Miguel Ohara Au - Tumblr Posts

THE ANGST UGHHHHH THE PAINNNNN 😭😭

congratulations

pairing: college miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one year age gap, angst (?), smut, unprotected sex, doggy, and mentions of masturbation (m) pls lmk if i missed anything 🥸

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: DADDY’S HOMEEE 🗣️ anyways so i sorta based this off mac miller’s song ‘congratulations.’ i hope y’all aren’t tired of me posting angst 😪 (i haven’t forgotten ab the poll btw 😭)

word count: 6.3k

The sun don't shine when I'm alone

Miguel was stuck in a cycle of getting together with Dana, spending a couple months of bliss by going on dates with her and exchanging sweet gestures to having a messy breakup over something completely minute. It was toxic, he could admit that much to himself. But he didn't wish to stop it. If his own mother couldn't provide him with love as a child, why should he expect for someone else to love him?

He was an anomaly.

Or at least, that's what he's been led to believe for most of his life. A being that was incapable of being loved properly, of being the odd one out in every situation he was in. From being the tallest one in every single room he stepped in (often having to crouch his head) to being the black sheep of his family.

He stayed with Dana as a method to prove to himself that he was worthy of loved by someone, even if it wasn't expressed in the healthiest of ways. But even he was starting to get at his ending point. "No, I told you about a week ago that robotics was starting back up again and that I'd be busy with the meetings," Miguel explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time this week. Think about the good moments.

"So are those meetings more important than spending time with me now?" Dana's voice was starting to get annoying to his ears, the tiny whine in her voice starting to irritate him. He was sure she was putting up that pout that she thought got him weak at the knees every time he saw it. Really, he only ended up relenting to whatever she said so he couldn't have to see that awful expression on her face for much longer.

"No, they're not. But just try to understand that I have different interests outside of this relationship. We can go out this weekend if you want to do that," he was running out of options to keep her happy. It seemed like the more that he wanted for this relationship to work, the more that she kept slipping away from his fingers. "It's just.. I don't know if I want to be in a relationship where my needs aren't being seen."

She'd be back within the week. Maybe even less if she got up to that point of loneliness. She'd come back over to him with an apologetic smile on her face, expressing how she was willing to forgive him for his past transgression. "It's okay, I know you get busy sometimes but as long as you're willing to change, I want to give this another shot," she'd whisper in his ear, the two making up in an empty janitorial closet. An exchange of empty promises slipping from Dana easily forgotten with the heat of the moment.

He came back home from a robotics meeting that had run late, a small sigh escaping his lips as he stepped inside. There was no one to welcome him as he stepped in through the door, no one to ask him how his day had gone at school today. "How'd your day go?" he asked out loud, pretending that it was his mother's voice instead of his own echoing through the living room. "It was good, thanks for asking," he felt like a fool for talking to himself, rolling his eyes as he set down his bag on the couch.

Or at least, he'd thought he was alone. He heard two voices coming from the basement, his brother's and someone else's. He made his way downstairs, his eyes widening slightly upon the sight. The spaceship model that he'd spent every available second of last week building was now crumbled by a basketball. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, moving closer to Miguel as you stood in the corner.

"Look, we're sorry. The game got out of hand," Gabriel started off but he released that all his attempts to apologize would be futile upon seeing the glare Miguel was shooting in his general direction. "So if you knew, why'd you come downstairs to come play?" Miguel answered back quickly, seeming to have his comebacks ready at any moment. Part of you started to feel guilty, needing to take some kind of responsibility for this as well.

"Hey, it's not his fault. I'm the one who suggested that we play down here," you could sense the tension from a mile away, deciding to ease the situation a bit. Even if that meant you had to take the fall for Gabriel's mistake. You could see the gratitude in Gabriel's expression upon seeing you walk over to them. "So? That doesn't change the fact that my project's still in shambles."

And almost as if on cue, one of the pieces that was barely hanging on fell to the ground with a dramatic thud. You could see the vein on Miguel's forehead get closer and closer to popping the more he looked at the remnants of what was otherwise, a perfect model rocket. The only reason the two of you had even come down here in the first place was because Gabriel wanted to show you the design that his brother was working on.

You'd expressed some interest in wanting to join the stem club at school, but you eventually decided against it after seeing that it was majorly ran by guys. Guys that had a reputation for being overwhelmingly misogynistic. You decided it'd be better not to join and just wait until next year, if you even wanted a chance of getting your ideas being heard out.

Most of them didn't even bother to listen to you outside of school so you didn't delude yourself into thinking that being in a club would magically change that. As much as you really wanted to join.

So you settled for observing from the outside, walking into the robotics classroom when it was deserted to look through the different parts modeled and the different things that were presented. And occasionally, Gabriel would let you sneak a peek at what the club president, Miguel, was up to.

"I can help you with the project if you want," you suggested, hoping that it would detonate the situation. The two brothers had been on thin ice since Miguel managed to get with Dana, leaving you to comfort Gabriel as he cried about the loss of his girlfriend. Miguel's face relaxed instantly, his gaze flickering over to you instead. "I'll do it myself. You'd probably just end up messing it up," his tone came out cold, dismissing the two of you out of the basement.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice with a blade. You stepped away from the table where the model rocket had once been set up, choosing to go stand by Gabriel instead. You would've figured that was the last of the discussion but you heard Gabriel mumbling underneath his breath as he headed out. Miguel's ears instantly perked up, his teeth gritting against one another. "You have something you wanna say to me?"

Miguel had practically given Gabriel a loaded weapon now. The two of you collectively knew that Gabriel wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. But maybe Miguel just wanted to keep the argument going? You weren't completely sure how this family dynamic worked at all. "Pinche amargado," Gabriel spoke up, a scoff escaping from Miguel's lips. (fucking bitter)

"Amargado porque tu no puedes dejar mis putas cosas en paz." (bitter because you can’t leave my stuff alone)

"Igualito a ti, cabron. Tu con Dana y yo con tus cosas." (just like you. you with dana and i with your stuff)

"Vete a la puta v-"

Their voices rose with each retort that they gave one another, the two almost at a brink of yelling at each other. You looked around to try to create a diversion, opting to just flicker the lights on to see if they'd calm down. You didn't have much hope in your strategy but Miguel fell silent after the lights had been turned off. Two pairs of eyes were directed towards you when you turned the lights back on, both expressing some form of disdain.

"Look, it was my fault for ruining your project so allow me to take some kind of responsibility and help you rebuild it. It's not going to be done on time tomorrow if you do it all by yourself," you spoke up after they both had a couple seconds to calm down, reluctance visible all over Miguel's face. Though, he seemed to be actually considering the possibility now. His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet for a couple seconds, eventually huffing out what sounded like a 'fine.'

"Just call me when you're done here," Gabriel relented as he walked over to the basement door, paying once last glance to you over his shoulder. You nodded to his words, looking back over at Miguel. He was already hunched over his desk, starting to take out the pieces of the rocket that had been affected. Maybe you'd get lucky and he wouldn't continue with his angry rant?

I see your eyes look through my soul

The two of you worked in silence for the most part, a couple mutters escaping from Miguel as he worked on taping the pieces back in their correct order. "Irresponsables," he muttered to himself, gluing one of the small pieces together. He wasn't too keen on having you around, his body turned away from you as he worked. But yet, you also had some kind of urge to help him out after you'd aided in the destruction of his project.

"How'd you get into aerospace?" You decided to break the ice and ask a question, looking up from the piece that you were assembling back together. His expression seemed to lose the original intensity that it once held, his body relaxing in the rolling chair he was in. "I didn't. I pursued robotics at first and then there was this competition to build rockets. I started to learn about them, about the different space missions from the past and eventually my interest grew from there."

You nodded along to his answer, going back to working on the piece you were reconstructing. His gaze travelled over to where you were working, a bit surprised by how well you were doing. He'd expected for you to make an even bigger mess of the situation and excuse it with 'just trying to help.' "Are you into aerospace as well?" You hadn't expected for him to actually engage in the conversation but it was a question that you liked getting asked about. While most of the conversation revolves around aerospace, you couldn't deny that he was fun to talk to.

"If you like it that much, you should join. A couple members apart from myself are graduating this year and a couple chairs are going to open," he noted, handing you a wrench to tighten a bolt. You tightened the bolt, grabbing one of the nuts that scattered through the floor when the wing fell off. "I'll think about it," you told him, though your voice held no conviction towards it. He wouldn't push the topic further but he could see just how excited you were to be working on the project.

So much that you didn't even demand to be credited as one of his partners for the project.

Much as he hated to admit to himself, he found that it was quite nice to spend some time with you. Especially when it came to do something that he enjoyed doing. It was a sharp contrast from his time with Dana, going from having surface level conversations about each other's day. Maybe a relationship shouldn't have to involve so much work? Maybe every conversation didn't have to end in a fight after all.

Instead of trying to fix things over with Dana by following her like a lost puppy, he decided to fix things up with Gabriel. Because a part of him secretly wanted to see you again. The modified rocket ship had gotten a couple compliments from the other members, some of them even claiming that it could go to nationals. He wasn't completely sure if they were sucking up to him for a recommendation, but he knew that you'd appreciate the feedback.

So, he decided he'd stop being so strict with Gabriel and lend his stuff over whenever he asked. To which he got a couple of surprised looks and hesitation at first. The next step in the process was for him to work out an apology. But how does one exactly go about apologizing for stealing a partner? Especially when said person had brought up concerns to feeling inferior in every shape and form to himself? He'd dug himself into a hole he had no idea how to get out of.

Miguel awkwardly stood in front of Gabriel's room as he heard the thud of a couple tools inside, his younger brother being more into mechanics than robotics. He decided to swallow the last bit of pride that he had, stepping inside the threshold. He could sense the surprise seeping out of Gabriel as he sat down next to him, grabbing one of the screwdrivers. The two worked in silence for a while, working in perfect synchrony as they focused on building an engine.

"I'm sorry for what happened with Dana, by the way. I know it's not worth much but I am. I shouldn't have taken your trust for granted and I shouldn't have done that considering how you feel about me," Miguel spoke up after they were getting close to finishing, looking over at Gabriel. He saw a frustrated expression all over his brother's face, something that he wasn't particularly used to seeing. "You know, you keep saying what you shouldn't have done but the fact remains that you still did it. But thank you for that apology, I guess."

Miguel started offering to take the both of you to places, choosing to tag along just to hear your laugh whenever Gabriel would make a joke. Even if he wanted to be the one telling you these jokes. "Hey, what do you call a Drosophila who likes to drink?" he decided to break the silence as he drove you two to the movie theater, looking over at you through their rear view window. "What do you call it?" You decided to indulge in his 'joke,' if his attempt could even classify as that. "A bar fly."

You let out a laugh more so out of how bad it was, your eyes crinkling as you did. The look on Gabriel's face made the laughter escape from your lips much louder. "Can't believe you're actually laughing at those bad jokes," Gabriel muttered, staring at you like you were a creature from outer space. "Shut up before I leave you on the side of the freeway," Miguel called out from the front seat, biting back a smile of his own upon seeing that he'd managed to make you laugh. Maybe it was worth it looking for those corny science jokes last night.

Miguel had quickly forgotten about the void he was trying to fill with Dana, only reminded of it when he saw her leaning against his car. Her glossy lips were wrapped around a lollipop, her brown hair combed back into a bob. All he could think about was all the dirt she was probably getting on his car now. "You haven't answered any of my calls," Dana whined as he approached, getting off his car to go over to him. "For good reason," Miguel grumbled, opening his car door to toss his backpack inside. He could see Dana trying to scramble for some kind of logical answer, a slew of curses thrown his away once she realized what'd he meant.

The cycle was done. They were done this time, for good.

"How come you're not out at those graduation parties and stuff?" Gabriel mused as he took a bite out his burger. "You think he's type of person to get invited to parties?" You decided to tease Miguel a bit, taking some of his fries before dipping them into ranch. No he wasn't. Not that he'd ever admit that to you though. "The scent of weed just irks my nose, man," Miguel responded, a small scoff coming from the younger brother in response.

Empty cans of beer and articles of clothing washed up to the surface of the bay, the sight making you grimace in disgust. But this was where Miguel had decided he wanted to go after graduation. "I'm gonna head to the car, it smells like ass out here," Gabriel told the both of you, tossing the final rock he had in his hand out into the water before walking off.  To be fair, it really did smell like ass. The contamination from the water and the ships around mixed in together, overall just providing an unpleasant scent.

"I'm gonna head back too," you told Miguel, starting to get up from your spot. Before you had the chance to dust yourself off properly, Miguel had stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just wait a second, please. There's something that I have to ask you," he seemed fidgety, looking everywhere else but you as he talked. You stayed silent, giving him the chance to speak whenever he was comfortable enough to. "Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

He was starting to prepare himself for the upcoming rejection, making a mental list of all the songs he'd add to his breakup playlist later on. He'd probably end up blasting those at full volume in the basement while taking out his anger on a model robot, bracing himself to ignore the yells from Gabriel coming up the stairs. "Yes," the words didn't register in his mind at first, his eyes drifting over to your mouth as he made out the syllables.

Wait, what?

"You're actually being serious?" he had to ask. Had to double check that this wasn't a prank or something that Gabriel had set you up to as some kind of revenge for what he did with Dana. Then again, Gabriel hadn't exactly mentioned anything about you towards him. Not that they talked a lot nowadays, but he figured that Gabriel would've at least expressed some kind of concern if he knew. So.. there was really only one possibility left.

You actually wanted to go out with him.

The time that the two of you spent together that summer was much more than the time you actually spent apart, from going out to exploring different museums to different science conventions. Your main concern had been how Gabriel would take it, not wanting to overstep your boundaries as his best friend. "Be careful, okay?" was all that he said when he saw you walking out of Miguel's room with a borrowed shirt on. Gabriel was more concerned about you than Miguel throughout this exchange.

The transition to when the school year started was difficult, given that the two of you had somewhat conflicting schedules. Despite all this, Miguel was sure to schedule a minimum of two dates for each month. Miguel was determined to put the effort into making this relationship work now that he managed to get with you. He'd make sure to pull all nighters the day before he had a date with you to get his assignments done on time, wanting nothing more but dedicate the time designated to you fully.

You didn't know who else to call when college decisions went out, choosing instead to call Miguel. You knew he'd been swamped with lectures and research essays as of late, but you didn't want to share this moment with anyone else. Not when he was the one to calm you down with each mini panic attack you got after hitting the 'submit' button on your applications. "Hola princesa, what's up?" his voice drawled out like the sweetest honey, your breathing slowly starting to calm down.

"Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you too much but I was wondering if you could come over. College decisions came out and I can't get myself to click through the messages alone," you told him, your leg bouncing as you awaited for an answer. "I'll be right over. I'll bring some burritos," he answered, the line clicking to an end shortly after. You waited with anticipation for the doorbell to ring, practically jumping off your bed when you did hear it thirty minutes later.

"Just open it, I'm sure they accepted you. They'd be dumb not to," he sat down next to you as you scrolled to the last one you had left to open. The one you'd saved as an attempt to keep your hopes up from being too high. You had four acceptances, two from out of state and two in Nueva York. "I can't. What if I just have my hopes up?" you had your face hidden behind your hands, your words coming out muffled. "Even if they did reject you, it's not the end of the world. Just look for yourself."

UC Berkeley had been more of a reach school for you, the other four being your safety nets. Your grades hadn't exactly been up to perfection but you held out the hope that the extracurriculars you got involved with and the volunteer service you did was enough. As well as the robotics credential that Miguel encouraged to go after. You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself down before clicking on the letter. The words blurred together as you read through it, a bunch of gibberish registering in your brain. Miguel had his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing small circles on it.

The touch was slowly bringing you back to earth, your breathing starting to calm down. You didn't have to say anything, he just knew what you needed before you even had the chance to realize that you even needed it. You directed your attention back to the monitor upon calming down, reading over the letter. "I got in!" you exclaimed as you look over at Miguel, his hands immediately wrapped around you. "I told you so. They'd be stupid not to have you in their school."

They'd even offered you a scholarship! The only downside was that it was in California.

The thought hadn't even registered in your head when you were applying for a spot, the only thought in your head being that of fulfilling what you wanted. You looked over at him, the same look of realization upon him as he saw 'Berkeley, CA' almost taunting him through the screen. The idea of doing long distance wasn't something you were quite fond of, given the fact that it just seemed like a slow way to prolong the fact that the end of the relationship. And yet, you didn't really want to break up with him.

"Would you stay in Nueva York if I asked you to?" Miguel knew he was being selfish by asking this, he knew that he had to let you go and pursue what you wanted to do. But he didn't want to. He wanted you to stick by his side and pursue your dream here. "I would stay if you did. But I think a part of me would also end up resenting you for asking that of me," you responded, your hand tightening its grip slightly around him. It was a gesture meant to comfort him but your words carried more weight than that simple squeeze did.

He knew how much you wanted to go, he'd been there when you filled out the application. From the process of setting your information in the system to reassuring you that you were qualified enough to get in, despite how much his heart ached at the thought of having to be without you. "It was just a hypothetical. I wouldn't ask you to do that for me," he quickly told you, taking a bite from his burrito to busy himself with doing something. Your happiness was much more of a priority than his own.

You were inclined on just leaving without saying goodbye but the thought of him thinking you abandoned him was almost too much for you to handle. You ran over to his house after you'd finished packing, hoping that he hadn't gone back to campus yet. "He's upstairs," Gabriel told you upon taking note of your sweat covered forehead, his nose scrunching up. "Thanks!" you called out as you made your way inside, almost tripping your two feet when you rushed up the stairs.

Baby, you were everything I ever wanted

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Miguel asked you, his lips barely grazing above your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips move down to your neck, his lips parting as he kissed the side. "Yeah, I'm sure," you responded after you managed to regain your composure, your head lolling back to give him more access to your neck. He took that invitation eagerly, his lips pressed on every inch of your neck that he could access.

His teeth sunk down just hard enough to leave a mark on your skin, his way of making sure that you'd remember him. At least for the following week that the hickey lasted. He'd settle for that much. The night never progressed from a couple heated kisses exchanged between the two of you, a wanton need keeping your bodies pressed against one another. For a moment, it was as if nothing else in the world really mattered. You were just two people, not college students that would inevitably have to talk about what their future would be.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you. It's better if we just end things here," Miguel spoke up in the middle of the movie the two of you were watching, a boring scene from a movie about how robots took over the world. As if you weren't living through that now in the year 2079.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thank you for the time together," The breakup had been amicable, easy. There were no harsh feelings between the two of you, only simple understanding that the relationship wouldn't work out if the two of you dragged this on. However, as friendly as it had been, that didn't stop you from shedding a couple tears when you got home to finish packing. You almost wished he had given you a reason to hate him so that it would replace the sense of yearning you felt at the notion of leaving him behind.

