Hello everyone! I have an important message that I would like to share.
Recently, it has been brought to my attention that the last chapter of Gym Rat Miguel has upset a few people and not in a way that I intended.
Of course, there are a lot of you who read the story and enjoy it. I have also had one (1) criticism that was misplaced because that person didn't comprehend the words on the page thoroughly. However, this critique is new and I want to address it before it grows into something more.
Not going to @ anyone, but there are people who believe that I am demonizing Xina Kwan and, from what I assume, making her out to be a villain solely because she is Asian.
My god today, this could not be FURTHER from the truth.
I'll be completely honest about some things:
No, I have never read the Spiderman 2099 comics thoroughly. I am vaguely aware of what happens in it because I wanted to know more about the original Miguel character.
I don't have an anime body pillow of Miguel. đ I know you typed that for dramatics, but it was like WOAH, ya know? I would like that really nice figure of him though. It's very beautiful.
I don't know what Xina is like in the comics, I just know that Miguel fucked up majorly when he cheated on her. Unfortunately, skimming through the summaries of comics is how I found out he was a CHEATERRRR! My heart sank.
That being said, I never wanted my writing or characterization of her to come off as if I was demonizing her, especially for her race, something with which I am VERY FAMILIAR WITH AS A BLACK PERSON.
Usually, for this story, I just write on a whim and write as I go. A lot of the characterization, stories, and actions I write are based on real people that I interact with and real events that I go through. For this arc that will include Xina, I literally planned out and brainstormed several things. I have charts, blurb, bulletpoints, etc. And SPOILER FOR WHOEVER IS READING I GUESS, you will eventually see that there is a reason that Xina does the things that she does IN THIS STORY. Not in the comic, not in a fanfic about her, not in a story that's even about her but in a FICTIONAL STORY. A FANFICITON.
If you actually read the story, you would see that even if others talk badly about or criticize Xina, Miguel is careful and calm with the way he speaks of her. He talks to her with care, he watches her with care, he's careful around her. Even as reader becomes upset when she is first introduced to her, he defends her because he knows that she is kind based on his many years of being her friend.
Xina's character WITHIN THIS STORY could have been easily replaced with Dana or Jess or Tempest or Lyla because it's not a role that is specific to race. However, because it is Xina that I chose to put into this role, I'm going to be responsible.
I've seen the comments on the story and initially I did react with laughter because I know what I have planned for my story, and the readers don't. Not because I'm stirring up some convoluted scheme to make Miguel enjoyers hate Xina.
Lastly,
If it's about me, @ me so I can see it.
Y'all have not only subbed me, you've also blocked me, Even if I wanted to have a proper conversation and possibly learn something, I can't even do that y'all are chatting behind walls. And you can say that I'm Black, btw. No one is going to jump you for that.
If I have ever offended any person of color with my words, I would love for y'all to actually say something to me about it. I don't play about that and if there's a problem, we can nip it in the bud. Although, as far as I'm concerned, nothing that I've written about Xina has come off as racist or even as dramatic as the comments make it out to be.
No, I do not hate Xina. No, I am not trying demonize her. That's all.
for the last few months, i have been thinking about older miguel. and by older, i mean... grandfather age (i.e. gilf) i got the inspiration mostly from a movie with benjamin bratt i watched too eeek.
this is a little snippet and something unrelated to a whole story i have planned out but i have been eager to post something!
a special thanks to my pookies in the discord server ! especially @bluesidez because this would not have happened if we did not talk about this !
cw: a disclaimer: THIS IS NOT A SUGAR DADDY/SUGAR BABY relationship and THIS IS NOT a dad's best friend situation either (not saying these are bad, just not the dynamics of my story!) just two strangers who fell in love :3, age gap (miguel is 55 and reader is late twenties like 29 to early thirties), fluffy, breakfast in bed, evening cruises, smut, Miguel is a lil freak but he loves reader, oral (f & m receiving), wholesome domestic activities, P in V, unprotected sex (do not do!), miguel being a little introspective, i think that is it !
Sundays are meant for resetting before the week starts. They are meant to prepare your mind and body for the weight of the world that is going to crush you within the next twenty-four hours.
In the OâHara house though, Sundays are meant for lazing around and loving. Through tender touches in the morning, and breakfast in bed, Miguel wants to make sure that you feel loved through and through. In his fifty-five years of life, he has learned all the right ways to keep his partner happy.
