Warnings: fluff, implied sexy stuff at the end, but nothing specific, no mentions of name or y/n, not really sure that there are any others, but if you guys catch any that you want me to add, don't hesitate to say something!
Summary: After hours of rolling around in bed and being unable to sleep, you find your boyfriend working in the kitchen.
Word Count: 1.1k
The clock on the table read 2:39am. Two hours past midnight. 3 hours since you had gotten into bed. And five hours until you had to be awake for work.
Damn this insomnia.
You groaned, rolling over in bed for the 30th time that night to give yourself anything to stare at other than the ceiling, which you had become well acquainted with in the last few hours. The other side of the bed was empty, as it usually was at this time of night, so you rolled over, savoring the feeling of the cool sheets against your overheated skin, the familiar scent on the pillowcase doing more to calm you than any melatonin that you had taken. Still, it didn’t work, and after 15 more minutes of groaning and turning in the sheets, you gave up, pulling yourself out of bed and padding your way into the kitchen to search for anything that might help or to at least try and tire yourself out before you tried again.
Luckily for you, the first thing you saw when you walked into the kitchen was your equally-insomniac boyfriend, hunched over the counter in sweatpants and a black compression shirt, swiping away at some hovering, orange screens.
Holding a hand over your mouth, you hid your smile and muffled your breathing, slowly inching up behind him silently until you were close enough to grab onto him, wrapping your arms around his well-trained torso and pressing your face against his back with a sigh. You could feel him tense for a moment, his adrenaline going into overdrive until he caught sight of your hands on his abdomen, the fading familiar scent of your shampoo wafting up to him from behind. With a sigh, he glanced back over his shoulder, sending you a chiding, tired look.
“What are you doing up?” he asked, his eyebrow cocking in interest as he watched you for another moment before turning his attention back to the moving screens ahead of him, casting a dim, orange glow over the entire room. “You’re usually out cold by now…”
You sighed, tightening your grasp on him momentarily and pressing a kiss to his spine, humming in satisfaction as you felt the muscles of his back tightening in response.
“Spidey senses,” you purred teasingly, shooting him a coy smile to which he rolled his eyes and groaned in response. “I always know when you walk in the door…or… swing in through the window.”
“Yeah right,” he grumbled, his focus still on the screens ahead of him as he swiped expertly, his fingers working deftly to polish off his reports so he could finally get some rest. “That’s why I always come home to you knocked out and drooling all over my pillow.”
You scoffed in faux offense, pulling back and smacking his well-padded, muscular shoulder softly with the palm of your hand.
“I do not drool, thank you.”
“Tell that to the pillow case,” he shot back without hesitation, a smirk teasing at the edge of his lips, not even needing to look back at you to envision the expression of betrayal on your face, your arms retreating from around him and leaving him almost wishing that he hadn’t said anything. Almost.
You scoffed, stepping away and busying yourself with the kettle, deciding that you’d fix yourself a warm cup of sleepytime tea, seeing as you probably wouldn’t be going to bed without him, now that you knew he was home.
“At least I don’t snore like a grizzly bear,” you hummed, your tone sweet but intentions malicious as you opened the cabinet ahead of you and reached for your favorite mug that sat on a shelf so high that you had to go onto your tippy toes to reach, your fingers just barely able to brush the ceramic, inching it closer to you with an intense, concentrated expression.
It wasn’t long until you felt a looming presence behind you, a firm torso pressing up behind you as he grabbed your mug, passing it down to you with a cocky expression, lowering his head to speak in your ear and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“Whatever you say, shorty. At least I can reach the top shelf,” he grinned, winding his arms around your waist and pulling you tight against him, his head burying softly into your shoulder, pressing kisses up the gentle slope of your neck. “Seems like we’re pretty evenly matched to me.”
You sighed, your eyes closing on their own accord as his lips teased at your skin, your head tilting enticingly to the side to give him more room to cover. He chuckled softly, and you could feel him smile against your skin as he obliged, humming and continuing his tender advance on your neck, your tea entirely forgotten.
“Mmm… that’s not fair. You can’t call me short if we’re using you for a frame of reference,” you bit back, leaning into him and tilting back your head to get a better look at him as he finally pulled away from your neck, leaning down to instead press his lips to yours in a loving kiss, savoring the feeling of you and the way you immediately reciprocated. “You damn giant,” you mumbled, sighing and pressing your lips back to his as soon as the words had left your mouth.
“You love it,” he hummed in satisfaction, kissing you back for a moment before grinning down at you and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Now come on. I want to go to bed,” he whispered, wasting no time in tucking an arm underneath you and scooping you up into his grasp.
Blinking in surprise, you looked up at him, your cheeks flushing softly.
“I thought you had work to finish…” you murmured, tucking your head up against his chest and tugging at the fabric of his shirt, watching him with a suspicious expression.
“Finished it,” he said matter-of-factly, starting off to the bedroom with you in his arms. “Now I just want to go to sleep with you by my side. Why?”–he paused, raising an eyebrow–”You have a problem with that?”
You flushed in soft indignation before glancing away guiltily, murmuring softly under your breath.
“No… I just… I can’t sleep… that’s why I came into the kitchen in the first place.”
He said nothing at first, just stared down at you, his warm, reddish-brown eyes shining in the light from the stove before the corner of his lips began to rise, a mischievous expression crossing his face as his eyes roamed over you and he gave an appreciative hum.
“Oh yeah?” he spoke, his voice lowering as he leaned down again to press a warm kiss to your forehead, whispering softly, “I think there’s a way to fix that.”
And with that, he whisked you away to the bedroom, where you eventually did fall asleep, satisfied and in the comforting arms of your lover.
A/N: This is my first Miguel fic, so please be gentle with me! I'm still trying to figure out his voice and how to write with him in a dynamic, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it! I will be working on some of the requests in my box shortly, and as always, the box is open for more requests if you guys think of any ideas! Thanks!
i need a fic of miguel letting reader laugh infront of him 😕. everytime i laugh in my house my mom yells at me and tells me to stop 👎
Boo to your mom!!
Miguel has a thing for making you laugh. He’s convinced it’s the sound that plays in his ears when you’re away, and it’s a magical sound to him.
You don’t do it often, because you’ve internalized some things better left forgotten.
So, in that way, Miguel doubles his efforts to get a laugh from you at least three times a day.
Right now, you’re in his bed, Miguel hovering over you with one hand propped on the bed and the other hand placed on your hip.
“Miguel, I’m so serious,” you start to threaten, but the man above you only rolls his eyes and cocks an eyebrow.
“Really? So serious you’d do what, Amor?” You don’t have an answer and rather than give you enough time his fingers tickle into your ribs and you erupt in snorting laughter.
“Miguel,” you try twisting out from under him but that only lands you closer to his fingers.
Your laughter soon turns breathlessly and makes your stomach cramp and only then does Miguel pull his fingers away.
“God I love it when you laugh,” he says, nose brushing a path along your jaw as his lips kiss the underside of it.
Miguel lays beside you and pulls you to sit in his lap when you’ve caught your breath. “It makes me happy when you do.” He concludes and you belly twists itself into knots.
“Shut up,” you push at his shoulder before laying on him. Your head is tucked under his chin as Miguel’s hand rubs your back.
I'm the anon talking about that silent treatment. Yeah, it's for our Miguelito. Lol sorry that I forgot to mention him. I'm so sleepy when I put that ask haha.
SLAY !!! as a talkative little shit i LOVE this idea OEKSNSJLAKFIFKWNDNS
not another peep. — miguel o'hara x talkative!reader
original request: Anway, I am thinking about him getting a silent treatment from his talkative and slightly annoying s/o because he lashes out on them and told them to 'shut the fuck up' and they instantly went silent for the whole three days and it's killing him that he doesn't hear their excited voice for couple of days now.
you couldn't help that your pretty little mouth had a lot to say and ramble about–it wasn't your fault that you had so much to say and had a lot of excitement in you that made you want to share everything with everybody–especially your closest friend, miguel o'hara. though, miguel... is not the most patient friend you have–and it showed when he told you in a low whisper, "shut the shock up," and clenched his fist. a small vein popped up on his right temple, and he didn't even look at you when he said that. you knew miguel wasn't the best with words and that, underneath the mean, cold words he says–he doesn't mean most of them in the way you'd initially think; but to hear miguel, your closest friend for... ever, it stung. it stung badly.
you left his office without another word, you were good at leaving without a trace when you understood the point that you weren't needed, that nobody wanted to hear you blab on and on and on. after a few hours, miguel's head cooled down–he was just being overworked again and needed some alone time. now, he craved to be close to you again, but he would never out himself like that for feeling so fond about you, hence, he waited for you all day to come into his office to chat with him about the exciting, boring, ordinary and exemplary parts of your day all at once to him. but... you never came, you never stopped by to have dinner with him, and you never called him to talk all throughout the night like you two usually do. it... didn't feel right, but miguel figured that you needed space like he did, earlier–unaware about the words he muttered earlier being heard by you, not thinking that was the reason why you were suddenly silent all day and never uttered a peep to him.
miguel woke up the next morning to an eerily quiet room, usually, his alarm would be his phone's notifications going off with texts or calls from you greeting him a good morning and just hearing your voice first thing in the morning. though today, the only notifications he got were about the weather and the temperature today, absolutely nothing–not a word–from you. it was a bit unnerving for miguel that, for the rest of the day, everything felt so... quiet, too quiet. he'd constantly ask lyla randomly to check on you, and she'd report you'd be absolutely fine, physically, but he couldn't know for himself because whenever he'd glance at you from across where he was standing, you always felt so out of it. you were a lot less expressive, cheery, and just overall dull in a way; your shine and brightness was replaced with a monotonous and monochromatic aura that rivaled that of spider noir—who was also extremely concerned for you and tried to talk to you, but you didn't quite feel nor act like you, you felt so... different, and miguel was aching to figure out what was wrong and help you in any way he could.
