inaba-seishiro

[inaba-seishiro]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[inaba-seishiro]

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once. 

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy. 

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small. 

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him. 

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her. 

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and  so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.” 

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way? 

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment. 

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration. 

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream. 

He is so, so fucked. 

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?” 

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read. 

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that. 

It’s still nice to want, though. 

[inaba-seishiro]

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 

“You’re important to me.” 

She has no idea how much. 

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 

[inaba-seishiro]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

[inaba-seishiro]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[inaba-seishiro]

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who often liked the classics he grew up with—the ones his mom played every weekend.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who liked the singers, men and women alike, who now were as old—if not, older—as his mom so he never got around to be going to concerts.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel that never kept up with recent celebrity drama or news. Oh, some current singer just won 6 Grammys? Good for her. Oh, this rapper held the top spot on the charts for weeks? Nice.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who lives under a rock. But his brother doesn’t.

Fanboy!Gabriel who’s always been into music as his hobby. Ranging from in the States to Overseas. Old and new alike.

Fanboy!Gabriel who BEGS Miguel to take him to this concert of this girl group that came around.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who’d rather die than drive and park around Nueva York for ONLY three hours.

Fanboy!Gabriel who makes a compromise that Miguel could come too! Even walk around Nueva York for some food.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who can’t say no to his baby brother.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who is absolutely exhausted after walking around the arena, Gabriel greeting and handing out freebies to other fans like him.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who ends up at a coffee shop where Gabriel shoo’d him away to. Telling him to grab two cold drinks while he waits in line.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who groans internally when he sees the line. Someone behind him groaning outwardly.

He turns his head to see some woman—you—, hat on top of your head and hoodie draped around you. Pieces of your hair fall on the side of your cheeks that frame your face. A mask covering the lower half of your face and you’re in sweats. Your eyes meet his.

For a moment you look panicked but you stay still.

Miguel looks back at the register, some old man being extra specific with his drink and food order. He then glances down at you again.

“Hopefully the next ones won’t be as stingy with what they want.” He comments. He notices the eye bags under your eyes.

He can tells you smiles by the ways your eyes creased. “Yeah. Hopefully.”

By the time it was his turn, he looks over his shoulder. “What did you want?”

You’re taken aback. “Oh, uh—“

“I’ll pay for it.” Miguel figures you’ve had a long day and felt that he could help.

He flusters you, your hands bringing down your mask to relay your order to the nice cashier girl. Miguel glances down your lips subconsciously, noticing the gloss over them.

It’s only for a few seconds and you pull it over your face again as quickly as possible. Miguel looks around the place. You were acting strange—was someone following you? Were you okay?

He waits beside you at the side of the counter and he bends down at your level. “Are you okay?”

You let out a gasp of surprise, jumping a bit back but smile and laugh nervously. “Ah, fine. Thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Is someone stalking you?”

You look at his eyes, scanning his face for something he’s not quite sure you’ll find. Miguel visibly sees you relax.

“No, no. I’m just on a tight schedule, is all.” You laugh more real this time.

Miguel stands up again. “I know the feeling.” The corner of his lips turn up.

His drinks gets called out first and he takes them both in his hands, taking a sip from one of them.

“You ordered…two?” You ask. Miguel nods.

“For my brother. We’re here for some concert thing he wanted to go to.” He shrugs. You hold your giggle back.

“I take it you’re not interested?” You ask with amusement. Miguel snorts.

“Hardly.” He takes another sip from his cup. “Hopefully I never have to walk around Nueva York again just for some girl group.”

You shrug. “Hopefully.” You agree with him, a smile heard just by your tone.

The conversation is cut short once your drink is called. Miguel finding the way you hum in delight to be amusing. You thank him for the drink, offering once more to pay for it back but he refuses.

Miguel doesn’t notice your manager approaching you, fussing over you and ushering you back into your van.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who enters the arena with his brother. Gabriel had done every hack possible to make sure he got seats close enough.

Not a Fanboy!Miguel who sits with his arms crossed, yawning and leaning his head back to sleep.

But he couldn’t do that when Gabriel shakes him awake. It’s starting!

The giant screens zoom in on each of the members faces and Miguel nearly falls out of his seat when you show up last.

He notices your eyebags are gone. Completely disappeared with makeup. Glittering eyes with a cute puppy eyeliner and false eyelashes. Your hair in a style that stays still even while dancing. The same glossy lips that sing angelically.

Fanboy!Miguel who grips his seat, feelings his heart flutter when you wink at the camera, blowing kisses to the fans in his general direction.

[inaba-seishiro]

What a Man!

Summary: Your past experiences with other men had left you with scars. Scars that show in your lovely relationship with Miguel. Art by AndalusiaLu on twt <<Prev

Miguel x GN!Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drabble

It had been quite a few months since your relationship with Miguel had blossomed into something beautiful and real. He really was different from everyone else and you couldn’t be luckier. Miguel would often disagree, he thought he was the lucky one to end up with someone like you. Kind, intelligent and headstrong as well as so loving. You were the prettiest package to him. You tried your very best not to screw things up. You don’t know what you’d do if you said something or did something to make Miguel not want you anymore. So you remained diligent, making sure that Miguel was happy with you and that he stayed happy. Despite your best efforts to hide the ugly side of you, it managed to creep in the more you were with Miguel. It became harder to hide, slipping through the cracks of the facade you kept up. It started with him arriving home late. Miguel at some point had asked you to live with him, which you declined and eventually settled on visiting and having sleepovers at his place as a compromise. It was still technically early in the relationship. At first when he would come home late, you’d be worried sick wondering if this was good for his health or if he’d get home safely when he’s so tired. Miguel would trug through the door and you’d be at his side as soon as you heard the click. His tired eyes brightened seeing you, wrapping his arms around your waist and trying not to rest his entire body weight on you. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” He murmured in your hair, one arm around your waist and the other going around your shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and lotion, his body nearly melting on top of you. You returned his hug with a tight squeeze, the worry in your heart subsiding and replaced with a warm feeling. “It’s okay. I wanted to stay up to see you.” You snuggled closer to his shoulder, his cologne gone after a hard day's work and only leaving a lingering smell along with his natural scent. “No, no, that’s not right. I don’t want you to get big ugly giant eyebags like me. You’re too gorgeous.” Miguel lifts his head up and stares down at you, sleepiness evident in his eyes but his will to see and feel you are stronger. You smile softly and reach up to cup his cheek which he leans into. “I think your eyebags add character.” You giggle and he chuckles along with you. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Miguel’s hands go down to squeeze your hips. “Well I mind. You deserve proper rest. C’mere, off to bed. I’ll join you in a bit.” He takes your hand in his larger one and leads you to his bedroom. What was once very plain and sleek now had little trinkets of your things around like your hairbrush, your favorite candles and a half empty water bottle. Hell, even a new blanket Miguel had bought you along with some extra clothes and pajamas. You practically lived here. After Miguel had washed up in the shower, he joined you in bed, collecting you in his arms and running his hands up and down your back. He asked you about your day, what you had done, what you bought with his credit card–none, you told him– and any other things he might’ve missed when he was off at work. While you listed things off, Miguel listened with an attentive small smile. He focused on the way your lips moved, how your eyes looked up at the walls in thought and how your hands played with his chest hairs. Before falling asleep, he promised one thing. “I’ll do my best to come back home to you.” To your demise, Miguel continued to come home late. Each time he'd come home late he would apologize in any way possible. In kisses, extra cuddling time even when he’s exhausted and showering you in gifts. None of it was enough when he was gone most days and you only got maybe an hour with him before falling asleep. He was one of the top geneticists in his field, most likely number one. He was bound to be busy and needed everywhere. He can’t help it, you told yourself. It’s a taxing job. He’s not doing this on purpose. So why does it leave a sour taste in your mouth? Why does it bother you so much?

You grew anxious. Why couldn’t he just ask for more days off? Why is he so busy? What was the point of him finding a partner when he’s just too occupied from his job? You began to feel alone. His kisses started to feel weak, cuddling time was cut short and the gifts meant nothing after each apology. You tried pushing those thoughts aside. You were acting spoiled. Miguel basically threw his money and love at you and you’re taking it for granted. How selfish can you be? He’d be furious to know you’re using him like this–taking his gifts and whining about it. What if he’s lying? What if the job is just an excuse? Was there someone else? Is that why he’s going to bed faster? A few pecks on the lips before he passes out? Oh, how could you think that of him? He’s been nothing but burned out and trying his best. What would he do if he knew what you were thinking? He can’t. He won’t. So you do what you know best: you shut down. Your inner emotions conflicted with one another. One berating you and the other trying to convince you. You sucked up all your spilling emotions when Miguel came home late again. You met him at the door like always but this time a little slower, more hesitant.

