stranger. What can I get for you?"
"I need a room. A big one. Me and my gang are gonna be staying for a night or two” Miguel says. The innkeeper looks at Miguel and his gang skeptically then looks a little closer* "And just what kinda business you boys gettin into to need a big room?" Y/n watched the interaction and then looked at her purse and bag of money. She decided that she would help them get inside the inn. Y/n looked at Miguel and back at the innkeeper. “Allow me” she says to Miguel, She then approached the innkeeper and looked into her money bag, pulled out a gold nugget and gave him the piece. However, the gold nugget has the Suarez name branded onto it, granting y/n immediate immunity if she were to go anywhere.
*The innkeeper's eyes widen when he sees the nugget. Immediately his entire demeanor changed as he saw her put the gold nugget on the counter "M-Miss Suarez! My apologies, I didn't know it was you! Of course, of course, I can get you the biggest room right away!" Y/n smiled and gave him a polite thank you. While they waited in the lobby for a bit, Miguel couldn’t help but praise her for quick thinking
"Impressive, darlin'. Didn't expect you to bring out the gold to get us the room that quickly." Y/n smiled at him and said “it's the least I could do for someone who took me away from the stickler rules of women in society…” Miguel raised his eyebrows surprised at her words but shrugged them off as he spoke to the rest of his men as they all waited in the lobby for the room to be prepared.
After a while the innkeeper arrived and brought Miguel, y/n, and his men to the biggest room. Miguel thanked the innkeeper as the man arrived and unlocked the room for them. He entered the room and looked around
"Well look at this, boys. I think this room will do nicely for us."
The rest of the men nodded and entered. They started settling in their space, claiming the beds they wanted. Y/n eventually looked around and found a bed that was closest to the bathroom and sat on it quietly feeling a bit uneasy, avoiding eye contact. “There’s enough beds for everyone. Surely you can sleep somewhere else ?” Miguel saw her and grinned as he leans against the bedpost. “Nah, I reckon you’ve got the wrong idea darlin’. You ain’t sleepin’ alone.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as Miguel’s voice lowered, the rough drawl sending a thrill down her spine. She clenched her hands together to keep them from shaking, determined to not show any weakness. “Can’t have you runnin’ off in the middle of the night to alert the law, now can I?” Y/N frowned as she stood her ground “I’m not going anywhere. If i wanted to be free, I wouldn’t have come with you in the first place” Miguel raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes glinting in the lowlight “That right? You sure do talk like you know the game, but trust me little lady, you don’t” He steps even closer to her, his presence overwhelming, lowering his voice as his eyes lock with hers. “Now, be a good girl and make room. We got a long night ahead, and I don’t plan on sleepin’ on the floor” Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and for a brief moment, her breath caught. She tried to look away, but his smirk told her that he noticed.
y/n looked down then back up at him, exhaling slowly before muttering “Well at least let me remove this dress of mine….this corset is getting hard to breathe in” she huffed out “and I need a nightgown…I can’t sleep in my day clothes ” she says as she goes inside the bathroom. She locks herself in there to start removing her garments. Her heart pounded, but not from feat. Something else was stirring- something she didn’t want to admit.
Miguel sighed at her trying to maintain her prim and proper attitude, despite the amount of sass she had just given him. He chuckled and simply looked for the innkeeper to ask if he had any extra nightgowns for her. After a while, y/n emerged in the nightgown and went quickly into bed, avoiding his gaze picking the left side of the bed since it was facing the wall. Miguel then went inside the bathroom and changed into his night clothes which was just a loose shirt and some short loose pants. He walked out. “You could have just left me back at the train..” Miguel, climbing into bed on the right side beside her “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that? You got spunk darlin’. Makes me curious to see what kind of trouble you’ll cause.” Y/n, hesitant whispers “ you’re giving me something I’ve never had” Miguel raised an eyebrow “And what’s that?”
Y/n hesitant, whispers as if admitting a secret, “A choice” Miguel stayed quiet a sinking realization filled the pit of his stomach as he processed her words. He hadn’t thought much about what he was giving her- freedom, an escape, but hearing her say it made him realize that maybe he was offering more than just a way out. Miguel in a low voice after pausing for a bit “No….not yet.” As the lamp flickered off, the room filled with the quiet breathing of the others, but the space between them felt charged. None of them said a word, and yet they were fully aware of each other’s presence.
lmk if you would like to be tagged and have your age in bio!