a few hours of your silence and not visiting his office nor him personally to just be with him and talk soon turned into days of not talking to nor seeing him—and it made miguel grow fearful and worried over what was wrong. he'd ask your friends and fellow coworkers around if something was up, but they'd all say you were okay for the most part, it's just whenever miguel was around, you'd suddenly shut up and shy away as if you were hesitant to talk or speak anymore. this stung miguel involuntarily because he feared... he was the reason you were like this, and he desperately wanted to hear your lovely voice fill in the deafening silence he couldn't stand hearing anymore. you and your voice were the only ones keeping him grounded, sane, and happy; and he missed you, so, so much–he couldn't stand another day without hearing you speak another word to him.
miguel assigned himself to be your partner for every mission, and unlike the usual dynamic between you two, he was the talkative one that tried to get you to cheer up and apologize to you, while you were the quiet, emotionless one that merely listened to him and let him talk. everyone else found it quite strange, even asking miguel if he was okay, which he'd snap at and claim he was 'just peachy' and run off to you and try to apologize and treat you to the stuff and food you liked to try and show just how much he was sorry, that he missed and love you dearly. but no matter what he tried... you wouldn't utter a word to him. miguel didn't know what to do at this point, he was yearning to hear your lovely voice speak to him, at least one more time–just one more time, and he wouldn't ask for anything anymore.
but when he was about to tell you just that, that he loved you, he was sorry, that he missed hearing your voice for the final time before resigning himself to a lifetime of silence and solitude–away from you and your delightful, excited voice–you handed him a batch of cookies you made. "for... you." you uttered, and for the first time in what seemed like three whole days without talking to him, you finally spoke to him, to him–to miguel himself, nobody else, just him. miguel felt his knees get all shaky and his eyes growing wide, his lower lip quivering as he looked at you looking away from him and handing him the cookies. "...what?" "cookies, for you." you uttered again, and with that, miguel wrapped his arms around you and muttered in spanish just how much he missed you, loved you and hearing you speak, hoping that you'd never stop talking to him ever again because... oh, he'd go insane without you. "mi vida... i'm sorry, i'm so, so sorry! please, never shut up around me, do that and i... oh, mi cielo, never, ever, ever leave me alone in silence ever again..." he pleaded with you as he hugged you tightly, forgetting the cookies and just absorbing the fact that you finally spoke to him. you sighed and hugged him back softly, leaning into the crook of his neck. "you're so dramatic..." "...sorry, i just... i really missed you..." "...i mean, maybe i was, too, but... i don't want you to be burdened with my mouth that never shuts up." "it's never a burden to hear you talk, mi amor, it's a damn gift; i'm honored to be the first person every morning to hear you speak, and the last person you speak to at night–please, never, ever stop talking around me, i love... i love you." he muttered as you ran your hand through his hair, feeling your face heat up at his words as he hugged you even tighter.
you two ate the cookies you made for him together and just... talked, talked about any and everything, the little stuff, the big stuff, the in-between stuff that not everyone notices–the everyday things that you and miguel never realized you both missed from each other until you two didn't get to properly spend time together nor speak to each other. miguel knows for sure now that your voice and words keep him going, keep him motivated keep him... happy. and as long as you're here with him, as long as you're speaking your mind and heart out to him, he can't care about anything else in the multiverse; you're all that's right with the multiverse, and miguel couldn't ask for anything more or less than just all of you and your talkative, imaginative, excited self.
How do you think Miguel feels about pumpkin spice lattes as a coffee nerd
...if its from a chain store like Starbucks or Costa, he thinks it's blasphemy for sure. too sweet and overwhelming and overpriced and if he sees you buying one on a day out he's gonna scrunch up his nose and complain about it the whole time. flavour profile's all off, it's just sugar and syrup, do you really need that much whipped cream, etc etc.
but then I feel like he'd sit you down at home and makes a whole show of it, to make you a good cup of pumpkin spice his way. Using all the fancy machines and frothers, he's putting in fresh cream, vanilla and cinnamon, and a teeny tiny kick of cayenne pepper because it tastes better that way. and he's all straight-laced and trying not to smile when you sigh into the mug and say it tastes good :)
If he's doing his thing as Spider-Man and has to bite someone, he will reject a kiss when he gets home. Instead, he brushes his teeth before any of that, getting the blood and whatnot out.
Even if it's been hours since he bit whoever, he will still do it because "it's gross, I don't want to kiss you with all that."
He's absolutely disgusted if he spits out a chunk of flesh when brushing his teeth. Especially if ATSV Miguel had the same experience with Vulture that Comic Miguel has had (iykyk (I'll do a post bringing it to the public someday))
Also he looks in the mirror like :> "yay" after he does, and then kisses his partner.
@the-cat-and-the-birdie if you would like to use this for a moment between Moche and Miguel, PLEASE do
now im curious... the making of gabriella o'hara. on the night of the wedding or a complete surprise pregnancy?
Ah, our sweet Solecito ❤️
Let's see 🤭 mild nsfw undercut
"Miguel"
"Hm?" His lips kissed up and down your neck, the prong of his canines grazing your tender flesh, earning a shuddering whimper from you.
"It's not a safe day"
He gave a low grunt as his hands grope and squeezed your breast.
He shrugged nonchalantly "There's condoms for a reason"
"Nuh uh."
"Por favor? Si?" (Please? Yeah?)
"No."
"You just love me to beg, don't you?"
"Yes, but, truly! Is not a safe day, mi amor."
"You can't expect me to be still and not want you when you call me like that and you're ovulating"
"How do you even know I'm ovulating?"
"You forget I'm a scientist, cariño." His fingers tweaked with your nipples before pulling at them softly, earning another gasp from you.
"I keep track on you."
"You're just extra horny today"
"Again, you can't expect me to just look when I've got such a treat before me."
"Miguel-" the groan you were about to give died in your throat as he took your chin and pulled it upwards to kiss you deeply. His trapped manhood pressing on the curve of your ass, an indicator of his raging need.
"I swear..." You squealed as he hoisted you in his arms and rushed to the bed. Your clothes were discarded in a haste, just like his.
"Wait-" He didn't let you finish and he was already kissing and exploring your body with his warm hands.
"Mig-" His tongue invaded your mouth, silencing, a tan thumb flickering over your clit in lazy circles. Body jolting as a shiver ran down your spine.
Trying to reason with him when he was in needy mode was not only futile, but your little pleas enticed him to grope and squeeze you tighter. You had to push his face away to breathe. His hands were already kneading the supple of your glutes.
You tried to appeal to his rational side "Miguel, listen-" But were quickly interrupted by his nimble fingers prodding and stimulating your inner folds.
A whimper and another gasp as two fingers were inside slowly. His mouth latched on your left breast, suckling and toying with it.
"W-We need to be careful-"
"Shh. Whatever happens..." His fingers prodded deeper and rougher into you, "Happens."
Your hands clenched at the sheets, hips bucking and squeezing against his fingers.
Not that you didn't want to have kids, the idea seemed a bit too soon, despite two years of dating preceding you both, kids wasn't something you hadn't even thought about not discussed.
The plans of moving in together were the only thing that were certain.
But none of that mattered as his tongue traced down your abdomen. You were so in trouble.
----
His hands held you tighter while his hips slapped against yours with such force you'd though he'd split you in two. From the many times you'd get down and dirty, you'd learn that his thrust grew rougher and meaner when he was about to cum.
His mouth was too ocuppied biting and marking your neck, to pay attention as what was going on between your legs.
"Miguel!" You choked a sobbing moan as your insides clenched around him, chest heaving in erratic and shallow pants, senses soaring in bliss, but Miguel stilled.
"W-What?" You spoke in between breaths
He gulped a little and a faltering smile crept up his lips.
"Miguel..." Your eyes widened as he trusted deep before spilling himself inside you. A chill rawn down your spine as the hot and familiar sensation pulsed within you.
Oh no
As he pulled out you could see the condom, broken and etched to his girth. A devious smirk stretched on his face.
"Shit..."
"Not fuckin funny!"
----
The two of you looked at the pregnancy test, your hands trembled as the two parallel lines revealed themselves to you.
Miguel's breath hitched and you pouted.
"Told you it wasn't a safe day!" You smacked him softly with a pillow and he cradled you in his arms with a little yet triumphant smile.
"Guess we're stuck together then?"
His voice soft as he took your hand.
"I wasn't leaving you anyways. I'm just... scared."
"Naturally. I am scared too."
"Are you?"
He nodded and rested his hand on your thigh.
"But if you don't want to-"
"Is not that. Just... Im scared."
"You'll be a good mom"
"You think?"
"Yeah. Now kiss me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"You got me pregnant!"
"Might do it again" You smacked him again with the pillow, cheeks flared
I don't know if you ever answered this, but did Mama have weird cravings with the babies? I know my mama was always wanting watermelon slushies and shaved ice, or the occasional slice of lasagna and milk (both of which she hated before getting pregnant,how her dad realized she was pregnant) I like to imagine Miguel's confusion if she suddenly starts wanting something random before they know for sure each time she got pregnant
Hehehe 👀
The perfect time to introduce our 🌹
Pregnancies never ceased to amaze Miguel. Specially when it came to foods. You'd wake him up at deep in night hours to get you the most random things to eat.
