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*feral screams, rips eye out*
“mmph” miguel groans as he crawls into bed, slumping on top of your chest after a long week of work. “what’s wrong mig?” you coo, stroking his hair as he holds onto your waist. “work, it was so fucking exhausting today you have no idea.” he mutters. “m’ sorry baby” you say softly, "i know its been tough for you recently". you stay silent for a second, not really knowing the right words to say. “yeah" he says, almost in a defeated tone.
it hurts you to see your hardworking man all stressed and restless. you hated how much he overworked himself, and how he refused to let go of some responsibilities for the sake of his health. you stopped putting up a fight though, as the topic being brought up always ends up nowhere but him saying it's his duty to take care of all of it.
he sighs. "i’m just..” he murmurs against on your chest, “... happy you’re here with me now”. you smile, “me too”
he opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates. “do you think you can…” he says, before stopping himself. “hm?” you ask curiously, raising a brow. “can you hold me?” he asks with a slight rasp in his voice, embarrassed at how needy he sounds. “please?”
you smile and nod, “of course” you say softly, “come here”. he obeys and shifts up beside you against your neck, that burning desire to be closer to you.
you stroke his soft brown hair through your fingertips as his eyes begin to shut, feeling his breath against your neck.
you plant soft kisses on his cheekbones, jaw, and forehead, bathing him in all the love and affection you have to offer because you simply know he needs it right now. he lays peacefully against you, feeling your soft lips against his tender skin.
“my beautiful boy” you coo, stroking his cheek. “mmm, like it when you call me that’” he mumbles. you chuckle softly at his response, his sleepy voice was so cute. “yeah?” you smirk. “mhm”
you caress his back, his muscles loosening up and relaxing. “i’m so proud of you y’know? you work so hard i just, want you to know that” you reassure. “i truly admire you” you say sincerely, watching him smile from your words. “thank you baby” he whispers, gently stroking your arm.
he nuzzles his face against you more, placing hot kisses on your neck. “y’ur so warm” he murmurs, resting his hand on your chest. it’s endearing how vulnerable he gets just by being in your arms. you grin, as your legs tangle up with his under the sheets.
“i love you” he whispers sleepily against you, holding you close. “i love you more, my sweet” you whisper back, kissing his cheek as he drifts off to sleep.
Lauro, you making me feel things I haven't felt 😖
HEY POOKS. Could you write a DBF!Miguel x dancer!reader. He just loves to watch her dance in competitions and recitals and helps her practice her routine by counting out 8’s for her <333
( maybe he can give reader a reward for doing so well but idk 🤭 )
[Rehearsal]
lab tester: Anonymous Participant (Hi @snails-doodles22) 🩻
summary: Miguel keeps you grounded as you prepare for a dance competition.
content warning: age gap (abeg she’s 21+), secret relationship, fluff, like two suggestive?? lowkey explicit scenes so MINORS BEWARE, a few thoughts of frustration/failure but nothing serious just the thoughts of an artist
word count: 1.9k, halfway proofread
a/n: Hi hi!! This one was really a challenge for me!! and Idk if I’ll write DBF again ngl Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! I leaned more on the age gap aspect of the relationship and pulled from how I felt when practicing for my own recitals/competitions 🤠! (I get extremely snappy and mean lol)
A Grand Adage (as best as I, not a professional ballerina but I practiced for 3 years, can explain) is a slower dance move where you stretch your leg to the front, side, and back without losing your balance. You also have to switch legs…I think. It looks like it takes a LOT of core strength, especially without a partner.
I don’t think I mention it in the story, but I’m imagining this Miguel to have salt and pepper hair, but like, in its early stages. So only a few strands of gray.
“Damn it.”
The music started to sound more and more jaded as you failed another Grand Adage after powering through the more fast-paced part of your routine.
You don’t know why you had the bright idea to add the most pain-inducing ballet moves to your contemporary piece, but you were starting to hate yourself for it. It was supposed to represent a crash and burn of rushing perfection which was ironic because you were feeling those emotions tenfold.
“You’re not going to get it if you keep trying to force it like that.” You heard Miguel from across the room and the music finally stopped. “It’s a pause between those last two counts. You know this, chiquita.”
You huffed out a chuckle as you got up, “Knowing and doing are two different things. I know what’s coming, which is why I keep anticipating it and messing it up.”
“The studio is all yours for a few more hours,” Miguel sighed. “Take a breath and try it again.”
“That’s so easy for you to say. You’re not the one busting your ass,” you mumbled as you got back into your starting position.