When he woke up on this particular Sunday, he saw you sleeping beside him, curled up in the blankets with your hair splayed on the pillow like a halo.
âMy angel..â he whispered, tenderly touching your cheek with his knuckles.
He shuffled downstairs, already deciding how to surprise you. Through apples cut into little turtles, carefully cutting a mango, and making the fluffiest omelet his hands had ever crafted. He smiled at his work before making a mug of green tea for you in the mug he bought for you to have here. Another touch that you were the one he cherished.
His venture back upstairs had him feeling like an old maid, his hands full as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, stopping again to admire you while more sunshine filtered into the room. If he was not holding the tray so tight, everything would have fallen off of it. Carefully, he set the tray down on the nightstand, shaking you awake gently.
âMy sweet angel⊠letâs wake up, hmm?â He cooed, watching as your eyes fluttered open, your long lashes touching against your browbone.
You rubbed your eyes, the smell of breakfast causing you to wake up a little faster as you reached for the plate, âThank you so much. You didnât hav-â Miguel cut you off by placing a mango chunk against your lips, shaking his head.
Oh, how he loved you so.
The morning passed with lazy kisses and snuggles before he stretched, releasing a loud groan as he did so, the paper he was reading in bed tossed somewhere on the bedroom floor. He knew that you both had to do at least something so he encouraged you to get out of bed with him. Both of you got ready and the whole time, he was admiring you. He watched how you curled your lashes, and how your mouth hung open while you applied your mascara. He did not think you needed any cosmetics but he loved how makeup brought you joy. He buttoned up his shirt, thankful for this moment with you before he planted a kiss on your lips, holding onto your waist as you both walked out of your joint bathroom.
The middle of the afternoon called for grocery shopping. Grocery shopping with you was something he never thought he would enjoy. Seeing your eyes sparkle as you picked up a new type of jam or exclaimed your excitement for raspberries being on sale, made his heart soar. He followed behind you or either had his hand resting on your lower back, comfortable with the minimal display of affection. Together, even the simplest of tasks felt like the most romantic.
Hours passed and when you were about to fall onto the couch, craving a morsel of quiet, Miguel jingled his keys from the opposite side of the apartment. The little sound of metal making your heart flutter. It was time for the weekly ritual.
Miguel escorted you out to the Cadillac convertible that you both loved dearly. Every Sunday night, he took you for a drive. It never got old. In fact, the first time he took you out on a drive, he realized that he loved you the first time. His right hand was placed on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. Miguelâs eyes could barely focus on the road ahead, blinded by your grace as the wind blew your hair back. He could not tell what was brighter- your smile or the sun.
Music filled the silence between you, him, and the world that moved by you while he drove. He still felt nervous around you, after all this time. He would still think he was not good enough for you or that you did not actually love him. But whenever he looked at you, he knew that he was just in his head. He saw how you looked at him and how you would be the person to fill his heart again.
When he pulled up to a stop light, he pushed his sunglasses back up over his nose bump, letting out a contented sigh.
âI am bewitched by you.â He gave a suave smile, causing you to laugh.
âBewitched? That is a very strong word.â You shrugged, mildly caught off guard by his seemingly passionate declaration. He just looked at you and shook his head, turning up the music as a signal he had nothing else to say.
When the two of you pulled back into the parking area of your home, he looked over at you, his glasses pushed up to keep his hair back.
 âMama,â he started, âYou bewitch me. I am madly in love with you. More than you ever will know. And I need to express this to you more. You make me feel like a.. a.. you make me feel whole.â He managed to get out, his palms sweaty. Even though heâs spoken more heartfelt words to you in the past, this time just felt like he was doing it all over again. And when you kissed him and wrapped your arms around his neck, oh, he felt like he did the first time you and him kissed.
Miguel could not contain himself by the time you both got inside. His hands ran up your body, shedding off your little brown sundress, the buttons falling onto the floor.
âThat was a vintage piece!â You exclaimed, and he just rolled his eyes and kissed down your bare neck, nipping at the gold necklace he had purchased for you shortly after becoming a couple.Â
He lifted you with ease, carrying you to your shared bedroom. You stripped down the rest of the way before he lifted you, gently setting you down on the bed before he undressed himself. Your eyes admired every inch of his exposed body, a sense of pride and love rushing through you. You watched as he sunk down onto his knees, taking off your kitten heels and kissing up your ankles to your lower thighs. The last sun rays were filtering in, mixing in with the bedside lamp you had left on earlier before you both went out, making his skin glow.