When you were pregnant with Gabriella, you'd wake him up, crying cause you didn't have pickles, and you wanted pickles. He'd go to the closest convenient store, sleep still clinging to him as he brought you two jars of them.
To his horror, you'd dip the pickles in the sweet gooeyness of the Nutella jar and eat them with such contempt it made you cry out of happiness.
With Benjamin, it wasn't pickles with Nutella, but jalapeños and peanut butter. He'd had to hide the can of jalapeños from the fridge, partially cause he wasn't sure if it was good to eat that much of spiciness. But would end up giving them back cause you cried over them while calling him mean for hiding your food.
His suspicions of you being pregnant again just rose when he'd often find you at two am, scourging the fridge, eating mozzarella cheese sticks or any charcuterie cheese you had, smeared in dulce de leche.
It was endearing for him watching you eating the pieces with such delight that he'd secretly buy you good quality things when you were running out of them.
You'd cuddle him with a bottle of the sweet spread in one hand and the cheese stick in the other. Gabriella couldn't help but scrunch her nose in disgust at the combination.
---
The pregnancy test was irrelevant at this point. He just made an appointment with the doctor to check everything was okay.
"I want another girl."
His hand rubbed your lower belly, and kissed your cheek.
"What about twins?"
"Ay Jesus..."
He chuckled.
"Relax, whatever comes, I'll be happy. "
"Told you I was giving you a bunch of kids."
He nodded with a bashful smile.
"You did."
"This is our last baby though."
"Who knows" He smirked and you slapped his shoulder softly.
"Stop! You're not the one getting your belly expanding like a balloon!"
"I'm joking, cariño. Might get a vasectomy, though"
"I'll get my tubes tied up."
"You sure?"
You nodded at his question.
"Yeah. Three kids is more than enough"
"What if it's a girl?"
You snuggled against his chest as he caressed your hair.
" Her name will be Rosie. I love it, Gabi picked it actually."
"Rosita." He mumbled and chuckled, "I'm calling her Rosita Fresita" (Strawberry Shortcake)
Summary: You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? (Sex pollen. Except it's you this time.)
Word Count: 2.9k+
Warnings: language, smut, p in v, oral (male receiving), cum eating, some soft Miguel, maybe ooc. Not beta-read. Forgive the mistakes.
Part 2 of the sex pollen ask, by popular demand. Can be read as a stand alone but the lore stems from that ask. Hope ya'll like it.
...
Drowning. It felt like drowning.
The air suddenly felt thick as you fought to remain calm. The sensation of pins and needles ravaged the surface of your skin under your digital suit (designed by Miguel himself, as promised), running down your arms and abdomen until a burning heat settled between your legs.
Sweat began to bead along your brow, and you bit your lip to control your accelerating heartbeat.
Shit. You fucked up. Badly.
You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel?
You’d recognized the daisies immediately—remembered the giant stems and the bright white petals, how it made Miguel greedy and depraved.
The New York jungle of Earth 703 was just as dense as the last time you’d visited. It was a second mission in search of the anomaly, and you’d decided to complete it independently. That’d been a mistake. And not telling Miguel about it was an even bigger mistake, but unfortunately, you hadn’t put much thought into that last part. You wanted this mission done and over with.
But mostly, you wanted to prove you could do it yourself.
Miguel would be furious if he knew the predicament you were in. But there was no need for him to find out, right?
The Prowler had a strength that you’d underestimated, easily tossing you into the mass of pollinated daisies before darting off, glitching with an array of colors as he ran away.
You’d been knocked out, waking up covered in pollinated dust like a pastry dusted in powdered sugar. You’d sneezed a couple of times before stumbling out of the daisy patch disoriented before finding the nearest tree and leaning against it, dusting yourself off.
And that is where you found yourself now, sprawled out with your back against the tree and your legs spread wide, your cunt burning with a need to be filled.
Okokokokok. This was fine. You could manage. If you just sat there patiently, the effects would wear off and you could go back to HQ without anyone noticing you were gone. However, that was easier said than done.
You fought the desire to touch yourself.
You knew that if you did you’d be in trouble, and no one would be able to help. But you were weak of mind, slowly trailing your hand down your abdomen to lightly press your fingers over your throbbing cunt. You groaned, thumping your head back harshly against the tree.
It felt good but it did nothing to ease the growing sensation. You tapped your cunt again, the arousal running through you immediately. You were panting now, letting your mask fall so that you could breathe better.
The burning increased and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. You pushed your sweat-slicked hair away from your face with both hands, pausing for a moment to help yourself get a grip.
You felt so incredibly empty. You couldn’t tell for sure but you just knew your core was dripping wet, waiting to be filled by someone’s cock.
You didn’t want to think about that someone just yet, knowing that if you conjured up his image (and his cock) in your mind's eye, you’d be a salivating, mewling mess.
Again, you tried to alleviate the discomfort, this time pressing the heel of your palm over your core. You mewled in response, resisting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration.
It was beginning to hurt, the burning flaring into an intense heat, and you swore you could feel it running down your legs, making your toes curl uncomfortably. Your vision blurred as your eyes tried to make sense of your surroundings.
Suddenly your watch went off, and when you struggled to raise your arm to answer the call, an image of Miguel appeared.
“Where are you?” He demanded, “Why’d you turn off your location? I’ve been looking everywhere for you at HQ.” You wanted to respond, you really did, but when you tried to speak the only sound that slipped out was a pained gasp, followed by a sob as you pressed your free hand over your suit-covered pussy.
“Are you—are you crying?”
Were you? You hadn't realized, couldn’t feel the fat tears rolling down your numb cheeks and past your chin. You could hear the subtle panic in his voice, his image seemingly appearing closer as he pulled his watch toward his face to inspect you.
You did nothing but whimper in response, choking on humid air.
“Baby, listen to me,” Miguel reasoned, his tone measured and confident but not free of worry, “Are you safe?”
“T-think s-so,” you managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain running through you. You groaned, your head dropping forward as your muscles tensed.
“Can you tell me where are you?”
“E-earth s-seven—” Miguel cut you off with a great sigh, his pixelated form running a hand down his face.
“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”
You didn’t need to finish. He knew exactly where to find you.
…
At least the new suit came in handy.
When you couldn’t wait for Miguel any longer you deactivated your suit, leaving yourself stark naked in the middle of the jungle.
Normally, you’d be completely mortified, but the throbbing in your cunt overpowered the embarrassment. You simply didn’t care, not when you were desperate for physical touch, desperate to be filled to the brim.
You’re assumption had been correct—you were absolutely soaked. You sighed as you allowed your fingers to swirl through your folds, your creamy juices clinging to your skin as you pulled out to inspect them.
“F-fuck,” you moaned, finally plunging your fingers into your needy little hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Your bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you let your other hand skim up and tweak at one of your sensitive nipples.
You bit your lip, breathing in harshly through your nose. It was good but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t what your pussy craved.
You continued to thrust your fingers inside, holding on to whatever semblance of relief you could get.
A portal appeared in the middle of you working yourself open, Miguel stepping through. Your eyes reflected the bright yellow glow of the portal until it disappeared behind him.
Miguel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he did so often when facing a predicament.
“Baby…” he began, squatting in front of you, his red eyes observing your nakedness, your tear-stained cheeks and red lips, swollen from worrying them. You hadn’t stopped for even a moment, mewling as your fingers worked your messy pussy. You were so incredibly wet, the squelching loud enough for you both to hear.
He wrapped a large hand around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, but you hissed, pushing him away with a weak kick before continuing to stuff yourself.
“Stop,” he said, grabbing your feverish face in his hands, “activate your suit. I’m taking you home.”
“Don’t wanna move,” you cried, more tears rolling down your cheeks, “it hurts.”
“I know, baby, I know, let me take you home.” He was barely successful in removing your hand from your sopping cunt, your fingers pruned with how wet you were. He fought to ignore the strong scent of your arousal and the way your slit glistened.
Miguel held your body close, feeling how your limbs trembled. He stroked your hair to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back in comfort. His cock began to swell when you rutted against him, pushing him down so that he was flat against the ground.
“Coño, wait—”
You ignored his protests, grinding your cunt against him in deliciously slow circles, mewling all the while. Your mind felt hazy, the arousal so powerful that you couldn’t think properly, too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure of your cunt rubbing over Miguel's bulge.
“Miguel,” you whined, your hands firmly planted on his chest as you moved skillfully over him, “I need you, please, just—just put it in real quick, I’ll be good, I swear, I just need your fat—”
“Shh,” Miguel, placed his finger over your mouth to silence you, his chest heaving as he watched you move above him, “I’ll give you what you want, yes? Then I’m taking you home.”
“Yesyesyesyes, whatever you want, please—” In a matter of seconds you were able to feel Miguel’s bare skin under your fingertips, his large cock springing to life, bobbing angrily against his stomach. Your eyes sparkled at the sight.
You shuffled down clumsily, gripping his cock and quickly spitting on it to lubricate it. It was hot and heavy in your hands, and your mouth watered, desperate for a taste. You wasted no time in devouring him, lapping at the sides and swirling around the fat head, his precome already coating your tongue.
“Damn,” he groaned, his head propped up so he could get a proper view of you. He licked his lips, watching you suck his cock as if you’d never have the chance to taste him again.