I know i disappeared a hot minute ago and never finished my batb au, but due to lots of personal things in my life i lost a bit of motivation and had a huge writer’s block, i wrote a few things but it didn’t feel right. my mind is in a better place now and i wanna introduce a snippet or at least the first chapter of something that i’ve been working on and trying to write for a while.
For a bit of context its a cowboy migs fic, but with a twist of it being during the 1920s.
I should be posting this by tonight or tomorrow, and when i do i hope you guys can give some ideas as to what to add to chapter 2, ideas for the story, and even some constructive criticism and whatnot. Also, in the spirit of october, this will be quite the slow burn and smutty story that i have in mind !!
Please look foward to: Of Liquor and Speakeasies !!
credit to: @mar_mar0u on Instagram/ @/marmar0u on X and Tumblr!
✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭
✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: cat and mouse chase? more like a cat and spider chase…
✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader and miguel have an established relationship, suggestive comments? miguel being a complete flirt, the reader being fed-up, make-out session? flirty interactions, soft smut, miguel is uncircumcised, soft dom miguel, reader is a little assertive in bed, dick-grabbing (?), and this is hella cheesy (idc I had fun)
✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: >1k words
✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: my doing 😛 (my indecisive ass CANNOT) this took forever to work on as my ass got too indecisive on how to write it and how to execute it
to my cat owners, tell your cat I said: psst, psst. 🐈⬛🩵 (specifically to the cat that lives on my campus)
𝒀𝑶𝑼’𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 𝑰𝑵 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑼𝑰𝑺𝑬
º・🤍 º.▫︎º・
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to mess with you whenever he has the chance. He would do ridiculous burglaries to get your attention. He is like a cat running to chase a laser point to catch it but fails every time. But when you see him, he always gets away… He would break into a pet store to free the cats, to get your attention.
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 would find ways to flirt with you, no matter how innocent it sounds or how sexual it is. And do you like it? A little too much. The pickup lines got cleverer every time you ran into him.
“You're the only woman who turns my world upset down.” He sneers, hanging upside down on a lamppost with your webbing around his ankle.
“Uh-huh…” You huffed out, not paying attention to him.
“You got my blood rushing, and I'm not talking about my head. It's going to my dick—”
“Okay, enough.”
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 is like a stray cat whenever he comes into your apartment. This man would crawl into your apartment and start with his late night “𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝒁𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺” with you.
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who makes biscuits on your blankets and pillows half-asleep, somehow ripping your blankets. Because of this, he would buy you new blankets every other week, going into different stores to not see the same workers every other week.
He becomes domesticated—
When you're not home, he washes your new blankets with your favorite laundry detergent and always leaves a rose on your bed, no matter what. The thorns are always snipped off. He doesn't want you to cut your pretty fingers :(
(As a bonus, he trims the thorns with his claws.)
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 make sure that you get home safely. Every night, between 9:30 and 10:15, he stands on the roof of a building across from your apartment, waiting to see your window light up with that familiar warm light.
A sigh of relief escapes his lungs when he sees you enter your apartment after returning from your high-demanding job as a photographer (and New York’s superhero).
Seeing you drop your bags and remove your sweater was a good indicator for him that you were ready to settle for the night. Especially when it's a weekday.
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves long nights with nothing but intimacy, especially after you had a long night. The sensation of being free from his suit while being bare in bed with you brings serotonin to him, enjoying the soft touches and caresses. The touches slowly evolve into gropes, to the point where he is on top of you, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and temple.
He loves holding you close while slowly stroking his length against your puffy clit, enjoying the hood of skin stroking the vein on his length. The slow rub is enough to pent you up, enough for you to grab his length gently and pull him closer to your entrance. Seeing you tug at it, he chuckles, guiding him closer to your gummy walls.
"Seems like you know what you're doing, sweetheart. Go on, it's yours."
Between the gentle pinch of your thumb and pointer, you gently pinch at his foreskin, pulling it down to see the familiar mauve tip you love to see when he's pent up. You again pull at his length with such vigor, finally inviting the bulbous tip into your soft, warm, gummy walls. "No foreplay?" He quips before he feeds your needy pussy more of his length, slowly and gently. Your fingernails rake down his back like a rake gathering leaves in a yard. When he bottoms out, a breathy moan escapes from deep in his chest cavity, a groan that pleads to be let out from such pent-up stress and frustration.