Miguel drops his bag by the door like usual, taking off his coat and placing it down on a chair seat before looking at you. Like always, his eyes brighten up and he brings you in his arms for a hug. He feels himself recharge with you in his embrace but you just feel uncomfortable. The weight of your thoughts and feelings rest heavy in your chest and you slowly wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest and hoping to feel some comfort again. “I’ve missed you so much.” You hear Miguel mumble. “I know I keep saying this but I’m really sorry for coming home so late these days. You know I’d rather be here than anywhere else.” “Yeah. I’m sure you do.” You mumble bluntly before slipping out of his arms. Miguel feels his heart drop and confusion overshadow his exhaustion. He watches your back afterwards and there’s nothing he hates more than seeing you walking away from him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He chases after you, walking behind you as you walk into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “Nothing.” You sigh and it’s quiet between you two except for the tap water running and filling your glass. Miguel’s eyebrows furrow. He can feel something’s wrong with you but he doesn’t know what. Did someone say something to you? “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad day at work?” He crosses his arms and leans back on the counter next to you. He notices how you purposefully look away from him, settling on just sipping from your cup. “No.” “Did someone say something to you?” “No.” “Did I do something?” “No.” You said more quickly this time. “Then can you tell me what’s wrong?” Miguel reaches out his arm to try and turn your cheek to face him but you shrug off his touch.

“I said nothing, Miguel.” You feel yourself grow irritated. You wanted to spill but you knew it would only lead to bad things. You didn’t want to start an argument and have it spiral into more arguments that would inevitably ruin your relationship. You take a few steps away from him until you hear Miguel call your name sternly. You pause in your tracks and for a moment, there’s fear. Is he going to yell? Miguel had never yelled at you but you’ve been yelled at before when being…difficult like this. You felt your heart start picking up speed and you held onto your glass tightly. You hear him call your name again, softly this time, but you still hear it as yelling. Miguel touches your arm and you quickly flinch, turning around and taking a step back. You look up at him, an apology about to drop from your lips. “I’m sor–” Your breath hitches. “Did I do something wrong?” He repeats again. Oh, he noticed your tone. “No, I’m–I’m sorry.” Miguel’s eyes soften, a knowing look as he tilts his head and says your name gently, coaxing the truth out of you. “Talk to me, cariño.” He whispers, now both heads coming up to cup your cheeks. You don’t know what to do. It was a risk to talk about what was bothering you, even as small as him coming home late, but it meant a lot to you. You miss him. You take the risk with a shake of your hands. “I…You come home late,” You start off slowly and he waits patiently. “It’s too much for me. Well… maybe not too much, I know how hard you work but it–” You take a deep breath. “It’s not enough. I miss you. I want to see you for more than just a couple hours in the morning and at night. I just want you to be here and I’m sorry if that sounds clingy of me, but it’s how I feel.” You feel your chest tighten up and look down, unable to meet his eyes and failing to see his face crumble. Miguel takes the glass from your hands and places it beside you on the counter. “C’mere.” He whispers, bringing you in a hug again. “And you promised me so it just feels extra bad, y’know? I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You bury yourself in his arms. Miguel shushed you. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing.” “But you did–you have–” “And yet here we are. I made you cry.” You didn’t notice the way your tone got more nasally or how you hiccuped and sniffled–all of your tears getting soaked up by his collared shirt. “Are you mad?” You ask. Miguel pulls away to wipe away your tear stained cheeks.

“Jesus, no I’m not mad. How could I be mad at you?” You sniffle when his thumb swipes across your cheekbone. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” You shrugged. “You promised and I just…I dunno. I felt like it wasn’t my place to tell you to work less just because I felt lonely.” You try to look away but Miguel doesn’t let you. “I don’t know any other way to tell you this but you are equally as important as my job–maybe even more. You never mentioned that this was bothering you. I could’ve asked for less hours.” “I didn’t want you to get mad at me or think I’m spoiled.” “Baby, it’s my job to spoil you.” Miguel smiles and playfully pinches your cheeks, making you mutter a small ‘ow’ and grin. “I’ve just been taking so much time because everyone there looks at me for answers and advice and other bullshit so they make me oversee everything. But if you want me home, then I’ll come home. Just say the word and I’ll do anything you ask of me.” His tone is soft, as soft as it can be with his deep voice. “That’s a lot of power.” You joke. “It’s yours. I’m yours.” He leans his forehead on yours. “So you’re not mad?” “Not even a little.” “And you’re gonna be coming home earlier?” “Starting tomorrow.” Your smile widens. “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want you doing things just because I said so.” Your smiles wavers and you slide your arms around his neck. Miguel leans down to pepper kisses along your cheeks, wanting to see you smile more. “Trust me, this is more than okay. A gift even! A couple less hours of work to spend time with the most beautiful, stunning, outstanding, and amazing person in the entire world.” With each compliment, he leaves a giant kiss to your cheeks, forehead, nose and even your chin.

The next day, Miguel comes home way earlier than usual, just when the sun is setting. With more energy than before, he picks you up in his arms and lifts you off the ground after dropping his things to the floor. He runs to the bedroom with you in a fit of laughter, the sound making his heart drum against his chest. He jumps in bed with you, his weight nearly crushing you but you still laugh anyway. “Stop! No outside clothes on the bed!” Miguel smothers you with his lips. “We can clean the sheets later. Let me finally spend time with you.”

[inaba-seishiro]

Him and I (2/2)

Summary: Lyla, is it normal to be jealous of your variant? Prev A/N: shout out to the literal artist of the recent 2099 comics for drawing atsv miggy and comic miggy side by side, it inspired this fic in the first place. TheWarBlazer on twt :) Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, little PWP, Word Count: 6, 355 Comic Miggy = Mig / ATSV Miggy = Miguel c:

By morning, you had woken up slowly, processing where you were and what you had done the night before. Your hair was a mess and you pulled the covers around you when it slipped off, feeling a bit chilly. You looked around you to find yourself to put on, ultimately finding your panties ripped apart from yesterday so you just settled on loose shorts and Miguel’s blue t-shirt lying to the side. You noticed he wasn’t beside you but there was a smell in the air that told you he was at least still home and making breakfast.

You got up from the bed, making sure your legs worked still before peeking out the door to see if you could spot him. You turned your head from side to side until you finally caught him, leaning against the stove slightly in a compression shirt with sweatpants.

Miguel was there cooking up a basic breakfast of eggs and toast, taking a few sips of what you believe to be his protein shake. He glanced behind his shoulder to see you and he gently smiled. “Hey.”

You smiled weakly back at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice your cheeks darkening. “Hey. Morning.” You waved awkwardly.

Miguel chuckled and pointed to a bag on the glass table. “I bought some empanadas from the panaderia I go to. I didn’t know which one you’d like so I got both chicken and beef.” He faced back to the pan to scramble his eggs. You made your way over to the bag, opening it up to see another smaller set of bags labeled messily with Miguel’s handwriting.

“Which one do you recommend?” You asked, taking one from the beef label.

“The chicken.” He responded. You chuckled to yourself since the other Miguel preferred beef.

You walked over next to him and watched him work as you took a bite into the empanada. He turned and gave you a small smile, satisfied that you liked what he brought you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, turning off the stove and taking two plates from the cupboard. You nod.

“Yeah. Just, uh, starting to wake up.” You blush softly, remembering the scenes from last night. Mig hides the prideful smile on his face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He places a decent amount on both of your plates and leads you to the dining table where you both begin eating and chatting.

He admires you as you speak, finding the beauty in this new you that he once knew.

After a while, you and Miguel felt the air shift, mugs and utensils starting to hover a bit in mid-air. You stiffened, knowing what this feeling was. Someone was opening a portal. Someone found you.

You quickly stand up and Miguel follows with a worried expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks, on edge and his talons extract subconsciously to the unknown he felt around him. You don’t answer and instead face the door of his bedroom where the warping was. Your spider senses went wild but calmed down the moment you realized that this was another spider person–they weren’t threats but you were just shocked.

You take a step back, closer in front of Miguel in case whatever spider person would ask questions. What you weren’t prepared for, was your boss opening the bedroom door to walk where you two were.

There was the leader of the Spider Society in all his glory, Miguel O’Hara–the original version you knew.

“Miguel…” You gasped breathlessly in shock, barely a whisper. Shit. “He-hey!” You laugh nervously. “You, uh, wow–haha.” You were speechless, knacking your brain to say something–anything to explain yourself. “You found me,” you chuckled nervously. “Y’know–I–I was lost for a bit but um–thankfully–I found another spider person and–wouldn’t you know it– it’s another you. So I was…extra…safe…” You trail off, noticing how Miguel had stared behind you to look at his other variant. You glance behind you to see the redhead tense up, standing up straighter to not be intimidated by this other version of himself.

“Yes. I was looking for you.” Miguel grunts, still as hardworking as ever. “The others were worried.”

Your gaze softened, thinking of your friends and feeling your heart swell at their concern. “Yeah. But I’m safe and look,” You showed your watch up to Miguel, his eyes ripping themselves off his variant to your watch. “He fixed it for me. You two really are alike.” You smile.

“I–I was gonna go back, but the watch was just fixed. No communications and the touch pad wasn’t working–” You tried to explain but your boss cuts you off.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. Now we need you back.” He frowns down at you. Your smile drops and so does your heart.

“Well…well of course but–”

“But?” Miguel cocks an eyebrow up, his frown deepening. You purse your lips–even though you knew Miguel close enough, he was still your boss. You glance back at his counterpart apologetically and in turn he glances down at you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper your apology to him and he doesn’t like it.

“You don’t have to go.” He whispers back to you, one hand resting on your arm and the other cupping your cheek. Neither of you notice your boss glare at the way he’s touching you. “You can go back whenever.” He insists.

“Actually she can’t,” The brunette's voice booms between you two. “She has a job to do as Spider-Woman–at the HQ.” He hisses out.

“But she wants to stay here. You can’t just make her.” The redhead retaliates. Miguel grows annoyed, kissing his teeth with a loud tsk.