His fingers weaved into your hair, careful not to tug on the strands too hard. You set a vicious pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. His cock twitched in your hands when you began to jerk him, a sure sign that he was close, “You’re gonna make me come.”
You hummed in response, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and gagging when he hit the back of your throat.
“S-shit—” Miguel slammed your head down into his pelvis, his hips lifting slightly away from the ground as he came down your throat, his large load making you sputter over his cock. “Fuck.”
He was a panting mess, his eyes lidded as he watched you lap up the come that slipped past your mouth and onto his dick, making sure to clean him thoroughly.
Before he could get a word out you straddled his lap, taking his hardening cock in hand and lining it up with your needy hole.
You looked up at him for a second, searching his eyes for protest.
“Take what you need from me, hermosa.” He panted, his hands running up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Ride me.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
You cried out when you slammed down on his cock, the stretch of him intense but nothing you weren’t used to. Your greedy hole swallowed him, coating his shaft with your creamy juices as you began to ride him.
You came within minutes, your body quivering and your cunt squeezing him tightly, gushing all over him. He was moaning beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm before he choked, filling your womb with thick ropes of white.
Miguel lifted you up by the waist, your pussy fighting to hold onto him as his cock flopped out, his spend and yours dripping down your thighs and over his hips and abdomen.
“M-Miguel,” you whined, your fingers searching between your legs to scoop up some of the mess, quickly shoving your digits in your mouth for a taste. You moaned around your fingers, your eyes fluttering at the taste of him mixed with your tanginess, creating a devilish mixture that had you craving more.
“Shit, baby,” Miguel groaned, his eyes trained on your mouth as you sucked on your fingers, searching for every last taste of him, “you okay?”
“I-I need more, I need you,” your core began to burn again after being left empty for only a few moments, “i-it still hurts.” You rubbed your soaked core over his cock, making it hard again. “Let me ride you again.”
Miguel’s brow twitched, and with a grunt he sat up, holding you flush against his skin. He placed a kiss over your sweaty brow, pressing his nose in your hair to inhale the earthy scent.
“Let me take you home, preciosa. Please.”
“I need you now.” Tears began to blur your vision once again as you looked up at him. His expression was one of concern as he held you close, his lips set in a tight line. You were never this whiny with him, ever. “It hurts.”
“I know it does, baby, I know. I’ll make it better, I promise, just let me take you home.”
You allowed him to fiddle with your watch, pressing a few buttons to activate your suit before he activated his own. You were clawing at his shoulders as he lifted you in his arms, your nails hardly breaking the barrier of his suit but still sharp enough to cause discomfort.
He ignored it, summoning a portal as you shook in his arms, and took you home.
…
He came down your throat for a second time.
You’d been so eager to take his cock in your mouth again as soon as he brought you to his apartment, sucking him off until he felt he had nothing more left to give you.
And for the second time, you rode him, bouncing over him with a vigor he didn’t know you had, making him come deep within your walls. Your pussy was a drooling, sticky mess, unsatiated with the number of times Miguel filled you.
You shuddered as another orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs ached and trembled as you pulled away, covering his skin in his spend.
It still wasn’t enough.
Miguel lay motionless on his bed, his hair a matted, sweaty mess, his body spent from the number of orgasms you took from him. His hands fell from your waist when you shifted away, his tired gaze regarding the wild look in your eyes.
“Amor, please,” he hissed, his eyes screwing shut as you took his cock in your small hand, slapping it over your mound to awaken him for another round, “s’too much. You gotta let me—fuck.” You spit on his shaft, pumping him a few times and bringing him back to life.
“I need you, Miguel, need your cock,” you whispered, feeling him twitch delightfully in your hand before lining him up over your ravenous cunt, and sinking down.
Miguel choked, his claws sinking into his sheets and causing tears in the delicate fabric. He brought his legs up, bending them at the knees, hoping to slow down your movements but you couldn’t be contained, riding him for all he was worth.
You caught a glimpse of his fangs protruding past his lower lip, and that was enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, clamping down on him and causing him to cry out as he filled you (again) to the brim.
When you replicated the same steps from before—pulling out and allowing him a second before attempting to stuff him back in you— Miguel stopped you, a crazed look in his eyes.
“No more,” he begged. You’d never heard him beg before. It sounded so pretty with the tiniest hint of vulnerability that had your cunt aching for more.
“I-It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him, “one more, okay? One more.”
You carefully sat on his large cock again, sinking down carefully.
And whenever he hissed and groaned, you ignored it.
…
When you woke up you were in the bath.
The warm water smelled of lavender and jasmine, caressing your skin pleasantly.
Miguel loomed above you, hair wet and a white t-shirt clinging to his moist skin. He lathered a bath sponge in soap before lifting your arm, gently scrubbing your skin.
You blinked the sleep from your tired eyes, gazing up at him. He looked beautiful. His lips were pursed in concentration as he focused on each individual finger, making sure to scrub the grime from under your fingernails.
“Miguel?” You called to him quietly, your fingers twitching in his hand. His red eyes shifted to your face, the concerned look from earlier still plastered over his features. “Are you mad at me?”
Miguel grunted, dropping your hand to dip the sponge in the water before taking up your other hand.
“My girlfriend’s an idiot,” he muttered, scrubbing away at your fingers. You frowned, sinking deeper into the water until your mouth was barely above the surface. Your body ached but your pussy ached more. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered sadly, “I thought I could handle it on my own.” Miguel heaved a sigh, urging you to sit up so that he could scrub your back.
“I know, baby,” he answered softly, “but I don’t want you doing that again, ¿me escuchas? You need to communicate with me.”
“I’m sorry,” you said again, your head hanging low in defeat. You didn’t know how much you’d slept, but you were still exhausted, your eyes heavy with the threat of sleep.
Miguel grunted in response, before placing a kiss to your brow—his silent way of forgiving you.
“I told you to stay away from the daisies the last time we were there.”
“It was an accident.”
Another grunt from Miguel.
“How are you feeling?” You asked, brushing a wet finger over the bulge on his briefs. He hissed, slapping your hand away.
“Off limits.” He snapped.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I can’t count the how times you made me cum.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Cállate.”
You giggled, carefully reaching up to place a kiss over his pouting lips.
petition for reader to give miguel the most soul sucking, mind numbing, toe curling, canon breaking, head ever please
yeah was thinking about this one for a while so here it is anon >:)
Gentle Femdom + Orgasm Control with Miguel O'Hara
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
pairing: bf!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
summary: Miguel has a long day. You help him relax :)
warnings: gentle femdom, orgasm control, m receiving oral, slight anal play, grinding, general filth. 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: made this femdom because... because uhhh...
wc: 2.3k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Baby, I can't-"
"Please, Miguel." You clamber on top of him, and he places tentative hands at your waist.
The pendulum motion of your hips captures him as you rock back and forth on his crotch.
"A quick one, okay?"
His eyes are low as you watch him struggle with himself - clearly conflicted. You feel him squeeze your hip.
"...M'tired, cariño." He presses his forehead to yours, and you card the hair at the nape of his neck. Ever so slightly, he arches, shifting in his seat to press tighter against you.
"Let me take care of you, then." You nose at his cheek, featherlight kisses as you pull his hair a little more, juust so, until…
"Mmh, fuck. Okay, okay-" You giggle as he rolls his eyes, a little embarrassed.
You pull him into a kiss, the messy kind: the kind that has you both gasping, and desperate. When you separate, he's got his eyes closed in bliss, lips slightly parted to chase what's left of you. He catches at your chin, planting wet kisses that he'll turn to hickies, if you're not careful. So you pull away, gently; slipping off his lap to kneel in front of him. You place your hands on his thighs and he stretches out above, giving you a peek of tan skin under his shirt.
Looking up at him like this, Miguel is so, so pretty. You rest your head on one thigh, running your hand up the other. Imperceptibly, he shivers.
Recently, you've noticed something. He's always taken the lead in bed, often initiating, leading you to your climax and always providing gentle aftercare in its wake. And you're more than happy to oblige, riding the crest of that wave; however it comes. Miguel is a giver: selfless and dutiful. It's the little moments of intimacy you think he likes the best and you drink it all in: the way his eyes flutter and legs shake when you give him well-deserved praise, or tell him how much you love him. Miguel is a giver, and you've decided: it's time you give a little back.
"Tell me about your day, baby."
"Uhh, it was g-good," You run across his thigh with your nails, now, and he keens.
"Mmhmm." You keep your pace steady, watching how he reacts just from your touch.
"I mean, it was actually kind of shitty." He blinks, with a faraway look in his eyes.
"Oh? Was it that portal malfunction you told me about yesterday?"
"That was….yeah, I had to deal with it this morning, and-" You press against his length with the heel of your palm, and he's already half hard. He clears his throat. "And i-it feels like I've been putting out fires all day."
Without breaking eye contact. you nod, unzipping his trousers and taking his cock out of his boxers. He's filling up nicely, hardening cock heavy in your palm.
"Like Peter B, today - he's just been off his game. I sent him and Miles to deal with an anomaly, 'cus –mmffuck–“
One stroke, then two, his hips buck up; and you coo.
"Like that, baby?"
He nods, head slightly back as you keep the pace. You stop, squeezing at the base of his cock.
"No, I want to hear it."
He gulps, and can barely breathe with the way you look at him. What's gotten into you? This is…. It feels different.
"...wanna hear you say it for me."
His cock jumps at your tone, dulcet and sweet. "J-Just like that. Feels… feels good."
His smile is lopsided, blissful, and you give him a little kiss at the tip of his shaft as a reward.