That was supposed to be the end. You'd go on about your life without having to be around Miguel again, Without feeling his beefy arms wrap around you in the mornings as an attempt to keep you in bed for a little longer, or having his lips pressed against your forehead whenever you needed a bit of reassurance. That was until you found yourself in his bed when you came back to Nueva York to celebrate Gabriel’s birthday. It was the only time you allowed yourself to come back.

How Miguel allowed himself to fall into another cycle, he wasn't sure. Maybe because this one wasn't beaming with red flags. Or maybe because this one didn't leave him feeling like an unlovable mess the next day. Despite how many times he told himself that he wouldn't repeat what he'd done with Dana, he still found himself picking you up from every trip at the airport. Then again, this wasn't anything like the situation with Dana. Your relationship with him was healthy, you were good for him.

You'd usually end up at Miguel's apartment rather than your hotel room for most of the nights. The pent up frustration that had accumulated throughout the past year was unleashed on another, the sex all just that much more intense. "Couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again," he whispered against your skin, the words turning you into putty in his grasp. His kisses could follow soon after, his touch almost burning with how much desire he'd pent up. "Oh? And what were you planning on doing when you did see me again?" he would spend all night giving you the answer to that question.

On most occasions, you'd end up with your face buried in a pillow while he fucked you from behind. Your muffled moans would fill up the room, combined with the sound of rustling sheets underneath you as your grip tightened. "I missed you, princesa," he bent down to whisper in your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder blade. The action in itself was sweet enough, but you couldn't focus on that with the way that his cock was stretching you out. "Missed you too," you barely managed to babble, your voice coming out hoarse.

Your hips rocked back into his, your ass jiggling with every thrust that he made. The grip he had on your hips would tighten, his balls slapping obscenely against your wet cunt. Your walls would clench around his cock, milking him for all the cum that he had in his balls while simultaneously coating his length with every drop of your slick that you could offer. "Fuck, right there!" he could make out a couple words of what you were saying from time to time, but he couldn't help but want to tease you about it. "Yeah, right here?" he mocked, his rhythm never faltering.

You were so drunk off his dick that you didn't realize he was mocking you half the time, simply nodding in response to whatever he told you. "Yeah, right there!" He loved the way your voice rose whenever his finger came down to play with your clit, the way the nub throbbed beneath his fingers for some kind of stimulation. These little breathy moans that you were letting out, the whispers of his name, they'd all remain imprinted in his memory as material whenever he needed some kind of release. That is, until the following year when he would have new material to work off of.

Miguel loved the way you looked whenever you were excited to share something with him or the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him at the airport waiting for you with a bag from your favorite fast food place. But the way that you looked whenever you unraveled underneath him was something that just simply couldn't be topped. Your legs shook violently as your orgasm approached, your walls tightening all that much more around him before unclenching to coat his cock in your release. His orgasm would follow suit, his cum filling up your cunt up to the brim.

Despite the fact that the two of you were completely able to and sometimes were even encouraged to, the two of you stayed loyal to one another even if this arrangement had no need to. As much as you wanted to try dating someone else, you knew that in the back of your head you'd just try to find Miguel in another person. And that you'd ultimately end up disappointed by the end of the affair. The two of you provided a sense of comfort in one another that wasn't easily replicated by another person. Or at least, you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

And as much as he tried, he couldn't get his hand to simulate the same pleasure that he felt while fucking you. It felt like a cheap replacement if he was being completely honest. His fist couldn't clench around his cock the way that your walls did, pulsing as your cunt milked him for all it could. His spit couldn't compare to the way your slick coated his shaft completely, the loud squelch that bounced off his walls whenever he pulled out. As pathetic as he felt for being looking forward to your yearly appearance, nothing could give him the same satisfaction you did.

You came back to Nueva York with a mission this time around. The office that you'd been working at after getting your degree had expanded throughout most of the east coast, a shiny job opportunity appearing right at your doorstep. You were going to tell Miguel that you planned on staying this time around, that you wanted to rekindle the old feelings you'd both been trying to suppress. You'd even resorted to practicing what you were going to say to him while you were on the airplane instead of clicking on one of the stupid Hallmark movies available on the flight.

Bought a wedding ring, it's in my pocket

You'd practically been bubbling with anticipation for the entire plane ride, different thoughts of how Miguel would react rummaging through your mind. Would he be excited? Would he leave the party to be with you? You felt all the breath leave your lungs as you stepped inside the party hall, your attention immediately going to Miguel. He wasn't wearing something too fancy, a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. Even then, you couldn't lie to yourself that he looked like sex on legs.

You set down the small gift bag you'd brought over for Gabriel, a new set of tools you heard him mention he needed on a FaceTime call last week. You made your way over to Miguel, a small smile appearing on your face as a look of recognition flashed across his features. "Hey," you greeted him once you were close, your hand up in a wave. Before he got the chance to say something, a woman came over to the two of you and handed him a drink before remaining by his side.

"Are you one of Miguel's friends from around here?" you asked the woman, given the fact that you hadn't heard any mention of her from Gabriel.

"Uh, no. This is actually my fiancée, Tempest," Miguel spoke up for the first time this night, your eyes widening as you did a double take on the pair standing in front of you. They'd even color coordinated their outfits tonight.

You could've sworn your heart dropped to your chest at the word fiancée. You forced your face to remain neutral despite the conflicting emotions rummaging inside of you. Your gaze flickered over to the woman, her ring finger accentuated with a pretty silver band, an expensive-looking diamond plastered right in the middle of it. Your throat constricted the longer that you stared at the ring, the sight eventually blurring into nothing until you forced yourself to look away when she pulled her hand back.

Your mind began to swarm with different thoughts, wondering when exactly did Miguel find the time to get engaged. Last year when you saw him, he hadn't even mentioned having any sort of commitment towards anyone. It was funny, thinking about it now. He'd taken you to the airport, his head tilting down to give you a small kiss on the cheek as he bid you goodbye. "I'll see you next year," he told you before you went through airport security. Now you wish you would've went back to his apartment instead of back home.

"Nice to meet you," you forced the words to roll out of your mouth, an unnatural smile taking place on your face. The type of smile that had your cheeks hurting from how hard you were forcing it. you shook her hand with just a little too much force before reminding yourself that it wasn't exactly her fault. If anything, this situation had been your fault. your fault for being so used to this comfortability, of the knowledge that he'd always be here waiting for you.

You'd gotten so used to coming to Nueva York to find Miguel at your beck and call that it didn't even cross your mind he would find someone. Someone who prioritized his happiness as much as he prioritized theirs. "Nice to meet you as well, Miggy here's told me a lot about you," she responded with a warm smile, unbeknownst to the internal struggles that rummaged through your head. Miggy? He'd gotten so pissed off when you called him that, but now he was acting casual about it?

"You mentioned that there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Miguel's voice broke you out of your train of thought, making you realize you'd just been standing there awkwardly for a couple seconds. You looked away, the sight of him too painful to bear. Just the fact that the woman's arm was wrapped around his, the intimacy of the situation reminding you of what you'd never have again.

"Never mind, just forget it. I hope the two of you have a good time at this party. Congratulations once more," despite the fact that you had a million questions regarding the situation, you decided that it would be better not to ask them. At the end of the day, a couple questions wouldn't change the fact that he was still engaged. You forced yourself to remain polite before excusing yourself to go to the drinks table. You really needed to get fucked up right now.

You felt pathetic as you stood alone in the corner of the room, your fingers gripping the glass of beer as if it was your lifeline. All you could do was look out into the people smiling and having fun, a part of you wishing that it would be you instead. You tried your hardest to pretend when Gabriel came around, trying to dance with you, but the ploy fell through as soon as he dragged you to the dance floor. Your eyes met Miguel's for the first time that night, a flash of concern across his features after seeing your attempts to hide your pain.

But maybe, if you would've looked hard enough, you would've been able to see the same sense of longing lingering behind his eyes.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop

Yeah, go ahead, rip my heart out and STOMP ON IT 😭

i bet on losing dogs

part two of congratulations

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst (to nobody’s surprise), clothed grinding, and masturbation (f)

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: hi guys 😋 (with the intention you don’t hate me after this part)

word count: 6.4k

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Miguel had you placed in his lap, his lips ghosting on your neck in only a way that he was familiar with. His fingers gripped on your hips, moving you against his clothed crotch. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. The touch of him was consuming you completely, but the fact was that you wanted nothing more but to be completely absorbed by him.

You were fueled by the desperation of almost losing him, your body practically melting as his hands travelled over your body. It felt like he was exploring you for the first time, his fingers ghosting across every expanse and curve of your body. "You were always so beautiful," the sudden whisper by your ear had goosebumps forming all over your arms. He had a smile plastered on his face, the type of smile that allowed you to see the slight imperfection in his teeth. The one that you loved so much.

"I missed you," you didn't recognize your own voice, you were breathless. So affected by so little. "Yeah, what'd you miss about me?" his tone carried a teasing tone, his lips on your collarbone to leave a couple marks on there. Marks that conveyed that you still, undoubtedly, were his. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage as you rubbed your aching cunt onto his thigh. "I missed everything about you. Your besitos, your back rubs, and the way you fuck me," you managed to get out, finding it difficult to form any actual sentences now.

"That's it, use me however you need to," he whispered against your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your neck. The contact had you shivering, your cunt brushing up against the tent in his pants. Your hips swiveled as you moved against him, the friction stimulating your clit. "You're gonna cum from just my lap, hermosa? ¿Me extrañastes tanto?" his voice took on a taunting tone as he saw you squirm in his lap, getting close to your orgasm. All you could do was nod to his question, biting your lip to stifle any moans that were threatening to come out.

(you missed me that much?)

"You know I'll always wait for you, right?"

Now that part had gotten too unrealistic for your own sake. You opened your eyes, a discarded pizza box in the middle of your hotel bed and a vintage science fiction movie from the 20's playing on the television. If only you could've convinced yourself to stay in that dream for just a little bit longer. At least so you wouldn't have to deal with the insistent throbbing in between your legs.

Strings of slick connected your cunt to your panties when you slid them down, your walls clenching around thin air for some kind of friction. Maybe a cold shower would help? You weren't exactly responsible for your water consumption if it ended taking too long. You stripped off your pajamas, getting in the shower and closing the glass door behind you.

Your hand ghosted down to your vagina, your fingers running against your folds before you stuck one inside. Damn it. Despite the fact that you knew what made your body tick, you just couldn't find relief. Not when the dream was in the forefront of your mind. Not when you could practically feel his touch on your skin, leaving you all too desperate as you tried to imagine that your hands were his instead. You brought up your free hand to your hardened nipple, pinching it between your pointer and middle finger.

It was almost comical the way that your fingers left you feeling much more empty than when you started this whole ordeal. Another reminder that Miguel wasn't here. You shortly established a rhythm, pushing your fingers in and out on your cunt to get off. Your bottom lip was captured in between your teeth as you resisted the urge to moan, like people hadn't done more obscene things in these hotels. The cold water hit your clit, the swollen nub throbbing for some kind of stimulation as you worked yourself open.

You applied some pressure to your neglected clit, ranging from rubbing it in small circles to pinching it in between your fingers. Anything that would make this end. You chased the all too familiar feeling, the coil inside you tightening up before snapping in half. Your slick coated your fingers as you came, the cold water a stark contrast to how ignited your body felt right now. As much as you tried to convince yourself on the walk over to this hotel that you needed to get over him, you didn't know how you would even begin to start with that process.

You hated feeling this way, unable to get over Miguel. But in a way, how could you when everything just felt so unfinished between the two of you? Even before you left for California, the time between the two of you had been too short.

You leaned your body against the cold shower tiles, closing your eyes as the after effects of your orgasm washed out. Despite the fact that the throbbing between your legs was gone, you couldn't ignore the way your heart clenched at just the memory of tonight. 'Fiancée' kept running through your mind, how the man who seemingly had no intention of settling down was now about to become somebody's husband. Maybe you should've just gone back to sleep.

You truly hated Miguel O'Hara.

You hated his stupid crooked teeth. The way that his cheeks curved up when he was actually amused by something. His stupid geneticist jokes. The way that he seemed to know your body better than yourself, working you like an instrument with every single encounter. How his eyes only seemed to be reserved for you in every event, like you were the only one worthy of being looked at by him.

But most of all, you hated the way that your stupid, bleeding broken heart only seemed to beat for him.

"You could've told her the truth instead of letting her mope around the place like a kicked puppy," Tempest told Miguel as the two of them stepped into their shared apartment. He didn't need much more specification on who she was talking about, not when most of his attention had been on you for most of the night. The way that your emotions were so clear to see despite the smile that you forced on your face. How he wanted to kiss that little frown off your face.

Tell you that's it's always just been you.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, sitting down on the couch to take off his shoes. "Her and I were never anything serious, I don't have any reason to explain things to her," was the same excuse that he gave himself over and over to justify why he kept this a secret for so long. Tempest let out a scoff, but she didn't add much more to that as she slid her heels off. He itched to go and help her, but he knew he'd probably get a heel thrown at his head if he did.

Tempest went over to her own bedroom, making a beeline to switch out of the clothes that she'd chosen for the night before going back over to the living room. "Take it from the dying person. There's nothing selfish about wanting your own happiness," she told him, walking past his bedroom to head into the living room once more. Now there was food for thought. Prioritizing his own happiness instead of trying to fix the things around him. A thought that he didn't want to entertain right now.

He headed out of his room after changing out of his clothes, rubbing his eyes as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You would've been a decent poet," he steers the conversation into safe territory, conversation that didn't involve how he was feeling. "Not really. I was gonna pursue something in sports, maybe in sports medicine," she responded, walking over to the kitchen where he was standing. Tempest was fairly decent at discerning when he wanted to drop a subject, so she decided on doing just that.

"Goodnight, Miguel," Tempest spoke up after a while, her body exhausted from the events of the day. She'd skipped out on her daily nap to go to the party with him, her body facing the consequences now. Not that she'd ever voice any concern though, not when she was getting free food and a free place to stay. As well as access to low cost healthcare.

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything," Miguel told her, passing her a bottle of water so she'd be able to take her night pills. Tempest looked over at her pill box reluctantly, taking out the small capsules before gulping them down. No matter how many times she swallowed the pills, the process of keeping them down never got any easier. Tempest gave him a small thumbs up, heading over to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Not that he'd miss any movement that she made with the thin wall separating them anyways.

Miguel laid down in bed with one hand behind his head, his gaze directed at the ceiling like it would reveal some kind of magical answer to him. He had no actual responsibility to stay loyal to you, yet he knew that if the roles would've been reversed that he would've lost his shit. That he would've gotten down on his knees and begged you to reconsider, reconsider the happy moments that the two of you had together. Albeit, most of them short and temporary but still sweet.

He was doing this to help out Tempest. Yet, she showed more interest in having him be with you than he did. She probably felt guilty for being stuck in such a predicament with him, the thought backed up by the one time she'd asked him what he got out of this. He wasn't completely sure what he got out of this arrangement, really, but he knew was that some part of him felt inclined to.

One of the things that he did know was that he needed to see this through after what he’d promised her.

"Ay mierda," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the remaining salt out of the container. A couple specks fell onto the chicken he was cooking, barely enough to cover a millimeter of it. He turned down the heat on the stove, going over to his cupboard to rummage for some extra salt. He had everything in there, an assortment of oregano, paprika, cumin and yet, no extra containers of salt. He looked over at the electronic clock on his wall, trying to discern if he had enough time to go to the grocery store before realizing he had work in an hour.

The idea of potentially bothering his neighbor was almost enough to get him to turn around but he decided to stick it out. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That they turned out to be a serial killer and his knock on the door was the last thing that they needed to snap? Fat chance. "Just ask for some salt. It can't be that bad, right?" he muttered to himself, looking over at the door as he brought his hand to knock. He swallowed back some of his nervousness, forcing himself to bring his hand over to the wood.

Miguel knocked on his neighbor's door, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. Sounds of scuffling could be heard inside but the door remained closed. He knocked once more, hoping that this one would warrant some type of answer. "It's not a marketer or something, just your neighbor! I just need some salt!" he called out, realizing afterwards that he probably looked like a maniac shouting in front of a door. The thought of someone passing by and seeing him like this immediately made him press his lips together and wait in silence.

Miguel accepted defeat after waiting for an answer for a couple more seconds, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have enough time to rush out to get more salt without risking being late for work, deciding instead to just go ahead and make himself a microwave dinner. "Wait, sorry," he heard behind him, turning around to see his neighbor poking her head out through the door. Well, at least she didn't look like a serial killer. Still, he wouldn't let his guard down just yet.

"I have a bit of extra salt. You can come inside while I go get it," his neighbor continued, opening the door a bit wider just to let him in. The space was much more different to his own, much more full of ambiance and personality. While he used his apartment as just a place to sleep in whenever he came back home from Alchemax, he could tell that his neighbor had spent the time in making sure that this apartment was well loved.

His eyes darted down to the multiple bills scattered around in her kitchen table, his curiosity getting the better of him. Cancer treatment bills. None of them which lowered from the thousands. Tempest came back with the container of salt in hand, rushing to scoop up the papers before he saw too much. A couple of them flailed past her grip, slowly swaying from side to side before falling on the floor. Not that it helped, he already got the basic idea. Most of those were past their due date.

"Your insurance doesn't cover for some of it?" He knew he should've kept his mouth shut by the way Tempest immediately shot him a glare, but he just couldn't help himself. A part of him couldn't help but worry about the type of cancer treatment she was receiving, if any at all. Tempest let out a small huff, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to put on a tough persona, but Miguel was able to look past that.

"I don't have insurance after I had to quit my job. I'm not exactly eligible for any services either so it's been purely out of pocket. Hence the whole bills on the table thing," Tempest finally spoke after she realized that her glare wasn't affecting Miguel the way she intended.

"Well.. my work offers insurance to those couples who live together and married couples. The guarantee for it working when you're married is much higher," he spoke up after a while, leaning behind one of her kitchen seats. To think he came over for a bit of salt and now he was making a whole wedding proposal. "Should've left you outside to get your own salt," Tempest muttered, almost laughing at how insane the situation sounded. Getting married just to get the treatment she desperately needed.