“She isn’t yours.” MIguel grabbed your arm and tugged you towards his chest. The redhead grabbed onto your other arm and tried pulling you away from him, making you in the middle.

“She isn’t yours either.” He spat back. Both Miguel’s scowled at one another, your boss puffing up his chest to tower over both of you while his variant bared his fangs unwavering to his attempt to scare him off. “Did you even bother to ask what she wants?”

You look up at the redhead, even though he was facing off his counterpart–they could very well tear each other apart. “Miggy, just hold on–”

“Miggy?!” Your boss scrunches up his face, not even prepared to hear a nickname come out of your mouth for his variant. You blushed and opened your mouth in shock–the nickname had spilled out.

“Not–Not like that! It isn’t like that!”

“Not like that? What, so you just have sex with every variant? Give them pet names right after?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in a snarl.

You start babbling to defend yourself but Mig perks up.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. You and Miguel both turn to him–you still flustered while Miguel scowls at his counterpart.

“What are you talking about?”

“How did you know we had sex?” Mig crosses his arms and narrows his eyes up at Miguel on the other side. You blink for a moment and then it slowly processes in your brain.

He…He watched. But how?

The watch.

You snapped your neck back to your boss and you see him clench his jaw but his eyes don’t look at down at you–the tips of his ears grow increasingly red.

“You watched,” Mig laughs, shaking his head in disbelief and throwing his hands up. “You watched,” He repeats. “You sick-"

Stubbornly, Miguel tries not to falter. “She called.”

But his own self knows better than that. “And you stayed.”

“I was making sure she was safe.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Making sure she could safely cum? Yeah, I handled that.”

“Guys—” You interrupt with pure horror on your face. “Can we please not?” You turn to face Miguel’s general direction but you don’t meet his eyes. “We can just forget about everything in the last twenty four hours and what happened here so–”

“I want you back at HQ,” Miguel grumbles, turning his head away from you but still protecting his masculinity and pride with his arms tightened around him. “Away from here and back to work.”

His counterpart scoffs a humorless laugh. “Now I get it,” He walks up to Miguel and pulls you behind him “You’re jealous.”

Miguel squints his eyes down at him. “What?” He growls but the other’s smile only grows. He’s figured him out. They have the same mind after all.

“Jealous,” He repeats. “Did you have some feelings for her? Is that why you’re here all pissed? Just cause I got to her first?”

“Don’t piss me off.” Miguel’s face hardens, his frown growing deeper and showing his fangs off to threaten him.

“Or what?” Mig growls back, his talons extracting from his fingertips.

Feeling the growing tension, you try to speak up since one Miguel was dangerous enough–two of them would be catastrophic.

“Hey–can we not, maybe?” You interject, moving beside Mig and trying to catch your boss’ eye. Mig turns his head at you for a moment and then grinning to himself as he comes up with an idea.

The redhead hugs your back close to his chest, one hand on your hip and the other sliding up his shirt you’re wearing to reveal your stomach to the brunette. “Mig!” You gasp, blushing fiercely and holding onto his arms. You look away from your boss in embarrassment, opting to hide in his variant's neck, which he happily allows. You fail to notice your boss’s breath hitch at seeing your bare skin and his pupils being blown wide. The Miguel behind you smirks even wider.

“We could share.”

“I don’t share.” He growls.

“So you do want her. Just for yourself.” Miguel doesn’t respond, his eyes focused on the way you squirmed under his gaze alone.

“Mig–Mig, please.” You whine when you feel his porcelain hand disappear under your shirt to cup one tit in his hand and run his thumb over your nipple.

“Stop that.” Miguel’s jaw clenched when his eyes met his match. Bright red eyes narrowing at his scarlet ones.

“I’m not stupid. I’m you. I know what you want,” The redhead murmurs, grazing his teeth on your earlobe. “What she wants,” His mouth curls up when he sees you purse your lips to hide your moans but he can feel your heartbeat. “What we all want right now.”

Mig looks up at the other version of himself, realizing that this one might not be as confident as he is. A by the rules asshole who was all about work, work, work. He was the same but not to this extent. However, if this Spider-Man was anything like him, all he had to do was wave the candy in front of his face and he’d crack. No matter the universe, Miguel O’Hara always grabbed what he wanted if the right buttons were pressed.

Your soft mewl snaps them both out of their mental warfare, two pairs of eyes looking down at you between them to see you look bashful and hot with embarrassment. For a moment, both men stop, equally concerned with putting you in the middle. Your boss feels the most guilt but Mig on the other hand feels less so. With his hand right by your heart, he can feel the heat emanating from your body and pounding heartbeat against your ribs. He has felt the same need and craving when you were squealing last night.

“Isn’t that something you want?” Mig hums, his hand on your hip playing with the string of your shorts. Miguel takes a firm step forward to stop him but was stopped when you nodded your head. Your eyes still shut while you felt your cheeks burning. Mig’s touch was intoxicating especially with the feeling of him on you from last night still lingering on your body.

“I need words, sweetheart.” He hums and you purse your lips for a moment.

“Yes…” You choke out.

“Yes, what?” Mig asks you but looks at Miguel.

“Yes, I want it…” You groan, feeling humiliated but it was exhilarating at the same time. The redhead slides his hand under your shorts to feel the new wet patch growing between your legs. Mig smirks as he remembers slicing off your panties last night. He nudges your legs, a silent command to spread them apart and you give him that access with shaky steps. He lets you relax on his chest while his fingers spread your folds apart while you whimper. Miguel stares at the hand in your pants with a blush across his face, fighting his two emotions of wanting to stop this and wanting to make you whimper like that.

Your boss’ variant bunches up your shirt over your breasts and you writhe in his hold, trying to gain some sense of decency while the two men basically get off on just the sight of you.

“You want more, don’t you?” Mig behind you purrs, his fingers in your shorts gently rub circles against your clit while his other hand tweaks and pinches your nipple. “Want to feel nice and full?” He kisses along your neck and you try to grind against his fingers, wanting them to slip inside but he was just teasing you. You moan softly, focusing on the feeling of electricity jolting down to your core.

“Uh-huh, mhm–please,” You whined. Miguel’s breathing increases and his suit strains to accommodate for the bulge growing between himself. His hands clench and unclench beside him as he itches to grab your body to feel the soft skin you could provide him. His eyes lingered on your tits and he licked his lips subconsciously.

“Hear that? She wants more. Isn’t that convenient?” The redhead chuckles, slipping his hand out from your pants and showing up with his fingers covered from the juices your cunt provided him. “You just gonna leave her like this? Or are you gonna help out your precious little employee?” He taunts Miguel and Miguel swallows the lump in his throat.

Miguel takes another step forward just enough to be in front of you and to feel the heat coming off you and his variant. He hesitantly rests his hand on your hip and you flinch, not expecting to feel a third hand on your body. Miguel’s variant raises his slick soaked fingers to your mouth and smears a bit of it on your bottom lip. You open up slightly but Mig had already slid them inside your mouth making your tongue taste yourself. You whine as best you could with his fingers in your mouth and look up at Miguel with shame. You felt your cheeks burning hot but your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Miguel stared down at you, huffing softly as he watched you suck your slick off his own variants fingers.

“Fuck…” He groaned and his grip on your hip tightened. “Can I? Please.” He bent over slightly, his breath hitting your face. The redhead behind you watched and then flicked your nipple when you didn’t respond fast enough. You yelped around his digits and felt them slip out, a string of saliva coming out.

You nodded again, reaching one hand off Mig’s arm to hold onto Miguel’s shoulder.

Miguel slides your shorts down, pooling them underneath you and moans when he finds you without underwear, his cock twitching in anticipation. His hand on your hip slides down to lift your leg up and he moves closer to rub his crotch against your core. The blunt nudge sent a jolt of pleasure through your body and you nearly fell back if Mig wasn’t holding you from behind. Miguel’s other hand rises up to cup your other breast, squeezing and kneading the flesh between his fingers.

“Ah–Fuck…!” You gasp and roll your head back against his variant's shoulder, your eyes barely glancing down at the two toned hands cupping and grabbing your body. You feel Mig thrust softly behind you, poking your ass while Miguel continues to grind up against your pussy. Your mind went foggy as you felt both men surround you, the fantasy of being taken by both of them sent your brain short circuiting.

The shirt you had been wearing fumbles back down, covering yourself once more. Miguel grunts in annoyance, letting go of your breast to rip the fabric into shreds with his talons that made Mig tsk. Miguel went back to playing with your nipple until he leaned down to latch onto it, flicking the nub gently with his tongue. You twitched and gasped, arching your back off Mig and into Miguel’s mouth. “Miguel!” You mewl and he groans in response, biting it with his teeth and pulling before letting go and watching how erect it had gotten, wet with his spit.

You hear Mig grunt behind you, bucking his hips against your ass to feel some friction for his cock. His arm wrapped around your middle to pull you against him, his lips dragged along your neck in open mouthed kisses and his hand returned to twist your nipple between his index finger and thumb. Miguel pulled away from you a bit so glance down at the soaking mess you made on his suit, his cock throbbing for more. So, he rips his variant’s hand off your waist.