"You didn't finish, cariño."
"Okay," He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair to steady himself. "I think he took Mayday, which I've told him not to about a thousand times. I tell him, you can't take your kid to fight multidimensional villains, and every time he nods and smiles, and does it anyway. Why do I even…?"
He mutters to himself, and you take the opportunity to capture him in your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, pretty and weeping precum. The muttering stops, for a bit, as he hisses at your warmth.
His hands come to rest on your cheek, cradling your jaw. And his eyes, God, they melt as you swirl your tongue over his tip. You stop, separating from his cock with a string of saliva, waiting.
He's groaning, trying to compose himself as he slowly starts to understand. When you asked him to talk about his day, you mean it; and you want him to work for that orgasm.
"Fuck, I…. I can't do everything around HQ." It's said shakily, under his breath. Humming in affirmation, you give him a few lazy pumps, eyes low. He sighs, leaning into it. You make his head spin, frankly.
You take him deeper, widening your jaw to fit him in as far as you can and he throws his head back, a hand running through thick locs. You dig your nails into his thighs and he's seeing stars; hips canting into your warmth and oh fuck, is that the back of your throat?
He brings a hand to the back of your neck; not pushing, but applying the slightest bit of pressure. He's close, you can tell – reading that shake of legs and heavy breathing like words on a page.
You bring yourself off of him with a pop, eyes bleary with the memory of him at the back of your throat.
And he's whining, hand clamped around his balls whilst his hips drive upwards; narrowly missing your plump lips.
"¿Qué carajo?" You swear you see tears in his eyes as he fights off an orgasm. "Why'd you stop?"
You giggle, pressing a little kiss to his tip; teasing.
"No hands, Miggy."
He's shaking his head, confused.
"You'll come when I tell you to, okay?" You bolster your point with a quick stroke of his shaft. Precum pours from his tip, in response. "That means no hands, and you'll keep your hips still."
It's bold: asserting the new dynamic like this. What you expect is for him to tug at your hair and pull you onto his cock, regardless – and you'd welcome it, if he did. But instead, your boyfriend gives you a desperate nod, wringing his hands and placing them flat on the couch besides him. He's obedient, you note.
As a reward, you sink a little lower; suckling at his balls whilst keeping eye contact.
"S'feel good?"
He nods, but it's only when you raise your eyebrow he takes the hint. "Y-Yes. Feels good, baby."
You hum, pleased with his response: Miguel slotting his hands to his sides, like a good boy.
"We'll try that again, okay?" You pump his cock, marveling at the precum that pours out.
And so he tries, bless his heart, stopping and starting through a scattered recount of his day. You're watching carefully, reveling in the way he melts like this. It's not often Miguel gives you this chance, often too concerned with getting you off to let you slobber all over his cock: your hand dwarfed by his pretty length, steadying yourself as you take him in as deep as you can.
"...a-and the flux condenser needed replacing s–so–ffuck–I–"
His hips buck up, and he groans; head tipped back on the sofa and apologies spilling out before you can even react.
"I'm sorry, baby. P-Please, please don't–fuuck" He's resorted to pleading when you separate and sit back on your knees.
You're licking traces of him off your lips, and he groans, snaking a shaky hand through his hair. There might even be tears in his eyes, and with the way he sounds, it light you on fire.
You get closer, lashes fluttering as he keens. His tip pours precum, and his length pulses; breathing heavily as you mouth at his balls. You're feeling greedy, wanting to see more; to watch his pretty lips curve in that O shape you've gotten drunk on.
He obliges, hands clawing at the couch cushions and you slather over his balls. You run your tongue over the skin; warm, wet, the flat of muscle chases its push and pull. You can't help it now, hand trailing down to your pussy, and you grind down on the heel of your palm. Sharp scarlet eyes trace down, along the gentle curve of your skin and down to where your hand meets your pussy.
He's begging, little expletives mixed in with pleading, and you let it go to your head. You slip your fingers along your slit, pads of your fingertips brushing against that little bud, and you can feel him: Miguel tensing against your lips. He's close.
"Can you cum for me, Mig?"
With a tremendous groan, your lips seal around his tip, and he's forced down as far as his cock will go. Miguel cums, hard, spilling as you gag around him, nose brushing neatly trimmed hairs at the base of cock.
It's a lot of cum, salty and thick, and you drink it all up with glee. Watching, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, you lick it up from his tip, and pop off of his length. Heaving, Miguel tenses as you run your nails down his thighs, stroking lovingly.
"Fuck." He hisses, shaking as he pulls you up onto his lap.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling like a dope.
"Was that good?" You ask innocently,
"Good? Of course it was–" He's still out of breath. You watch him writhe, placing big hands at your hips that slowly travel to your ass.
You cut him off with a kiss: sweltering heat, and he's licking up your moans. Underneath, he stirs, hardening as you're dragged across his length by rough palms.
"Ah-shit–Mig!" He slips a hand down the back of your panties, two fingers playing at your hole. As expected, you're soaked. "Thought you said you wanted a quick one?"
He rolls his eyes, pressing light kisses to your jaw, and to your neck.
"I was tired, baby." He shifts, and seats his fingers comfortably inside your cunt. His other hand shifts your hips, and you're led into a gentle roll of hips. His eyes are blown, two fingers scissoring your pretty hole and thumb tapping at your asshole. You recognise this as the kind of hunger that only surfaces when he wants something: deep, desperate yearning you can never get enough of. You lean forward, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other at your ass like a slut, spreading yourself wider so he can go deeper.
“J-Just like… oh fuck—just like that.” He sits further back, and you can’t help but fuck yourself on his fingers. It doesn’t last long, feeling his cock quickly harden underneath. Fuck. You want him seated deep, bullying his fat tip inside.
“Miguel.” You’re whining into his ear, gently easing his fingers out. “What do you want, cariño?”
You want to hear him say it; to put a name to the pleasure he so dearly deserves.
“You.” He breathes. “You. Always you.”
He nips at your neck, big palm splayed onto the back of your head, pushing you down onto his lap. When you discard thin shorts, and slip off lacy panties, you make quick work of his pretty dick, already hard and aching. He likes this bit, he thinks, leaning back to look at the way your legs shake around his length – too impatient to take it slowly.
And God, that stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head; a quick, stuttering pace as you claw for one another. It feels feral, just the way he likes it, the press of bodies as you slot yourself against him. It’s addictive, you’re addictive; and he finds himself unable to love in any other way than with his whole being. He thinks you’re made for him; moulded to the shape of his length as you hump against one another.
It’s not just fucking. It’s sticky and sweaty and needy; and it has you creaming around the base of his cock with a wet slap. He presses his thumb to your asshole; chest creaking at the way he can feel your walls from there. He can feel you everywhere; and then he spills into you, filling you to the brim. His cum drips out onto his balls, and in your haze you use the wetness to massage them. They feel heavy, and sore; and so you roll the skin in your hand to soothe him.
Tears prick at his eyes, and he’s groaning lowly, forehead pressed against yours.
“Oh, baby.” You coo. “I know, I know.”
You sit like that for a while, his fat cock softening inside of you. With the weight of his orgasm, he crumples ever so slightly, shaky hands spanning your back to hold you like water.
It makes you smile, and you whisper sweet things into the shell of his ear. You’ll run him a bath later, wash his hair and rub his back as you slip into the water with him. You know him well: he’ll complain, insist he’s fine and gently swat you away, but you’ll stay steadfast.
Miguel is a giver - you know that. Every once in a while, you’re more than happy to give him a little back.
Can you do a fanfic with a girl that is plus size please?!!!! 🙏🙏🙏
Oh my, oh my 🤭❤️
Miguel truly isn't about looks. More like "Show me what you got" sort of guy.
That doesn't mean he's not a looker. The way your clothes snug your figure in such a way that sometimes make him jealous. You were just exactly what he needed after a rough day of work.
You were warm, always showering him in affection when he felt going that dark place again. But just as you loved him and he loved you, you wouldn't mind speaking your mind and call him out when he was certainly acting out of line.
"Here, get something to eat."
"I'm not hungry." He'd mumble as he typed away in his laptop, trying to pour over work.
"Of course you are. Saw you looking at my food a while ago. You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up."
"I know"
"Just saying. I worry" You kissed his temple as you left the food next to him.
"I know you do, muñeca."
You left him to work. Only to find an empty plate later.
----
You'd lie on bed, caressing his hair. Your thighs, (A favorite of his), were so soft and comfortable. Just like the rest of you. You were his personal pillow. After all you'd found him snuggled against you when he passed out from exhaustion.
You'd pamper him to no end. It was scary for him at first to find someone that would actually understand his priorities and not giving a hard time for it. Of course, you'd voice your concerns when he was turning a bit too distant, but stuff like that were meaningful and grounding for him.
Love and patience had your name all over. You'd leave him food prepared whenever he was too busy with work. Your love language was acts of services and words of affirmations. You always knew what to say in the right times when he felt deflated and wavering.
And when you did feel like that, he'd just return the favor with gifts and physical touch.
----
"Stop, I'm heavy!"
"So am I." He'd shrug casually as he threw you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom.
"Miguel!"
"Shh... Cállate." He'd spank you, "Need you to model some stuff for me."
In fact, he had gotten you a little thing from that lingerie store you had been staring but didn't make a move to buy anything. He'd always notice these little things from you. Again, he didn't care about looks. You were already perfect in his eyes.