"You know, people technically get married out of love. Out of convenience, maybe. But just for insurance purposes?" Tempest brought up the topic, her arms folded as her gaze scrutinized him. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For a stranger, of all things. A part of her felt that this wasn't just from the kindness of his heart.

"You're acting like that isn't a marriage of convenience."

"Nobody's gonna believe that we suddenly just want to get married."

"Nobody else matters."

Tempest continued to throw out a couple of excuses to try to scare away Miguel from the prospect, getting met with rather simple solutions to her concerns. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty decent at convincing her of this idea.

While you were in the shower last night, you'd gotten a message from Gabriel asking if you wanted to come over to his place. To which you agreed to eagerly. You were planning on watching romance movies for the day while shitting on them for the unrealistic expectations they set, maybe ordering a bottle of wine and pizza if you were feeling up to it.

"You couldn't have told me that you were planning on staying in Nueva York from now on?" his voice called out from the kitchen, Romeo Santos' 'Imitadora' playing in the background. He lowered the volume on his speaker when he listened to your footsteps approach, setting down the knife he had in hand. He was in a much better state than you'd expected, you were expecting to find him in a bathrobe with sunglasses on after the copious amounts of tequila he'd had last night.

"And you couldn't have told me Miguel was engaged? I almost made a fool out of myself," you countered, leaning against the counter as the different spices filled your nose. A mixture of adobo and garlic sizzling on a piece of meat he had on the stove. "You always make a fool out of yourself, though. Remember that one time you fell at the pool during my 21st birthday?" he retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter with an amused smirk on his face.

How could you not. You'd gotten more drunk than Gabriel that night, mixing up all different types of alcohol in an adventurous pursuit. You'd drunkenly called Miguel to pick you up after the night was over, stumbling over your feet when you walked over to his car. The two of you drove around most of Nueva York, though all the buildings blurred together in your inebriated state. One of the best memories that you had despite the throbbing headache that followed the next day.

The two of you ended up at a greasy burger spot on the skirts of town, though that burger had tasted like a slice of heaven the minute that it touched your tongue. You didn't remember that much about the event itself, but you could remember the overwhelming amount of safety that you felt with him. How comfortable he made you feel in his presence. How he entertained every single of your stupid remarks without much resistance, even adding onto it at times.

He'd taken off your heels and changed your clothes into something more comfortable, showing no reluctance to do so. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. You just drank too much," he whispered in your ear, his hand rubbing small circles as you were leaned over the toilet throwing up. "I'm never touching another glass of tequila again," you groaned, a lie to both yourself and Miguel. He continued to rub your back throughout the ordeal, staying by your side through it all. "Yeah, I'm sure you won't," he remarked, handing you a napkin once you were done.

Every memory that you had in Nueva York was tainted in some way by Miguel O'Hara.

"I didn't think the two of you had anything serious going on anymore, I'm sorry. I would've said something otherwise," Gabriel finally said, adding in the tomato that he'd cut along with the onion slices. Fair point. You didn't really have a reason to expect anything, not when you and Miguel were just sleeping around with no semblance of commitment. "Nah, it's fine. I shouldn't have expected that he'd just be here waiting for me," you responded, glancing over at the stove as he cooked.

You looked down at your phone, a notification ping bringing your attention to it. You weren't expecting to see a message from Miguel, surprised at the fact that he still even had your number. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your forehead upon reading the contents of the message, an invitation to his engagement party with Tempest. You debated on not going but you looked over at Gabriel and asked,

"Hey, how do you feel about going to Miguel's engagement party as my plus one?"

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

You weren't sure who was the bigger idiot in this situation. Miguel for inviting you to his engagement party or you for actually accepting it. As much as you were willing yourself to be mature throughout this situation, you didn't have this much maturity in you. His apartment was adorned in a mix of gold and yellow, a couple streamers hanging off the walls and a couple balloons bouncing around. "Maybe we should go. Get some food at the bodega," you suggested, looking over at Gabriel.

"No way, you dragged me out here now we're gonna stick it out," Gabriel's words came out muffled as he stuck a hors-d'oeuvre into his mouth that a butler was passing around. Miguel had really gone out for his engagement party. "I'll get you food from another place?" you tried another approach, hoping that maybe he would ease up this way. He pointed with his mouth over to the wide array of plates set up at a table, the good looking much more inviting than any bodega you had in mind. You really didn't have any proper reason to leave.

Gabriel left your side upon getting approached by a couple of family members, some third/fourth cousins that had been dying to see him again. You looked out from a distance to see him dancing around with them, anything that would be a nice distraction from looking around for Miguel. Your eyes always managed to find him in whatever room you were in. Not that it was too hard of a task, though. You stepped outside to catch some air, to convince yourself that you could last at least another hour at this event.

You didn't fit either of their lives anymore. As much as you desperately wished you did. The thought had come to you while you were in the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Everyone had someone else to converse with, someway of knowing each other. The thought stung more than you could've imagined, that you were still stuck on memories and a fling from the past while Miguel had been perfectly capable of moving on. The champagne that you had in your hand went down easier than the realization of the bitter truth.

"Hey," you didn't need to look behind you to recognize who'd just stood next to you, the scent of his cologne practically gave it away before he even got the chance to approach. "Hey," you returned the greeting, keeping your attention out on the night sky. "Is the party not up to your liking? You don't have to be outside, y'know," he told you, stepping just an inch closer to you. A scoff escaped from your lips before you got the chance to stop it, an incredulous look on your face when you turned to face Miguel.

"Are you seriously asking me that? You invited me to this engagement party knowing damn well about our previous history together. You didn't even bother to tell me you were engaged. If we weren't dating, then we were at the least friends."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it. You and I didn't exactly have anything all that serious," Miguel realized it was the wrong thing to say upon seeing your expression, the way your face scrunched up in disbelief. The excuse had worked pretty well to get Tempest to leave it alone, so he figured that it would've worked on you too. Never had he regretted saying something so fast.

"Seriously? You think that I hooked up with you throughout these years just because you were a decent lay?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? It's not like we did a lot of talking when you came over those past couple times."

"It was because I loved you, you idiot! If it was just about the sex aspect, I would've hooked up with someone back in California!"

"I was gonna tell you at the party that I intended to stay in Nueva York this time around. So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," the words ran through Miguel like a cold bucket of water, the meaning of your words not at all lost to him. You had wanted to try again. Miguel wanted to pull you back into his arms, tell you that you were the one he envisioned having a future with. But... he didn't. He let you run off, looking at the back of your head before you eventually disappeared.

He stood at the balcony, letting himself ponder about a different alternative to this one. One where Tempest wasn't sick and didn't require his help. One where you'd never left for California, where you stayed by his side. Where the two of you would clean dishes, a cumbia playing in the background as the two of you basked in each other's presence. Where that would just be enough. Where this engagement party was for the both of you, an engagement ring on your finger. A thought that he entertained more and more often.

"Oyé, Tempest doesn't look too good," Gabriel's voice took him out of the fantasy he was in, immediately turning around and scanning inside of the apartment to see if he could find her. She looked winded, despite the fact he knew that she hadn't done much dancing tonight. "Alright, thanks," he cleared his throat, opening the glass door leading back to his apartment before going over to her. "Try to stand up for me, can you do that?" he spoke just low enough for her to hear, putting one hand on her arm.

She'd been sick for a couple weeks now, he knew that much. But he'd never seen her get this bad. The thought was enough to scare him into shooing all the guests away, rushing Tempest to the nearest hospital that he could find. "Come on, stay with me," his voice wavered, seeing the way that Tempest struggled to stay awake. Damn it, he'd never forgive himself for not taking her earlier to the hospital if she didn't get better. He put her favorite song on the radio to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

He rushed with her into the emergency room, beckoning for a nurse to come over after getting Tempest seated down on a wheelchair. She was still conscious, but she was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her breathing sounded strangled, like the action itself was causing her pain. He found himself with his head buried between her hands, praying for the first time in a couple years. The action was strange to him, but he needed to have someone to depend on in this situation.

If only he'd come when these symptoms started to present themselves.

Tempest wobbled over her feet as she made her way down the small stage that the wedding boutique had set up. Miguel let her lean her body against him, her hand tightly pressed against his chest for some kind of support. "You okay?" he'd seen her get worse these past couple of days, but he decided it'd be better not to push her too much. "Yeah, it's fine," she sounded like she'd just ran a marathon, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

It'd be better not to make a scene out in public.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" Miguel prodded as the two stepped into the apartment, helping Tempest sit down on the couch despite her protests. She did hate when she got treated like she was weak. Tempest shook his hands off, taking a sip from the water bottle that he'd brought over. He could tell she was just itching to tell him that she was fine, not that the lie would do either of them any good though. "The treatment's just taking more out of me than I expected. The one today just left me feeling particularly weak is all."

"The doctor said it should be expected, Miggy," though the nickname annoyed him to no end, he knew better than to deny a dying person this small thing. Though the excuse didn't sound too coherent to him, he decided he would handle this the way that Tempest wanted to. Instead of him reassuring her, she was doing the task instead. Miguel really needed to do a better job at being a fake fiancé. He let out a small sigh, sitting down by her side and looking over at her with concern etched across all over his features.

"Just tell me if it ever gets too serious, okay? If you ever start to feel too sick or too fatigued. I'll take you to the hospital and I'll get you the best shocking cancer treatment there is, okay?" He told her, taking the water bottle once she was done with it. "I know and I appreciate that, more than you know. But I'm fine, I'll get used to the treatment plan eventually," she responded, the two of them getting into a conversation about what they wanted to order. He always ended up getting what she wanted to regardless.

He thought she was doing better after that, but maybe she'd just done a better job at hiding her sickness away from him. He'd seen her smiling and tending to her plants, even going as far as humming to them. An activity that distracted her from the fact that she couldn't be outside for too long. Little did he know that while the flowers bloomed and thrived under her care, she was decaying with each passing day.

I'm losing by their side

The doctor's words were starting to blur into the background, something about how the treatment plan had been too aggressive. That her body couldn't take it. It all sounded the same to him, really. Just pure gibberish that was meant to rationalize the loss.  "If you knew she couldn't take it then why'd you force her into such an aggressive plan?" Miguel kept his distance as he spoke, every word coming out like venom as he looked at the doctor. His hands balled up into fists but he remained in the seat where he was.

Last thing he needed was to deal with both a funeral and a bail hearing tonight.

"We thought that it was the best approach. She never complained about it," the doctor told him, keeping an even tone as he spoke. Miguel's stare was full of disgust, disgust at the way that he somehow made it sound like it was Tempest's fault. He should've gone to someone better, should've done a number of things differently. He really should've been less desperate when trying to help her. His brother's words ran through his head, so many should'ves and not enough doing. And now Tempest was no longer in his life.

The treatment plan wasn't something that was meant to heal her completely, but it was something that was meant to slow down the rate that the cancer was advancing. Instead, it'd only shortened the time that she'd been given. He blamed himself for not listening to her when she'd expressed that the medication and the levels of chemotherapy were starting to become too much, each session leaving her weaker and weaker. He blamed himself for not being able to save her even if the task was practically impossible.

He played with the engagement band that had once been on his finger, waiting absentmindedly for the doctor to come. He was still processing the fact that he wasn't going home with Tempest tonight, that he'd eventually have to go back home to an empty apartment. Nothing ran through his mind as the doctor gave him the full report of what happened, his gaze empty as he looked at the blank wall. No amount of details would change the fact that he wasn't able to save her. As hard as he tried to, he'd failed not only her, but also himself.

He couldn't bear going back home now, getting welcomed to an apartment that smelled like Tempest all around. From the cookie batter that she'd been making earlier to the scent of her perfume permeated on the couch cushions. It was all too much. Having all these little reminders with the knowledge that they'd soon fade away with time. So he found himself driving over to your place without much thought. Your presence was a calming one, one that would anchor him down to earth before he did something stupid.

Headlights flashed in a flurry of colors, the brightness on some of them almost hurting his eyes as he sped down the streets of Nueva York. "What the shock are you doing, man?!" He heard an angry driver scream behind him, a loud honk following after. He should've been more cautious, he really should've. Cars were swerving to get out of his way on the road, a train of honking following him with every red light that he disregarded. But his brain was on autopilot. His only mission was to get to you.

A distraught Miguel was not what you were expecting to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but yet here he was. His eyes were brimmed red, tears leaking out of him like a faucet as they combined with the rainfall. His grey Alchemax hoodie had turned into a darker shade, his body shaking in front of you. He hadn't even registered that you'd opened the door, his attention on a speck of dirt that laid on your doorstep.

His body clung onto you when the door swung open, holding you the same way a child would hold a teddy bear for comfort. "I couldn't save her," he babbled, his throat raw as he spoke. After the initial shock fizzled out of your body, you rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. "I tried, te lo juro que trate," he repeated as he held you close to his body, needing something to stay stagnant for now.

You stayed quiet, providing him the comfort of your presence and your touch. His shoulders shook with each sob that escaped his body, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch up to him. "I know you tried, Miguel," your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to sob, his grip on you tightening. Something to tether him to reality. "I did, I really did," he whispered, sniffling before more tears began to roll down his cheeks. You'd never seen him cry this much before. Never seen him cry ever, actually.

You set the cup of tea down, his hands shaking as he reached over to grab it. A couple drops fell onto the floor when he tried to get a good grasp on it. "I'm sorry, I know I'm making a mess out of your apartment," he'd made a wet spot on your couch after taking a seat, not that it was your first concern at the moment. "Hey, no. You've got nothing to apologize for," you assured him, taking a seat next to him.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it as he took a sip from the chamomile tea that you'd brought over. His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep it down. A part of him was convinced that he didn't deserve to be treated this way, with such care and delicacy. After he'd treated you like something disposable, as something that didn't matter. But he couldn't help and be selfish, enjoy the feeling of having your concern directed towards him. Of having you still care about him.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, his cheeks completely tear-streaked as he looked up from the floor over to you. He got up from the couch, taking off the wet hoodie that was practically pasted onto his body by now. "I have some clothes that you can borrow," you told him, seeing the hesitation in his face as he debated on taking off the rest of his moist clothing.

You took out a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd let you borrow one time after staying at his place a couple years back. A pair of clothes that you told yourself you'd throw away time and time again, only to let them reside in the back of your cabinet. You were thankful that your reluctance to move on really paid off in this moment. You made your way over to the living room, not feeling comfortable with leaving him alone for too long while he was feeling like this.

You passed him the dry set of clothes, picking up the wet pieces from the floor before leaving to the kitchen to give him some time to change. You set the dry clothes in the dryer, starting up the first round before walking back over to the living room. Miguel's movements seemed delayed as he struggled to put his shirt on, like his brain wasn't communicating properly with his body at the moment. "Here, I got you," you instinctively found yourself needing to help him, pulling the shirt down to cover him up.

He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing right on your floor.

You'd grabbed a blanket over from a closet, placing it down on the couch cushion next to him as well as a plush pillow. "Try to get some rest, okay?" you told him, shutting off the light before starting to make your way back into your bedroom. "Do you mind staying here with me tonight?" his voice was unnaturally quiet. You were sure you would've missed it had you not been paying attention. You weren't sure what the protocol was for sleeping with somewhat of an ex but you decided to oblige.

His arm snaked around your waist in an attempt to hold you close, his body heat practically radiating onto your own body. His body shook behind you but he made no noise, an occasional sniffle here and there. It pained you to see him this upset, without being able to do much other than just offer him your comfort. You wanted to be able to take away his pain despite how upset he'd made you these past couple months. It pained you to see him so helpless, so willing to blame himself despite not having any actual fault in it.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Miguel's body finally fell slack, snores the sound of lawnmower escaping from his lips. Every time that you tried to adjust his body, the grip he had around you tightened in an attempt to keep you in place. He couldn't bare to lose you too. Even if it was just for a couple seconds. You shut you eyes, trying to will yourself into falling asleep. After a while, you just stopped trying and let yourself get consumed into sleep.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie

No, I love Harry. Miguel got what he was asking for 😗

Taking what’s not yours (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) part 2

Hiiiiiii, this took longer then it should and it was gonna be waaay longer but I’ve decided to just make it 3 parts cuz I’m waaaaaay too impatient Lmaoo. Thank you once again to @chickenshit03 for helping me look over this 🫶🏼. Technically it is a miguel x reader, Harry x reader but, shhh it’s okay lol. Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, hurt/comfort/hurt (???), underage usage of weed (I DO NOT CONDONE THIS!!!), usage of alcohol, no smut but nsfw stuff is implied, Miguel going thru it lol

Word count: 3.1k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

“Have you congratulated her yet?”

Gabriel’s voice pulled his older brother’s attention away from the soccer game that was happening on his tv, looking over to find his brother engrossed in his phone rather than the game. He raised a brow up, waiting for him to continue, letting out an exasperated sigh when he didn’t.

“Who?” Miguel asked, bringing his beer bottle up to take a swig, turning back towards the tv so he didn’t get to catch his younger brother’s almost confused reaction.

“What do you mean who? (Y/N), Cabrón.” Gabriel’s tone was one of almost scolding, as if he was talking about someone who was family. As far as he was concerned, you were still considered as such. But when Miguel quirked up a confused brow it was becoming a bit clearer that you and his older brother weren’t as close as you once were. (Dumbass)

“(Y/N)? I don’t talk to her anymore, why would I congratulate her?” He sounded uninterested, bothered even, as if bringing you up was an inconvenience to himself. Still Gabriel pressed on.

“You really don’t know?”

“Does it look like I know?” Miguel shot back sarcastically, bringing his bottle back up to take another swig.

“She’s getting married.”

Miguel’s fist flew to his chest, hitting at it frantically as he brought down his half empty bottle as he attempted to clear his windpipe, eyes widen in shock, both from the news and the sudden feeling of the liquid going down the wrong pipe.

“She’s-shes what?” He was finally about to choke out between fading coughs, his eyes watering slightly as he recovers from the fit. Now it was his younger brother who raised a confused brow before it came back down and his face scrunched together in realization.

“No manches güey… You really didn’t know? I thought you two were best friends.” (Slang that basically means “You’re fucking with me dude.”)

“Key word: were.” Miguel grumbled through

grinding teeth, his tensing shoulders and blunt tone was enough of an indicator for Gabriel to drop the subject. Using the now empty bottle in Miguel’s hand as an excuse to step out of the room to grab another one from his kitchen.