He looked up at you with warm eyes as he spread your thighs apart, not caring his knees were going to be aching by the time he was finished with you. He rested his head against your thigh, arms hooking around you and pulling your hips closer. His tongue traced up the center of your pussy, his eyes closing as through each taste of you, the more he got lost in his head. His mouth worked slowly and skillfully, his fingers now spreading you apart to give him better access. He spit against you, relishing in the sound of your gasp before he let his tongue savor you again. Your thighs clamped against the sides of his head while you ran your fingers through his hair. Your back arched off the bed before he shifted, sucking against your clit and using the hand that was spreading you open for him to press down on your stomach to hold you in place.
His lips shined with your slick as he pulled away, admiring your spent state. You motioned for him to come onto the bed, scooting up. The bed dipped slightly from his weight joining you, his knees digging into the mattress. He adjusted the pillows behind you, making sure you were comfortable before you moved onto your knees in front of him, eyes focused on his thick cock.
âYou are so pretty.. and you treat me like a queen..â You trailed off, taking him into your mouth. Miguel gasped, his head leaning back as he basked in the feeling.
âMmm.. fuck. Just like that, oh.. right there, you feel so amazing.â He whined, his hands holding onto your head gently. His hips moved forward and he nearly came when he felt you match his rhythm, your nose now pressed into the thick patch of hair on his groin, your eyes looking right up at him. He felt his heart pound in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut before you pulled away from him, leaving him to chase his high.
With a chuckle, he pressed you against the bed, his fingers slipping inside you briefly to prepare you. He replaced his fingers with his cock, a slew of obscenities leaving his lips as his hips met yours. His thrusts were slow and passionate, his fingers lacing with yours as he leaned forward to press kisses against your breasts before finding your lips. He adjusted, pulling your hips up a little more, allowing him to press into you from a different angle. As his movements got more sloppy, he hit all the right spots for you, your moans echoing off of the walls as the headboard slammed against the wall. He released into you, his hair sticking onto his forehead, his body glowing from sweat.
âYouâre gorgeous.â He whispered, looking down at you, moving hair out of your face before he rested his head against your chest. His eyes closed, whining as he pulled away from you. Both of you basked in the emotions and love, a comfortable silence settling within the space.
Miguel felt love and Miguel knew the love you and him shared was genuine. And now, as he held you close, he could only wait until tomorrow to tell you how beautiful you are to him when he takes his first breath of Monday morning.
Between Two Worlds ~ Loser!Miguel O'Hara x Stripper!Reader (Pt.2)
â Word Count: 3.8k
â Content: You and Miguel get to know each other, once again he gets hard from your lap dances, Dana is Dana, Miguel also tries to make more friends, he also voluntarily gets flashed
â A/N: I was wracking my brain about how I wanted the plot to flow along but we locked in now. Enjoy!
Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry
You paused at the question, stopping your spin around the pole in the private room. Miguel shifts in his seat, knowing that was a personal question.
âYou wanna get deep now, huh?â You laugh, continuing your twirl.
âYou don't have to answer.â He says, âI was just curiousâŠâ
Miguel's only been your regular for a few weeks now. He sees you dance on Tuesdays and on Thursdays, you two discuss your week. It was a light conversation, with no topics that pry into each other's lives. All while you're grinding on him.
âI'm saving up to buy a house.â Miguel wasn't expecting that and you notice his surprised face, âWhat, were you expecting some sob story?â
âNo! Not at all.â
You shrug, âI get it. Buying a house isn't exciting.â
âI think buying a house is admirable. Why a house?â
âTo get away from my family.â
Miguelâs stomach twists, âNot a big family person?â
âI am.â He mentally releases a sigh of relief, âIt's just I like peace and quiet. Can't get that with them breathing down my neck every five minutes.â
You step down from the mini-stage, and he watches you run your hands along your body, starting from your neck, fingertips grazing across your long, silky black hair, over your breasts, passing by your exposed navel before touching your thighs. He gulps, shifting from his erection to focus back on the conversation.