YOU CANT JUST LEAVE US HEARTBROKEN LIKE THAT 😭😭😭😭😭
HOW DO THEY MAKE UP??!!!!!
he better does grand gesture, and apologizes the right way!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

Ngl, I'm so nervous about this. 🫣. Hope you like ~
Pt. 3
Miguel remained glued to the door where you just left. It wasn't the raucous door slam he had expected. Dread sit on his gut at the quietness of your departure.
You weren't one for boasting up or make a show out of the situations, but you had your temper and seeing this quiet yet nerve wrecking side of you only enervated his anger. Froze it completely, leaving him with a whirlwind of emotions that mutinied in his head to be felt first.
Self loathe and guiltiness the main contenders.
His arms rested on his chest, crossed. Defensive as the creaking door from Gabriel's room opened wider.
"Miguel?"
Gabriel's voice echoed so distant in his head, despite his younger brother being a few steps away from him. A raging stupor spreaded through his limbs.
"You ok?" Gabriel tried even though he already knew the answer. He just gave a silent nod and Gabriel didn't pry further. He'd try later.
----
One week. It had been one week since you had crossed that door and vanished from his life. His mind was a corded mess of over thinking, intrusive thoughts and of course, you.
No matter how much he tried to overwork himself back in the lab, his mind often gravitated towards you.
What would you been doing? We're you doing the same as he was? No. You were probably crying and letting it all out. Something he was still working on his own. Of course you'd recommend therapy, but again, pride and fear always came his way. He was doing fine, wasn't he?
Bullshit.
Lying to himself was another thing he had perfected to a T. And it was low key terrifying for him for you to see underneath the layers (he had made sure to build sturdier), with such ease after a couple of months into the relationship with you.
But there he was, tired, bones, body and soul aching from the lack of sleep. His stomach churned at the little food he consumed, the rest was coffee, to try and keep himself awake.
Cause after trying to call you next day, the only reply he got was the automated announcement of the operator.
The number you're trying to reach is no longer available or is out of reach, please contact your-
And the message kept replaying over and over. His texts didn't go through. And it didn't help that Peter arrived with the box full of his stuffs you had kept.
Peter's words fell upon deaf ears.
Peter always knew how to give him his space, but wouldn't hesitate to step up, even if it meant to be called nosy and annoying by him later. He knew he meant good. But he wasn't ready to fully grasp the fact that you had left. All thanks to him and his insecurities, something you had embraced and loved without restrains.
You loved him.
His chest constricted at the raw memory of you saying that. And tightened even more upon laying down and feel your empty space in his bed. The pillow was still deflated in the shape you had left it that fateful morning. He didn't puffed it up, fearing that the little scent of you etched to it would fade forever.
He'd fall sleep watching that small space, hoping to feel you in the morning, snuggled next to him, with your head nested on the crook of his neck, holding him like a tiny marsupial that refused to be separated from it's tree.
It was when he slept the most. Soundly and comfortable. But now, only bad dreams came for a visit.
There was no good morning kisses, no bantering for whose turn was to make the breakfast and coffee. No morning sex that probably made Gabriel uncomfortable, but the younger O'Hara was too into his business and polite to say anything. No more corny movie nights he indulged with you just for the sake of hearing you laugh at the terrible acting and cringe dialogues.
No more of your hands playing and caressing his hair just cause you wanted so, no more excited bear hugs everytime you saw him. No more of your comforting touch and words whenever he had a bad dream. No more you praising him. No more you.
Gabriel had tried to distract him, but the effort only lasted for so little that he went back to his silent mourning.
He missed it all. Missed you.
---
Gabriel let Peter and Jess in, Peter's muffled voice trying to appease a caustic Jessica whose eyes settled on a surprised Miguel on the kitchen, drinking his fifth cup of coffee.
Peter gave him an awkward smile as he followed Jessica.
"You look terrible."
Despite her anger, Jessica only pointed at his unkempt and disheveled looks.
His stubble had grown, the eyebags underneath his lower lids more prominent, bloodshot eyes that were set in a void and solemn gaze, skin ashy from the lack of sun.
"Miguel" Peter started with a sigh, "You're clearly not fine. "
He grunted and sipped the bitter coffee.
"Look, this is not our business, but we're here as your friends."
Jessica saying your name and how you were doing made his grip on the mug tighter.
"I just... don't understand. You out of everyone know the relationship with her family. Yet you accused of being like them."
"I did not"
Miguel rubbed his face and sighed. Already feeling the emotional toll he had been neglecting for the past week.
"Are you calling my friend a liar, then? She came to me, weeping, with a hecking anxiety attack saying you didn't love her anymore."
"That's.... Not true."
The constricting feeling came harder than ever upon hearing Jess' words. How could you even think that he didn't love you? He did. More than he let on. But pride was surely costing him big time.
"Then own your mistakes."
Miguel's eyes casted away from the both. Peter rubbed his neck and sighed.
"Look, Mig. We're not telling you what to do here. But I can't stand see you like this. Not when you know you can do the right thing."
"It's not that easy"
"It was easy for you to judge her-"
"Jessica"
Peter frowned and Jessica glared
"It was easy for you to say such things to her, but it's hard to apologize?"
"Exactly. You think I don't know I fucked up? I know I have to make things right-"
"Then do it!. And take a bath, I can smell you from here."
Miguel half scowled half pouted at her words. Peter just patted his shoulder softly before leaving.
-----
His first attempt at apologizing failed. He had sent flowers to your job, only for the delivery man to tell him that you had returned them, along with the box of chocolates you've always wanted to try.
He wanted to taste the waters before actually step in. And so far they'd drown him if he ventured deep enough.
But he was fighting against the tide.
---
The cold rain had soaked him, ruined the flowers and his hairstyle. He wanted to make things right, but knew that couldn't do it looking like shit. He had taken the time in getting ready. Black pants and shoes, a deep green button shirt, one that you had picked for him and praised him nonstop about it in one of your shopping outings.
Necklace in one of his pockets, flowers in one hand and his heart on the other.
Gabriel just teased him with a smile before he left. Glad that his brother seemed with a spark again.
But the rain, had ruined his plans. And now he was soaked, hair a wet wavy mess, shivering with a single tulip in his hands, all before your apartment's door.
He'd know you'd be home, it was your resting day. Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the anxiety gnawing at his head and heart, he rang the doorbell.
Small taps of your fuzzy slippers echoed closer and closer, your voice soft and serene. The same way you'd talk to him when he was grumpy or in a bad mood.
Who were you talking to?
The thought of you moving on so fast crossed his mind but instantly was fulminated. You weren't like that. You still loved him.
Right?
His breath hitched once your door swung partially open, revealing you. A messy bun ontop your head, phone on hands, puffed eyes that were red from previous crying, a sweater double your size and comfy pj pants.
"I-I'll call you later. Hm. Bye" You sniffled and hung up the call.
You closed the door on his face and he stilled for a moment, the shuffling of your locks finally turned to swung open the door completely. He swallowed thickly
Mahogany eyes locked in yours, you frowned and he sighed.
"May I... Come in?"
Miguel sighed and offered you the lone and wet white tulip. Your favorite, as a peace offer.
"Please?"
Despite the inner turmoil in your heart, you stepped aside and let him in.
Baby steps.
He swallowed as he ventured deeper in your home. It had changed little to nothing. Just like you. The only visible change in your factions was the restless look he shared with you.
You went to the bathroom and brought him a towel. He didn't know how would you react if he just pulled you closer and held you tightly.
He just took the towel instead, brushing cold fingers against warm ones. His body almost sung in delight at the little feeling of you again.
But he knew he had lost the right to your physical affection. To your attention, and the fact that you had received him and still looked after him in the admist of his wrongdoings, humbled him.
You went to the kitchen and put the kettle to boil. He was on the edge as he removed his shirt and wet clothes.
"W-What are you..." You looked at him in mild alarm as he wrapped the towel around his waist. The storm kept raging outside, thunders only enhancing the heavy atmosphere that settled between you both.
"Relax, don't wanna catch a cold."
His skin full of goosebumps, probably cold by the unforgiving rain. You went back to the living room and fetched the blanket you were using.
"Here."
You only watched him, but he refused to meet your gaze just yet.
"Im sorry."
He blurted and his eyes softened at you bracing yourself.
"I fucked up, didn't I?."
"Big time."
He nodded and wrapped himself the blanket on his shoulders. Being both emotionally and physically naked before you wasn't something he had planned on. But it was one of the least of his concerns.
You had put the tulip in a small vase and soon poured two mugs of hot cinnamon and milk tea, a drinking habit he had rubbed on you.
You sat on the couch, he followed.
"I know you don't want me here but, I really need to make this right. If... you don't want to continue this, I'll understand. I'll respect whatever choice you make."
"I just don't know if I can trust you, Miguel."
A stab on his chest. A well deserved one. He nodded.
"Is there anything I can do to fix that? Can I still fix it? "
You sighed softly and shook your head, "I don't know. I want to believe you, believe that something like that won't ever happen again."
You squeezed the mug in your hands
"You have no idea how... your words hurted. Even worse when you looked at me with such anger and disgust. It felt like my family looking at me when I left them."
Your voice cracked and he tensed, but slowly reached for your hand. Relief washing over him as you didn't recoil from his touch this time. The tea long forgotten.
"Te prometo, que nunca volverá a pasar. Y sabes que soy un hombre de palabra. I know what I said is unjustifiable, But I can't stand this... space between us" (I promise this won't happen again. You know I'm a man of word)
You knew he wasn't good with feelings, that he sometimes needed a reminder to look for help, the way he breathed as he spoke the last two words made you smile a little. He was trying.
