#back massage

[dum-dum-raccoon]

The thought of Langdon being scared about his back pain and scared to treat it because he’s worried he’s gonna relapse again and Whitaker just coming in “I know how to massage.” and Langdon’s like “huh-“ and then Dennis picks him up and slams him face down on a bed and messages his back until Langdon is passed out and drooling. THIS is WAY more addicting.

[sumodump]

Hoshoryu and Kirishima warming up

[nerdneeds]

audio books and mutual back massages

[massagefix]

Warm oil, soft light, zero worries. Just 60 minutes of heaven on your back 💆‍♀️

[blogblogblogblos]

[viadiabolicorum]

Godmade Horrors Beyond Your Comprehension

Fully revised backmask by Diabolic Phallus and original poem by Burialgoods on YouTube

[shirozen]

Tenderise with love

[chaiokai]

Your scars from your days as Doc ock keep you awake, Miguel steps away from his work to take care of you.

(Fem reader, pre-established relationship, Suggestive, domestic banter, so much fluff, acts of service is my love to language can you tell? Soft Mig)

——————————————————————————

It’s 1 am.

Miguel wasn’t one for sleep when it came to work and tonight was no exception. Jess and Ben were on a roll with their missions recently tracking down anomalies, and that kept the paperwork rolling in. Of course Miguel didn’t mind, he enjoyed the rhythm of writing reports and crossing things off of his endless to-do list. So much so, he brought his work setup home after you berated him for falling asleep on his desk one too many nights.

Miguel yawned, grabbing yet another cup of coffee. Maybe just one more report and then he’d turn in, at least for your sake. You always worried about his health.

He heard you stir awake in his bedroom but waited until you padded downstairs

“Cariño, what are you doing up? It’s so late,”

“I can’t sleep, my back hurts,” You rubbed your lower back trying to pop it with little luck. You opened the fridge searching for relief, and when you leaned in Miguel’s eyes drew to where the hem of his shirt rode up on your thighs

“Oh?” Miguel wandered over, wrapping a strong arm around your lower belly and gently pulling you to his front, “Would you like my help?” He murmured softly into the shell of your ear, you shivered at his dulcet tone.

You turned to face him, running fingers through the dark curls at the nape of his neck and Miguel hummed at the touch relaxing into your arms.

“You know I do,”

Miguel leaned in close, hovering inches away to look into your eyes a little longer before planting a kiss on your lips, slowly moving against you as you both found a rhythm.

You soaked in the moment, he smelled like leather and sandalwood, a compliment to his natural musk, and the coffee in his hand. Everything about Miguel was warm. Like coming home to the soft glow of a fireplace after a cold day. You wouldn’t have ever guessed it, especially with the cold exterior he put up when you first met him.

Miguel pressed his hand longingly into your back wanting to be as close as possible, but the second he put pressure he could feel you wince.

Despite your protest, he stopped immediately, tentatively pulling back to assess.

“Amor, be honest how badly does it hurt?”

You, now interested in other things, waved him off, “It’s fine, it’s fine,” but Miguel knew better.

“Amor” Miguel persisted, with a firmer tone.

You slumped in his arms, “Okay fine, it’s my old injury,” you sighed and spun around

Miguel set his coffee down, lifted your shirt, and his breath hitched. He was doing his best to maintain his composure as he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He searched the area where he pressed before.

Your back was always a sight to Miguel. The jagged scar from wearing Doc Ock’s suit cut through the middle, sprawling out at your neck’s nerve endings. After seeing it so many times, his startlement turned to a sort of appreciation, and then a deep fondness. It was a part of you, just one of those things that Miguel couldn’t separate from you in his mind, but he’d never change a thing about you even if he could.

Miguel’s hands felt carefully, pressing here and there until you winced again at a certain spot. “Right there?”

“Yeah,”

Miguel pulled the shirt back down, running his calloused hands over your curves to smooth out the wrinkles. You turned to face him, and he cupped your hips, “Go upstairs and I’ll be up there in a minute to give you a massage. Do you want me to grab your medicine?”

You nodded and leaned your head on his chest. “Thank you amor” you kissed his cheek, and then plodded off to his bedroom, staggering a little at the steps. Miguel made a mental note to ask Lyla to fill in for him tomorrow, he could tell you were hurting more than usual even if you downplayed it well.

While he set off to email his finished report and grab the supplies necessary for a restful night, you sat at the edge of the bed looking at all the things that filled Miguel’s room.

His pictures of Gabi and him at her first soccer tournament, thank you notes and Christmas cards from his close colleagues, and a gift from you from forever ago. It was a wrist watch, the kind that could track your steps and tell you if you’re getting good enough sleep. Of course it stopped working forever ago, you could never afford the nicer model, but Miguel still kept it. As you kept looking you found a shoe here, a bra there. Your blue light glasses sat next to Miguel’s shades on his night stand.

A sharp ache crawled up your back and you finally laid down hoping to ease it. Even with this pain, you couldn’t help but smile being surrounded by your intertwined lives.

Just as he promised, Miguel stepped into the room with a multitude of things in hand and thank god he did

The aches hadn’t subsided, some becoming more sharp than usual. Miguel glanced at your face reading the disguised pain. “Turn over cariño” was all he said as he moved to organize the supplies in his arms

He handed you a pill, and a glass of water and you drank it down. You looked over to see him rubbing one of your body oils between his large hands.

“Take off your shirt,” he commanded.

Your heart skipped a little, “Take off my shirt?”

You’d seen each other nude before (and had each other in crazy positions) but there was something thrilling about being the only one exposed, rubbed down with precious oils, and savored like a long awaited meal. You must have hid nothing on your face because Miguel, ever the observant person, was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Amor, I would love to explore this kink of yours, but ONLY when you’re feeling better” he raised his eyebrows trying his best to hold back a smirk that would egg you on further.

“Okay, but I’m gonna hold you to that later,” you submitted, slipping Miguel’s sleep shirt off your body and lying chest down, bare for Miguel to work his magic. For such a large man he was incredibly accurate with his fingers.

You didn’t know what you thought was gonna happen but you didn’t expect Miguel to mount on your thighs, just before the curve of your butt. His thick quads hugged you on either side pinning you in place. His hardness pressing between your cheeks through his boxers betrayed his calm and focused demeanor.

Before you could act on your devilish urge to tease him, Miguel was rolling his palms up your back, causing you to involuntarily arch into his touch.

“Dios mío thank you mi vida,” you groaned into the sheets. Miguel hummed in response, working his fingertips between your shoulder blades and eventually running his index fingers through the curves of your jaw and neck. The slight pain and release every time he brushed over your pressure points was delicious, you couldn’t help making the sounds you were making.

Miguel leaned forward, making you even more aware of his placement. He kissed your temple, lifting a hand to brush some hair out of the way. You turned your head and it was so serene. His sweater sleeves were rolled up exposing his defined forearms. You watched the sinews dance as he shifted and pushed into the tight knots of your back. His hair held the warm glow of your bedside lamp like a rich wood, the curls falling over his soft brown eyes.

Here, you were the center of Miguel’s attention, safe underneath his gaze and always welcome in his home. Miguel made you feel like the best version of yourself. As you began to drift off from the scent of your bath oil and the gentle reassuring kisses from Miguel, you hoped you both shared this kind of bond in every universe.