âDo they even know what you do?â
âThey know of my part-time job at the mall. When I go out at night, I tell them I have a nighttime job at an office.â You smirk, âAs you can see, I'm a good liar.â
He chuckles, âYou are.â You strut towards him, turning so your back faces him. His eyes go down to your ass, seeing your plump cheeks in front of him as they grind on his lap. âWhy a house? If you wanted to get away from your family, people usually start with an apartment.â
âThatâs true. But I want a forever home. Some place where I know I'm here for life.â He barely sees your face, but he notices your mind goes elsewhere. Similar to how you looked back at your dressing room a few weeks ago.
âI understand. It's a nice goal to strive for.â
You turn, flashing him a wide smile. âThanks.â
You sit on his lap, rolling your hips as you slide your hands up and down his chest. Miguel clenches his hands to resist the urge to touch you. âNow, Mr. Scientist, why did you become one?â
âA geneticist, you mean?â
âDuh.â You continue to roll your hips at the sensual beat.
âWell, I'm good at it.â He states, âAnd I enjoy it so why not pick a profession you're good at?â
âYou have a point.â You get up on your knees, your breasts completely in his face. Your hands run all over his hair, nails creating scratches along his scalp. Miguel shudders, almost letting out a moan. It doesn't help when you lean against his ear to whisper, âThat means you're smart, right?â
âVery.â
You lock eyes and he darts down to your full lips, wondering if you were going to kiss him again. Instead, you lean back to create some distance and he hides his disappointment. You two haven't done anything further besides the hand job and the kiss. Which was also because of the rule of no sex inside the club. Miguel did think the start ofâŠwhatever they had was going a little fast so he didn't complain.
âI like my men smart.â You state, continuing to trace up and down his chest. He tries not to smile at that, watching you intently. âShows me you're putting that brain to good use.â
âOf course.â
You giggle, getting off of him completely. âTimes up, big guy.â
Miguel stands, not believing how fast time goes when heâs with you. But he hands you your money and watches you tuck it into your bra.
âThanks. For the talk.â
âYou know you don't have to keep thanking me every time we do this.â
âI want to.â
Miguelâs routine was simple. Heâd get up early, around five in the morning, do his daily workout, shower, get dressed to go to work, deal with his coworkers and insufferable boss, before going back home to unwind and do it all over again. Occasionally, heâd spend time with his family and check up on friends. Now, he was doing all of that and seeing you.
The days you two agreed on gave him some wiggle room. He knew if he saw you at the club every night would wear him down. Affect his performance at his job. But he was able to manage. Seeing you made his days better, even if they were worse earlier. When he didnât see you, he was anticipating the time of when he could. Thinking about what conversation topics to bring up. How much money he should pay you this time.
It helped distract the current hell of his life. Because every time he went to work, he had to witness Dana and Tyler together. In front of him.
She's been at the company a lot since the break-up. Almost every day, every hour. Miguel wonders if she works anymore since she spends all her time with Tyler.
Even his coworkers look down on him at the fact he allowed another man to steal his woman. Miguel wanted to explain that he didnât allow it, it just happened. The fact that Dana went to someone else and left him.
âIs there any more coffee?â
Miguel glanced over to see said ex with a mug in her hand. She stood awkwardly beside him, shyly tucking strands of her brown hair behind her ear. He quickly slid his coffee cup away, giving her access to the pot. âGo ahead, itâs still fresh.â
âThanks.â As she poured her coffee, Miguel stood there, watching the liquid slowly fill up halfway. On cue, he handed her exactly four creams and two sugars, muscle memory of his time with her kicking in. âAh, you remembered.â
âItâs easy to.â
Dana shoots him a smile and he doesnât want to admit that it still warmed him up a little inside. âHow have you been?â
Horrible. Miserable. Angry.
âFine. You?â
âIâve been good.â She takes a sip, âIâm glad everythingâs calmed down now.â
Miguel raises an eyebrow, âReally? Whyâs that?â
âYou know, the announcement was a big shock and everyone asking me if Iâm okay-â
âRight.â He pours himself a cup, realizing thereâs not enough coffee to fill it exactly the way he likes. Plus, brewing another pot takes about five minutes. âI can understand how that can be a lot.â
âIâm so glad you do!â She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tries to not focus on the extra heat it gave off. âYou always understood me.â
âAndâŠTyler doesnât?â
âHe does!â Dana goes to correct herself, âIâm also saying you do too.â
âIs that the reason why you're with Tyler instead of me?â
She shakes her head, âNo, Miguel you know why we'reâŠâ Dana rolls her hands as if he knows what she's talking about, âYou got busy with work and you know we barely went anywhere. It was always you and not me.â
âThatâs a lie.â The grip on his mug got tighter, âI thought I treated you well. I took you out. Bought you gifts. You had my full undivided attention.â
âWhen we were together, yes, but not recently. It's like you weren't there.â
Miguel didnât know what to say, his mind going through all the memories theyâd had together. Did he neglect her and didn't know it? He let her know he loved her. And he knew that she knew. Was he mistaken?