"I know" You sniffled and wiped your eyes.
"Do you... want me to stay away until you feel ready to try it again?"
A vehement shake of your head.
"I need to get it out cause... I don't know if I can't keep bottling up these things anymore. I'm not... sweeping my feelings under the rug anymore. I'm tired of that."
"That's... something I need to keep working on"
His hand slicked his front bangs away from his face.
"It's something I've always admired from you, mi niña." His hands grabbed yours once more, relishing in the warmth and grounding feeling your body provided him, "You've... always made it look easier. I tried to learn but... I guess it doesn't works like that."
"It takes time. And willingness to share. I could teach you."
"Have you... ever felt like I'm not willing to share things or that I'm too closed off with you?"
"Yes. I feel like mostly of the times I need to take initiative for you to do things with me. That's why I said you didn't want me"
He rubbed his face as his chest constricted, just like his throat.
"I know, sometimes I'm an ass"
"Un pendejo, de hecho" (A dumbass, actually)
He chuckled and nodded as he entwined his hand with yours.
"And I'm sorry if I ever took you for granted. I'm sorry for... the many things I should've done better but I didn't cause I knew you'd stay with me anyways. And... I'll forever regret that it came to this point for me to realize that"
He cradled you close and held you with such gentleness it made your heart thump in relief. One of his arms went around your waist as his other hand caressed your hair.
Miguel was now resting on the armchair of your couch, you lying ontop of him. He didn't need the blanket anymore. His hands were too fearful of you slipping away from him.
"Have you ever felt judged by me?" Your voice soft, and melodic, music to his anxious heart.
He shook his head and pressed a firm kiss on your temple. You closed your eyes, melting into the caresses he gave as his hands roamed gently your back, saying 'She's here. She's real. She's mine again'
"All the opposite. You really felt that I didn't love you?"
"That and that you didn't want me anymore"
He sighed and cupped your face to give you a tiny and gentle kiss as he squeezed you against him.
"Mensa." (Dummy)
Your hand reached up to pull a strand of his hair as a little vendetta and he chuckled.
" Te voy a demostrar que te amo" (I'll prove my love for you)
"Can't wait" There was a little flush on your cheeks. You knew that his heartfelt and most sincere words came better in spanish.
There was a silent moment, the drip drops of the rain against your window were the perfect lullaby for you to close your eyes.
Tonight you'd sleep soundly, so would he. His hand on your hair trembled. These forms of intimacy always made him marvel at how easy was to keep you and himself happy.
"I've missed you." He whispered only for you. Your heart frisked in contempt, cause only you could make him say such words.
"I've missed you too"
He caressed your cheek once more and smiled gently.
"Are we good?"
"We're working on it"
The heavy and unpleasant feeling slowly melting off from him. He smiled as he secured you in his arms.
---
The dim lit room soon made him to yawn, awakening in a different place. A soft startle, but feeling his arms occupied with you, snuggled against him, face hidden in the crook of his shoulder, deeply asleep.
His arms couldn't get enough of feeling your skin. Feeling you, to make sure his mind wasn't hallucinating. You had given him another chance and he was ready to prove himself worthy of you.
His soft kisses on your hair stirred you awake as you hooked a leg on his waist, But when he mimicked you, his whole frame engulfed you, earning a little squeal.
He smiled as he kept crushing you.
"Miguel!" You whimpered and he let you go. Everything felt like before. Like it should.
"Want some breakfast? "
He whispered as he curled on you. you'd gladly make the big spoon if needed, strong hands cradling you closer as you nodded
"Later though, Let's stay five more minutes." You kissed his forehead in exchange.
Yeah, everything was as it should. His world was spinning again and you in the middle of it. His own moon and stars.
"Pitufina?"
You grunted at the nickname.
"¿Me amas?" (Do you love me?)
"Y mucho." ( A lot)
You mumbled in between sleepy whispers. the golden necklace once more around your neck.
This is just the first of my work from TikTok that I'm reposting here. I made a few changes, so it's not exactly the same.
Warnings: None
Pairing: F/M
Word Count: 691
Prepare to be treated like a princess. He's such a gentleman with you. The type to always show up 10 minutes before a date, hold open the door for you, have a bouquet ready, etc. He is the type of man who insists that you don't have to split the bill. He'll pay for you.
Miguel would prefer to sit down and plan dates with you. He wouldn't feel comfortable with surprise dates until he's known you for some time and is more in tune with your preferences. These planning sessions can result in him stressing out too much about it.
Since there's no way you wouldn't be smaller than him, he gets a kick out of picking you up. He also likes to place things on high shelves, so you'll have to stand on a chair or get him to help. He finds it adorable.
He will always be the big spoon. You'll fall asleep on your side of the bed and wake up in his arms. He's a cuddle monster, even though he doesn't want to admit it.
He wouldn't be against PDA, but the most he'll do is hold your hand and give you quick pecks on the cheek here and there. He's a bit of a prude in public.
If you have any hobbies, Miguel will do his best to get into them. At the very least, understand them better. If it's something nerdy, you'll definitely walk in on him looking at the Wiki page for whatever fandom you're in while wearing reading glasses.
Miguel is a provider, and his love language is gift-giving and acts of service.
His gift-giving can range from buying you that cute dress you said you wanted and tickets for a luxury cruise. He wants to spoil you. This results in him unintentionally becoming your sugar daddy. Since he's usually busy with work, he thinks giving you things can make up for his absence.
If he has the time, he loves to cook for you and prepare your meals. Grocery shopping is also quite enjoyable with him, and he always encourages you to come with him to the store. However, he will side-eye you if you gravitate towards junk food. Cooking is also therapeutic for him. Even if you can cook, you'll usually sit off to the side, watching Miguel work his magic.
When you start living together, he starts doing some of your chores. You'll have to tell him to divide them instead.
At first, Miguel would only call you by your first name when you started dating. It takes a few months for him to address you by a term of endearment. Usually, he would call you by a Spanish endearment, but occasionally, he'll use an English endearment.
Arguments with him aren't frequent. When they do happen, Miguel will shut down. He hates it when these scenarios, especially if he's the cause of the problem. Miguel tends to be the first to apologize in these cases. He will also cut up some fruit for you as a peace offering. However, if you need space, Miguel respects that and waits until you're ready to talk. He isolates himself when that happens.
If you're shy or are the type to withhold your opinions, he's actively encouraging you to express yourself more. He would also make jokes that you're too nice.
If you're not Mexican, he's gonna share his culture with you. If you don't know Spanish, he's gonna teach you. Don't worry. He's surprisingly patient with you. He also wants to learn more about your own culture.
He's a good singer, and he takes full advantage of it. Sometimes, it's to serenade you. Other times (AKA most times), he's just being goofy. He keeps doing it because he knows you like it. Don't mention it around his colleagues. He'll get embarrassed.
Telling you that he's Spider-Man wouldn't be something he'd reveal to you for a long time. When he finally decides to do the reveal, it's more of a spur-of-the-moment decision. But let's be honest, you figured it out months ago. There's only one man in Neuva York who's that double-cheeked up.
"Fuck– Hermosa, por favor." Miguel's large hands gripped the kitchen counter, threatening to snap the very edge off of it as you stood behind him with your face against the rippling muscles of his back and your hands wrapped around his narrow waist with your right hand shoved in his boxers, wrapped firmly around the girth of his cock while the other played with his heavy balls.
His back arched a bit, a shudder running down his spine as you thumbed at the leaky tip of his uncut cock, pulling back his foreskin and playing with the sensitive head of his length.
He had been cooking you breakfast before, standing there in his underwear, damn near hunched over the stove to make that omelette you've been harassing him over for the past hour. With his messy curls over his golden brown face, brushing against the lashes of his tired eyes. He looked so handsome in the mornings and that dick of his, soft yet still so visible through the fabric of his boxers.
You had come over and wrapped your arms around his waist you adored so much, kissing the smooth muscle of his back while rubbing his stomach, earning something of a purr from him as he flipped your breakfast in the pan.
Then your hand slid down, tracing over his happy trail before slipping past the elastic band of his underwear to start stroking his cock.
"You're being bad, cariño." Miguel hummed softly but made no attempt to stop you. You smiled against his back so he could feel it, letting out in a muffled murmur, "you like me bad".
That's how you two got here, Miguel just on the brink of an orgasm. His hips bucked into your hand uncontrollably and you let him do as you pleased, fondling his balls while he fucked your hand like an animal in a rut. "Dios mío, shit…" you liked how vocal he got when he was close, groaning and moaning and whimpering at your touch.
"Go ahead and cum for me." You stroke your hand against the rhythm of his hips, the wet, sticky sound of your hand beating his wet cock slick with precum. "Give it to me."
Every muscle in his body rippled and spasmed as his orgasm washed over him. Miguel let out something of a broken moan as he came all over himself and your hand, wetting his boxers and cumming on your hand that stroked him through it, milking him for everything he was worth. You felt his balls squeeze in your hand as they emptied themselves all over you.
"Gooood boy." You whispered at a panting Miguel, pulling your hand from his boxers to show him the mess he made of you, the way he defiled you. Hair curled against his forehead and the nape of his neck, his face once tensed in concentration now relaxed.
"Now, go ahead and make me another omelette." Because the other one was on the cusp of starting a fire in the pan beside you.