Miguel then hauled you over his shoulder, returning back to the bedroom and tossing your body on the mattress, giving you a strange sense of deja vu. Mig rolled his eyes and followed behind your two and saw you on his bed once more. You squeak and cover your eyes when Miguel phased out of his suit and Mig tossed his shirt up and over his head. Miguel crawls in bed with you, his frame basically covering everything in front of you. You peek through your fingers and close your legs which makes both men frown. Mig crawls beside you, pulling one leg apart while Miguel takes the other. Mig takes your hands away from your face and settles for kissing your cheeks and trailing down to your jaw and collarbone.

“Don’t be shy,” He murmurs, his hands cupping your tits in his large palms. “You’ve already had one of us. What’s another one, hm?” You moan out when he plays with one nipple in his hand and sucking the other. Miguel kisses down your stomach, finding himself fond of your thighs, squishing them in his hands and grazing them softly with his talons. Goosebumps rise to your skin as his tongue teases just outside your pussy.

Miguel’s plump lips take your clit and he gently sucks on it, his tongue licking up and down and swirling around it. You quickly grip both Miguel’s hair in one hand and pull them closer to you body. Your mind didn’t know who to focus on first, it was like they touched every nerve possible and turned you numb, only to feel pleasure and nothing else.

Miguel pulls away entirely, spreading your folds apart to see the increasing amount of slick you were producing and he groaned. He slips a finger inside you pushing through from how tight you surrounded yourself on his digit. “Coño…” Miguel mutters. You spread your legs further apart, Miguel kissing the inside of your thigh appreciatively. Your head rolls back as the two men assault every possible soft spot on your body.

Mig twists your nipple between his fingers at the same time his mouth suckled around your other nipple. You felt his teeth nibble the bud, his fangs grazing over you delicately. Miguel continues to ease his finger deeper inside you, preparing you for another finger. You moan loudly, writhing beneath them desperately and it’s no use–not when two grown men are keeping you still with their weight and hands. You try bucking your hips further down Miguel’s fingers, whimpering his name and gasping. Miguel curls his fingers inside you, hitting the soft spot you’ve been craving and so you squeal in pleasure. Mig quickly lets go of your abused nipple to kiss you and hinder your moaning.

Miguel growls and glares at the redhead. “I want to hear her.”

“Mmm, too bad.” Mig chuckles against your lips and slips his tongue in your mouth. You could barely focus, face contorted in pleasure as Miguel takes it as a challenge. He dives back into your cunt, pumping his fingers while his tongue flicks up and down to lap up your juices. Your moans are muffled by Mig’s mouth but your hips buck wildly to meet your boss’ wet muscle licking you up. He pins your hips down so he can focus on eating you out properly and you whimper, your body completely hindered and at their command. His nose nudges against your clit and you claw into their hair. One hand in straight ginger locks while the other hand yanks on wavy brown strands.

Mig pulls away from your lips to take a deep breath, both your tongues and lips are wet from swapping spit. You’re breathless from the kiss so you stick to small whines and mewling as you hump yourself on Miguel’s fingers and mouth. He feels you convulsing around his fingers and he eases a third finger, scissoring you to stretch you out just a little more. “Miguel! Miguel! So close, I'm so close–please!” You beg, trying to fight against his hands holding you down.

But Miguel pulls away all of a sudden. The pressure inside your abdomen disappears and you groan in frustration. “No!”

“Tranquilo. You’ll get what you want.” Miguel mutters under his breath. He looks over at his variant, a silent conversation going on that only a Miguel would ever understand. Mig settles by your head, his cock strained against his sweatpants. You look over lazily at it and try to reach for his waistband but he stops you with a gentle smile.

“Not yet, princess.” He kisses your knuckles before dropping it back to your side. You’re confused for just a moment but you’re pulled out of it when you feel Miguel lift your legs over his shoulders. He lines his cock up with your entrance, his angry red tip dribbling an insane amount of precum. He glides himself in between your folds to lube himself up and your pussy throbs feeling how hard he is. Miguel huffs, his cheeks flushed as the lust clouds his judgment and mind.

Being as gentle as he possibly could, Miguel pushes his tip inside you. You gasp and arch your back, Miguel being just a bit bigger than you’ve taken before. Mig jumps into action, playing with your nipples while he runs kisses along your neck. “Hold onto me, mama. I’ve got you.” He murmurs. Your hand grips into his hair again while the other grips the sheets.

“Mig, Mig…” You whine while Miguel pushes further inside. Miguel rubs your thighs to ease you into some comfort and trying to stop himself from splitting you apart. Both men whisper sweet nothings to you, praising you for how well you’re doing and how good it’ll feel. Miguel rubs your clit in small circles while he reaches the hilt.

“S’good…” Miguel murmurs. “You’re doing so good.” He slowly pulls out, watching your pussy soak his cock. He strokes himself inside you softly as to not hurt you but, damn, was it hard. Mig tries to relieve your stress by bringing your nipple in his mouth again, his hands holding you and rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

You moan and arch your back, your hips lifting up to meet one of Miguel’s soft thrusting. That feeling you had last night of needing something more was slowly being quenched. Having multiple hands, multiple options of pleasure was just what you needed and it seemed like they thought the same. Miguel held your legs up while he picked up his pace, his balls smacking against the curve of your ass. You felt him stretch you out with every thrust, your pussy coating his cock with wet slapping and sticky echoes. Mig murmurs into your ear.

“Can you feel it? You take cock so well, look at you. You look so pretty getting fucked, hm? Oh, you poor thing.” Mig taunts you, his hands squeezing your breasts in his palms, your nipples and mounds having bite marks all over them. You wail and thrust your hips to meet Miguel's pounding, your cunt squeezing him tightly as you felt the same pressure of your orgasm coming up.

Miguel groans, panting and huffing to keep himself steady while he fucks you. His hand presses down on the bulge in your stomach, feeling his tip slide in and out and poke through your stomach.

For some reason, that was the final push you needed to cum–your pussy clenching and unclenching as you cream and cry around Miguel’s thick girth. Your legs shook in his hands while he rammed into you to prolong your orgasm. He pulled out before he could cum with his teeth clenched tightly while Mig let go of your tits and stood up from the bed. Miguel takes a few deep breaths as he watches you barely recover from your high. His cock was still painfully hard and now glistening with your cum. Your body was bruised– hickeys around your chest from Mig and tiny scratches on your legs and thighs from Miguel’s talons.

Miguel tugs you up and lies you on your stomach so you’re facing the foot of the bed. You feel him tap your thigh. “Knees. C’mon.” He mumbles and you weakly try to lift yourself up but Miguel grows impatient, settling for just picking up your bottom half himself. His calloused hands grip into your plush hips, carrying most of your weight. You see Mig approach where you are and you look up. He smirks down at you and narrows his eyes downward and you follow. You gulp and grab the sheets into your fists when you’re met with the sight of him stroking his cock softly. Your mouth drops open in surprise and you feel your mouth water. His tip was already red and leaking and you’re entranced with the way he rubs his thumb across the head to smear his precum as lube.

His other hand lifts your gaze back up at him with his thumb forcing your lips apart to open them. You blink up at him and his heart skips a beat at how pretty you’ll look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. The redhead looks at his counterpart from behind you, giving him a small nod and he returns one back.

“Be a good girl and open up.” Mig hums and taps his cock to your lips–he’s been waiting for this. You open up and stick your tongue out for him to slide onto. His tip feels heavy as he nudges himself deeper in your warm mouth, his breathing already increasing rapidly. Your lips wrap around his thick cock, nearly hitting his base but enough for the red hair of his pubes to graze your nose. He groans above you, struggling to force you deeper down himself and instead reaches for your hair to grab onto.

You feel Miguel behind you slide his cock back inside you, pushing himself to the hilt where his balls smack your sensitive folds and bumping your forward, making you choke on Mig’s dick. The redhead hisses and grunts, yanking you back. “Be shocking careful.” He growls at Miguel but he ignores him. Miguel’s mind is somewhere else entirely, his eyes haven’t left your ass. He grips each cheek in his hand and bites his bottom lip, his fang piercing the skin for a second.

“Que bonita eres,” Miguel praises, tugging you back against his pelvis and making his cockhead arch up into your sweet spot. You shook and rolled your eyes back, nearly falling apart if it weren’t Mig holding you up. You clamp down on his cock instinctively which makes your boss choke on his gasp.

“Shit–she’s still tight.” Miguel moans, rocking his hips against your ass. “Relájate, mi amor–así, así.”

Your body moves after every push of Miguel’s thrusts–pushing you back and forth on the cock in your cunt and the cock in your mouth simultaneously. Mig moans in turn, the vibration from your own whimpering runs down his length for stimulation. His hand keeps a tight grip in your hair to make sure your head stays up and sucking. You feel your neck strain to look up while both men use your body for their own pleasure.

Sounds of slurping, squelching, and moaning surround the room. You could hear the quiet grunt of Mig while Miguel was a little louder, groaning and muttering things under his breath. You thought for a split second that Miguel was little more rough on you than his counterpart–or maybe it could’ve just been because it’s his first time fucking you. You didn’t care honestly.

You tried to focus on the Miguel in front of you, his dick filling your mouth and his tip occasionally poking the back of your throat and making you tear up. Your tongue swirls around him, gagging a bit and leaving copious amounts of spit on him. You glide your tongue under a throbbing vein of his and he hisses above you, his hand pulling your head forward to take him deeper and slapping his balls on your chin. “Fuck, I should’ve made you do this earlier–” He moans. “Should’ve known those pretty lips would do some good sucking me off.” He thrusts a bit faster and you can practically feel him swell up at the thought.