"Home sweet home," He sighs, grinding his aching tip against your g-spot. You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary commentary, wanting this man to shut up. But the unexpected thrust sent you into heaven and back to earth, grasping onto your bedsheets as if it would anchor you down from the heavenly sensation while a guttural moan escapes.
"Good, good. You're doing so good." He croons while slowly pulling out and thrusting his length back in, grasping onto the fat of your hips, allowing his claws to sink into your soft skin while keeping up the same smooth pace. The sight of your soft breasts rippling against his thrusts awakened something in him, allowing him to eagerly take your nipple in between his teeth, allowing his canines to graze against the sensitive bud every other second.
But he always lets you finish first, no matter how long it takes for you to finish. It could be an hour, and he's not going to stop until he wants you to squirt on his cock, soaking both of y'all and the fitted bedsheets. But it can sometimes get the man pussy whipped, literally.
Groans slowly turn into mewls and resort to sloppy, makeout sessions with you, wanting to block the sounds he was producing. In between kisses, he whispers in between the kisses and breaths soft praises while he gently strokes his cock, yearning to be indulged in your warmth. The usual stoic expression wipes away like a spill off a kitchen counter, changing into a lolled expression, seeing your chest rise and fall rapidly. But the moments while you finish, he accompanies you, holding you close to his chest, muffled groans against his skin.
"Good job, sweetheart. We did it."
𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to cuddle with you after. This man loves sleeping on your bed while you play with his hair. He groans from the back of his throat, mimicking the sound of a cat purring. The vibrations return to you, creating a funny feel against your skin.
He denies and denies that he purrs, but the vibrations from his groans don't help his case.
He yaps in his sleep, too. He mumbles, barely coherent nonsense.
But you don't mind it as he sleeps like a dog (cat) on the floor.
Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3
pt. 7
A/n: Hey y’all! Just a quick apology for such a long update, just came back from a relaxing vacay n as soon as I got off the plane back home, I started writing cuz the creative juices were juicing <3 Anyways, enjoy <333 Hopefully this serves as a good apology ;)
4 exams down, 3 more to go. The finish line of the semester was so close yet so far. Not gonna lie, your sanity was hanging on by a rope, your strongest and only support system being one person. He was the most sweetest, smartest, and respectful person you have ever had the blessing of meeting. It may not have been in the most conventional (or convenient) of ways, but still, it couldn’t have felt more like the storybook that you wanted and dreamed your life would be. Amidst your academic tribulations, he made you feel like royalty.
Even now, as you wait in the library and your phone goes off with a notification from Miguel, whom you had referred to as ‘Professor O’Hara’ only just a few months ago, you are still in dreamland with the fact that you were—
Well, at this point, you two haven’t quite fleshed out the label of y’all’s relationship just yet, but for now, you tell yourself that you two are talking. So yes, even now, you truly can’t believe that you are talking with your adorable professor.
You mentally take note that this will be a conversation that you two will have to have in the near future.
Your attention is now on your phone, reading a message under the contact name ‘Mig 🤓’.
“We ended earlier than planned. Headed over there now❤️”
You smile at the message, already typing a response up.
The night he told you about his late daughter was almost a week ago, and since then, y’all have set aside a day to go to the public library. You both agreed that it was nice, quality time, and wanted to do something like that again; just talking, being with each other, and forget about school for a while. Plus, exams have sort of kept yall apart for the past week, so it was very much needed.
Now you wait at the library where you and Miguel agreed to meet at after he finishes a recitation he had to substitute for.
‘ “Ended earlier than planned” ??? You’re not slick, DID YOU END CLASS EARLIER TO COME HERE???’
‘No, of course not, I would never do that.’
…
‘But maybe.’
‘Uhuh... See you soon <3’
‘See you soon, mamita ❤️😘.’
With a content hum, you put down your phone and turn your face toward the quiet buzz of people reading, chatting over coffee, and studying. Even though it's been months since knowing Miguel, you still feel jitters when about to see him. You can't help it. Everything about him makes you nervous in the best possible way. From how his smile lines crease, how that one little curl falls on his face, how he always speaks to you with a slight pout, the way his sweater vests hug around his full chest and soft tummy, all the way to how he looks at you like you’re his muse. You couldn't stop smiling just thinking about him. And to think, everyone in class just thought he was a total killjoy; backs straighten and all conversations cease when he enters the room. If only they knew the real him, but a part of you is glad you're the only one to see it.