Only when Miguel was alone, he sighs and takes his phone out from his jeans pocket and opens instagram, waiting impatiently as the app loads.

—

“I don’t know, I think I liked the other venue better. What do you think honey?”

Despite your feet standing in the second venue of the day, you couldn’t seem to get yourself to focus on the space in front of you. Fingers idly fidget with Harry’s from their place intertwined with his.

How were you going to tell this to Harry? Why did after so long, Miguel had the nerve to try weasel his way back into your life?

No matter how hard you try to blink the words away, it felt like they were burned into your eyelids. Like you had never left the fitting room of the dress store.

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“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?” Harry’s voice pulled you back out from your own thoughts. Suddenly becoming too aware of your own anxious state, as he gave your hand a quick reassuring squeeze. Turning to the venue owner as he asked for a minute alone with his fiancé.

“What’s wrong babe.” He asked as soon as you were both alone, his hand traveling upwards to rest on your forearm, tilting his head slightly as he cooed at you. He always knew how to read you so well. Despite the question coming out more as a statement, it held no malice behind it. You let out a sigh.

“I… I’m not sure how to explain it.” You replied honestly, it’s not like you did anything wrong. You simply received a message from an estranged friend/fling, you haven’t even read the message yet. Still the thought of spilling out the words ‘You remember how I had told you I had a thing with an old childhood before we met? He saw that I’m engaged and now he’s trying to message me.’ didn’t seem to settle in your stomach quite right.

“You know you can tell me anything baby. Is it the wedding? I know the whole thing is stressful, maybe I shouldn’t have booked this tour right after your dress appointment-“ Oh Harry, your sweet sweet Harry. You quickly shook your head, your hand going up to rest on his chest to stop his rambling. He always did it when he was starting worrying about you, you couldn’t help but smile at his habit. You found it endearing.

“No, Harry. It’s not anything wedding related, not exactly-erm, nevermind, don’t worry about it right now.” You reassured him, his rambling dead down in his throat, replaced with the low vibration of a hum, as he brought your hand up to his cheek and pressed a light kiss against your palm. Your lips pulled upwards just a tad bit more at the gesture. “ I’ll tell you when we get back home.”

“Hmm, Promise?” He muttered against your palm, before placing another peck against it.

“I promise.” Your thumb stroked his cheek lightly.

“Good.” He sighed, dropping your hand back down from his face, but not letting go of it just yet. “Now, about the venue.” He changed subjects, raising a brow as he silently asked for your opinion. To which you scrunch your nose before replying.

“Oh I liked the last one way better.”

“Good, I did too.”

—

The alcohol still had a hold on Miguel as he continued through the rest of his nightly routine, trying not to trip over his own feet as he was trying to grab a shirt to sleep in. Only to trip over something else in the corner of his closet.

Cursing loudly as he caught his weight before he could fall face first into the closet wall. His search for a shirt was quickly forgotten as he stumbled back a bit to catch his barings. Anger flaring through his veins as he went to go pick up the box he tripped on, and toss across the room in a fleeting moment of letting his frustrations get the better of him. When he realized he was only making a bigger mess for hungover him to clean up, he groaned and rubbed his hands through his hair.

He was going to just leave it for the morning, let it be a tomorrow problem as he doom scrolled through old photos that should have been long deleted from his phone when he dropped you for Dana. A choice that was proven to be a mistake at the end of the day when she dumped him a few months later. But when he went to step over the mess to lay on his bed, when something caught itself in his peripheral vision. A black lighter, one that was bedazzled with a little star.

That’s weird, I don’t use lighters for anything. Miguel thought as he bent down to his knees to pick it up and examine it, it wasn’t until he turned it upside down to see a certain pair of initials carved into the bottom of it when it hit him.

—

“Hey Mig, guess what I bought off one of my friends from my chem class.” You grinned, pulling him into your room. You were both alone, since your mom was gone for a business trip for the weekend.

Miguel raised a brow looking around your room for anything out of the ordinary, finally shrugging when he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. That’s when your smile widened, letting out a small squeal before pulling three things from your pocket.

Two joints and a black lighter.

“We did say if we tried it, it’d be together.” Your voice came out in a sing-songy tone, your silent way of asking him if he wanted to partake in the forbidden activity. He wasn’t big on the idea of smoking weed, but he did say if you ever wanted to try, he’d be there in case you freaked out.

Fuck it, your only a rebellious teenager once right?

You let another squeal when he grabbed one of the joints, before grabbing the lighter.

—

“I didn’t know I had this…” He muttered, words still slurring slightly as he closed his hand with the lighter still in it. As far as he was concerned, he had given it back before you two had left for college eleven years ago. The-as you liked to call it-“star girl” phase you had during junior year had made it so you put stars on whatever you could, including your lighter. It was your favorite shape at the time, he wonders if it still is.

He can’t remember at the time, because the hazy cloud that covers his brain and the way eleven years came make you forget small things but he had never given the shoebox to you before you had left, like he had meant to. So when he went to turn the box over and more papers and knickknacks fell out, he forgets all about going to bed.

Some of it was a bit more basic than others, a postcard and a small trinket from a vacation you had gone on, a silver spider necklace you had gifted him, some random book you had raved over and let him borrow to read, but he never finished it, movie theater tickets.

Then there were some that were a bit… harder to look at, stuff that he had suppressed deep into his memories.

Handwritten notes you had sent him when you went to summer camp every summer. One for every week for a month, from fourth grade till sophomore year. Rambling about how a guy wouldn’t stop bothering you and how you wish he was there to scare the guy off. Or the time you were doing archery during one afternoon during outside activities and had shot an apple to a tree from midair. Had even dedicated a whole two paragraphs to it.

Photo Booth pics of you both at the county fair, making silly faces at the camera with him arm over your shoulders. He had always hated taking pictures taken of himself, not because he didn’t like the way he looked, just because he didn’t think he needed to. He wasn’t one to look back and reminisce, he’d rather look forward and focus on his future. But you were a sucker for sentimental things, so he did it for you.

A bit ironic now, that the roles were reversed at the moment.

—

“Please Miguel, it takes like two seconds.” You begged, desperately trying to pull the larger teen towards the unoccupied Photo Booth, faint sounds of teens screaming on rides and music playing from the food stands in the background.

Miguel let his head roll back as he left out a grown, letting you pull him despite him easily being able to walk away.

“You have a million photos of us.”

“You’re so negative all the time. One day you're gonna look back and be thankful I forced you to take all these pictures.” You pouted as you pushed him into the booth, sitting down next to him as you put in a dollar in the machine. “I’ll buy you a funnel cake if you don’t look like you’re being held hostage.” You joked.

“Fine.”

—

A wristband to some random music festival you had convinced him to go with you to, not wanting to go alone. He at the time wouldn’t have admitted it, but he had a lot more fun than he led on. He never understood how you could deal with his pessimism all the time, waving it off as if it was nothing, you could see threw it he guessed.

—

“That was…incredible.” You sighed, plopping yourself down on your hotel bed on your side of the room once you two had arrived in the room, not even changing out of your festival outfit yet. Miguel followed you close behind, closing and locking the hotel room door as he shrugged.

“I guess it wasn’t horrible.” He muttered, taking off his dusty shoes. Not missing the way your lips tugged up in a tired smile.

“You had fun.” You stated, already knowing he would deny it. He scoffed.

“Well, I’m not sure about that.” There it was. You let out a small laugh as you sat up on the bed finally.

“Knew it.” You beamed.

—

Miguel felt pathetic at this point. Never had he been one to reminisce, never had he been one to show emotions. Now here he was, clinging to the last bits of you he still had.

The last thing he found was the last thing he could bare himself to look at, the memories that came with the item came flooding in just like the tears that he had suppressed for so long. Well, as long as it was from when his brother dropped the bomb on him.

A red rose boutonnière.

—

Senior prom, it was just around the corner. The dress shopping, riding a limo rental with a group of friends, slow dancing with a guy. You had been dreaming about it since you were a kid and saw it over and over again in movies and shows. You should have been excited about it, but you weren’t, in fact you were dreading it. Why? Because no one had asked you to be their date.

It was a bit of a ridiculous thing to be upset about, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. Not when all of your other female friends got promposalled from their boyfriends or their crushes, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about it.

The fact that you were there to witness Mj’s (your friend from English) get promposalled by her boyfriend Peter with a big teddy bear during lunchtime only rubbed salt in the wound. You were just glad that the school day was over now so you could go home and take a nap.

You did what you usually did after the last bell, walk to Miguel’s car. You could usually carpool since you lived next door to each other. Expecting him to already be waiting for you, what you didn’t expect though, was to be met with him holding a poster up. The words “be my date to prom?” written on it, with the letters of prom made up from elements. It looked simple, last minute, like he had drawn it during the last ten minutes of his final class. But it had brought you to tears no less.

“You didn’t have to.” The words came out in a mix between a sob and a laugh.

“I know, I wanted to. I couldn’t stand you being upset, I know how much this whole prom thing means to you.” His reply only made you let out another sob, quickly closing the gap between you both as you pulled him into a tight hug.

The time between then and prom was short-lived, almost like a blur as you both arrived at the school’s gymnasium. The rest of your friends had actual dates, so you weren’t surprised when they separated in their respective duos. You and Miguel mostly just messed around, the majority of the night. So when he pulled you towards the dance floor once the slow songs started to play, you couldn’t help but raise a brow.

“You hate dancing.” You stated, heels clicking coming to a stop once you both were in an empty spot. His hands sliding on to your waist as he took a step closer towards you. He let out an exhale through his nose as he smirked.

“I do.” He agrees, his hands sliding to your hands, and placing them on his shoulders before he placed his back in their original spot. “But, slow dancing is a part of the ‘prom experience’ or whatever, so I’ll suck it up for a few songs.”

You guess he had a point, so you just went with it. Staying quiet as you both swayed to the music, you haven’t even noticed that your head was resting on his shoulder until he spoke up again.

“So… everything like how you expect it to be?” He whispered jokingly, glancing down to meet your eyes, somehow despite the dim lighting, they still found a way to glimmer.

“It is.” You hummed with a soft smile,

“Good.”

—

“Harry, baby c’mon stop… Harry!”

“I’m sorry (Y/N), you know I can’t help it… something about wedding planning just does something to me-“

His words were interrupted with another spurt of giggles falling from your lips as you tried to pull away from the playful kisses trailing down your stomach. His hands keeping you in place by your hips. He knew you were ticklish, yet he continued to graze his fingernails down your sides just to watch your reaction.

“I’m so lucky, in a few months I’m going to get to call you my wife. My beautiful lovely wife.” He muttered against your skin. His words made your cheeks flush and your stomach flip, you don’t know another man who could make you feel the way he does.

His lips finally stop as the beginning of your sleeping shorts, his thumbs dipping into them, the fabric scrunching down when he goes to play with the straps of your panties. Half-lidded eyes go to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to wait until the honeymoon?” You teased as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Trying to sit up on your shared bed as best as you could, but you weren’t able to before Harry went to crawl on top of you. Capturing your lips quickly before dipping his head to nibble at the crook of your neck.

“That’s coming from the girl who couldn’t stop grabbing at me during dinner.” He muttered back, leaving goosebumps to erupt on your skin when you felt him smirk against you, then going to nibble your sensitive spot. Making you let out a whimper before you could stop yourself.

“Because that waitress was trying to flirt with you!” You whined, hands traveling up to hold on to his shoulders as he kitten licked the bites he left behind.

“You act like I didn’t just say that because my father was there. He doesn’t need to know how often I make you scream my name-“

“Oh my gosh Harry, please don’t bring up Norman while we’re about to start fucking.” You laugh as you push him off of you gently, not being able to take the moment seriously anymore. In response he only raised a brow as he smirked again.

“So we were gonna fuck?”

“Jesus.” You laugh again, as you pushed him against the bed, lips crashing against one another as you straddle him.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

@mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry

@haveclayeveryday

Spider-Man 2099 is BORN POOKIE-

so real

part three of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst 👹👹, depressive thoughts, use of a vape, drug addiction (rapture)

synopsis: miguel’s boss, tyler stone, offers him an.. alternative route to deal with his grief

author’s note: CAN I TALK MY SHIT AGAIN 🗣️‼️ anyways i’m sure you all knew by now but none of this is 100% canon :3

word count: 6.3k

Church bells echoed through his head time and time again, the relentless sound practically playing on cassette in his head. The sound was accompanied by the sounds of Tempest's screaming, screams of anger and fear combined. Screams that would engrave themselves into his very being, reminding him of his failures.  Why didn't you save me? I trusted you!

He patted the spot where you'd laid to him next to him, finding it empty. That was enough to wake him up from his restless slumber. He scrambled up to his feet, his mouth open to call out for you but nothing came out. All that was running through his head was the worst possible outcome, of finding you seriously injured or possibly even unconscious. The only thing he could do was listen as you called out to him: Miguel. Miguel. Miguel.

"Miguel."

"Miguel," his eyes snapped up open, realizing that was just another dream. He looked down to see that you were laying down next to him, your face grimacing as you wiggled. Oh shock. He'd clung on to you too tightly, practically almost squeezing you against his body. His grip immediately loosened, your body immediately relaxing. The loss of contact was evident even if you'd only moved a couple inches away from him.

His very being craved to be next to you, as selfish as it was. Your comfort was the only thing that he needed now, more than the very oxygen he inhaled.

"I'm sorry about that," he muttered, his voice hoarse from sleep and from all the crying he'd done just a couple hours prior. "It's okay, just go to sleep," you mumbled groggily, still half asleep. You rubbed your eyes, looking over your shoulder at him through half lidded eyes. You'd never seen him look so.. miserable. And yet, you had no idea who he couldn't save. You had no idea how to help, all that you could really do in this position was stay where you were and offer him your presence.

Sleep did not come back to him after that, despite how comfortable your body felt next to him. Every time he shut his eyes, the image of Tempest's rotting corpse came to the forefront of his mind. How no matter how hard he'd tried, he had nothing to account for that in the end. All that he had to account for the amount of effort that he'd put in was the amount of guilt within himself, the amount of blame that he placed upon himself for not doing more. Even if the rational part of his brain tried to convince him that he did the most he could.

He looked over at you, entranced by the small fall and rise of your chest as you slept comfortably next to him. The way your mouth slightly parted to let out a couple snores. Silently admiring all the little things he took for granted in the few times that he had you in his bed. Probably would be the last time that he got to see you in such a vulnerable position. "I love you too, chiquita. It's always been you," he whispered, kissing the top of your head before closing his eyes once more.

He was tempted to pull you back into his chest once he saw you stirring awake, a yawn escaping from your lips. "Morning," he spoke up as he saw you get up from the couch, stretching your arms out. You looked restless, probably from the uncomfortable position you'd been forced in. "Morning," you didn't even bother looking back at him, going over to the kitchen to get started on making a fresh pot of coffee.

Miguel leaned against your kitchen counter, his attention solely focused on every single one of your movements. The coffee pod that you'd chosen to put in the machine- a vanilla espresso. The amount of sugars and creamers that you'd set down on the counter. The slight curve of your body as you leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The way that you tried to avoid his not so subtle staring, your eyes flickering to all the small surfaces around.

"Why'd you come to me last night?" you decided to bite the bullet and ask the question that'd been rummaging through your brain all night long. For claiming to have nothing 'serious' with you, he was sure comfortable coming to your apartment at wee hours of the night. Not that you discouraged that activity by any means, though. Maybe you were more responsible than you would've liked to admit.

"Because I needed you."

"You can't do this to me. Treat me as if I'm nothing to you and then seek me out when you're at your lowest."

"I never treated you as if you were nothing to me."

"And yet, we were nothing serious? Or are you going to deny saying that?" You were expecting for him to have some kind of comeback to that, but he stared down at his coffee like it was single-handedly the most interesting thing in the world. The silence almost suffocating, you could almost see the gears turning in that big head of his.

"Look I don't know what happened but serio-"

"Tempest.. passed away last night and I couldn't save her. No matter how much I tried to."

Now that had stunned you into staying quiet, an apology at the tip of your tongue. For what, exactly? For making assumptions or to offer your condolences? Both, most likely. But before you even got the chance to open your mouth, he was already speaking again. "The engagement was a farce. She needed access to insurance and she only managed to get that through being with me."

"And you felt as though you couldn't be honest with me? I know that we've slept together and I don't know about you, but I've spent longer than that loving you," you told him, setting your coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. A stupid mug that he'd gotten for you, World's Best Girlfriend Situationship.

"Look Miguel, I get that you're going through a lot but you can't expect for me to be here only when you want me to be around. I think I deserve more than that by this point."

You were so right. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but how could he say that when he'd treated you just the way you described ever since you came back? Even if he said so, he knew that his words wouldn't be enough to convince you otherwise. He stared at you in silently, his face conveying the pain that he wouldn't dare to voice out loud. Don't fall for it. Don't. As much as you wanted to comfort him, as much as a part of you couldn't bear to see him so upset, you needed to put your own needs above his own for once.

"Finish up your coffee and grab your clothes from the drier. I'll be here when you're ready to treat me like I mean something to you, but up until that point, I don't want to see you."

Miguel tried to prolong the couple sips of coffee he had, taking a few drops every two minutes. Anything that would give him the excuse to be around you longer than he should've. "I'm sorry," he spoke up, watching as you paused in cleaning your mug before resuming. "What's the point of saying sorry if you haven't done anything to change it yet?" your words came out so hushed, his ears practically perking up. If you'd noticed that he wasn't finishing up his coffee, you hadn't bothered to say anything just yet.

Miguel lost track of how many times he'd passed the sponge by the mug, lost in his own thought. How is it possible that he lost two of the people he cared about in less than 24 hours? He could practically see his own reflection in the mug by the time he decided to put the sponge down, rinsing the suds away. He walked over to the laundry room, grabbing his clothes before making his way out of your apartment. "Bye," his words were barely audible, unable to look at you or talk to you after how the last exchange had gone.

This time around, Miguel drove with extreme caution. Almost as a way to overcompensate for his rash behavior last night. He didn't even bother slamming his hand against the wheel when a car merged onto his lane without using their turn signal. At least he didn't have to go into work until Monday, leaving him enough time to seep into his self loathing. And to think about the fact that despite the fact he'd dreamed about the day you'd move back to Nueva York to be with you, it was starting to become more and more unattainable.