Miguel crossed his arms, head leaning on the wall above the barre, “You want to say that again?”
You dropped your arms and stared at him, face blank.
After a minute or so of you going silent, he unfolded his arms and beckoned you towards him.
You dragged your feet to get to him, hands hugging yourself.
“I know you want this to be perfect, but snapping at me isn’t going to help that.” His hands made their way to the back of your thighs, rubbing up and down the tightened muscles.
“I’m sorry, I just-” you rubbed your eyes with your palms. “The competition is so soon and I keep fucking the routine up.”
“And you’ve also done it perfectly countless other times. You’ve got this! I know you do. I’ve seen how much work you’ve put into dancing and that’s not going to change.”
“But Miguel-”
“But nothing. I’ve seen how you become a new person on the stage. You demand the attention of your audience in a way that your peers can’t. You’re captivating and alluring so I’m not going to sit here and let you think otherwise.”
You look at him with a face that says “I know you’re right, but I don’t want you to be,” and just fall onto his lap, wallowing in his arms while you breathe in his cologne.
He nuzzled you on the head, hands patting at your ass, hands warm and firm through your tights, “Now can you try again for me?”
“Can I have a kiss?” you say, lips rivaling a rubber duckie.
He chuckles at you but obliges, heart too soft when it comes to you.
You get up with new ambition, taking a deep breath as you stride back to the middle of the room.
“I’m going to count out loud for you this time, is that ok?”
“Yeah,” you reply, arms molding into a sharp form.
When the music starts this time, you hone in on Miguel’s voice, taking leaps and turns with his timbre. Your heart thumps all the same, but your brain isn’t as loud.
As the Grand Adage comes again, Miguel’s voice stays calm, never wavering. You tighten your core and lift your leg high, hands framed beautifully and foot pointed sharp as you hold your arms above your head. As you bring your leg back down to begin to turn, your heart almost stops when your body remains stable and strong. You can’t believe it but try to keep the piece's emotion steady.
You switch legs without trouble, eyes catching Miguel watching your form in the mirror. His face is serious but you can’t hear that in his voice, making you feel fuzzy. You keep up the pace, repeating the same move but gearing up to do an Illusion.
Like a flash, you bring your leg down and bend your body, foot spinning swiftly to perform the trick. Your heartbeat is roaring in your ears as you move through the rest of the routine, mind too excited from your success to completely portray the ending emotions of dance.
Once you finish, you’re quick to get out of your position, face lit up as you turn to Miguel. When you run to him, you’re screaming with glee. He only stumbles a bit when you jump in his arms, body wrapped around him like a koala.
“Miguel! Did’ya see it? Oh my god, I can’t believe it,” you laughed as he spun you around.
“I told you you could do it, amor. You just needed to get out of your head.”
“Ok ok, three more times and I think I’ll be ready to leave.”
“Well let’s get busy, chiquita. We’ve got work to do.”
You run through the routine again and again, becoming more confident each time. After every successful routine, Miguel’s praises get more and more loving. First a deep hug, then a few pecks to the lips, then a makeout session that has you squirming for more.
“Is your dad picking you up today?” he said, lips on your neck.
You turn your nose up at the mention of him, “No, I took the bus.”
“Could have asked me to drop you off.”
“You were at work, Miggy. Didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re never a bother,” he stopped to move his forehead to yours. “You can come over tonight. You need to relax after all of this hard work.”
“And what do I tell my dad when he asks where I am?” your eyes pan from his eyes to his lips, fingers reaching up to go through his hair.
“Tell him you’re at a girlfriend’s house.”
You twist your mouth to the side, pretending to think.
“How are you planning to relax me?”
“A hot bath.”
You snickered, knowing better than to believe that was all he was planning to do, but taking his word for it.
Hours later when you were laid on your back, hands gripping the sheets below you and Miguel holding your legs up as he stroked deep inside, your suspicions were confirmed. Your skin was soft from the bath and your muscles were like jelly after he spent an hour massaging every tight muscle out of you. The room was full of him, his smell surrounding you, and the noises of him attending to your every need. With every cry of his name, he brought you closer to the horizon.
On the day of your competition, you didn’t even look at Miguel before you went on, nerves too bad. If he gave you a pep talk, internally, you would be appreciative, but externally, you might tell him to leave you the fuck alone.
Knowing how you get, he supported you in the best way he could by sending you messages and a light breakfast in the morning.