Just a couple of blocks down, Miguel is gathering his things, excited to meet up with you. As he sharply nods to the last few students leaving the room, wishing them a good Summer break and luck on their finals, his expression becomes soft as he thinks of you. Quickly, once he has the room to himself, he takes a minute to put on one or two sprays of his best cologne, fix his hair, and remove his tie. He knew how much you liked it when he wore his button-ups like this; a few left unopened at the top. He felt ridiculous, but you always commented on it, and then it would make Miguel feel good.
That was another thing; since seeing you, Miguel's confidence has so so so improved. He did, however, take a glance over at his cardigan that hung on the back of his swivel chair and contemplated wearing it. It used to be his safety net; an effort to try and hide his soft figure, but that was old Miguel. New Miguel wanted to impress you and, even though he’d never admit it, would try to get the most compliments out of you. Despite feeling like he let himself go, you made him feel like he was a total knock-out, which never failed to make his cheeks grow darker, and he plans to return the favor for however long you’ll have him.
Miguel arrives, scanning the enormous room for you, a bright, colorful speck among the sea of dark-colored apparel. You wore an outfit he had bought you during the semester. He’s indifferent when looking for you, but when he spots you, his lips curled just slightly, the crows feet of his face creasing. He glides across the room, but any faster, he’d be running. He tries to act collected, but you both know he’s ecstatic to see you.
"Hey mama," He stands before you, holding out your hands as if to exhibit an art piece, "You look beautiful today, as always”. His eyes graze over every single inch of you, up and down. There’s something sexy about seeing you in something he bought you, even if it wasn’t all that exposing. You go in for a hug, acting as if you haven’t seen him in weeks (You both see each other in the hallways like every day, y'all just haven't been able to be with each other in a minute).
You smile against his broad chest, "Thanks, cutie, and you look handsome, as per usual.” You give his thick torso a soft run down with your hands. Miguel looks around bashfully, even though no one is paying attention. Physical touch came easy for him when you two were alone, but in public? That’s another story.
You look up to see his wandering eyes fall back on you. “I’ve missed you,” you shift all your weight onto him, holding onto his waist like a koala bear on a tree. You get on your tip toes to reach his cheek, pressing a kiss there, “mwah! so much.” The simple gesture was enough to turn Miguel into a mess. It takes everything in him not to completely smother you out in the open, but would rather save that for when there’s privacy.
Miguel holds you as if you were a porcelain doll. Something rose in his chest, call it pride; Proud to show off the gorgeous woman in his arms. "I missed you more." He says softly.
"So? How was the class?" you hold onto his hand while looking for a place to live in for the afternoon.
Miguel looks as well and spots a vacant, quiet little corner of the library, one that sits almost separate from the rest of the crowd. He gives your hand a small tug, motioning for it. "It was actually quite nice. The students were pretty engaged for it being an 8AM... I dunno, I might pick it up next semester." He sets his bag down before grabbing you a chair for you to sit on, as well as a cushion for you to lay your back on. He grabs a stool for himself once he sees you're comfortable and sat.
You give his forearm a caress, a small act of encouragement, "Well, I think you should. You're so good at what you do. Trust me, I should know." you give him a smirk, making him crack a smile.
"Which reminds me, you feel good for tomorrow? 'cuz if you're needing review for anything, we could go over it right now-" You place a hand on his arm, "Mig! I'm fine! I feel completely fine. Besides, I've tutored over a dozen people, I pretty much know the material like the back of my hand. Please, relax, you need it."
Miguel sits back now, "But if you change your mind, you'll let me know, right?" You nod, and Miguel relaxes at last. He sees the book you pull out and reads the spine of it. Wuthering Heights. It’s one of Miguel’s personal faves. He looks forward to seeing your small reactions once you get toward the end. It was endearing the way you reacted to what you read, let it be a faint widening of your eyes or a small gasp. He also loved watching your concentrated face. He thinks back to all those lectures he spent watching you take your color-coordinated notes in his class, your glossed lips pursed and your eyebrows faintly knitted. It never went unnoticed by him. Adorable.
You do a double-take at Miguel's choice of book, not believing what you read the first time. "Jane Austen?" "…Yes?" "You like Jane Austen?" "Yes. " Miguel says this so matter-of-factly, it leaves you kind of in shock. It was a cute surprise. Smiling, you let a puff of air out your nose, shaking your head as you open your book. “What’s so funny?” Miguel smiles, wanting know what you’re thinking now.