âIt's ok.â Dana squeezed his shoulder, âI've moved on now. You should too.â
She thanked him for the coffee, leaving him in the break room to brew another pot. Miguel wants to blame his father, the biological one whose original identity was sprung on him the day Dana broke up with him. Told by his mother, who thought she was doing him a service. Probably would've been better off if he didn't know.
Would that have made a difference? The main thing he could say was his boss stole Dana from him, not his dad.
He didn't want his talk with Dana to ruin his day. He was supposed to have a family dinner later, with his mom and Gabriel. How they've been more intimate since the passing of his other father. The crazy bastard that Miguel thought they were better off without. And were. To a certain degree.
Hence why everyone was quiet at the table, being the only sound filling the dining room were the clinks of forks amongst the plates. His mind raced as he replayed his conversation with Dana, wondering what he should've said to her.
âWow, this pasta is good, mami.â Gabriel broke the ice, Miguel not missing his eye glance in an effort to talk to their mother.
âThank you.â She grins, âI got that recipe from the neighbor down the street and then I put my little spin on it.â Miguel holds in a sigh, his plate looking much better than the conversation. âHow was your day, Gabri?â
âGood! I managed to grab a few clients today.â Gabriel boasts about his freelancing job, quickly darting his head to his brother, before going back to their mother. âAnd yours?â
âPleasant. I've been thinking about doing some redecorating here. Those home improvement shows have been catching up to me.â She laughs with her son while Miguel prefers to be anywhere else right now. Preferably with you. âWhat about yours, Miguel?â
He shoots up at his name and his conversation with Dana returns, âIt was okay. Still busy with that spider project. Saw Dana-â Miguel slips and drops his fork at the mistake.
âYou saw that whore?â
He recognizes the switch in Conchata's tone, âShe's not-â
âWhatever she is, why does she have the right to speak to you? After what she did? And with that man out of all people?â
Gabriel snorts, âRight like Miguelâs boss? Complete gold digger, if you ask me.â Miguel and his mother look at each other, knowing what they know now.
âI'd rather we don't talk about her anymore like it just happened.â
âIt did just happen!â
âItâs been over a month, ma.â Miguel quickly stands up, âItâs over. We should move on.â The words feel foreign when they escape from his lips. Unsure if he wants to do that himself. âThanks for dinner.â
He grabs his jacket, ignoring the protests from his brother and mother while walking out. Miguelâs stomach churns, knowing heâs made a mistake participating in the dinner. How he preferred to seclude himself at his apartment. But he hardly makes it out the door when Gabriel stops him.
âHey, you alright?â
âIâm fine.â
Miguel turns to leave but is stopped by him again, âNo, youâre not. You barely spoke tonight.â
âWhen have I ever spoken that much recently?â
âRightâŠâ Gabriel lets out a nervous laugh. Even he knows the unspoken tension between his older brother and mother. It got worse since the Dana issue but Miguelâs sure itâs been that way since the death of his father.
âI just had a long day.â He says, feeling the complications from his day crashing down on him.
âAnything I can do to help?â
Miguelâs lips flatten, shaking his head. Gabriel takes the hint and finally lets him go.
When he was seeing you twice a week at the club, he also got to know the employees. During your dance on Tuesdays, he often sat at the bar. While he counted twelve dancers, the most notable ones were you, Black Cat, MJ, and Pixie. He watched the patrons request a dance from either one of you, dollar bills rolled up in their hands like they had money to spend.
Surprisingly, he saw Jessica a lot.
He thought it was a coincidence but she primarily hung around the bar, which had a good look at the main club area, the large stage with the pole in the center. Enough to draw a huge crowd and coat the floor in a sea of money. Miguel wondered if he should try to get to know your other coworkers since he was trying to get to know you too. So why not start with the owner?