You moan around him, spit dribbling out your mouth and down your chin. You could taste the new flavor of his salty precum on your taste buds and the natural musk of his cock. Your jaw began to feel sore from being stretched open to accommodate his girth. Mig’s hand tried to shakily push back the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face. “That’s it, gorgeous. You’re doing so good for me. You like that? Feeling full, hm?” He teased, knowing you couldn’t even answer if you tried.

More saliva accumulated inside your mouth and you moaned around him pathetically as your response. You pussy clenched from his teasing which made the brunette behind you groan and pump himself faster inside you. He held your hips tightly going fast and short strokes which increased the sound of skin slapping on skin. You focused your eyes up at the redhead until your eyes widened feeling a hard smack to your ass.

You whined around Mig’s cock, feeling the tears prick in your eyes from pain and pleasure while Miguel behind you left a few more slaps to your ass before squeezing it in his large hand. Mig looked over at his counterpart fucking you from behind, kneading the plump flesh while he bucked wildly like an primal animal. Miguel’s eyes were clouded with raw lust, focusing on the way your ass jiggled and rippled with every pound and slap, how you mewled around his variant’s cock and how your previous orgasm made it so much easier to slip in and out of you.

God, you were perfect, Miguel thought to himself. So desperate and so willing to have not just one of him but two. “So greedy,” He murmured between heavy breaths. “Just had to have two cocks, huh? Just one isn’t enough—couldn’t settle so you wanted me to fuck you, is that it? Needed your boss to cum inside this weeping cunt?” Miguel groaned and lolled his head slightly back while his hips began to speed up. His cock swelled inside you, his balls tightening for release but he held back–just a little longer, it feels too good.

Your eyes rolled back, unable to keep sucking the redhead dick anymore with how their teasing and talking sent you in overdrive. Drool leaked out of you and you felt your pussy gush more juices on him and down your thighs. Mig pats your cheek to wake you up out of your cock-drunk haze.

“Head up, princess. Keep sucking, I’m so close.” He moans, grabbing the back of your head and shoving you up and down on his length.

You were made for this, both Miguel’s decided. You knew just how to please them, your pussy was already carved in the shape of their cocks, your tongue knowing exactly how to suck. Now that they had you, they were never letting go. Maybe there are some things Miguel O’Hara can share.

You weakly went back to sucking Mig off, but he didn’t mind. Just the feeling of your wet warm and drooling mouth was enough to have his cock twitching down your throat.

“Haah, fuck–” The man above moans, gripping your hair tightly in his fists. “Shit, shit–I’m gonna cum.” He whines and tries to pull himself off you but you whimpered and reached out your hand to grab his thigh from moving away. He looks down to see your eyes pleading and begging him.

“You wanna swallow?” He asks between huffs, a smirk slowly curling up. “Alright. I’ll give you what you want, princess.” You closed your eyes, a silent thank you as you tried to properly help him reach his climax and cum in your mouth. Mig closes his eyes and thrusts in abandon, his tip rubbing against the back of your throat and swelling up before releasing in your mouth. You gag a bit, unexpecting so much to come out but you tried swallowing as much of him as you could.

You felt him softening on your tongue while you drank his thick cum, some of it being too much and dribbling down your lips and his length, Your tongue slipped around him to make sure he got his fill before he slid out your lips. A string of his cum and your saliva connecting from his tip to your wet lips. Mig stroked his cock a few more times, the beads of leftover cum spurting from his tip which you happily lapped up with the tip of your tongue.

“Oh, such a good girl.” Mig praises, his thumb cupping your chin to open your mouth to make sure you swallowed everything. You opened up softly, moaning and whimpering freely now that you aren’t hindered by dick down your throat. Mig, now exhausted from cumming, pulled away from you to sit on one of his plush chairs in his bedroom. His chest heaved up and down as he calmed down from his high. Meanwhile, your head fell to rest on the edge of the mattress while Miguel continued to hump you, his cock engorging every second with his own release. Especially with the way you moaned and squealed.

“Tan mojada, tan apretada–ay Dios–por favor, por favor–"Miguel moaned, slurring under his breath while he looked down to watch his dick disappear in your pussy and reappear with an unbelievable amount of wetness. His thrust went out of rhythm, now a desperate attempt to just finish inside you.

“I’m gonna cum inside, okay?” He groans. “Eso se suena bien, mami?” He leans over you to pound his cock in a different spot, his hand coming down to push your head in the mattress. Your cheek is smushed to the side and you can barely see Miguel fucking you from behind but you can feel his hand grab your entire head.

“Uh-huh!” You babble, mouth just being filled and drenched with cum. Miguel sees your eyes half-lidded and rolled back, jaw slack as you spill out moans and more drool with his variants cum drying on your chin and lips.

Miguel lets out a deep growl from his throat as he fastens his pace, his talons pricking your skin around your hip to keep you steady while he uses you. You scream his name, your vision going white and hot with pleasure as you finally reach your orgasm again. You came around him, the sound of wet plaps becoming more prominent as Miguel thrusts his last few times.

Seeing your body go limp and sensitive from just orgasming made his moan in response, his cock twitching wildly before stiffening and shooting his thick load inside you. He painted your insides white, the warmth of it slipping out between him and you from the sheer amount of cum he produced. Miguel continued to slowly pump himself dry, making sure your pussy squeezed every drop he could offer, shuddering when he pulled out of your wet walls to see himself drenched in both your fluids.

Miguel let you go, watching your spent body flop down without the help of him picking you up. It was now more quiet than usual, just the sounds of heavy breathing as you collected yourselves, sweat dripping down everyone’s skin.

Mig smirks lazily from his comfortable plush chair, his cock in his hand and semi-hard from watching you two finish. He glances at Miguel’s glistening cock, also semi-hard just by watching how you glow after cumming.

“I could go another round.” Mig huffs and Miguel turns to him with a tired look but with a speck of lust ignited in them.

You whimpered and shook from the aftershocks of your orgasm still flowing through you. “No…no more. I’m…It’s so sensitive…” You drooled on the sheets, trying to catch your breath and feel the nerves come back to your body.

Miguel looks down at you and nudges your legs apart to see the damage done to your pussy. Swollen and glistening with all types of fluids and cum. He uses his fingers to spread your folds and you twitch and whine weakly, Miguel’s cum oozing out of you. He jams the amount that had leaked out of your back inside with two of his fingers, making you moan. His other hand grabs your ass cheek apart and he grins.

Miguel looks up at his counterpart only to see him with the same toothy smirk. Great minds think alike.

“Well, there is… one hole we haven’t used yet.”

A/N: are u happy to be in paris? :3

To the lovelies that wanted to be tagged <3 🏷

@oscarissac2099 @huniedeux @mcmiracles @gltzpzy @ahano @the-pan-liquid @julian0800 @2099gf @jadeloverxd

feedback appreciated ! plz be nice _(:3」∠)_

[inaba-seishiro]

Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity

Impurities

hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright

Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875 Art by: beawoodward on artstation !

You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so! You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner. Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some. Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class. Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group. Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing. Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.

He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.

You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.

Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.

You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.

You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.

“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.

MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.

You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”

MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” 

You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.

“Okay.”

Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.

MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven. Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.

One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you. Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.

“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.

“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.

“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?

“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.

“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started. Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them. He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you. “How about I take you out?” Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?” “A date. Does that sound good?” You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?” Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.

Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline. It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much. When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him. “If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Miguel broke into a wide smile. Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside. Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing. For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date. You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your  lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough. “Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead. “Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful. Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel. You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar. “This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table. “You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.” You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.

Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up. Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.” “Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend. You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn. “No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?” Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.

For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red. You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him. Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit. You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.” Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.” You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest. You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders. “Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.” Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.

Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns. “What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away. You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak. “Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water. Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.” You blink. “Robotics club? Really?” “Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves. “Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.” “Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup. After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances. Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.

“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky. “Sure…” You say hesitantly. He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.” The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh. He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.” You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm. “Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.

With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours. After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing. The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you. “This is…” “Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist. You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?” Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.” You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another. As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.

“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you. “I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline. He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.” You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.” “Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.” “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh. “But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.” “You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly. “So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly. “You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again. “I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.” “Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.

“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.” “And…the sudden date?” “Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.” “It was not twelve times.” “It felt like twelve times.” “...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.” Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder. You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.” “MJ?” “My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once. You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.

You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up. “This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping. “I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back. “I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away. “Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.

You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm. “I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees. “Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach. “No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.” Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet. Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?” “Mhm!” You squeak. He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss. You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed. One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in. “You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.” He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?” Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it? “No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.” You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.

“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile. You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything. “What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.” Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?” You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this. Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again. He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.

Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t. “Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed. Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him. “Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.

“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.

Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems

Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.

He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.

“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue. Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights. Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you. “Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…” Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder. “Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax. Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.

“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs. “Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft. “It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore. He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing. Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone. You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core. “Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting. Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body. “Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up. Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets. “Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you. He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.” “What?” “What?” You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.

His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was. “There is…no way it’s gonna fit.” Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him. He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries. “It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.” He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds. “Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was. He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress. Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?” You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…” Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.

“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear. He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in. “Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes. “Stop, stop–” You whimper. “I’ll pull out–It’s okay–” “No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth. Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first. “Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes. “Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle. After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.” He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body. It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.” Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.” “Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight. “Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”

You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is. “‘m gonna move, okay?” You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you. Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again. “Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…” Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful. For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin. After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.” “You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice. He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush. “More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work. He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you. Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock. “Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper. 