He was tempted on calling out on work when Monday rolled around, saying that he needed some time to grieve. But all that he'd been doing at home was look up at the ceiling and think about different alternatives. Alternatives where he wasn't a screw up. Alternatives where his efforts actually counted towards something, where he was actually saving people. A different alternative where you didn't hate him, where he was less of an idiot to prove to you just how much you actually meant to him.

Sleep didn't come to him that easily either. He'd spend hours counting sheep and listening to white noise only to find himself groaning into his pillow. Every position proving to be futile in his restless nights, the image of seeing Tempest in that hospital practically tattooed at the back of his eyelids every time he closed them. His eyes burned from how long he’d kept them open, his head pounding as it urged for him to take at least a nap. Not that he would listen.

Awake or not, his life was starting to become a continuous torment. Every day was the same miserable cycle, though he wasn't making any effort to change it either. Maybe he deserved to feel the way he did right now. It's what he told himself anytime that he was starting to feel the numbness get overwhelming. That he didn't deserve to have some relief from this grief. The days blurred onto one another to the point where he couldn't tell the distinction between them until he looked down at his phone to check the date.

Get up. Drink coffee. Eat two bites of an overpriced sandwich he'd buy at Alchemax. Work. Close eyes. Repeat until exhaustion.

Upon grabbing a fresh lab coat from his closet, he caught a glimpse of the suit he was supposed to wear for the wedding. The wedding ceremony that would've happened tomorrow. Instead, it would now be his funeral suit. He pushed the suit to the back of his closet, pulling his dress shirts over it to conceal the fact. Just looking at it had proved to be an eyesore. He grabbed the first pair of socks that he found, not even bothering to check that they were the same pair before putting his shoes on. Spoiler alert: One was bright red and the other one was a dull purple.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, the action doing completely nothing to aid the bird's nest in his hair. Hairs stuck out from every end and there had even accumulated a gloop of dry hair gel on his scalp. He was a mess in every sense of the word. If that was even a strong enough word to describe his current state. He wasn't even sure when he bothered to take more than a five minute shower, maybe a week ago? Though he told himself that a couple days ago so he wasn't truly sure how much time had really passed.

"Puta madre," he grumbled, a couple of the comb's teeth falling from the sheer force that he'd exuded into just trying to run it through a couple strands. Miguel tugged on the comb with a bit more force, though it wouldn't go through no matter how much he wanted it to. He set down the black comb, rummaging through his cabinets to find a new one. He'd be lying if he said that the sight of seeing Tempest's stuff mixed in with his didn't make a couple tears run down his cheeks. From the halfway finished hair products to the new perfume that she was wanting to try out.

After breaking a couple more brushes, Miguel decided to give up on the effort to fix up his appearance. Not that he even needed to put that much effort, much of the interns didn't even bother to put on deodorant before they showed up. He'd completely forgotten about the work meeting that was set up for today, stepping into the room about ten minutes later. The attention of the room went to him immediately, the loud slam of the door behind him doing nothing to aid the situation. He muttered a half ass sorry before going to sit down.

Gloved fingers snapped in front of him, disrupting whatever little train of thought was coursing through his head. Miguel couldn't even bother to hide the irritation in his face as he turned to look at Aaron, raising his eyebrows as he waited for the shorter man to speak. He was almost tempted to laugh at the way that Aaron had to huff out his chest to put on an intimidating facade. Trying so very hard to present the small bit of authority that Tyler Stone had placed upon him. And failing, truthfully.

"Get your head out your ass and listen closely. Mr. Stone can't handle any mistakes in this project," Aaron's voice seemed so far away, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing that he did mattered, anyways. He couldn't keep the girl. He couldn't save anyone. Aaron's voice faded out into a low hum, a garble of technical nonsense. How the project at hand could put human lives at stake if done incorrectly and of how it could improve lives if it actually worked. Nonsense he's heard time and time again.

He didn't even realize he was dozing off, his body slumped against the rolling chair behind him. "Wake the hell up or you're fired in the next five seconds! Mr. Stone requested to see you in his office," that same damn voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard broke him out of his slumber, a large palm slamming on the desk in front of him. Miguel grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, willing himself to wake up before getting up from his chair. He ignored the small snickers that followed after he departed the room.

Miguel took the opportunity to step into one of the bathrooms, taking the opportunity to look over himself before he appeared in front of Mr. Stone. He didn't need to receive a lecture on unprofessionalism on top of the lecture he was probably going to receive already. Not that he cared all that much, but he wasn't sure just how much more yelling he could take with the steady pounding in his head. Rumors floated around people getting fired for even looking at Mr. Stone in a way that they shouldn't have, his ruling over the company an iron fist.

He splashed some cold water on his face, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep that lingered behind. The water did nothing to aid with the redness in his eyes, the sleep deprivation apparent to anyone who would spare a second glance. Luckily enough for him, Mr. Stone couldn't care less if his mental health was deteriorating. He grabbed a bottle of eye drops from his coat pocket, squirting some of the substance into his eyes before making his way over to Mr. Stone's office.

Miguel brought his hand up to the large wooden door, knocking on it twice. He looked up to see the camera hanging above the door now pointed towards his direction, the stare from it lasting for a couple seconds than what was necessary. A loud buzz came through the large doors before they opened to reveal the space that was Mr. Stone's office. If it could even called that. While interns were forced to work downstairs in cubicles with a half-functioning air conditioner, Mr. Stone had a tiger rug placed in the center of the room.

Miguel almost felt bad for getting the floor dirty, his eyes shifting to what else the office had to offer. Large windows that went from the top of the wall down to the floor, presenting a perfect view of the Nueva York skyline. The sunlight coming through the windows reflected onto the gold podiums that he had set up, the sight almost painful to look at. Mr. Stone turned around in the rolling chair he was on in a villainous fashion. Miguel was almost surprised that he didn't have a white cat on his lap to finish up the touch.

"O'Hara, right?" While Aaron tried so hard to exude power he didn't have, all Mr. Stone had to do was speak. He could almost feel the temperature drop a couple degrees from the sheer coldness of his voice. "That's me, sir. I heard you wanted to see me," Miguel spoke up, clearing his throat. He stood at a distance, not making the slightest attempt to move closer unless Mr. Stone asked for him to do so. Mr. Stone stayed quiet for a couple seconds, analyzing him carefully from head to toe before speaking,

"We're testing out a new drug at the facility. It's completely safe for consumption and I believe it's what you need to get over this grieving period."

"Excuse me?" It was the first time that Miguel had heard of an employer actually promoting the usage of drugs, though it was no secret that a majority of Wall Street in Nueva York was high off cocaine just to get through business meetings. He expected Mr. Stone to tell him that it was a test, to see if he would take the bait but all he got in return was more silence from the man. Suddenly, he stood up and dusted off his suit. A suit that probably cost more than his apartment building if he had to guess. "Please, follow me. I have something to show you."

Tyler unlocked a steel door with his ID badge, the temperature inside the room enough to make Miguel shiver underneath the thin white lab coat he had on. He wanted to turn around, tell Tyler that he wasn't interested in this anymore but a green vial was placed in the palm of his hand. "Look, I'm not telling you that you need to take it but just know that we have the resources here to help you," Tyler really was trying to amp up this caring persona up to the max with his soft way of talking.

"Just think about it, okay? You have full access to this center of the facility from now on in case you do end up taking it," Tyler finished up as the two of them stepped out of the room, leaving Miguel with a decision to make. A decision that had he been in the right state of mind wouldn't even be up for debate at all. And yet, here he was actually considering going through with what Mr. Stone had told him. By the time that Miguel came back to the conference office, he found the room void of anything other than the things he left behind. He stuffed the vial deep into his pocket before going to pick up his things.

Miguel held the vial between his thumb and pointer finger, analyzing what he could about the drug. From what he could discern from the bottle, the drug didn't seem too different from over the counter pain prescriptions. But he's seen things over the months, seen the way that Alchemax deliberately failed to mention certain ingredients just to get FDA approval. The way that they put human safety at the bottom of their priority list, funding for research at the top. Of the experiments locked away in the basement begging for some kind of mercy, for the chemicals to stop making every breath impossible.

And yet, with that doubt in his mind, he injected the drug into the first vein that he could find on his arm. The pounding in his head dissipated to a low hum, the pressure from his body relieved. He felt the best he had in days, the exhaustion from his body was something of the past. He felt like he was on top of the world, like he was able to run a marathon and win first place. Everything seemed much easier now, making him even wonder what he was even depressed about. There was truly nothing else that could replicate the blissful feeling inside of him.

Funny to think about how he'd gotten on his brother for having a vape a few years back. A 'Very Juicy Mango Pod' that was on the market for lasting longer than normal vapes. Half the school had been indulging in those substances just to get through the day, something that he hadn't dabbled in and quite frankly would never dabble in. He hated that feeling, the feeling of having no control over his body. Of only being susceptible to that temporary euphoria. The feeling of only having relief with one hit of those things.

"You know that stuff's gonna fuck up your lungs, right?" His tone was condescending, only because he truly did care about Gabriel. He wafted the thick smoke blown at his face, his eyes narrowing slightly upon seeing the stupid grin on Gabriel's face. "That's just a rumor, hermanito. You can't really say anything until you try it out," Gabriel retorted, dangling the small bar in front of him. Miguel took the vape from his hands after what seemed to the forth dangle, hesitantly bringing it to his lips. He inhaled, the smoke traveling down to his lungs immediately.

He coughed, his body immediately rejecting the substance. How anyone liked that stuff was beyond him. He practically tossed it back to Gabriel, the touch of the bar almost enough to disgust him. "Just.. don't get hooked on that stuff, I care about you too much to lose you," Miguel told Gabriel, sitting down next to him. It was one of the couple times where he expressed love for his brother verbally rather than letting his actions do the talking. "I know and I won't, I promise," Gabriel's voice was full of determination, an arm slung around Miguel's shoulders.

The next morning when he woke up to go to school, he found Gabriel's small stash of pods and bars tossed in the depths of trash can. Some of which he'd barely bought at an outrageously high price from a plug. Though when Miguel had asked him about it, Gabriel simply shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I don't want to give you reasons to worry about me. You do that enough as it is," Gabriel assured him, letting him know that he'd done him a favor. "I know it was hard but thank you," Miguel told him, the two going out for lunch after school that day.

The low hit him harder than he could've expected. It hit him when he was at home, watching the news on TV. The reporter was babbling about some robbery that happened on 54th Avenue, but all he could think about was when he would be able to get his next fix of the damned drug. His mouth practically salivated at the idea of having it in his system once more. Within that need however, there also resided a deep feeling of guilt. A guilt that was clawing him from the inside out, yelling at him to stop what he was doing. That Tempest, his mother, Gabriel, and you would all be disappointed in what he was doing.

"Shut up, shut up!" He yelled at nothing in particular, tossing his remote control at the TV with more force than necessary. The TV changed into an array of colors before shifting into black and white, the remote almost cracking the screen upon further inspection. He paced around his living room floor, the pounding in his heart difficult to ignore. Sweat dripped down from his forehead despite the fact that he turned the AC to the lowest he could without freezing to death, his body begging for just one more hit. Just one.

The urge to have more of that small green vial overwhelmed every sense of his being. Just five minutes without the drug made him feel like he was drowning. He thought he felt pathetic before but this was a new low even for him. Sitting down on his bathroom floor, injecting a fresh vial of Rapture just so he wouldn't feel like he was completely losing his mind. It didn't even feel pleasurable as it did the first time, but it did help with bringing back his body to stable levels. It helped him to forget the small voice in his head that was screaming at him to be rational.

The red beaming light from the camera placed on the steel ceilings of the laboratory seemed to mock him every time that he approached the storage room. Despite how many cameras were placed across the laboratory, he couldn't help but feel that this one was zeroing in on every movement he made. On every new vial that he grabbed. Almost as if Mr. Stone was checking up on him, checking to see if he fell for his carefully woven trap. And he did. His pockets were stuffed full of vials, trying to assure that he wouldn't have to go without them.

He was starting to become a brainless zombie. Coming into work with the illusion that he'd be able sneak in a couple vials of Rapture during his lunch break without capturing anyone's attention. Though, rumors had been starting to circulate. Hushed whispers about how the one with the most promise at Alchemax was now a drug addicted fiend. Not that anyone would ever said that to say his face, the whispers died down every time he was in close proximity.

“Hey, have you talked to Miguel recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and that’s just not like him, y’know?” Gabriel called to ask you around three in the morning. Clearly the brothers had a taste for waking you up at the ass crack of dawn. “No, I haven’t. I haven’t talked to him in like three weeks, I wanna say. Let me know if you hear from him though,” you responded, rubbing your eyes as you tried to stay awake for Gabriel’s sake. “I will, thank you. And please, don’t give up on him. I know he’s an idiot but his heart’s in the right place.”

You looked down at Miguel’s contact information, wondering if you should call him. You did tell him to leave you alone if he wasn’t willing to prove himself to you. And if he hasn’t answered his own brother’s phone calls, then why should he answer yours? After letting the thought seep in, you decided to dial his number. You were hoping for some kind of miracle, that you’d be the one he would make an exception for. “Please leave your message after the beep. BEEP!” Was the only response you received though.

“Hey, I know I said I wasn’t going to talk to you but please call me or Gabriel. Just let us know you’re alive, please. He’s really worried about you. Okay, well I hope you’re taking care of yourself. Bye.”

Calls from Gabriel went unanswered along with the thousand voice messages that he'd left, asking him how he was and expressing concern for him. "Llámame cabron, que estoy preocupado por ti.” I've asked around and no one's heard from you in a couple days. For your sake, I hope you're not dead in a ditch," was what the last message had transcribed to, Gabriel's voice a pitch higher. Usually, Miguel wouldn't have let his brother worry this much about him but he couldn't feign being sober to save his life.

He couldn't take it anymore. The urge that he had to feel that high, even for a couple seconds only to end up feeling like complete crap after he'd taken it. The lows were what got him to get up and inject that poison into his system, the thoughts in his head too much to bear. If he thought that it was bad before the drugs, it was much more worse now. The images of Tempest were much more vivid now, he could practically feel her cold fingers on his skin as she pleaded him for something. He couldn't make out what that something was, it was just an endless string of 'please.'

He was taking the drug more so out of obligation. His body goes cold after a few minutes of sobriety, trembling as his grip on reality starts to waver. The drug offered him shorter periods of relief with every new vial that he inserted into his body, but it offered him some kind of relief. Even if it was just fifteen minutes of letting him forget about the misery that his life was. It wasn't until he looked at his reflection in the mirror that he realized how truly screwed he was, how much he'd been disregarding his own health.

Miguel could hardly recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror. He let out a small gasp when he stuck his hand out, his reflection meeting him halfway. Was this what he had become? His eyes lacked any signs of energy, dark circles ringing underneath. He wasn't even sure when was the last time he managed to sleep more than twenty minutes at a time. His stubble was in patches, a couple splotches of red skin from the scratching he had been doing. He couldn't take looking at this stranger anymore. He punched the mirror out of fury, the pieces shattering below him.

What haunted him the most about looking down at those pieces is that he still saw the reflection of that stranger looking back at him.

After doing some extensive research on all the chemicals that Rapture contained, he came to a conclusion that he already knew at the back of his head. There was no way to break the addiction, not without death involved at least. The drug was unlike any others that he'd seen, the chemical components much higher than some of the hardcore drugs on the market. It changed his genetic makeup to the point where he needed the drug as much as he needed oxygen to breathe. Even slow withdrawals from the drug was a guaranteed death. Every treatment was futile against said drug.

Miguel didn't even want to think about what Mr. Stone was capable of doing if he caught whiff that he was trying to break loose from the viscous cycle he was in. He seemed so eager to get Miguel to take the drug, surely he must've known what effects the drug would take on his body. All the research that he did was on a private network in the safety of his apartment, where he could keep the information safe. He'd come up with one final conclusion, that he needed to change his genetic component back to what it was before getting hooked on Rapture.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so cocky in his own abilities. He really should've done more research on what the dangers of altering his DNA would be. Though, anything would be a relief from the constant nagging in his head for more. More. More. More. The straps on the side of the capsule he was standing in secured him into place, a low hum from the machine next to him indicating that it was ready to start. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, all while hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Though, anything would be better than what he was going through right now.

Aaron truly didn't expect anyone else to be at the lab at this hour, even the workaholics at the lab had their limits. He was there to pick up a couple files that he needed for one of the reports Mr. Stone had asked for, but how could he possibly miss out on this opportunity that just presented to him so perfectly? Even through the green rays of the machine, he could see Miguel O'Hara standing there in his full glory. Attempting not to grimace from the burning sensation coursing through his very veins. Oh, how'd he dreamed of this moment.

All the times Miguel poked fun at him, the times that he'd belittled his work, and all the times that he'd managed to outshine him were the perfect motivation for Aaron to code spider DNA into the system. See how he likes that. The studies on animal DNA altering humans wasn't promising, a 99.999% mortality rate as of yet. He didn't care. Nobody would find out about what he'd done, he knew Mr. Stone would remove all the security footage if it came to that point. He amped up the machine to the max, staring at the capsule eagerly.

Agonizing screams followed soon after Aaron departed from the scene, a traitorous laugh escaping from his throat upon realizing what he'd done. "AARON!" Miguel's yells echoed into the steel hallways, bouncing off the walls though Aaron was less the wiser. It was truthfully the best melody that Aaron had heard in his life, hearing one of the men he hated the most cry out for help without actually receiving any aid. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Miguel's voice was raw from the screaming he'd been doing. The machine beeped loudly, indicating that the genetic splicing was now finished.

Miguel stepped out of the chamber, wobbling and stumbling through the laboratory floor before touching what he assumed was a table. He gripped the edges of the table, blinking rapidly to ease the blurriness that clouded his vision. Everything felt odd. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him, it felt like it belonged to some monster. Long claws protruded from his fingers, scratching the table the harder he tried to hold onto. He ran his tongue through his teeth, letting out a small groan upon feeling a sharp sensation on the side.

Fangs..? No, he must be daydreaming. Some after effect of long term exposure to Rapture. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to wake up from this torment, he remained still. Footsteps pattered in the hallways, a reminder that someone else had been witness to this situation. Miguel ran faster than he was ever able to, tackling Aaron onto the ground in a matter of mere seconds. Miguel gripped Aaron's arms above his head, paying no attention to the sound of ripping flesh. All that Miguel knew is that he needed answers and he needed them now.