âWhy decide to own a club?â
Jessica purses her lips at Miguel, âMan, just because Silk told you her life story does not mean you get to know about mine.â
âOh.â He blinks, âWait a minute, how do you know that?â
âYou ask a lot of questions.â She turns to tend to some other customers at the end of the bar while he ponders how many questions heâs asked you. Ben, who was cleaning some glasses, leans over to Miguel.
âShe just had a baby. You wanna see?â
âUh, sure.â He pulls out his phone and shows him a picture of Jess's baby boy. He looked to be a year old, dressed in a bear onesie, practically the spitting image of her. âHeâs adorable.â
âIsnât he?â
âBenny, you better not be showing strangers pictures of my baby.â Jess glares at him, hand on her hip as he quickly puts the phone away.
âMiguelâs not really a stranger, he's been here every week.â
âAnd you think that automatically makes him my best friend?â
Miguel takes a sip of his water, clearing his throat to remind them he's right there. âYou have a cute baby.â
âThanks.â Pride takes over on Jessâ face, âHe came out of me.â
âEven when she was pregnant, I knew she was going to make a cute baby.â Pixie chimed in, practically throwing herself at the bar after finishing another lap dance. The glitter from her brown skin decorating the bar. Miguel saw why that was her stage name due to her pink, pixie haircut. âCan I get some water?â
Ben gave Pixie a wink when Jess came up to her, âNo, you didn't.â
âI did. Silk agreed too. Thatâs why she's my homegirl.â Miguel figured you two were close when he sees the two of you conversing when not performing. Although he's rarely heard you talk about her during the private sessions. Pixie's eyes turn to him as she sips on her water, her dark pink lipstick staining the straw.
âShe's right, you do look like a puppy.â
He looks around, âI'm sorry?â
âSilk. She mentions how adorable you look. Like âJess's babyâ adorable.â
âHeâs a contender,â Jessica adds while pouring shots.
Miguelâs cheeks get dark at the compliment, âD-Does she talk about me?â
âAll the time.â Pixie chuckles, âIt's cute. And you're much better than her other regular.â
âOther regular?â
Jess groans out loud. âDo not bring him up. I am this close to banning his ass.â
âBut you don't because you said he brings in money.â Ben chimes in, clearly knowing his boss so well.
âShe never brings him up,â Miguel states, but why would she? He should've known that other people would want to see you as much as he does.
âFor good reason,â Pixie finishes the rest of her drink before fully facing Miguel, âHe sucks. He gets handsy but not enough to disrespect the rules. And he's rough. I've seen him kinda handle Silk almost like she's a doll.â
His stomach twists at the idea of a man like that being rough with you. The complete opposite of how he would handle you.
âWe have Noir in the room though to make sure he doesnât do too much.â Jess brings up, âBut we end up getting five gâs from it so everybody wins.â
âAnd complimentary drinks.â Pixie grabs a shot with the rest of the patrons before downing it.
Miguelâs face twists. âHe sounds rich.â
âI'd hope he is considering how much he says it.â Jessica rolls her eyes.
Your presence finally graces the bar when you hug Pixie from behind. You two locked eyes in a silent greeting earlier in the night before you took the stage. And he likes how your face lights up when you see him.
âWhat'd I miss?â
âTell your man to stop playing twenty-one questions.â Jessica swiftly changes the conversation. He notices you don't even deny it, not getting offended.
âYou got a problem with people being curious?â
âI don't as long as they pay more.â
That reminds Miguel to hand you the money for your dance. He admitted to you that he didn't like throwing money, but you told him to cut that mindset out so others wouldn't think he's all high and mighty. The two of you compromised him throwing some money and giving you the rest before he left. Hence why you poked your hip out towards him, letting him slide the money under your waistband.
âIgnore her.â Pixie backs him up, âHe is so sweet, I get you completely.â
âI'm still hereâŠâ Miguel mutters under his glass while you two giggle.
He doesn't bring up his concerns about your other regular the same night. He sits with it, almost losing sleep at the thought of you being manhandled. You tended to hide your emotions around him and he wasnât sure what was going to happen if he brought it up to you.
But he decides to tell you about it in your private room. Not willingly. He pretended to watch you dance while staying quiet, brows filled with thought. His ears drown out the beat of the music as he ponders. You plop down on his lap, snapping him out of it.