“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind. Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess. Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal. “God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts. You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids. Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.” His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust.  Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls. “C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.

“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch. Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop. Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed. “Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze. “Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.” Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”

“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two. “Really. I’m honored to be your first.” You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline. “Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him. Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek. You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!” Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind. “My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.

Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.

a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute

[inaba-seishiro]

HIII tehehe

so imagine this, miggy and wifey reader coming home from a date and reader is just giggling as she remembers him being kind to all the kids who came up to him wanting to play with him. and reader is just like 'what if i just gave him one instead'

miggy notices his wifey reader giggling to himself, mini fluff moment happens. then reader exposes herself and then

~smut~

Baby Maker

long overdue and was very much in the accidentally deleted category like everything in this ask was written it just needed an ending before POOF gone. so, a thousand apologies i could not say sorry enough nonie. i tried to write down everything i remembered so i could get it out as soon as possible. as always, if you're not satisfied, this ask can be rewritten for a third time Art: feminine.999 on instagram

After a long and tiring winter, Miguel was eager to take you out for a picnic date in the warm sun again. It was always a sweet reminder of your time as young lovers and just having the simplicity of being in each others presence along with some food. So whenever the time was right and the temperature was warm enough, Miguel would plan and whisk you away to the park at the same hill you two have decided would be your spot. "Miguel just hand me something." You smile at him and stick your hands out, the picnic blanket hanging lightly on your forearm. Miguel carries both the cooler and basket as well as your purse on his shoulder. He had only asked you to fold the blanket but you wanted to help so you held onto it instead while he insisted he had everything else. "Ah-ah." He says, shaking his head. "Tengo todo, mama. I'm okay." Obviously, he was. He could carry several more things if he wanted to but you felt really bad watching him. "Give me the keys then. I'll drive." You cross your arms. In truth, he didn't want you to drive- he's a little traditional when it comes to handling things on his own while you rested freely from responsibilities. But, he sighed and instead of protesting, he nodded. "Keys are in my back pocket." He pouts dejectedly. You found it cute and rolled your eyes. You reached around him to grab the keys from his pocket, giving a teasing squeeze to his ass which he jumped at. "Oye." He says with a playful warning tone, squinting his eyes down at you. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, as well as a spark in his eyes. "C'mon." You shrug and skip in front of him, pretending to be innocent. At the car, Miguel was finishing up putting everything in the trunk, massaging the palms of his hands to ease the strain of holding onto the handles of the cooler and basket. You place the blanket over everything, feeling Miguel kiss your temple and his hand sneaking around your waist. "Good?" You ask him, looking up and cupping his cheeks. Miguel leans into you, his hands on your hips to keep him steady. "Mhm." He hums as he looks back down at you. Miguel kisses your forehead then each of your cheeks before finishing it off with a long smooch to your lips. "Let's go home." He murmurs.

Before you could move, Miguel looks down after feeling something tap the side of his leg. A soccer ball rolled a bit before he skillfully rolled it under his foot and kicked it into the air so it landed in his hand. “Whoa!” A chorus of young high-pitched voices shouted in unison. A group of kids huddled by you two, marveling at Miguel. “How did you do that?” One boy gasps, his eyes lighting up in admiration. Miguel chuckles nervously, bashful of the attention of ten-year olds. “Ah–it’s a little tricky.” He hands the ball to a little girl and she waves it high above her head. “Can you show me?” She squeals and Miguel blinks, looking back at you. You covered your mouth to hide your giggles and smile. “Go.” You tilt your head at the group of kiddies and Miguel stumbles over his words but the kids already took your approval and began tugging on Miguel’s arm back to the grassy fields to play.

As you got home, you couldn’t bring down the smile on your face, cheeks hurting with how long you’ve grinned to yourself. You let out a couple of giggles remembering how the children flocked to him and how Miguel looked carrying two grown kids in his arms when his little team scored a goal. Not only had you felt warmth in your cheeks but in other places as well. “Why do you look like that?” Miguel asks after placing the bags down near the door. He’d organize things later. “Like what?” Miguel brings his hand to the side of his face and bunches his shoulders up, looking up at the ceiling with a mockingly dreamy sigh. “Like this!” You punch his shoulder and Miguel laughs, bringing his arms around you from behind and leaves little apology kisses along your neck. “I did not look like that.” You defend yourself. “Mmm, you did. You always look like that anyway. At least when it comes to me.” He mumbles against your ear, his breath tickling your senses and you squeal to move away from him but he just holds you closer. “So what is it this time? Was I extra good-looking today? Did I sweep my favorite girl, my wife, off her feet?” Miguel presses his lips on your cheek with a loud smooch. He couldn’t help teasing you a bit. “No, it was different!”

“Hmm, different?” “The kids at the park.” You feel Miguel pause and he lifts his head up and tilts it to the side after turning you around. “What about the kids at the park?” He asks, confusion swirling in his eyes. “You looked…good with them.” He huffs a quick laugh. “Okay?” “And I was thinking, y’know,” You giggle at the thought of Miguel picking you up, filling you up, carrying a baby–making him a father. He wanted to pick your brain. “What?” He squints down at you. “What if we had a baby?” Miguel’s eyes widened, blinking in surprise. “H-huh?” His voice went up an octave as his cheeks had gotten a little redder. You felt his hands tense around your hips and you secure your arms around his neck. “What if..I just gave you a baby?” You repeat in a hushed whisper. “With your help, of course.” You giggled and your flirting sent shivers down his spine. Subconsciously, Miguel’s eyes turn downwards to your stomach–imagining it swollen and growing with each passing day with just a few pumps of his cum. His eyes dilate and he feels the blood in his body rush straight down to his groin. “O-oh, God…” He groans, his breathing already getting heavy. “Are you sure? You want a baby? You want my baby?” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. You could feel his hands gripping your sundress. It fell just above your knees so Miguel was already sliding his hand up under it to feel the skin of your thigh, skin still a little warm from being in the sun. “Mhm, yes, please.” You whine, feeling the rush of arousal drench into your panties from hearing Miguel hold onto his last remaining self-restraint before he fucks you silly. At your plea, Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you up towards him to kiss you deeply. His lips devour yours, tongue slipping past your defenses to tangle in a dance with your own tongue. One hand pushes your head closer while his other hand runs down to grip the plump fat of your ass through the fabric of your dress. Tapping it twice, he signals you to jump in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and he hurriedly enters the bedroom. Miguel falls on top of you, bodies bouncing on the mattress but it does nothing to stop Miguel’s desire for you.

Miguel separates from your lips, dragging his wet mouth down to your jawline and neck while his hands bunch up your dress at your waist. He brings a hand up to pull down the top half of your dress and begins to leave small love bites across your breasts before licking your nipple into his mouth. With your head rolled back, your fingers run through his hair, hips attempting to grind up for some friction but with his weight on top of you–you’re helpless. “Want me to make you a mama, huh?” He growls huskily, lifting his head up and using his fingers to flick and tweak your nipples so he could watch you screw your eyes shut and your mouth parted open as you moan his name into the air. “Want me to make you all pretty and swollen with my cum, hm? Fuck…” “Oh, God–Miggy..!” Your hands at his shoulders, arching your back off the bed and writhing underneath him in a desperate attempt to make him focus on your wet pussy. Miguel can’t help but play with your tits, groping them in his hands and squishing them. He pulls your dress further down, tracing your curves and worshiping them to engrave it in his memory. Your dress now on the floor, you lay bare with just your panties. Miguel presses down on the soaking patch between your legs and you shiver. “No me jodas, Miguel. Just fuck me.” You groan and buck your hips to grind on his fingers but he chuckles and pulls away. “Dale paciencia, mi amor.” He says even though he feels the same, his cock straining against his jeans and leaving a wet spot in his boxers from dripping precum. Miguel leans back down to kiss you, hands fumbling with the zipper and he hastily shoves his boxers and pants down his legs. Deciding he was also impatient, Miguel rips your underwear apart and he bites down hard on his lips to stop him from moaning loudly at the sight of your glistening folds. Mind cluttered with lust, you don’t even notice the tear but you do feel his hard cock rubbing between your puffy pussy lips. He sighs while he collects your slick onto his shaft, his leaking tip mixing with your juices. “Mmm, fuck yes…” He shudders, thighs flexing as his muscles tensed up. Goosebumps litter his skin and he looks down at your body. Sprawled nude on the mattress while you’re already looking fucked out of your mind when he’s barely put the tip in. His cockhead catches inside and he teasingly enters. His hand places itself on your stomach, pupils blown wide open.