MIGUEL SIZE KINK MIGUEL SIZE KINK MIGUEL SIZE KINK MIGUEL SIZE KINK MIGUEL SIZE KINK MIGUEL SIZE KINK PLEEEEASE🥴🥴🥴
I gotchu😶
nsfw thoughts below {18+ fem!reader, mdni}
miguel had spent the last hour between your thighs, drawing out orgasm after orgasm to prep you. his tongue lavishly gliding over you, sucking and caressing your clit with his two middle fingers hooked inside.
he parts from the pool of sweetness between your legs, his lips and chin coated in your slick. "you’re ready now, baby,” he lowly states, trailing a slow, wet line of kisses along the crease of your cunt, travelling up your stomach.
you nod in response, fingertips grazing the broad swole of his shoulders, guiding him back up to you.
he steadies himself over you, hovering and caging you to the mattress, his big, burly arms settled on either side. he lowers, kissing your swollen lips, making you taste yourself from his tongue. “hermosa," he muffles against your mouth, tangling his large hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. "so beautiful." he whispers, peeling himself from your grasp.
he sits up once more, kneeling between your spread legs, his hips flush to the underside of your thighs. he toys with his aching cock, his palm rolling over the reddened length as he guides his tip towards your pussy. "s’good for me," he softly grins, dipping his leaking head into you, teasing and prying you open. "so, so good."
he has a tight grip around his base as he sinks in nice and slow, wanting to feel your gummy walls accommodate and stretch around his huge cock.
"s'too much," you pant, eyes screwed closed with kitted brows, wafting him away.
he stills, keeping a few inches of himself buried inside, allowing you to adjust to his girth. "you can take it… yeah, that’s it— doin' so good... so perfect,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I know, I know. doin’ so well.”
he lowers back to you, his muscular chest flush with yours, your breasts sandwiched between. he snakes his other hand up to cup your jaw, comforting you and angling your face up to meet his. "that's it," he mumbles against your muttering mouth, silencing you and swallowing your whimpers. he trails slow, soft kisses over your cheek to wipe away a pleasure-filled tear, brushing over the apple with his thumb. "you can take a bit more, hm?"
you nod once, chewing your bottom lip as you spread your legs a little further, adjusting your hips so he can slip in easier.
"yeah, that's it,” he exhales, his breathing strained from your tight grip around his dick. "god- mierda" he pants, his lips ghosting your throat with faint, subtle kisses.
your fingers trail his waist, running down to settle on his hips, halting him and his unrushed movements.
"can't take— can't take more," you breathlessly whine, panting into his mouth. "fuck." you cry out, fluttering around his cock, swallowing even more of him.
"don't— mhm— don't do that again," he groans, his brows furrowing with rapture. "will make me cum too soon, cariño," he quietly grumbles, bruising your lips in another harsh kiss. "keep still, mama. I'II take care of you." he adds, holding a few inches of himself buried in your pussy.
you stretch and twitch around him as he leisurely fucks you with half of his dick.
— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —
** i copied this from something else I wrote that did awful lmao. still my work, just repurposing, you can call me resourceful I guess. also changed some errors and words that made me cringe
mdni, tw smut. miguel gives you a little lesson in spanish.
miguel's such a big meanie behind closed doors. he loves to hear your whimpers and weak babbles— practically drooling over the sight of your thighs trembling and legs squirming after each harsh slap he delivered to your clit.
he had you laid back against his chest, your back pinned to his chest with one of his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs hooked over your calves, forcing your legs to stay apart. a sadistic smirk tugged at his lips as you squirmed against his hold, his thick fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit.
"translate my words, muñeca," he purred into your ear, taking the soft cartilage between his teeth and tugging at it softly. "estás tan mojada para mí,"
his fingers danced between your puffy folds, aggressively rubbing back and forth, back and forth against your sensitive clit. your lower lips were dripping with your arousal, completely drenching miguel's fingers to the point his fingers were beginning to prune.
"i— i'm so wet for you?" you whined, the back of your head resting against miguel's shoulder. the filthy squelching sounds of your soaked cunt echoed off the four walls of the bedroom, your moans and whimpers causing miguel's cock to strain against his boxer briefs. his hardened cock dug into your lower back, a reminder of how much he loved reducing you to a pathetic, fucked out mess.
"muy bien, muñeca," he praised, planting a chaste kiss on the side of your neck. your clit pulsed against his fingers, your legs practically made of gelatin with how long he had been torturing you with his fingers. "dime, muñeca, cómo quieres que te tome,"
"miguel—" you moaned, the grip he held around your waist tightening. the tip of his index finger grazed over the slit of your entrance, just barely slipping in before he returned to rubbing tiny circles and squares against you. "i.. i d-don't know what—"
with a harsh spank to your cunt, miguel yanked the sweet air from your lungs, your vision nearly going white from the intense impact. your hips bucked against his spanks, one after another and another and another.
"use your cute little brain, muñeca," miguel rasps, the feeling of your nails clawing at his forearm making him grin. you looked so feeble like this— your legs couldn't stop shaking, your eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed from how overwhelmed you were. "or are you too fucking stupid to understand me, huh? mind too fucked out from just my fingers?"
you bit down on your lip, your grip on miguel's arm around your waist tightening, nails digging into the flesh of his forearm. you tried your best to concentrate on his words, but the feeling of his fingers toying with your throbbing folds made your head grow too dizzy to recall what he had said.
he had definitely asked you this before though.
"use me—" you whined, your brain finally catching up. "use me, miguel— want you to just use me however you want—"
"mierda," miguel hissed, pulling his hand away from your cunt. he shoved you away from him, forcing you to lay down as he climbed over you. he shoved a pillow beneath your hips before tugging his pants down, the warmth of his breath hitting the back of your neck as his weight directly pressed into your back.
miguel pressed your hips down with one hand to your lower back, holding you firmly in place while he guided his pulsating cock to your entrance with his other hand. he pressed the head of his cock against your trembling entrance, teasing you with his presence. he swirled the tip of his cock against your soaked folds, smearing your arousal with a sly smirk.
"you want to be used, muñeca?" miguel hissed through gritted teeth, his breath hot against your ear. your body shivered beneath him, back instinctively arching to push your ass harder against him. “i’ll fuckin’ use you, nena, but i won’t be gentle about it.”
Summary: Miguel is the God of chaos, and you are the goddess of peace and beauty. an idea originally by @hrhmimieucliffe
TW: light smut, p in v.
He was inherently chaos, broad backed and straight shouldered. He was the voice dripped in red and encouraged man’s wildest desires: murder, sex, gambling, money, and more. A drowning flame, he was a mystery cloaked in anger and resentment, mirroring unease at every fine point. He was insanity and she was clever. She was butterfly kisses of the sea salt air on the beach, an afternoon sun shower with a rainbow across the bluest sky. She smelled of lavender and truth, and she sounded like honey covered dew drops on the tongue of a river. Her laughter made men fall to their knees, and so did his sword. His words made widows weep, and her words made them pray for thanks.
She was all that was good and beautiful, and he was the fire that burned beauty to the ground in a pile of rotten ashes.
They did not see eye to eye.
“A martyr, creating such victims with your gifts.” Miguel roared, his nature as God of Terror taking hold of his mind as he stormed into your garden while you tanned in the grass. One of your eyes opened to see his hulking, angered form marching towards you and you let out a deep sigh in retaliation.
“At least I am one to give gifts, as I recall you only give grief.” You sat up, fastening your silk robes around your waist as you covered your shoulders and leaned on one hand. He blocked the sun as he stood in front of you, frown cutting the corners of his mouth sharply.
“Grief builds countries, grief gives men purpose and woman motivation. What do your frilly gifts do for anyone?”
“My beauty and kindness gives all who they grace a sense of purity and happiness, of which can also build countries and give purpose and motivation. Have you ever been kind in your life?”
“No one has given me a reason to do so.” As you stood to speak to him, you felt dwarfed by his stature and fixed your posture.
“You should not need a reason to be kind to another.” You spoke back and he stayed quiet, no other words being spoken.
This was a battle of beliefs, an unspoken exchange of ideas. You stared at one another silently before he turned on his heels and stomped away.
But the truth was, at night, he worshiped your body like a loyal disciple. HIs lips ghosted over your skin as you mounted his lap, being held but one of his arms around your waist as your head fell backwards. Miguel pushed your hair off of your shoulder as he kisses and licked the top of your soft breasts, pacing himself and going slow to savor you like his last meal.
“Your body is like a peaceful night under the stars.” He whispered as your hands wound their way into his brown hair, shivering at his sweet words. “Thank you for this, for giving yourself to me, my sweet Goddess.” He thanked you, appreciated you as your bodies rocked together in harmony, a melody only the two of you would ever witness.
“My bold MIguel, let me give you everything when it is just us, let yourself fall deep into love.” You spoke against his forehead as he rolled your hips against his, buried deep inside of you as you shook with overwhelming pleasure.
“I have fallen in love, and you are my only saving grace, you are my all and nothing could compare to our intimacy. I only pray to you, I only make love to you.” His admission of true love and devotion sends waves of ecstasy to your core and makes you clench around him as you both finish. Sweat covered your features as he laid down your bare body, staying close to you and refusing to detach himself. “I will never be with another like I am with you, to the Gods I swear it.” He announced and you cupped his cheek, bruising your thumb against the stubble.
“To you, my precious Miguel, I am only my true self, and you are my purest desire, my indulgence. You are mine.” You concluded as your eyes pulled you into a black abyss and you both fell asleep, knowing that tomorrow the bickering would continue and the night would create a paradoxical love once more, between Chaos and Beauty.