âMy dance boring you, big guy?â
Miguel shook his head, âN-No! I'm sorry, I am watching.â
âBull.â You fold your arms, âWhat you thinking about? Your face tells me everything I need to know.â He hesitates, running his sweaty palms along his pants. Miguel wasnât sure if you'd get mad if he brings it up.
âIt's nothing.â He gazes up at you, swallowing.
You squint at him, not believing him. âI told you I'm not your therapist.â
âI know.â
âSo I don't care if you're not telling me anything.â
âI'm aware.â
You stand and he expects you to start dancing again. But you don't. Instead, you stare him down. Face full of seriousness, not wanting to continue to your dance until he told you. Miguel thought it was odd, given the fact you told him you didn't care.
âYou might get mad at me.â
You squint, âWhat's wrong?â
âIâŠdidn't know you had another regular.â He wants to look away, afraid that showing his true affection would scare you away. But he doesnât and notices your form relax.
âReally? You know regulars are a thing, right?â
âI know, but the others were telling me that he gets rough and-â He pauses, not wanting to make the conversation worse.
âHoney, it's fine.â You placate yourself on his lap again. It was much smoother the second time, a sincere emotion in your eyes. âIt's part of the job. And you know I wouldn't let anyone touch me like that.â
Miguel leans into your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently tracing it. âI don't like the idea of someone potentially hurting you.â
âAww, you're worried about me?â He nods and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. âFunny how a guy who doesn't touch me is worried about me.â
Miguel tugs at his pant legs. âI want to.â
âThen why don't you?â You slide your hands down his arms then to his hands, resting on top of them, âYou haven't touched me sinceâŠâ You don't say another word but he knows what you're referring to.
âI didn't want to lose control.â
âI don't bite.â He allows you to pick up his hands, placing them on your wonderful thighs. Miguel voluntarily squeezes the soft flesh while holding back a groan. âSee? Doesn't that feel nice?â
âYes.â He takes a deep breath when you guide him up to your stomach. It's warm to the touch when he experiences the small fat, and how it highlights fairly well against his large hands. Miguel freezes when you pull his hands up to your covered breasts. His pants getting tighter at the feel of you. God, he should be embarrassed.
âI know what your favorite part of me is.â Miguel lowers his head but you don't tolerate that, putting his head back up with the lift of your finger. âYou wanna see them?â
He stutters, âC-Can you do that? AreâŠare you allowed to?â
âTell me you've never been to a strip club without saying it.â You shake your head as you laugh. And he feels his face getting hot at the offer. âSo? Yes or no?â
âYes.â
You reach behind to unclasp your flashy, bikini top, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Miguel held in a breath as he saw your breasts in their glory. He creates a map of their appearance, admiring how your nipples fit perfectly along your areolas. Miniature bumps decorated around them. His first thought was to run his tongue across them and taste your wonderful skin. He inadvertently licked his lips.
âOoh, don't do thatâŠâ
Miguel shifted, noticing how your low tone didn't match the meaning of your words, âI'm sorry.â
âDonât be.â You lean forward and he wonders if you're going to kiss him. âDo that again.â
He licks his lips and you bite your own, vocalizing how much you like that. You grab his hands and place them on top of your breasts again -squeezing them to make sure he knows what you feel like. All while you rolled your hips along his erection. Miguel's breath came out shaky, holding himself back. You felt amazing. So perfect underneath his palms. He felt drops of cum leak out of his aching tip.
âWe should stopâŠâ
With his luck you stop your movements, âWhat's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?â
âNo. IâŠâ He sighs and removes his hands, âI want to respect the rules.â
âHand jobs are fine, I told you this.â
Miguel shook his head, âNo, not that.â
âThenâŠ?â He runs his hand through his hair, his appearance becoming a bit unkempt. He didnât want to explain. At least not yet.
âI need to go.â
He knew you were confused as you backed up, allowing him to make his leave. Not before he picked up your top and handed it to you. As well as your money. Miguel fixed his pants to make sure his erection wasn't prominent before saying goodbye to you.
Tag list: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317 @slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel
When it comes to Miguel O'Hara, there are many wonderful features you can stare at.