“Qué pasa, mi amor? Te sientes bien? Ay, que linda eres...” He purrs as he pushes inside you. “Feel me, mama.” Each inch is slow and he makes you feel the growing stretch of his cock, veins pulsing against your throbbing walls–your cunt convulses around him to suck him deeper inside your warmth. “Mine, mine, mine. So pretty, you’ll look gorgeous when I fuck a baby into this tight pussy.” Miguel whispers against your neck. His cock twitches when you claw at his back, choking out your moans as your face flushes with a warm blush. He could feel his balls aching but he held back as best as he could. His palm feels his cock from inside you, poking through your stomach and his eyes roll back. Fuck, he’s deep. “Tell me you want it. Dímelo otra vez.” He moans, slowly rocking his hips in and out of you. Your mouth had been drooling since he teased your entrance with his cock, mind blank with nothing but the desire to be bred by your husband. With a weak and broken whimper, you begged. “Wan’ it,” You squirmed. “Breed me.” Miguel’s forehead landed on your shoulder, his body hunched over as his hand went to pull your thigh on his hip and slammed into you. You screamed and held onto him before he started pounding ruthlessly into you. You could’ve flown off the bed with just how fast and hard Miguel decided to pace at. He wraps his hands to your ass and pulls your bottom half up for easier access, dragging your wet folds up and down his cock. He pants, breathing shakily as his arms tense up–veins protruding and running down all the way to his hands. Miguel then lets go, grabbing both your legs and pushes them to your chest. He folds you in half, displaying your cunt to his eyes as his main priority. He bites his lip, grunting with every pounding he gives you. His knees dig into the mattress to anchor himself as he jackhammers his twitching cock into your warm wetness. The arousal gushing out of you and rolling down between your asscheeks and onto the bed. “You’ll be such a good mama.” He moans, curling his hips so his cock arches right into your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes around him tightly, head thrown back while your nails rake his back in streaks of red, imprinting yourself on him. You’re a squealing mess, tears in your eyes and you could barely feel your legs anymore. Face morphed with pure ecstasy as you feel each drag of his cock empty and refill you over and over again. His bulbous tip nudges against your cervix and twitches against your velvety walls and your moans turn shamelessly pornographic-like. Meanwhile Miguel gets himself off to the thought of you creaming on his cock, his balls unleashing his cum straight into your womb and getting you pregnant. He huffs, ears ringing as his mind only focuses on breeding you. He thinks to himself that once isn’t enough. Just one measly pump of his seed won’t be enough to bear you with his child. He’d have to do it more than once. He had to see his thick load seeping out of your puffy pussy folds. He wanted to see you filled to the brim, pumped full to make sure you’ll carry. He wanted to see your belly grow, creating a being that was the perfect combination of you and him.

His mind spurs him on, mouth open as he spews his own moans and  praising your tight cunt at how well it takes him. He’s pussy drunk, hips smacking and his balls slapping against you, his body pressing your legs tighter against yourself and ravaging himself into you with heavy thrusts. He grits his teeth when you scream and clench around him, pussy fluttering as you feel the release of an orgasm shoot through your body. Your legs quiver as Miguel holds onto you, eyes rolling back and drool escaping off the side of your mouth. Your cum drips into a puddled mess below you and Miguel’s orgasm follows right after you, drilling his cock until he’s balls deep. His cock twitches with each spurt of warm cum shooting out his tip, plugging into your womb. You take deep breaths but it seems impossible when Miguel keeps your legs up. His head is hung while he waits until your cunt milks every last drop of his seed. You weakly reach up and cup his cheek to catch his attention. He meets your gaze and you give a tired smile and pull him down for a kiss. Miguel eases your legs down and kisses you back. His hands rubs comfortingly around the dip of your waist. For a moment you feel at peace, a bliss of entering a new era with him. The peace lasts for just a moment. Miguel leaves your lips and twirls your body on your stomach, lifting your bottom half up so your ass hangs in the air. In the process, his dick leaves your warmth and it leaves you feeling empty. You gasp and grip onto the sheets, head turning to try and see Miguel. “‘M not done.” He mumbles. “You wanted me to breed you so I’ll fuckin’ breed you.” His words are slurred but his mind is made up. He angles his cock to your wet cunt again, smearing the combined arousal around with his tip as if painting on a canvas. Instinctively, you moan and wiggle your hips back, pussy swelling up with desire again. Miguel smirks and pushes back inside and the stretch is familiar and comforting. Shuddering, your pussy welcomes him back by squeezing tightly, sucking him in, and he hisses. “Uyy, fuck…” He sighs. He starts off slow, bumping you forward with easy and short thrusts, feeling himself slowly grow hard again inside you. Your eyes flutter close, face smushed into the pillow and drooling on the case of it as your body lurches forward. Miguel increases his speed, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip to bring your ass back onto his cock. His balls smack your clit for added stimulation and it makes you jump from the electric pleasure zipping straight to your core. “Oh my God! Miguel!” You whine, heat flushing on your cheeks, Miguel’s dick reaching different places in a different position. The pain of sensitivity washes away, your pussy now craving the hot sticky liquid of your husband. Miguel looms over you, bending one leg to keep him steady as he keeps drilling deeper into you. His lips leave wet and sloppy kisses to your shoulder, panting and sharing warm breaths with you while your bodies buck up against one another.

“That feel good, mama? Hm?” He moans, burying himself in your neck while his hips snap up against yours, ass slapping and rippling with each thrust.

“Yes! Yes! Mhm!” Your voice turns high pitched, eyes glassy and unfocused while being bred like a bitch in heat. Still, you took pride in it to be the one to carry his child, to have him use your hole as his cumdump and take him however many times as long as you keep feeling like this. You’d gladly take him over and over again.

“You’ll give me another baby after this one, right mama?” He hums, tongue licking your neck and nipping at your skin. “Say you will, querida. Say you’ll let me put a baby in you again–we’ll have a big family.” He whines, humping your ass in quick strokes. “Say it, say it, say it, please, please.”

Miguel could feel himself getting closer. He could feel you getting close too with the familiar pulse and clench of your walls around his throbbing cock. His balls are wet with your slick, your wetness never ending.

“Yes! I will! Promise! Just–please!” Your words are barely audible with your face pushed into the pillow but Miguel is satisfied with your cockdrunk state. His cock engorges with the thought of a big family, you giving him as many kids as he wants and him watching it all happen once he spills as much as he wants in your willing cunt.

His hips go out of rhythm, he chases his high of impregnating you for a second time and his cock twitches violently before squirting ropes of cum to paint your walls white. He doesn’t stop pumping, wanting to feel you cream on his cock so badly even when the overstimulation makes him whimper.

With a cry of his name, your pussy pulses around him and you feel his previous load drip out of you to make space for his new one. The liquid trickles down your thighs and your shake as the orgasm is ripped out of you. When you stiffen, Miguel drags his cock out from you and flips you on your back again.

Barely giving you time to recover, Miguel lifts you up from the bed and your back makes contact with the cool wall. He holds you securely under your ass and you automatically wrap your legs around his waist once more. Your arms are around his neck, hands in his hair and Miguel captures your lips in a messy kiss. His hips rut into you to slide his dick back inside which resounds out in rapid smacks of skin on skin contact.

You’re bouncing on his dick, hair tangled and becoming staticy from your head rubbing on the wall. His thrusts slow to a stop as he focuses on making out with you, tongue dancing with yours and exploring your mouth with a low moan of pleasure.

Teeth clack against each other and you roll your pelvis to regain the friction. Pussy clenches around him desperately and Miguel lets out a guttural groan, separating from your lips to bite your chest. Your back lifts off the wall and you push your tits to his mouth, Miguel eagerly sucking your nipples and switching between left and right.

He angles up and up, feeling your walls slide on him like some silicon dildo. He gropes your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading them apart while your slick sounds out with a sloppy, dirty and wet mess. Miguel shoves you harder against the wall, pounding your body in rhythmic thrusts that bang loud enough for a passerby to hear. His back is covered with your nails marks.

You’re screaming, you’re so fucking sensitive but it’s just so hot how he just keeps going. There’s a fire that’s ignited in you–some sick form of pleasure that you get off on your husband pumping you full of semen. It gave you pleasure just how badly he wanted this–wanted you. You can’t help but squeeze around him, pussy unable to handle the bundle of overstimulated nerves so it spasms.

Jaw slacked and spit dribbling down your chin with your tongue lolled out your mouth–you can barely form a thought when Miguel’s fucking them out of you. You didn’t expect for Miguel to jump at the chance at having a baby but right now, it felt so worth it. His teeth bites at your nipple, tongue rolling around the bud and devouring it like you were the sweetest thing he’s tasted.

“Miguell…! I’m so–mmph!–fuck, I’m close!” You pull on his strands of hair and he lets go of your nipple. Miguel leaves his forehead on your chest, breath fanning your skin while he bucks into you. He cums first, his essence spilling out and dribbling back down on his cock and he grunts with annoyance. His annoyance doesn’t last long when you climax just a few seconds after with a squeal. You ankles lock tightly around his waist to push him to the hilt to keep the rest of his cum–old and new–plugged inside. Miguel shudders and moves you off the wall and back to the edge of the bed.

Miguel lays you down on the mattress with a huff of exhaustion, becoming sleepy after three orgasms. Still, he turns you on your side, lifting your leg up so he could slide in his cock between your twitching and sensitive folds.

You strangle out a whine, eyes blinking in a dazed haze. You reach around you to grip his hair and plead for mercy. You don’t know how you even lasted this long.

“Thought you wanted a baby. I’m making sure we’re having that baby.” He mumbles against your neck, humming when he sheathes inside you again. Your cunt spasms, fluttering and pulsating from overstimulation. However, Miguel is gentle this time.

He grinds behind you in easy thrusts. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, turning your head around with your mouth slightly parted, whining out your moans. Miguel kisses you, his hand gripping your thigh tightly to uphold it while his cock slips in and out of you. The evidence of his essence drips out of you and leaves a shiny coat and the milky white circle at the base of his shaft prominent from previous orgasms.

You weakly buck your ass back to go in time with his thrusting. You break from the kiss, string of spit connecting on your wet lips before you rest your head back on the pillow, heart thumping wildly. Miguel goes back to kissing your neck and shoulders.