“Ugh, I-“, You almost let a certain 3-word phrase slip from your lips, but you stop yourself. “ I… just wasn’t expecting that, is all. Have you read ‘pride and prejudice’?”
“Yeah, loved it. It’s why I’m reading this one.” He looks down at the cover, which, in intricate letters, reads sense and sensibility. Your smile is even wider now that you know the man of your dreams is a fellow Jane Austen fan. “Me, too. Let me know what you think, then.” You softly say, starting on your book. “Of course. By the way, anyone ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” You roll your eyes and nudge him, making him chuckle in his throat. Although Miguel’s humor wasn’t exactly the most original, his sass takes the cake, and you love it. Feeling romantic, Miguel leans over and kisses your cheek once, twice, then gently brings your lips to his by your chin to plant a third kiss.
After finally quenching his need for your kisses, he settles in his spot and reaches for your hand, which you grab instinctively. Like always, his thumb caresses across your knuckles, and you both fall into a peaceful silence, transporting to your individual worlds within your books.
<3
The time in the library is nothing short of peaceful and fun. The first while of reading, Miguel would get up to use the restroom, but on his way back, he would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee for you and himself. A little later, you’d get up as well, but not for the restroom, but to grab him a treat, as well as for yourself. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he sees you walk back with them in your hands. He always did have a sweet tooth.
For the rest of the time, you’ll reach over occasionally to push his glasses back up his nose, or sometimes, without looking up from his book, he’ll simply pull your hand up to his lips, and press a butterfly kiss there, the faint smack of the peck making your heart skip a beat. And he doesn’t just do it once, he has to do this every so often because he just can’t resist; the man needs to feel you like as if you’ll disappear out of nowhere.
And you don’t notice, but every now and then, Miguel looks over at you, just admiring. He watches how your eyes inch deeper into the pages as you soak in the language. He can stay like this forever. Reading books with you while you hold hands. For a second, he feels the bottom of his stomach drop because he knows the day will have to end, and he’ll have to go back to class tomorrow, as do you. Sure, you’ll both be in the classroom, but you’ll have to pretend. Miguel was growing tired of the game. He then thinks about how near Summer is, and if he’ll see you then. Not as your professor, but as someone who deeply cares about you.
He’s already making plans on the possible trips you two could make. Maybe spend two weeks in Italy, or maybe just simple weekend roadtrips to nearby, quaint towns. He’s thinking about taking you to only the nicest, fanciest places in Nueva York.
Guiltily, his mind wanders into trips to the bedroom. How he’d love to take care of you and make sure you felt loved. Above all, your pleasure would be his. Oh, how he’d worship you like the goddess you were because dammit, you are one, and to this day, he’s still unsure how he scored you. How he, the intimidating, quiet giant, won an ethereal princess like you. He sort of smiled to himself as he realized:
Gabriella’s favorite bedtime story was becoming his life right before his eyes.
And like many times before, Miguel’s mind wanders even more. He’s thinking of the wedding, the honeymoon and the endless amount of rounds, the baby shower… having a kid with you. He’s fully aware of how crazy it is to think about so soon, but at the same time, it feels so right. With you, it does.
Your caring, attentive nature, sweetness, cleverness, patience, and drive, they were all qualities of someone he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. Your desire to better yourself and hunger for knowledge is evident in the fact that you’ve worked toward your masters. Your softness that had so remarkably torn down his walls. And of course, there was your unmistakable beauty, but that’s just a bonus!
As he continues to watch you read, your hand lovingly locked with his, he realizes his feelings are no longer casual, no. Miguel’s breath hitches when a realization dawns on him. Rather than a ton of bricks, it feels like a weight lifted off his stiffened shoulders.
He looks at you, and he feels what could only be described as true, total, and complete love.
“‘Scuse me, sir.” Miguel snaps toward the low voice, “Library’s closing in 10 minutes.”
These hushed words sweep your attention from the book in your hands, your face falling in small dismay. You both look at each other, Miguel giving you a shrug that conveys ‘it is what it is’.
“Aw man, I got so caught up in reading, I feel like we didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to.” Miguel is gathering both of yalls things, leaving your hand for last. You grab his, and you both begin to head out, the swarm of people that was here before gone. “We can still talk if you’d like. We can go to my office?” You nod gingerly.
“Then c’mon, let’s go.” Without asking, he grabs your bag from you and slings his and yours onto his shoulder, and you both leave hand in hand.