"What the hell did you put in me?!" The accusation didn't come out the way he expected it to, a lisp in his words. Aaron winced in pain from the prickles that Miguel was inducing with his claws, a self satisfied smirk on his face at seeing what he'd managed to reduce the man to nonetheless. "ANSWER ME!" Miguel's voice boomed through the empty hallways, echoing throughout the dead of night. He swore that the vein throbbing in his forehead was about to pop the second that he saw Aaron laughing.

Miguel tossed Aaron to the side without any regard to where he landed, going back to the lab to look for any hints of what Aaron had coded into the system. He went back to the previous code, seeing that some form of spider DNA had been entered into the system. He shouldn't even be alive right now. Not when all the other people who'd gone through this procedure morphed into a version of the creature before ultimately exploding. His head was spinning with the realization, not even bothering to notice the fact that he didn't need the drug anymore.

He looked down at his phone, his finger hovering above your contact name as he debated on whether or not he should call you. Before he got the chance to make a decision though, police sirens blared loudly out of the building. The sound seemed to rattle his head, his ears all too sensitive to the sound. Miguel got down on his knees, pressing his hands to his ears in hopes that it would alleviate with the pain. It did not. All he could do was hope that the sound would soon go away while he curled up into a ball.

"NYPD! Come outside with your hands up!" A man's voice boomed through a loudspeaker. Miguel looked around, trying to find a way out of the facility. He could hear the boot stomps from the first floor, every possible exit blockaded by the police. So he did the most logical thing he could think of. He jumped out of the window and swung? Wait, what? Sure enough, he looked down at his wrists to see a small pocket shooting out white webs. Though, he really should've been paying more attention to the sights in front of him.

THUMP

He crashed face first into a building, a measly web falling from his wrist next to him.

taglist 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @hislastbimbogff @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie @scaleniusrm @simpinonyouz @lauraolar14 @nediks @ayamaiis @iheartlinds (unsure if y’all still wanted to be tagged again so i just did. but pls lmk if you wanna b removed 🙏🏼)

ORAL FIXATION !!

₊˚ʚ 💉 ₊˚✧ﾟ. sweet tooth . 🦷🍨

☆ miguel o’hara x fem! reader ☆

☆ summary: a simple consult with the oral hygienist.

☆ content warning: cunnilingus, oral fixation, throat fucking, throat bulge (not mentioned but implied), choking, cum (lots, lots of cum), semi-voyeuristic behavior, latex glove kink (?), light degradation, and hair pulling.

☆ word count: 837 words

☆ author’s notes: yeah… I went to the dentist. my sick and twisted brain got to work after the consultation.

"Good girl."

".!"

Sticky as tree sap outside the bumpy bark, your saliva dripped down to the exam room's smooth grey wooden floors. A thin coating of precum and spit glistened from your chin down to your chest. A satisfied hum from the back of your throat resonates a low, lively vibration near the back of your tongue. Your knees ached from the textured wooden floor while your hands grasped his seat's sides, nails digging into the cushion.

Red knees and indented skin showed your shame. It created a sight of illusion. You only came in for a consultation, but the drool and precum in between your cleavage said otherwise. The red wine color tint on your lips contrasted your white teeth, but the color clashed so well with Miguel’s mauve tip.

"You said your jaw was hurting? Doesn't look like it now." He gently thrusts a bit of his length into your mouth, earning a gurgle-like moan.

"Shhh, I'll make it fit." Your eyes widen to the size of charger plates used during dinner time at an Olive Garden.

The bulging, misty look greets Miguel, but within your pupils, with a mere glance, anyone could have missed it.

The space is dominantly characterized by a wavering implication of ardor, which shows the intoxication behind the smudged pencil eyeliner and dilated eyes. Miguel’s gloved fingers weave into your hair, securing a hold at the back of your head. The lilac latex in his hands immediately clings to the rubber, creating more uncomfortable hair tugs. Some tugs were enough to catch a breather without his dick in your mouth.

The sight of precum decorating your lips like lipgloss churned. Then, an idea came to him, unwarranted.

The palm of his hand cups your chin, his fingers and thumb digging into the plush of your cheeks. "Open up." His words were vile, like a plague, but enticing to pursue immodest actions.

Through the grasps between his fingers and thumb, you nod, his cock near your cum-covered lips. He wears a dern expression when he sees you nod as he removes his hand from your hair and works his belt out of the belt loops of his pants instead. You open up barely enough to let the mushroom-like tip in between your lips and teeth, grazing the sensitive, taut skin. "A little more, querida."

The angry aching around your wisdom teeth knawed, a blade twisting deep into your gums, the blade's tip twirling at your nerves like cooked noodles gathered around a fork. While attempting to open, he thrusts his hips, his length choking you.

His happy trail tickles the tip of your nose, his fingers immediately weaving into your hair and keeping you there. He slowly pulls out but pulls you away from his happy trail, enough to give you more air to breathe. But the sensation of his now irritated tip found its way back in. "Let me know when you can't breathe." The muffled, wet gurgles filled the room.

The gentle humping against your throat overstimulated, but feeling lathered against the back of your throat was enough implication of what was going to happen. Miguel thrusts himself back in and doesn't allow any room for you to back down.

"Take it, sweetie." He urges, but the subtle drip of his precum landing on the floor with a 'plop' finally pushes the limit. You gurgle your words, but his length makes them inaudible. The words merge into vibrations and gnaw at the sensitive tip.

Despite him being in an uncomfortable position, his hands grasp your throat and gently squeeze your throat.

The soft thrusts evolved into harsher ones, and your nose got tickled by the sensation of his pubic hair tickling you. His fingers probed at your throat, his latex fingers feeling around until he seized and squeezed firmly. You gurgled and could feel your gag reflexes kick in. The mere panic in your eyes with your tears created a titillating sight.

Your hand continued to pat his thigh, an indirect beg for him to go easy on you.

But it only encouraged him to push down more, feeding you more nearly. "Stop it." He snaps, his hand grasping onto your wrist and pinning your hand down on the chair. "You can handle it."

"Stop squirming..." He groans and pushes himself, enough to feel the back of your throat. The soft thrusts evolved into rapid ones, feeling the mushroom-like tip bullying its way down, begging to be enveloped by your throat's warm, velvety walls.

The harsh, precise motions became sloppy, spit leaving puddles on the floor, his boxers, and chair. His low groans grew more audible, but he kept his mouth shut. He lets go of your throat and hair and seizes his movements. The warm fluid coats your aching throat, allowing it to work as aloe vera against irritated skin. The sensation overflowed, leaking out of your mouth. He pulls out his softening dick and cups your chin gently. His thumb wiped away your spit and his cum. "Doesn't seem like anything is hurting anymore."

Tag List: @cherrysxuya @awkward-platypus @pheebslu @bbb1rd

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who did in fact have some of your old clothes lying around. Tucked deep in the depths of his closet was an old sundress that he had forgotten about, a dress you had worn when you were still pregnant with Gabi, having refused to wear pants during the last few weeks of pregnancy. Despite it being a tad too big for you now without the baby bump, it still looked great on you.

Baby daddy!Miguel who insisted on tagging along with you to pick up Gabriella when you were going to slip out of his door. Saying he’d treat you girls out for lunch as an apology for fucking you dumb last night a “pre-back to school” treat since Gabriella was starting middle school on Monday.

Baby daddy!Miguel who wouldn’t take no for an answer like he didn't last night when you said you weren’t going to take the couch. Such a stubborn man he is, that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of his black Chevy Silverado truck, on your way to her soccer team sleepover.

Baby daddy!Miguel and yourself who weren’t entirely ready to talk about what had happened last night, mostly you though. Not having really processed what had happened during the last twenty-four hours, so you both opted to stay quiet the whole ride. The only sound coming from the car stereo that was playing Miguel’s music from his phone.

Baby daddy!Miguel who pulled up to the front of the house you were supposed to pick your daughter up from. The leftover girls that were still waiting for their guardian were in the front yard, passing around a soccer ball. Rolling down his window to call out to his daughter, her brows scrunched together and her head tilting in confusion when she saw her father in his truck rather than her mother in her SUV. Growing a bit more confused when she saw you poking your head out for her to see to tell her to get her bag and get in the car.

—

“Hola mija.”

“Hey amor, how was the sleepover?”

You both greeted your daughter when she hopped in the car, tossing her back in the air next to her before she closed the door. You’d expect her to tell you all the deeds about her night/day like she always did, talkative one your daughter. But instead, the second her seatbelt was one she crossed her arms and raised a suspicious brow at you both.

“Why’d you both pick me up? You guys never both pick me up together, especially in the same car.” You couldn’t help but raise your brows a bit at her skepticism, Miguel just chuckled at your daughter's tone.

“We just wanted to surprise you mija, take you out for the day before you have to start school tomorrow.” Miguel explained, not completely lying. Tilting down his sunglasses as he looks at her through the back mirror. “You’re telling us that you don’t want to go to that breakfast place you like before going to the pulga?” He asked in a teasing tone.

“What!? I never said I didn’t!”

“That’s what I thought.”

—

Part 6.5<

Not proofread.

Word count: 500

Taglist: @scaleniusrm @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @migueloharastruelove @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @migueloharasoulmate @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @mcmiracles @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood @miguelsfavwife @tomalymme @farrowroyale @beckberin-xo @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate (if you want to be added click here)

RUNNIN’ OUT OF TIME!

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: angst (lol), mentions of divorce, smut, oral (f receiving), ‘just the tip’, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, ass spanking (like once), orgasm denial, use of toy (m receiving), switch reader + miguel

synopsis: countless missed dates. hundreds of text messages gone unanswered. you’d grown okay with the negligence from miguel towards your marriage, coming to your breaking point after he missed your daughter’s birthday. (based off this request)

author’s note: hi pookie, i hope i did your request justice and i hope you enjoy (will try to get to a couple others soon) 😄

word count: 11k (all this to yap ab cock and balls is crazyy)

There wasn't a big A-Ha! moment when you came to the realization that you loved Miguel O'Hara. The words just slipped out naturally the moment he'd said them to you, like they belonged to him alone. Because in all actuality, they only did belong to him. There was no one else you could see yourself waking up to next in the morning. No one else you wanted to spend time with for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was the memories between the two of you that helped you come to the conclusion that you loved him.

From the time that he carried you back to your shared apartment

Your legs wobbled with every step you took on the concrete, the heels you had on digging into the back of your ankle and the sides of your toes. You didn't have to take the heels off to know that you were mostly likely bleeding. "Wait, Miguel. Just wait up a bit," you were trying to catch up to his long strides, failing miserably with each new sting of pain that shot up your foot. You made a mental note not to wear heels whenever Miguel suggested a 'brisk walk' as a date idea.

He looked back to see you leaning against a pole, taking off your heels for some kind of temporary relief before you continued the rest of the walk. Not that you looked too enthusiastic about that either. Though he couldn't have his pretty girlfriend standing on a dirty sidewalk, could he? With what seemed to be no effort, he took you in his arms and resumed the walk. "How bad's the pain?" He looked down at you once he was sure he wouldn't bump into anyone in a three block radius.

You opened up your mouth to speak, about to tell him that it was bearable enough to the point you could still walk, but he interrupted you by saying, "Don't lie to me because you think you're inconveniencing me. Just tell me the truth." The truth was that you were debating on staying on that sidewalk and calling an Uber at this time of night. Not that he needed to know that, though. "It's not so bad now that you're carrying me," you reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.

If at any point during the night he struggled with the task, he didn't seem to show it. He hadn't even cracked a sweat. Somehow he'd managed to maneuver the front door open, setting you down on the couch with the utmost care necessary. "I'm gonna go get you the first aid kit. Is there something else you need?" You shook your head, laying back onto the couch cushion while you waited for him to come back.

He came back, raising your feet before taking a seat down next to you. He put your feet down on his lap, getting an ointment from the box. You wondered just how many things he had in there for these types of occasions. Throughout the couple months of dating, you'd seen him pull out an ointment for ant bites, scratches, and now blisters. "Try to stay still for me, will you?" He murmured, starting to rub the ointment over the exposed skin. His touch was the gentlest you'd ever felt, barely feeling the subtle brush of his fingers.

"Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana," he hummed as he finished applying the bandages, making sure that they were well wrapped before standing up. You made no attempt to stand up from your spot on the couch just yet, letting your feet recover from wearing those heels for five hours straight. "You need some help getting into the bedroom?" He questioned, scooping you into his arms with that same ease as before when you nodded.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my lady."

To the time that he begrudgingly agreed to dance with you in the rain

"Come on, just indulge me a bit," you stood in the middle of the empty road, extending your hand out to him while the rain poured down relentlessly. "I'll indulge you inside where we don't have any chance of catching a cold," he grumbled from his spot on the sidewalk, trying to appear menacing. He really did just look like a sopping wet cat, especially with the way that his brows furrowed slightly. "Mami, let's go. I'll let you dance with me inside, please. Any song you want, too."

You kept your arm extended to him, waiting. You knew that he was bound to fall for your whims any second. He let out a small groan, pushing himself off the sidewalk before walking over to where you were standing. "If you get sick, I won't hesitate to tell you that I told you so," he intertwined his hand with yours, the warmth from his body a nice contrast to the chill air surrounding the two of you. "Do you know how rare it is for Nueva York streets to be this empty?"

Usually, there was at least a mad man that would be running around the streets. Even in these conditions. But the two of you were alone, streetlights illuminating your 'dance floor.' His reluctance seemed to fade away as the two of you swayed on the street, with seemingly no rhythm whatsoever. "If you wanted to sway with me, we could've done that inside," he pointed out, letting out a small snort. "Just because I said I wanted to dance didn't mean that I promised to be good at it."

He guided you through a slow rhythm, his coordination slightly better than what you would've given him credit for. His feet moving to a silent melody in his head. "I was a chambelán at this quince, they had us practice the routine until we ended up crying or collapsing from exhaustion," he spoke up before you had the chance to ask, "But at least it's given me some pretty gnarly dance moves."

"Hey, Miguel?"

"¿Qué paso?"

"Never say 'gnarly' again. You sound older than what you are," you burst out into little giggles at the scoff that left his lips. "I'll let you know that all the scientific studies I've participated on have shown that gnarly's making a comeback."

"Hey, Miguel?" You were debating on if this was the right time to admit what had been threatening to escape your lips for a while now. All you could do was hope that he didn't think that this admission was too soon.

"If you're gonna ask me about the resources that I have for those studies, I don't have them on me now. I'll get them later, though," you could only roll your eyes at his persistence, a laugh bubbling from your chest. Even as the laugh echoed through the empty street, you weren't exactly too concerned with how loud you were being. It wasn't like it compared to the way your heart was beating against your rib cage, your hands starting to clam up in his grasp.

"No, it's not about that. Not that gnarly's making a comeback either way."

"Mark my words. Gnarly. Will. Be. Making. A. Comeback," he accentuated his words carefully, giving you a mock glare before he continued to speak, "But if it's not about that, then what's up?"

The moment of truth. Maybe this was a mistake. You could feel your throat close up, your movements starting to get a little sloppy. Just tell him. His reaction can't be that bad, right? You knew he had no reason to react negatively but every single worst-case scenario started to run through your head relentlessly. "I love you."

"I love you too," while it was the response that you were expecting, it still caught you off-guard. He held your gaze, showing no signs of regret or hesitation as he whispered those words to you. "I don't think that I've loved someone the same way that I love you," and even now, he had to top off your admission. You weren't sure how much time had passed by while the two of you danced away, all that you knew was that the cold tomorrow was probably worth it. If only to say that you got the chance at this experience.

He didn't say anything the next morning when you woke up with a cough, your skin on your nose starting to get raw from how many times you'd gotten up to wipe it. Even though you could tell that he was itching to tell you, the words practically on the top of his tongue if you had to guess. "I got you some chicken soup," he spoke up after you woke up from what seemed to be your 50th nap on the day, the faint aroma from the soup wafting up your stuffy nose.

Definitely worth it.

And even the time that he'd gone up to receive his award with your lipstick all over his face

"I need my good luck kiss, c'mon," he gently pinched your side, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you attempted to push his hand away. "You'll get my lipstick all over you," you pointed out, remembering that the Chanel lipstick you had on was in fact, not transfer-proof. Miguel didn't seem to care too much though, a grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "At least they'll know that my lady loves me."

You'd imprinted the mark of your lips on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, satisfied by the work you'd done when you looked at it. Perhaps you'd gotten a little carried away. Not that he looked bad covered in your red lipstick, by any means. He was no longer Miguel O'Hara, the world-renowned geneticist with more awards under his belt than he could count. He was simply just a love struck idiot with a grin on his face. A love struck idiot for you.

"What time do the awards start again?" You wiped away the lipstick on the side of your mouth and under your lips, grabbing the tube from your purse to fix it. The last thing that the two of you needed was to hear Aaron's snide remarks about how Miguel was incompetent. You went to hand him a clean makeup wipe, but he rejected the advance. "I believe they started about five minutes ago," he responded, pulling his jacket sleeve to look at the watch adorning his wrist.

"Why are you not freaking out about this more?" You questioned him, panic evident on your voice as you pushed everything inside your purse and moved to get out the car. He put his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it through the material of the silk dress you'd worn for tonight. "Why are you freaking so much about it?" For someone who valued punctuality, he seemed to be oddly calm in this situation. Well, you supposed there was nothing you could do now that you both were late. You took a couple deep breaths, grabbing the stuff you'd missed when you were in a rush.

While you were busy gathering your bearings, he went around the car and opened the door for you. Extending a hand out to you. He grasped your fingers in between his own, helping you with getting out of the car before he even thought of stepping into the building. "They're about to announce your name, O'Hara. Get in there," Delgato hissed as the two of you walked past him, his head craning up to look up at Miguel. "Maybe if you stopped standing in my way, I might be able to."

You could practically see the sheer anger in Delgato's face as he muttered to himself, moving out of the way nonetheless. "Now I know why you end up so stressed," you muttered, making your way down the stairs to take a seat. The room was a bit packed but the two of you managed to find some good seats in the middle. A couple people turned to look at the two of you but their attention was captured once more by the person speaking up on stage. Something about a drug slowing the speed in which some disease grew.

"And now for our next award of the night, please give a hand to Dr. Miguel O'Hara from Alchemax."

The cameras started clicking immediately as soon as he stepped onto the stage, a couple whispers of how unprofessional he was being being shared around in the audience. A couple thank you's were shared, to his lab colleagues and assistants who all simply just nodded upon being acknowledged, before he delved into what the topic of his research had been about. Well, just enough to keep the audience and you entertained. Even though only a couple of the words coming out his mouth actually managed to stick, you couldn't help but listen intently.