“Asi es, mami,” He whispers huskily. “One more. Can you do that for me? Jus’ one more.” His hips roll in circles and his hand goes underneath you to reach around to your front, fingers finding your clit. He rolls it between his fingers and circles around it softly with just the right amount of pressure that he knows you like. Your hips stutter and feel another climax coming, but this time a little weaker than the rest.

“Mig…Miggy…” You whine and he shushes you gently. His fingers leave your clit and he rests his hand on your stomach, thumb rubbing up and down the small pudge of tummy where his baby will grow inside you.

“I know, mi reina, I know. I love you so much. I love you. I love you so damn much.” He whispers sweetly, Miguel kissing behind your ear. His words of affection make you whimper.

“I love you too.”

Miguel winds up cumming inside you for the final time, emptying out all of his energy and hugging you tight to his chest while you squeal and cum right after him. He keeps you close, putting your leg down and curling his arms around your waist to spoon you.

Your breathing slowly evens out, exhaustion catching up to you. Miguel pulls out, each drag shocking your nerves until he leaves with a wet plop, strings of cum connecting you both together until it breaks. He turns you around to face him and brings your head against his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage and you weakly hug him back. You feel full just like he told you he would do to you.

You can’t help but feel content, excitement blooming in your chest for the next chapter in your life with your husband. He's warm.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You whisper softly. Miguel’s lips kiss your hair and he lifts your face up to him. He continues to pepper your cheeks and forehead with kisses.

“We’re gonna be parents.” He echos. “Thank you.”

You couldn’t ask for a better man to start a family with.

A/N: me when i enforce my breeding kink miguel agenda

[inaba-seishiro]

What if…. Miguel was Gomez Addams?

(Discord brainrot go brrrr)

Miguel was the type of man that knew what he wanted. A man with odd tastes yet with an undeniable charm that had people reeling in. He took pride in being the life of the party, welcoming guests, entertaining with men and wooing the women.

Some would say he’s at the top and would forever be at the top.

However, the moment you walked in, there was a clear shift in the mood. Doors opened and creaked as you came into view, a gentle smile on your red lips and hands delicately placed one on top of the other on your stomach.

Your eyes are on Miguel—him staring back—and the entire room turns to face Miguel. His smile grows at the sight of you, heart beating to life once more.

Miguel drops the champagne glass he held, the cup shattering into shards on impact, and his feet shuffle hurriedly to stand by your side. Few gasps are heard at the pitched sound of glass breaking, alcohol seeping into the wooden floorboards but all of that falls on deaf ears for Miguel.

Your smile tilts higher up when Miguel approaches, both his hands immediately taking one of yours and kissing your knuckles with gusto.

You can feel his breath when he sighs against your skin, his hands clutching desperately onto you while he proceeds to kiss your hand and up your arm. His lips pepper you with affection onto your neck, and to your lips where he leaves a long kiss— your lipstick smeared on his mouth when he pulls away.

But Miguel doesn’t care for that. A bright grin etched on his face while his eyes glow with adoration. He can’t help but press another kiss to your knuckles with a soft moan. You take your other hand and cup his cheek and he leans into your palm.

“Hello, my darling.” You hum. Miguel stands back up, pressing another kiss to your cheek and temple.

“Cara mía…” He whispers back lovingly. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer as if he simply can not get enough of your beauty. He turns to the party goers—his fingers lacing through yours—and introduces you.

“My wife, everyone, has joined us for the night!” He glances back at you. “Gracias, mi reina.” His chest puffs up with pride, ushering you in front of him to walk first.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, darling.” You tell him sweetly that makes his heart jump at your tone. He knew you were a much secluded person so he didn’t hold it against you if you didn’t want to be at this party. That didn’t mean he wasn’t stuck to you like glue hours prior, wanting to spend time with you as much as he could before separation.

The guests greet you with weary smiles, now knowing that the oddness of the couple would tenfold now that they had each other. They return to their conversations, giving glances and side eyes to you two as you both walked further inside. A sea of people parting while your eyes remained on each other.

“Quieres un poco de vino, mi amor?” He asks, leading you to the table with various bottles.

“Maybe just a few sips tonight, my dear.” You fan yourself with your hand, feeling a little stuffy and warm. Miguel notice’s immediately, quickly letting you go to open a few of the large windows to let some air in. He comes back and hands you a wine glass, pouring the wine for you.

After that, his arm loops behind you, his palm resting on your lower back and leading you around the room while he makes deals and does his job. Well…he does mention you every chance he gets.

“Have you met my wife? She’s brilliant—my most trusted confidant!”

“You know my wife, beautiful woman, said the same thing to me the other day.”

“Oh no, the home decor was not my idea but my wife’s. She’s amazing. Please give your compliments to her instead of me.”

Shamelessly, Miguel would keep your hand in his, kissing up your arm and to your neck. You’d giggle when he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, him smirking and gripping you flush against him—even in front of others, much to their dismay.

It was strange to them just how loving Miguel was to you and you to him. Unusual for a man to be turned into putty that disregarded social norms of keeping public displays of affection to a minimum. They awkwardly looked at one another when Miguel brought you close for a kiss, unable to stop himself from moaning when he tasted the wine from your lips.

One man cleared his throat, blush evident on his cheeks. “W-well, it’s getting late. It must be time for us to go.” His blush darkens when you and Miguel ignore the man for an even deeper kiss with you, your hands combing through his hair. “We’ll talk more business later.”

The guests scurried off one by one, staring at the vulgarity of your blatant love for one another. When the door shut, it echoed along with the soft kisses you and Miguel shared before he lifted you up and sat you on one of the tables. His hands placed on both your thighs while your arms were around his neck.

[inaba-seishiro]

I need people to know that this is my favourite 3 seconds of the entire show

[inaba-seishiro]

glasses

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Lucifer: *enters the hotel*

Alastor: I cast vicious mockery 😈

An animation my sis and I made for fun

Music is Perception Check by Tom Cardy.

[inaba-seishiro]

FINALLY DECIDED TO USE THIS SITE AGAIN‼️‼️‼️ anyways I will post all my hh content here kkkkk

[inaba-seishiro]

Jasper Hale being your boyfriend

Boy let me tell you... This dude is a SIMP. He always wait for you after class and he always carry your things. He's basically your personal bodyguard and boyfriend.

He's not a fan of PDA that much but when you're both alone he will straight up hug you, but not too tight... He's afraid that he will hurt you.

He rarely gets jealous because he knows that your his soulmate but sometimes when boys gets touchy with you he will go to you and straight up say: "Darling, are they bothering you?" While glaring at them.

He knows that he will need to turn you into a vampire soon but he can't help but feel sad because he likes your eyes. But he doesn't have a choice so he's just enjoying the memories with you as a human.

Sometimes he sneaks in your room just because he misses you or when he's bored. He enjoys seeing your surprised face.

He decided that it's time for you to meet his family but he's kinda nervous lmao but in the end it worked out.

Esme LOVES you even when she just met you. She loves seeing your smile so she always finds a way to see you smile.

Carlisle just smiles at you and welcomes you in the family cuz he knows you're gonna get turned soon and He's glad that jasper finally have someone to love.

Alice, being the sweet girl she is hugs you and say "it's nice to finally meet you" and she keeps talking about fashions and how she loves your outfits.

Rosalie hated you at first but then warmed up to you and always hangs out with you. She always makes you sit in their table when it's lunch time. You're her favorite human and soon to be vampire.

Emmett was super excited to meet you, he wants to create chaos with you lmaooo. He always gives you stupid ideas to do with him, which leads to jasper saying: "No, not happening on my watch."

Edward and bella.. ehh their nice and welcomes you but their always lovely dovely with each other so you rarely interact with them, but you think their nice and they think you're nice too.

You always go to their house to hang out with them cuz who wouldn't want to be with them? Playing chess with edward, creating chaos with emmett, having fashion show with alice, cooking with esme, learning history with carlisle, having girl talks with rosalie, and cuddling with jasper.

You know who and what they are and you know you're gonna get turned into a vampire soon so you cherish all of your last moments with your human life.

And as soon as you turned into a vampire, jasper won't stay away from your side. He always admire you, staring at you like you're the only woman in his eyes.

When you're awake he calls Carlisle to help you control your thirst, and their actually shocked that you learned how to control it in a short time, but their proud of you especially emmett cuz.. chaos yk.

And having you as a vampire means he doesn't need to hold back. Kind of. But he can finally do things with you without holding himself back.

He always hunts with you to see how strong and fast you are. And he's not surprised you're stronger and faster now, it only made him fall inlove with you more.

Even if you're a vampire now, he still protects you and stay by your side. And again, he still carries your bag. But you won't complain, princess treatment is the best.

Edward is kind of annoyed cuz his mind is filled with you. Like literally every minute he thinks about you.

And when you both finally graduate, he plans on marrying you in like 3-4 months because yes he's been wanting to marry you.

And when you're both finally getting married he have the biggest smile on his handsome face. Makes you fall inlove with him more.

He literally can't wait so he straight up kissed you when it's just announcing lmaoooo.

But he's glad to finally have you in his life. He will protect you always and he will forever love you. Well, let's just say this is a "he fell first but she fell harder but he fell hardest." If hardest is even a word- but then again, it's cute.

movie masterlist. - navigation.

[inaba-seishiro]

source U HAVE TO WATCH THIS ONE