His eyes, a bleeding crimson that brings back tides of the painful consequences of his behavior. His recklessness and selfishness turning him into the man he is today, trapping him in his new predicament: Atlas of multiverse, when all he wanted was family. Now if he so much turns his back, millions of families will be torn apart, and it will be all his fault. But to you? Those eyes are the warm red of leaves falling off the trees in fall, floating down gently in the crisp breeze as their time passes, resting softly on the grass to be reabsorbed into the soil, resting and waiting for Mother Nature to welcome them home in her warm embrace.
His supple, plump lips that in recent times have only used for guzzling down coffee and yelling to his AI assistant. Before you, he would let them dry out, sit and pick at the cowlicks of dead skin and pull them until they bled all over his mouth, before wiping them off on the back of his palm. It's far from the first time he's ever had blood on his hands. To you, they are large pillows, a gateway to his most vulnerable wounds: the ones invisible to the eye and mind. The ones with no blood, no scars, but the source of plenty of tears. With every stream of air push between those gorgeous gates gives you more insight for how you can help him heal and feel better than the happy man he used to be. Thanks to your loving instance, he now has a small stick of plain chapstick in his desk drawer, right between his scientific calculator and precision screwdriver set.
But you always took to a different feature, placed large and proud in the center of his face. It is the centerpiece of a beautiful buffet to the eyes, unmoving as if sculpted by marble. Often flooded with destructive barrages of smoke emanating from the infrastructure collapsing into the streets after being smacked down by the anomalies, suffocating the suffering populations that have already lost everything and more. The heavy scent pushes him out of the rubble just one more time, to swallow up pungent gobs of soot in hopes of retrieving a pinch of oxygen, to make sure the civilianâs last breath isn't as acrid as the one he just took.
It picks up the scent of the heavy, iron-scented blotches smeared across the concrete. The tangy smell of lost life hopelessly across broken schools and subway stations, a heavy reminder of his impossible responsibility. His enhanced senes usually were usually an essential tool to his missions, but his large nostrils intake information that only make his job harder. A faint metallic scent means blood on the walls, but a stifling one means injury. A blockade cuts off his oxygen, causing him to wheeze, each cough a fight for breath, getting closer and closer while dodging punches and flying debris. But he doesnât have time to slow down, and even if he physically could, he couldnât bring himself to do anyway. In the intricate web of the multiverse, his life is meaningless, and he understand that more acutely than anyone. After whipping his head to avoid a broken jaw, warmth slides down his face and blends into the sweat under his mask, coating his face in a warm, sticky substance. His suit is dark for a reason.
But to you? It is absolute perfection. The bridge has the slope of a rolling hill in the countryside, teeming with plant life. Combined with the upward turn at the tip creates the feeling of sliding down before being shot up right back to the top to do it all again, letting yourself get trapped in the loop of its beauty. Wide nostrils create prominence, almost perfectly symmetrical but not exact, like the patterns a spider weaves in its web. Should you chose to look to the side, the stark structure gentle creates the perfect attachment to the rest of his face, carrying your vision down gracefully. There is not a single wrong place to look. Even the clogged pores look like like freckles and the dry skin is more akin to snowflakes. Both are evidence of his hard work. And even after all the turmoil, it still stands large and proud on the center of his face, slicing through the air, the amber light of his monitors and code gently cupping the structure.
"What are you looking at?" He asks bluntly, turning his head to face you.
âYou." You reply softly, your eyes still loyal to his beautiful face.
âI can see that." He turns his body towards you. "But why?"
"I never thought someone so beautiful would look my way. And yet here you are.â He blinks once. Twice. Three times before scoffing and turning himself back to his work. A smile starts to form on his face, but right before it can, his nose scrunches up and shoves it back down into his chest.
It was just his way of telling you that he felt the same.
Sorry for the lack of updates, been in a funk lately Please please PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed and feel free to come into my ask box with any questions or requests. Thank you, and have a great day!
Thank you so much for the tag @asimplearchivist !!! <3
Rules: put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most.
Your Choices :)
Flip Flop - Megan Thee Stallion đ
Ibiza - Grupo Frontera âïž
What's New - Megan Thee Stallion âš
Si Una Vez - Selena đ
Solita - Ozuna, Mambo Kingz, DJ Luian, Bad Bunny, Wisin, Almighty đ
Voting ended onJul 16, 2024
no pressure tags: @lauraolar14 @tarjapearce @lazyjellyfish300
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
izzy806
ellievsbear