To the way that he described his work, with such passion and dedication. The way that he visibly lightened up whenever he got to speak about something that was fascinating to him. Even with all the talk circulating through the audience, you just couldn't help but be so proud of him. His eyes met yours through the sea of people, a smile on his face as he finished with the summary he'd gone over time and time again in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are there any questions?"

He was starting to get agitated, even you could tell from a distance. Well, it's not like you could exactly blame either parties here. The audience wanted to know why he'd shown up with lipstick adorning almost every corner of his face and he wanted to get asked questions about his research. "Any questions that aren't related to my current appearance?" He decided to ask, and it was almost comical how many hands went down. He answered the questions of those who remained, about five. But all he seemed to care about was having your attention in the audience as he spoke.

And while you'd expected him to win tonight, you hadn't expected this. Having him on one knee while you two were supposed to be celebrating his achievement. "So I didn't really prepare a speech before this or anything. But I was just wondering if you'd give me the second win of the night and agree to marry me," As corny as it was, you found yourself nodding to his proposal. "You mean to tell me that worked?" He asked, hesitatingly reaching over to grab your hand to slide the ring on.

"Yes, you idiot. You're acting like I expected anything more from you," you answered, watching as he slid the band on. It was fairly simple, a small stone perched on the middle of it. Your birth stone. "I promise to make you the happiest woman alive," he murmured against your lips, gently tilting your chin so you'd be looking at him. "You already are," it was your turn to be smooth. He let out a small chuckle, his lips gently pressing against yours.

So how did it get to this point?

To the point of having dozens of your calls and messages ignored, and if there was a response, it'd be a simple one-worded response. Enough for you to want to drop the subject all together. Dates between the two of you were a common occurrence, or at least often enough to the point where you didn't have to spend five minutes wondering when the last one had been. Promises left unfulfilled, accumulating only to be left discarded in the dust.

As much as you tried to resist it at first, you started to grow.. okay with it. It felt almost selfish to ask more of him, knowing how much effort he put into making sure that the three of you had a roof over your head. You were able to get a part-time job, giving you more time to spend with Gabriella. A nagging thought kept bugging you though. You married him for the purpose of having him as a husband, not solely a provider. Maybe you weren't as okay with it as you thought.

Your eye twitched when the last balloon was being filled up. How was it that almost every member of his family was capable of showing up and he wasn't? Even some of them came from Mexico for the week. For all the events that he'd missed, you at least would've thought that he would make some attempt to show up for Gabriella's party. You could see her looking around, with the hope of catching a glimpse of her father. It wouldn't hurt to call his work to see what was so important that he couldn't get off, right?

"Alchemax Industries. What can I help you with today?" The receptionist's bored tone came through the other end of the line after spending a couple minutes on hold, your foot irritably tapping against the hardwood floor. All you could do was hope that they wouldn't send you to another line like the previous five times.

"Hi, I'm calling about one of your employees. Miguel O'Hara. I was wondering until what time he was scheduled to work today," you answered quietly, in attempts that no one would overhear. The last thing you needed were any additional comments from his family about how you couldn't keep him around. You listened as the receptionist on the other side started typing out on their computer, silently thanking them.

"¡Te voy agarrar!" You heard yelling behind you, moving to the side before you ended up getting trampled by a bunch of five year olds. "Okay, sorry about taking a while. So about the employee that you're calling, there's a mistake. Miguel hasn't-" The rest of it fell onto deaf ears, your grip on the phone tightening as you struggled to keep up your composure. "Ma'am?" You heard the receptionist ask after a couple moments of silence. The fact that the call had ended hadn't even registered until a while later.

The words kept sounding through your head as the party continued, despite how much you'd tried to drown them out. With water balloon fights in the backyard with some of the kids, karaoke with Gabriella, and the breaking of the piñata. But you couldn't. Your eyes kept darting over to the door, almost expecting to find Miguel walking in at any given moment now. Though you weren't exactly surprised when it remained shut after the first five times that you'd checked. Everyone was having a good time and all you could do was miss him.

Chatter and laughter filled the atmosphere as you made your way through the penthouse, trying to find Gabriella. She'd disappeared right after the cake was cut with the pretense that she needed to use the bathroom about half an hour ago. And while she did spend up to that in the bathroom, it was only really whenever you gave her your cellphone to play around with. And you knew that none of the kids were playing hide and seek. "Gabi!" You called out, searching for her in the guest room.

The last time you'd seen her, she was busy talking with her tías. Nice women, really. Just too involved in finding out whatever chisme they could get out of Gabriella without any regards towards her feelings or the setting they were currently in. You wouldn't be surprised if they brought up the topic of separation to the poor girl. "Hey, have you seen Gabi around?" You didn't even question why Gabriel was exiting one of the rooms with one of your friends, too concerned about Gabi.

Gabriel wiped some spit from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "I'll let you know if we find her," he assured you, trying to hide your friend with his body. Like that'd erase the suspicion. Though you guessed it wasn't the right time to go over the whole 'don't hurt them' spiel. You'd do that when you knew your daughter was safe. "Okay, thank you," you told him, going to look for her in the secret spots you knew she liked to hide. In the laundry room. The library. Out in the balcony.

You stepped inside your shared closet with Miguel, not expecting to find her inside. You only really bothered to check as a last resort. But there she was. Her knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried deep in them, sniffling that was almost enough to bring you down to your knees. You walked over to her, sitting down in front of her before gently pulling her hands away from her face.

Only then could you see the extent of her pain. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose was starting to turn pink at the tip from how much she'd been rubbing at it. "What's wrong, mija?" You wiped away the tears that brimmed at the edge of her waterline with your thumb, drying it on your jeans. All you'd been trying to do was make sure she was having a good time at the party and your efforts had all but flopped.

"Why didn't he show up?" With every little crack of her voice, you could feel a piece of your heart shatter. You knew perfectly well who she was referring to her. Just like you'd been waiting for him to arrive, you caught small glimpses of Gabriella searching hopelessly around for her father. "I don't know. I wish I knew what could've been so important but I don't," you whispered, holding her close to your chest. There wasn't any use lying to her, not when you knew she'd look through it.

"Mami, me duele la cabeza," Gabriella spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at you. You could only guess. From what you could gather, you figured that she must've been crying at least for the previous half hour. "I can't give you any pills.. but I'll read you a story once you lay down for bed," you told her, helping her stand up from her spot on the floor. Gabriella left the closet to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed, leaving you in the deafening silence of the closet.

"Party's over," you announced on your way downstairs, already imagining the flurry of complaints that would come your way. You knew that if it was up to everyone else, they would find a way to keep the party going until two in the morning. After thanking everyone for coming and sending them home with leftovers that would last them through the weekend, you cleaned up the house a bit. Picking up a couple candy wrappers from the floor and sweeping off the multitude of streamers on the floor.

You'd spent the next hour tidying up the house, cleaning up juice stains from your once pristine white floors. Well, at least Gabriella managed to have a good time. Mostly. You'd almost expected her to fall asleep by the time you went back upstairs, but you saw her peering over at you when you opened up the door. "Alright, what story did you want me to read?" You questioned, stepping over to the library she had in the corner of her room. Naming off the first suggestions that appeared in your field of vision. "Can we do The Little Prince?"

Gabriella scooted over on the bed to let you sit down next to her, listening intently as you begin to read the story. Almost like she hadn't been listening to this story for the previous two weeks. At some point, she'd learned some of the passages from memory and began to recite them from the top of her head. You finished the book, half expecting her to still be awake and wanting another book. But no. Her eyes were shut, her arms tightly wrapped around one of her plushies while her breathing slowed down.

"Que sueñes con los angelitos," you whispered, pushing a couple loose strands of her hair back before kissing her forehead. She stirred in her sleep, her grip on the blankets tightening slightly. You moved when she finally managed to still, putting the book back on the shelf where it belonged. Prepping it for tomorrow. You made your way out the room, making sure to leave her night lamp on before shutting the door behind you. At least her headache hadn't bothered her too badly.

You poured yourself a glass of wine from a trip you'd taken with Miguel to Italy, swirling the burgundy liquid around. Much how your own thoughts were currently swirling around without any clear direction. Not your usual drink of choice, you had to admit. But it was a nice distraction. The subtle glow from the moonlight illuminated the otherwise empty room, the quietness almost too much to bear. There was nothing to distract you from the thoughts running rampant inside your head, each one of them leading to what seemed to be the same conclusion.

A divorce.

Even thinking about it felt wrong, though. You and Miguel made a pact upon getting married—stating that no matter how mad the two of you got at one another, that word would never be mentioned. Not even as a joke. But you supposed that was made during a different time. A time where Miguel wouldn't put his family on the back burner simply because of work affairs. A time where you didn't have to come up with excuses for his behavior.

It wasn't just for yourself that you were considering this solution. But also for Gabriella. His absence was starting to affect her in more ways than you could possibly fathom. Not just today for her birthday, but also throughout the last couple months. You could see the different attempts that Gabriella had made to talk to her dad, most of them ending up unsuccessful. Only leaving her more and more confused. Leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong.

"¡Mami!" Gabriella called out from the other room while you were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen, setting a separate plate for Miguel to put in the microwave. A nudging feeling that you would find the plate the same way you'd left it running through your head. You walked over to Gabi, spotting her in the kitchen table with a coloring book set in front of her. You were almost impressed by how precise she was at such a young age.

She'd managed to color in the photos without going through the lines once. She was always a bit of a perfectionist though, much like her father. It felt like staring at a reflection of a mini Miguel at times. If only he would try to maintain that relationship you knew Gabriella needed in her life.

"Yeah, what's up?" You wiped your hands on a napkin before taking a seat next to her. Looking over at the design on her book, you decided to commit the sight to memory. It wouldn't hurt to search it up later and use it as a form of gift inspiration for her birthday party coming up. "There's this parent career day tomorrow and I was hoping that you could come."

You wouldn't have expected her to ask you for help first. Given that your job mostly consisted of logistics and paperwork most of the day. The last interesting thing that had happened in the office was an affair between one of the CEO's and an intern. "You sure you don't want your dad to go instead?" Even if it wasn't by much, you figured that genetics would be more interesting than how graph analysis works. Gabriella played with her pens, avoiding looking at you.

"What's the point of asking if he's not gonna show up?" She spoke up after a couple moments, a small sigh escaping from your lips. You couldn't lie to her any better than you could lie to yourself, you knew that much. But you at least had to try. If only to stop that frown from forming on her face. "How about I present what your dad does for work? So it's almost like he's there," Except he wouldn't be. You figured it was a good enough compromise for her though. "But why can't he show up? Do we not matter to him anymore?"

The same question that clouded your thoughts while you laid in bed, arms wrapped around one of his pillows so it wouldn't feel so empty. So you wouldn't be reminded that the stupid California King was too big just for you to lay on it. "We do matter, he's just busy with work. It's how we're able to live the way we do," you answered, trying to keep your answer simple without dumbing it down. She was smart enough to understand. Smarter than you sometimes gave her credit for. "Okay. Your option sounds good."

You'd stayed up well past midnight that night, reading through a couple of Miguel's research papers in some attempt to figure out what you needed to describe. So far, all you had was talking about flasks and the basics of chemistry that you'd learned. Adorning a poster board with glitter also proved to be more work than you would've imagined, the clean-up taking longer than you would've expected. At least it didn't look too bad. Well, just enough to impress a classroom full of ten year olds.

Just the fact that Gabriella wasn't even making the effort anymore was enough to reassure the decision that maybe a divorce was necessary. Even if the thought was still painful to think about. At some level, you still loved Miguel just as much as the first day that you'd uttered those words to him. Just as much as the day you showed up on the aisle to officially intertwine your life with his. But you knew that neither you or Gabriella could be content just expecting the minimum from him.

The front door swung open, a loud groan escaping from Miguel's lips as he stepped into the threshold. His work shoes squeaked against the floors you'd just cleaned as he trudged over to the living room. "Hey, where's Gabi?" His lips barely grazed your cheek when he bent down to greet you, his voice riddled with exhaustion. He took a seat on the couch, his back slouched against the cushions. "She's asleep. Given that it's currently midnight."

You heard shuffling from his side, the bright phone screen illuminating his face. From this angle, you could see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It almost made you regret wanting to even bring this topic up. He squinted, tapping at the screen with his pointer finger to turn down the brightness. "Ah shock, you're right. I missed her birthday," Normally you would've been okay with the fact that he'd even bothered to remember the event he'd missed.

"Where were you?" You questioned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You felt like one of those detectives in the old movies you'd watched with Miguel, the light dim enough to create an ominous shadow over yourself. "What do you mean? I was at work all day," he responded, rubbing a hand through his face. He was committed to making the lie work, you had to give him that. He even had the Alchemax lab coat and badge on. And under normal circumstances, you might've just let that slide. Like all the other previous instances.

You calmly took a sip from your drink, letting the suspense marinate for just a little while longer. "I called Alchemax. It's funny that you say that, given that their system shows that you quit months ago. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth," you told him, his eyes widening almost comedically. The silence was enough of a tell for you to realize that you had him cornered now. He managed to meet your gaze after a couple seconds, speaking almost begrudgingly, "You called my job?"

You gave him a dirty look, almost surprised that it was what he was choosing to focus on. "Right, right. Not the point," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The silence was almost deafening, the two of you trying to keep things quiet for the sake of keeping some normalcy in front of Gabriella. "She kept asking about you, you know?" You started off, setting the wine glass with a thump before speaking again, "I kept lying to her. Telling her that something at work was more important than you being able to show up to her party."

"I want a divorce." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and you could almost see the different wheels in his head work. The wedding ring around your finger suddenly felt too heavy, the life that the two of you built together threatening to crash down in a mere matter of seconds just by that single sentence. "The least that you could do now is tell me the truth. Because what I'm imagining right now is that you have some kind of secret family on the down low."

In your defense, what more were you supposed to think? Especially when he's made no effort to tell you anything up to this point? You picked up the wine glass, glancing over at him to see what he'd do now. You'd be lying if you said that you fully expected him to start telling you the truth. But you hoped he did. If only to make you reconsider the idea of getting a divorce. If only to let you sleep better at night.

"Okay. Fine, I'll tell you. Just please.. consider the divorce one more time. Please. And believe me when I say there is no other family," he stood up from his spot, his hands clasped together as he stood in front of you. This was starting to sound dangerously similar to the number of excuses that he'd given you before but you decided on giving him the benefit of the doubt. You stayed silent and he took that as a cue to continue, "I haven't been around because... I'm Spider-Man."

The wine in your mouth poured down your nose, the liquid have gone down the wrong pipe. You coughed, attempting to clear your throat as the words settled in. There was no way that he was being serious. But the way that he was looking at you made it seem like he was. "And I know that it doesn't justify putting the two of you on the back burner but there's a lot of crime in Nueva York and throughout the universes in case you haven't realized." Universes?

Now you were certain he'd either lost it or he was just pulling excuses out of his ass. Probably a combination of both if you had to guess. "You're kidding," you deadpanned, waiting for some kind of indication that this was all just a joke. He flicked his wrist, a string of what seemed to be a web sticking onto the lamp next to you. You reached over, tentatively scooping the substance onto your pointer finger to examine what it was. It was indeed.. a web. You were starting to wonder if you'd drunk too much wine.

Nope. Still half a glass left. You punched the side of your arm, waiting for some kind of indication that you were dreaming. All you received was a sharp shot of pain though. Now all you had left to do was actually acknowledge the situation. Accept the fact that your husband was the self-proclaimed vigilante of Nueva York.

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" You managed to ask after the initial shock had died down, clearing your throat. He shifted his feet awkwardly, sitting down next to you once more. "Because I've seen too many instances of this play out. I didn't want any danger to come to you after you found out," he responded, his hands reaching out to hold your own. "But please, trust me. I only have eyes for you. Every single of my absences has been for the better of Nueva York."

It all started to make sense, though. The amount of files scattered on his desk, information on previous villains. A couple comic books from the previous Spider-Man on his bedside table. The awkward disappearances when the two of you were out on the street.

"Please say something," he urged after a couple seconds of your silence, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. What could you really say, though? It felt wrong to still be pissed off at him while he went off to save the city, and yet.. you still couldn't find it in yourself to forgive him just yet. "I know that the city of Nueva York needs you. But so does Gabriella. She doesn't deserve to be questioning what she's doing wrong as a child."

He was about to speak up but you quickly interrupted him, "She thinks she's not doing enough. That all those trophies in her room aren't enough for you to be proud of her. I beg of you to find some kind of balance before you end up losing the both of us for good." With that, you downed the rest of your wine before retreating to the kitchen to clean up the glass. You expected him to come back to bed, though you hadn't heard him come in after half an hour of tossing and turning. All you heard was the guest room door being opened.

You were awoken to the sweet scent of buttermilk, all kinds of different alarms going off in your head. The thought of Gabriella burning herself in the kitchen was starting to imprint itself in your brain. It certainly wasn't Miguel. Despite how groggy you were, you quickly rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the kitchen. Niña Bonita welcomed you as soon as you stepped inside, noticing Miguel stirring some batter with Gabriella by his side. At least she wasn't too close to the stove.

"Mi niña bonita, my dulce princesa," he hummed along to the song, gently ruffling Gabriella's hair. You stood at the doorway in silence, a small smile making itself known on your face despite how mad you were at Miguel. Gabriella attempted to push off his hands, but even she couldn't hide how much she was enjoying this time with him. "Mami, you finally got up!" Gabriella called you over once she noticed you.

"When'd you take the time to learn how to make these?" Usually it was you that took care of the cooking. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen, I'll have you know," Miguel retorted, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. Though you knew better. You could see a couple pancake pieces sticking up to the ceiling. Just how long had he been up to try to perfect this skill for Gabriella? "Take a seat, they'll almost be done. The sous chef's been doing an excellent job helping."

"Papi promised we'd go to the aquarium today, to make up for missing my birthday," Gabriella announced as you were in the middle of pouring syrup onto your pancakes. You had to forcibly stop yourself from reacting, trying to ensure that you wouldn't be having syrup with a side of pancakes. "You sure you can handle it?" You gritted under your teeth when Gabriella went to retrieve her tablet in the living room. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't. Haven't given you any reason to but have some faith in me."