<3
After braving the storm that seemed to come out of nowhere outside, Miguel lets you into his office first, closing the door behind you two. The campus was dimly lit, only housing a few students who were doing some late-night studying. Hopefully, no one saw you two shuffling toward his classroom.
You look around his office, and for the first time, if feels new. It’s somewhat dark, the storm outside supplying the only light in the room. You’ve been in here countless of times, helping Miguel out with class work or tutoring, so it shouldn’t feel any different, yet, it does. Maybe it’s because every time you’re in here, you’ve never got the chance to really look at it. You’re always in and out. And if y’all weren’t in here, you were sitting in the lecture hall just outside the office door. Now that the fluorescent lights are off, you realize just how clinical they made it feel in here.
Miguel observes how you look along his walls where a multitude of diplomas hang. He thinks about saying something, but doesn’t want to interrupt; instead, he allows you to examine his space, finding it charming. It’s like he’s letting you in on his life. He pretends to busy himself with something else, leaving you to explore. Which is fine, really. You two have fallen into many comfortable silences before.
Then you move onto his shelf, filled with nothing but books and maybe one picture frame, but you’re not sure. It’s laid flat on the shelf. You go away from it for a second, going back to the spines, reading them off in your head. Some DNA encyclopedias, anatomy studies, Genetic Theory… ah, here we go. Leroux, Fitzgerald, Verne… is that Shelley? Atwood? Woolf? Plath?! Then, of course, there’s Beauty and The Beast. You pause there for a second, remembering Miguel’s most cherished memories that are tied to this story. Some more Jane Austen… oh, and look, Wuthering Heights!
“You’re more than welcome to take any of those. What’s mine is yours.” He sits on the couch that sits along the wall of his office, laying back with his arm laid across the frame of it. You pull out Wuthering Heights and walk towards him, “What’d you think of this one?” You go to take a seat next to him, nuzzling against his side, your head at its assigned spot on his shoulder. “Nice try, sweetie, but don’t wanna spoil it. Though I will say, it’s really good.” his face brightens along with yours, “I think you’ll like it. Brace yourself for the ending, though.” His arm wraps around you now, his thumb making small circles on your shoulder like he usually does.
“How about Miss Austen?” You put the book on a small table beside the couch. Miguel thinks about it for a second. “She’s got this sort of sarcastic wit that I can really get behind. But in all seriousness, her social commentary is brilliant. Still applies to this day, in some ways. And her style, wow…” You can see Miguel get lost in his thoughts, his emotions having their rare time in the limelight as he proceeds to list off Jane Austen’s wonderful writing attributes. It felt so good to see him like this. To be able to get him talking like this was a big win in your book.
“…Just overall, I’m a total fan now.” He nods, looking over at your dazzling eyes. “No, no, keep going.” You urge him, overcome with adoration. Miguel smiles at the floor, shaking his head. “I can listen to you talk all day, honestly.” He looks off into the office still smiling bashfully, away from your revering gaze. “D’aw, don’t be so shy, I love listening to your voice. It’s so soothing, Mig.”
“You’re… stealing my lines.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest while you taunt him with a giggle of your own. In an effort to quiet you and from flustering him further, he envelopes you with his arms, you reaching for his neck simultaneously, and you both meet in the middle with a kiss so sweet, it could develop diabetes. With your lips locked, he grabs your thigh and swings it over his hips, his soft stomach taut against yours. You both smile against each other’s lips, soft laughs in tune with the rain the hits the against walls outside.
Little by little, Miguel’s small chuckles turn into soft groans, his breath becoming labored. His hands venture up under your top, fingers ghosting the skin above the waistband of your skirt. You taste of… cherry lip gloss. His favorite taste, and in the past couple of weeks, he’s grown addicted to it. As a matter of fact, he’s become so addicted that he tends to bite and pull at your bottom lip, a gesture that never failed to leave you weak in the knees.
The hungry tug of your lip evoked a small whine from your throat, unleashing something in Miguel. Carefully, he laid you on the couch, your bodies entangling in languid unison with your tongues. The feeling of all of Miguel’s weight on you set a flame off within you, his length pressing along your dampened heat each time he dug his hips. You wanted it, and bad. Needed it like your life depended on it, but your conscious was screaming at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t ignore it.
“M-mig, w-wait.” You manage to breathe out, the heart between your legs unable to agree with the brain in your head. You hated stopping where things were headed, but you had reason.