You raised your brows, waiting for him to realize just how contradictory that statement was. Not that it ever came, though. "Can I stay the night over at my friend's house?" Gabriella piped once she finished her pancakes, all too eager to grab your plate along with Miguel's. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing the resistance on his expression. "Which friend is it?" You questioned, trying to rack your brain if it was something that she mentioned before. "The one from soccer practice, Candice."

After making some calls to Candice's mom to make sure that sleepover was actually something that she was aware of, you gave Gabriella the go-ahead. She practically rushed into her bedroom after the three of you had finished with breakfast, picking out a pair of pajamas and clothes before stuffing them into her backpack. Triple checking it so there would be no reason for room to doubt her preparation. While she was in the shower, you snuck in her stuffed animal. Just as a safety precaution.

The trip to the aquarium was honestly more trouble than it was worth, in your opinion. Parking was nearly impossible, the vein on Miguel's forehead threatening to pop with each turn that he made around the lot. Waiting patiently for whatever spot would open up for half an hour before realizing that no one was leaving. Even Gabriella had started to get fidgety in the back seat, asking Miguel if you all were there yet over and over again. "Just get the valet, I'm sure it won't be that expensive," you suggested, hoping that it wouldn't add on to the frustration Miguel was feeling.

"Wait, hold on," like a beacon of hope, one of the spots opened up just as soon as you said that. Before he had the chance to park the car though, one of the newly arriving guests immediately seized the opportunity and took it before he had the chance. With one slam to the steering wheel, he relented and went over to get in line for the valet parking. "Here, you can watch a documentary on turtles," you pulled it up on your phone before leaving, not that you thought you would have to use it. And just like that, Gabriella immersed herself on what was on the screen.

Seeing the price of valet parking almost made you want to regret ever suggesting at all. Seriously, who charged $50 just for a parking spot? Gabriella let her grip on your phone slip when she was handing it to you, your brows furrowing as you already started to imagine the crack on screen just from the sound it made hitting the concrete. You quickly picked up, pocketing it up before Gabriella started to feel guilty. "Don't worry about it. I was due for a new one anyways," you assured her, holding to her hand while Miguel held her other one.

The three of you were visibly annoyed as soon as you stepped foot into the aquarium, the excitement towards this trip dying down with every single thing that kept going wrong. Not only had it taken half an hour and $50 to even enter, but now, none of the shows were even available? Even the dolphins had gone down with some kind of fish flu. Why it was even so full was beyond you. "Come on, we'll still have a good time," Miguel sounded like he was trying to collectively convince all three of you, offering Gabriella a piggy back ride as compensation.

Gabriella didn't seem to mind it too much, her head raised like she was royalty while perched on Miguel's shoulders. His grip on her legs was tight, assuring she wouldn't fall down. Given that she had a tendency to test herself and lean as forward as she could when one of the fish approached. You'd never seen her this excited about a trip before. You quickly realized the reason for her excitement. Miguel kept giving her subtle facts about each of the different species that you approached, whether from his own brain or the information board put up.

And she held on to every single word that escaped from his mouth, listening to him like he was the most interesting man in the world.

After seeing how full the gift shop was at the end of the tour, you decided to wait outside with a couple other guests. All you could hope was that Miguel would talk to her while the two of them were inside, give her some of that connection that she longed for. She came back bouncing back with a shark plushie— one identical to the one Miguel had gotten you on a prior date. Just the sight make your resolve melt a bit. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing him give you a shrug. "It's what the princess wanted."

Exiting the aquarium was almost as troublesome as entering, a line of cars parked at the exit. Gabriella didn't seem to mind it as much, plotting a story line with her as a mermaid with the shark. It'd been a while since you got the chance to see her be so animated. Throughout the car ride, she couldn't stop talking about how the trip at the aquarium and explaining the exhibits to you in explicit detail. Well, that was until you got to Candice's house. She was quick to leave as soon as she saw her friend waiting outside, her two feet almost too slow to match her energy.

The tension in the air was thick from the moment Gabriella had departed the car but it was much more obvious now that the two of you were stuck in a room together. After making a beeline to go change into a pair of shorts and a shirt—calling it a night, you were surprised to find Miguel still laying on the bed. Idly tapping at his phone with one finger, the faint sound of a Candy Crush!reaching your ears. You figured that he would've left to go monitor the city after spending the day with Gabriella. Maybe he was determined to make it work this time around.

No.

You couldn't start thinking that way just because he bothered to stick around for one evening.

He settled in between your legs, continuing to tap away at the screen. As much as you wanted to protest, you decided not to. From this angle, you could see him struggling with solving level 3976. How much time had he seriously dedicated to this game? Time that he hadn't spent dedicating towards you. Great. Just the thought was enough to piss you off once more. You grabbed your own phone from the bed stand, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes every time one of those stupid family channels showed up. If you had to bet, you'd guess their marriage wasn't that good either.

Miguel looked up at you from his spot in between your legs, with furrowed brows and brown irises practically boring into you. He looked so needy.. so desperate. "Please mamita, I need you. I need to touch you again," he pleaded, his lips leaving a searing sensation as he kissed up your leg. It'd been too long since you'd received any form of intimacy from anything other than your fingers and your vibrator. And while they did get the job done, they didn't exactly offer this kind of foreplay.

He moved the flimsy material of your pajama shorts to the side, kissing the innermost part of your thighs. Your fingers tugged at the strands, trying to pull him to your cunt. With every single teasing breath against the thin material, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing and dripping onto your panties. "Not yet," and the bastard had the nerve to laugh. It was the last sound you heard before you felt a small sting on your thigh, your eyes almost popping out of your skull. When he said he was Spider-Man, you'd been expecting the whole swinging around.

What you hadn't been expecting, however, was a pair of fangs that were almost the same length as your head. Just how far did the extent of these spider powers go? You were thinking of every possibility, unaware that you'd even spaced out. He regained your attention by pulling the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against your skin. "Only thing you have to be focused is on me," he spoke up before you had the chance to say anything, moving to take off your shorts off. You raised your hips, your panties and shorts falling off in one swift motion.

He'd been nothing but desperate earlier, but his touch almost seemed reverent this time around. Kissing up your legs as if you were something to worship, drinking up your gasps as if they were the finest tunes he'd ever listened to. His hands pried your thighs open, leaving you completely exposed to him. Only before he got the chance to lean in was that you got the chance to see just how desperate for this he truly was. His pointer finger ran through your folds, collecting whatever slick had started to accumulate.

"You say you want a divorce but this pretty cunt's telling me a different thing," almost like he was timing it—which he was, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. A loud squelch echoed through the otherwise silent room, a small groan escaping from your lips. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him hear your moans. "Let me hear you mamita. Let me hear good I'm making you feel," he prodded, his fingers moving in a scissoring motions. You bit on your bottom lip, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

"Eso, no me nieges. Te lo ruego."

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, his eyes boring into yours as he licked the glistening slick off them. Practically feining to get every single drop. He leaned in to be face-level with your cunt, licking a stripe up your folds before parting them apart with his tongue. "Oh fuck," the moan slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to think better of it, the small chuckle he let out against your cunt vibrating throughout your body. His head moved from side to side, practically engulfing himself in between your legs with his nose pressing against your clit.

Your legs trembled in his grasp, struggling to keep them open when all you wanted to do was close them around his head. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. The constant whiplash was enough to make you into a whining mess underneath him, despite your better judgement. "Please," you didn't even make sense to yourself. You weren't exactly sure what it is that you were even begging for. "Shh, it's okay. I'll give you what you need," and yet, he seemed to understand your pleas perfectly.

His mouth closed around your clit, his eyes boring into yours as he sucked on the neglected nub. Your nails dug into his scalp, a groan escaping from his lips. Like a domino effect, that small groan vibrated against your clit which caused you to only tighten your grip on his hair. You bucked your hips to meet his lips, his grip on your legs tightening. "I got you mamita, just let me take my time pleasing you," he murmured, kissing a trail from your inner thigh to your folds once more. His tongue fell flat, licking a stripe up your glistening folds.

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance before the wet muscle pushed inside, your juices leaking down to his mouth almost instantaneously. If anything, he didn't seem to mind it. He almost looked like he was in complete bliss. Miguel made no attempt to continue the ploy he'd started with the eye contact earlier, his eyes shut as he got lost in the taste of your essence. "Oh, Mig, Mig, Mig-" Broken fragments of his name escaped from your lips as his pointer finger rubbed small circles on your clit, the dual stimulation enough to have your toes curling.

You reached down to play with your erect nipples, rolling them in between your fingers. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, so attainable. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," every single word from your vocabulary seemed limited. All you could do was repeat yourself and hope that he would get the picture. "That's it, you got it," he coaxed you into an orgasm, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening. If anything, he seemed to revel in how you were gripping him.

Every word at the tip of your tongue failed you as you came with a shudder, your release coating his mouth and chin in the process. Miguel eagerly took every drop that you had to give, even going back into your cunt to get anything that he might've missed. You practically had to push him off before he started to eat you out again. While you knew that he could handle it, you weren't too sure that you could. You let your back hit the mattress, basking in the afterglow from your orgasm.

Before Miguel had the chance to finish with unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to clear your throat. His hands halted their movements, his eyes shooting up to you like a deer caught in headlights. "With the way you've been acting, do you seriously think you've earned the right to fuck me?" You questioned, seeing his expression visibly deflate as he removed his hands from the buttons. "Please. I'll do anything, mi vida. Es tortura tenerte tan cerca y no poder tocarte," it was a rare sight to see.

Miguel prided himself in being above begging. And yet, here he was.

"Go on and lay on the bed for me," your tone offered no room for protests, his steps quick as he went to lay down on the bed. You trailed your hand from his knee to his crotch, cupping his heavy balls in your palm. "Look at me and tell me you have the right to fuck me, if that's the case," you spoke up, looking over at him as your hand switched from one ball to the other. Giving each the same amount of attention. You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it back up again, and repeated the process until he eventually gave up.

"I can't," he huffed out, almost in a whisper. You reached over in your bedside table, pulling out your trusty vibrator. "And why's that?" You asked him, your touch featherlight when you rubbed the vibrator against the outline of his cock. Just enough to give him a taste of what he could have. "Because I don't deserve to fuck you. I know. But I'm still selfish," he admitted after a while, his words barely above a whisper. Good enough of an answer for now.

A shaky groan escaped from his lips when you turned the vibrator on, the lowest intensity almost too painful to bear. Shudders ran across his body as you rubbed the vibrator on the tip of his cock, sliding it down to his frenulum. "Ngh, don't stop," his voice was practically a whimper by this point, his hips bucking to meet your touch. Not that you allowed for that continue for long though. You pushed your thighs down with one hand, his muscles flexing underneath your grasp.

You moved the vibrator to rest against the tip of his cock, precum leaking onto the tip of it. You tentatively brought it up to your lips, swirling your tongue around it as the familiar salty taste overwhelmed your senses. His eyes were locked on yours, his hips bucking up in some miserable attempt to gain some friction. You set the vibrator back on the tip of his cock, a hiss escaping from his lips. "Turn it up."

"What's the magic word?" You shifted to grab the remote, lowering the intensity despite the groans that escaped from his lips. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, if you had to be honest. Well, the closest he could get to that point anyways. "Pl.." he couldn't finish his sentence, a choked groan escaping from his lips. He looked over at you, like he was expecting you to understand. And while you did, you also wanted him to use his words. Hear how pretty he sounded begging.

"P-Ple-nghh."

“Plea-shockk."

"P-Ay mierda."

It was a cruel game you were playing, you were aware. You kept the vibrator at the same speed, raising a brow as you looked at him. "Sounds like you don't really want it," you taunted, deciding to put the vibrator to the highest level possible. Only for a fraction of a second, though. Just as quickly as relief had come for him, it was gone. He let out a groan, trying to will the word to slip out of his mouth. Just one word.

"Please," it seemed like your little show of motivation had finally paid off. You turned the intensity of the vibrator gradually this time around, allowing him to get used to the sensation. "See what you get when you ask nicely," you decided to taunt him even further despite knowing better. You knew your cunt would be paying the consequences for your relentless teasing later in the night. Not like the thought mattered now, though. Not when you had Miguel begging and at the verge of tears just for your touch.

His balls felt heavy to the touch, almost like he was at the point of cumming. You gave both of them equal attention, rolling them in your hand. Miguel's eyes could only clamp shut, his mouth parted. "Please let me cum, so close," he begged so nicely, a couple drops of precum leaking down to your thigh. You could always be generous and let him cum. Then again, the idea of prolonging his orgasm was just too enticing to resist. Each buck of his hips became more erratic, more needy. Before he got to that point of climax, you pulled the vibrator away from his cock.

"I asked nicely," he pointed out, his voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to sit up, almost searching your expression to see if he'd done something wrong. "I'm aware," you simply responded, wiping your vibrator before placing it on the nightstand to clean it throughly later. "I just didn't feel like letting you," you added, waiting to see if he'd offer more resistance. You could see he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself from saying anything. Smart man.

Miguel set a pillow underneath your stomach, your back set in a mean arch as you laid on it. He stepped behind you, his thumb rubbing against your folds before he dipped it inside. Your wetness immediately engulfed his finger, your walls stretching out as he pushed it deeper inside. "What happened to the attitude you had earlier, hm?" He used the same taunting tone that you had, mocking you. A protest died in your throat as the tip of his cock went inside your folds, your head craning back to look at him.

"Just the t-"

"Yes, yes, just the tip. I promise," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, rolling his eyes. You were already testing his patience by allowing just the tip. He retracted, the tip of his cock an angry shade of red as precum dripped down his shaft. Your walls clenched and unclenched rhythmically, your own body betraying your resolve. He pushed the tip inside once more, keeping it inside your wet cunt. "Please, let me fuck you properly. You're punishing both of us, not just me."

And here you would've figured that his negotiations were reserved just for the state of Nueva York. You shook your head, determined to see this through. "If it's not enough for you, we can just stop here," And how you wished your voice would've come out with more bite. Now you sounded just as needy as he did. Maybe even more. "No, no, it's fine," he was quick to respond, retracting. It was almost painful how slow he was going, almost making you want to give up on this whole argument. Getting stubborn wasn't getting you anywhere.

"Please let me fuck you properly," he pleaded after a couple thrusts, his hands on your hips. Well. At least you didn't have to give in first. "Fine," you tried to sound annoyed, though you weren't convincing him any better than you were yourself. A strangled gasp left your mouth as he bottomed out, your cunt stretched out to the brim. Your walls clenched against his shaft rhythmically, trying to get used to the intrusion. Your hands reached over for the pillow above you, your grip on it tightening as he pulled out.

His skin slapped against your own with each thrust that he made, his grip on your hips tightening. "Don't stop, Mig! So, so good," he'd turned you into a babbling mess within a matter of seconds. "Wasn't planning on it," he responded quickly, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust. You craned your head to look at him, the sight having a new wave of arousal coat his cock. His head was lolled back, his face contorted into one of pure pleasure. You rocked your hips to match his rhythm to the best of his ability, your ass smacking against his hips with every movement.

"Oh shock, slow down," he was mesmerized by the sight of your ass rippling with each move that you made, one of his hands reaching down to cup the flesh. "Not gonna last long if you keep at it," he added, raising his hand before giving your ass a slap. The mixture of pain and pleasure mixed together, your own release starting to approach. "Fill me up, Mig!" You could only whine that out, a groan escaping from his lips at your words. The hand on your ass moved down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the nub in circles. Fervent circles to match the pace of his sloppy thrusts.

You clamped tightly around his cock, your arousal coming out of you in waves. Your stomach hit the pillow underneath you, your body giving out on you. As soon as you clamped around him, Miguel knew his own orgasm wasn't too far off. With one final thrust, he shot his cum up your cunt. Filling you up like you'd asked. He pulled his flaccid cock out of you a couple moments later, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers pushed back the cum threatening to drip down before he went over to get a wet towel to clean you up.

"It shouldn't take me threatening to divorce you for you to get your act together," you spoke up once you managed to catch your breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Not exactly the topic that you would've imagined talking about after sex. But you figured it was important for him to know that just a good lay wouldn't be enough to resolve this issue. He swiped his arm over his forehead, wiping away at nonexistent sweat beads. Something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.

"I know. And I'm sorry that it ever got to this point, I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how worthy I am to be next to you," he spoke up after a few moments, turning to face you. His hands itched to be wrapped around you, for some semblance of that intimacy that he'd neglected for so long. But he didn't make any effort to touch you. He knew it'd take a while for you to get to that point. The conflicted expression on your face was enough to tell him that you didn't believe him.

And it's not like you were looking forward to starting any issues between the two of you. But with the amount of empty promises and "I'm sorry's", you figured that you'd earned the right to doubt him. You got up, putting up your pajamas in an attempt to divert the conversation. You didn't want to voice that you were worried about him failing to fulfill his promise. "I know you don't believe me, but I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you," he whispered, pulling the blanket over the two of you before exhaustion overtook your body.

Instead of the usual emptiness that you'd grown used to waking up to, you found Miguel laying by your side with his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Like he didn't want to let you go. "I can feel you staring," he mumbled, half asleep as he begun to stir. He kept one arm wrapped around you, bringing the other hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Just surprised you're not at work yet," you responded, pushing a couple stray hairs away from his forehead. "Well, I'm trying to prioritize my family a bit more."

His promises didn't feel as empty as the ones he'd spoken about before. He seemed determined to bring them into fruition this time around. Or at least you hoped that he would. For you and Gabriella. "I know it doesn't amount to much with how many times I've said it, but I really am sorry for neglecting you for so long. I got so carried away into maintaining the safety of Nueva York that I forgot to maintain my own marriage."

"I know you can't be everywhere at once. Me and Gabriella are aware you have responsibilities but still.. I don't want to have to feel like I'm being selfish for asking for some time with my husband," you spoke up after a couple seconds, looking over at him. Neither of you made any attempt to leave your bed just yet, too engulfed in the temporary state of bliss. "And you won't have to feel that way anymore, I promise."

Maybe things would work out for the better this time around.

taglist 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @hardlystrictlystarwars @koffcoff

“ i simply am not there. „ — patrick bateman

(i do not headcanon him to be ANYTHING like patrick, or want this is be an au of any kind — this is just a scene redraw i wanted to do for halloween <3)

I WANNA BE ONE THE TAGLIST THIS IS SO ADORABLE??? hello??? like more adorable than a bunny

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

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GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed how his joystick kitchen and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

“? Wtf are you talking about”

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