Miguel’s head shot up from your neck where it was planting hickies on. “Are you okay? You wanna stop?” He’s already sitting up, removing himself from your legs, “Mama, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, want me to take you home? If you want to, I can take you-“ Miguel was so worried, he’d rather die than you feel taken advantage of. “Miguel! It’s okay, I’m fine!” You reassure him softly, sitting up as well to keep him seated. “Trust me, I wanted this, too. It’s not you at all. I just…” you grab his hand, thinking of your next words. Your shoulders droop from what you’re about to say. Miguel looks at you with a soft expression, ready to be here for you in any way.
“Look, we both know we shouldn’t even be here, and not just in this office, I mean being together period. And what worries me the most is not even the fact that we could get caught, but the possibility that maybe you’ll…” Miguel motions for eye contact when he sees you retreating to the floor. “Mamita, tell me, please. Dime que quieres. Nothing you say can upset me or change the way I think of you. Nothing.”
“I just don’t want you to think that I’m only in this for the wrong reasons.” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion. How could he possibly think you’re using him? “Sweetie, why would I…” And it clicked just as fast as he began speaking. “Oh. Oh.” Miguel seemed to be going deep into thought. You were scared that maybe you had said something wrong.
“Miguel, please understand that I care about you so so so much, and because I do, I don’t want us to be intimate with each other until the school year is completely over.” You’d thought things through since becoming romantic with Miguel, and the thought that If y’all had sex, there would’ve been the risks of people finding out, you losing your eligibility for a degree that you were one exam away from obtaining, or worse, Miguel losing his job as professor and probably being blacklisted for the rest of his life. A very small part of it was also that you didn’t want your score on his exam to be affected in any which way. There was simply too many downsides.
He looks back up at you, not a trace of judgment nor anger on his face. “Mama, you don’t have to explain yourself. The ball is in your field. Whatever you want or need, I’m right there with you. Don’t ever feel bad for what you want, okay?” Your lips curl in relief, and you nod slowly. He brings his hand to your face, allowing you to lean into his touch. “And to be honest, I couldn’t agree more. But even after classes end, even then our speed is still up to you. I’m not ready to take things further until you are.”
How lucky am I to have someone like him? I’m not entirely sure who’s up there or who to thank exactly, but oh my goodness, thank you for giving me this perfect man sitting before me.
“You mean it? I mean, you’re not disappointed or anything?” Miguel shakes his head. “Not even for a second.” Filled with joy, and almost knocking him over, you embrace him.
“We could just stay in here and chat. Would you like that?” He speaks softly against your hair. “I would love that.”
<3
Miguel and you lay on the couch (which fits you just fine, but Miguel’s feet were borderline hanging off the end), Miguel the big spoon, and you the little one. Your head lays against the decorative pillow while he props his on his hand.
“Did you always wanted to be a teacher?” Your gaze falls softly on the wall across from you, your eyes traveling along the diplomas.
“Well, when I was little, I did. I loved science and there was this one teacher I had… she was the best. Wanted to be just like her. But…” Miguel breathes out. You can feel his stomach tense up against your back, prompting you to turn your head towards him. “Y’know… um… I didn’t always teach.”
Miguel would go on to tell you how the past five years has looked for him. He began with a rather heavy start; a freak accident in his work as a geneticist. He’d then recount his days as a hero, proceeding to show you his long-retired claws. You listened intently, with an open mind, following along to his story of how he got involved with the multiverse, and what that term entails. He explained how the world was connected to other worlds; a prodigious tree of universes. It was how he lost his daughter. He revealed the tragic story to you finally, after withholding it that first night he told you about her in the school library. He recollected a few more memories that would eventually lead to his decision to hang up his hat as Spider-Man, finding refuge in becoming a science professor; an old dream he had abandoned so many years ago.
“And since then, I’ve been… okay. Better than before, for sure. I’m satisfied here, truly.” You say there, processing everything he had shared with you. “I know that was a lot, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I could share this with you.” You nod, trying to think of what to say because silence just wouldn’t suffice, not for you. “I…” you began, your voice low and soft, “And are you happy?”
Miguel is taken aback by the question. Even after every he’s said…the man just got done telling you he has fangs and red pupils and that he traveled across dimensions for a living, and this is your first question? If he’s happy? He told you a story that could possibly have the fbi sent to his door with just one call, but you’re more interested in his wellbeing? He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you.
Miguel lets out a sharp breath; a chuckle, as his eyes narrow at you. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your lips reflect his small smile, “What?! I wanna know, after everything, are you happy in life?” You repeat the question with utmost genuineness in your tone.
With the answer as obvious to him as the formulas he taught in his class, Miguel simply leans in, hand on the back of your head, and kisses you, then pulling back by just an inch, he speaks softly,
“Now that you’re here, I am.”
A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed it <3 Shoutout to @pomakori for sending this photo in, I absolutely loved it and had to include it in this chapter cuz it’s so them coded !!!
(Like ❓❓ this is so them‼️ n u can’t change my mind‼️)
Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m a lil worried about how long it might be, so sorry if I yapped too much on this one 🫶 I just love n care abt him sm, ur honor🥹
I don’t like doing this, but I just wanted to write a very gentle reminder <3 about reader etiquette.
Sending in asks for more parts of a fic is a no no.
Recently, I’ve been receiving multiple asks that demand more parts of one of my fics. I am not mad!!! Far from from it!!! It’s just that… rather than encouraging (which I’m assuming is the intent), it feels sort of discouraging than anything. Writing is something I love to do and do for my own enjoyment, and sharing it with you all is pretty vulnerable already, so when people send in asks, not to just to me but to authors in general, asking “Where is part ()⁉️⁉️”, it feels like unnecessary pressure, and worse, it feels invasive, to a certain extent. Writing is something that is created naturally; over time. It is not something to be rushed. We are not robots. Authors aren’t even obligated to give you more parts, so please realize that that is a privilege when we do. For free.
Instead of sending in asks, you know how you’ll get that next part sooner? Likes, as well as reblogging, and commenting!!!!! Preferably reblogs and comments!!!! I can’t stress this enough!!! And when an author does give you more parts (that took time and effort), show your gratitude in the same ways listed above!!! Not in the ask box!!!!!!!
This feels way more appreciative and genuine. When we receive those reblogs and comments, we feel much more compelled and willing to write! The ask box does… the opposite. With that being said, you can still use the ask box if what you’re sending is a, “wow, part () was so good! Keep up the good work!” Or alike, then yes! This is good!!!
Please, we ask you as readers to not send in asks like “Where’s part ()?” or “I need part ().”. The ask box is for questions, concerns, requests (if open), and/or compliments, and nothing else.
to any of my followers, due to recent circumstances, I will have to start have checking with people's bios to identify if you are a minor or not, if you don't have 18 or older in your bio you will be blocked.
many of my friends/moots have been struggling with this and have been blocking minors left and right. My BATB AU may be on the more fluff side, but that doesn't mean that I want minors to interact with my content.
I will be writing smuttier fics in the future and i don't want to be responsible for exposing a minor to adult content
To those who are 18+ and still following me, I'm sorry for the delay and ty for waiting for the final chapter of Tale as Old as Time to be released, I am currently on my finals week and a chapter will be coming as soon as I finish all of my finals.
My next few projects will be a bit historical period related, therefore i hope you guys look forward to it soon !!
Miguel with a chubby gf wit a cute lil muffin top😔🤞
Miguel would love when you wear basically anything, especially when it hugs your soft curves ever so tightly. The way when you walk infront of him your hips sway with every step making him hypnotized, the way your plump lips look like with gloss covered, the way you bend down, you see him trying to discreetly look at your cleavage but he isn’t exactly good at hiding. When you two are sprawled out on the couch he loves to grab the fat of your ass and kneed it unknowingly.
“Mami has anyone ever told you..that this ass is mine yeah?” He says jokingly as he smacks your ass watching it in satisfaction as it jiggles, he looks at your face and watches you playfully scoff.
And don’t get me started on when you get dress for dates. He is over the line obsessed on how your body looks in tight clothes, the way your muffin top pokes out in tops and your stretch marks plastered on your hips, it’s all so sexy to him.
the way your ass look in any type of skirts or pants. It can be the small things too that get him all riled up. One time you went to bed wearing one of Miguel’s old tee-shirt with an old rock band printed on it, when you two woke up he was making breakfast in the kitchen. You walk inside the kitchen with the smell of bacon instantly hitting your nose. You see Miguel glare at you before sighing. You think maybe something was up with him, maybe a bad sleep even. But you didn’t notice that his thick cock hardened in his boxers at the plain sight of you wearing his shirt only.
Here’s to my taglist🥂: @monstera02 @moon-rivr @lazyjellyfish300 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @chiwhorei @blahblahblahbluesblog