“Break a leg, chiquita”
“Not literally of course”
“I’ll be waiting for you once it’s over”
“With a surprise :)”
It was enough to fill you with anticipation, ready to give it all on the floor.
Once your number was called, you went to the center and got into position. The crowd was dark enough to feel like it was just you in the room, but your heart knew otherwise with how fast it was beating.
When the music starts, it’s like Miguel’s voice is a soundtrack playing through your memory. You can’t see him, but you can feel him in the crowd cheering you on. Your feet move across the floor, body tightening and relaxing when needed. Your face wears a frustrated expression, portraying the sentiment of everything falling out of control. Your leaps and turns come one after another moving your form across the stage.
The Grand Adage comes to you like lightning, you don’t even notice you’re doing it until it happens. The muscle memory takes over and you transition to the Illusion like it's nothing. Your mind wanders as you go through to the end of the routine, finishing strongly with your pose on the floor.
The cheers of the audience are what bring you back to reality. A feeling of relief washes over you as you stand and bow, smiling brightly.
Standing with the other dancers from your category, you don’t expect the judges to call your name for first place, so when they all turn to look at you, you feel like you might have walked out in your underwear by accident.
It isn’t until you’re handed a bouquet of flowers and a trophy that it dawns on you that your hard work has paid off. The check was no measly amount of money either.
Looking out to the crowd, you can see Miguel standing up with his hands cupped over his mouth as he yells. Your family is standing next to him cheering as well. You wave at them, jumping up and down in excitement. Only you can see the wink Miguel gives you.
When you meet them out in the lobby, you have to stop yourself from keeping your attention on Miguel.
“You did amazing, honey,” your dad says, squeezing the life out of you. “That flip thing? I don’t know how you did it, but wow!”
“It’s called an Illusion,” Miguel shakes his head. “Keep up.”
“What are you, her coach or something?”
“C’mon you guys,” your mom fusses. “Don’t start bickering in the building. At least wait until we get dinner.”
“‘M gonna ride with Miguel,” you say to them.
Knowing how much you like his car, your parents think nothing of it and walk out to their own car.
Once they’re out the door, he turns and gives you a deep kiss, “You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.”
“I just remembered what you said. Kept it in the back of my mind while I performed.”
He smiled and wrapped his hands around your waist, “Yeah?”
You nod and bring his lips to yours again.
“Where’s my surprise?”
“Always so impatient.”
“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”
“Tienes rázon,” Miguel chuckled.
Miguel brings a sparkly gift bag to your attention, placing it in your hands. You reach into the bag, tissue paper falling to the floor. You pull out an envelope and a long velvet box.
You open the box, eyes glittering when you see the necklace inside.
“Miguel, this is adorable!”
“Here,” he takes the necklace out of the box. “Let me help you put it on.”
You turn and focus your attention on the envelope, fingers sliding under the sealed flap.
Your breath halts when you pull the tickets out.
“To Paris?”
You turn to him once your necklace is latched together, eyes teary from happiness.
“You’ve been doing so amazing, I wanted to treat you to an amazing trip.”
“How much did this cost?”
“Nothing that you should worry your head about.”
You crowd his space, kissing his face all over, “Thank you so much, Miguel.”
“Of course. Anything for my girl.”
“I don’t want to go out to dinner now,” you sigh dramatically.
“Yeah? You know we can’t bail, though.”
“Not even if I give my thanks to you in the car?”
Miguel bit the inside of his cheek, watching you grin at him. He’s really way too soft when it comes to you.
“Vamos.”
As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵
PLEASE
Intertwining Souls with Miguel O'Hara
Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader
A/N: I saw this DELICIOUS ASS GIF AND GOT INSPIRED (thanks @mrsoharaa for putting it on my dash HEHE🥰) VERY IMPORTANT VISUAL for the following thot. 😏
CW: SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI
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Imagine lying in bed naked with Miguel. No expectations. No hidden intentions for it to lead to anything stronger than simply laying on top of him, completely bare against his chest as you exchange loving, lingering, lazy kisses. Soft groans breathing into a passionate exhale he captures against your mouth as his tongue addictively weaves with yours. Nothing but cozy thick blankets and this plush bed and this tender man you're melting against.
Enjoying the way his muscles wrap around you. Relishing the fact you're safe in the strength of this giant of a man. The outline of his body and every ridge, scar, dip, and callous of his skin imprinting onto yours as if it's the first, despite countless meetings before.
Letting the heat from each other's bodies consume each other as you create a cozy, sensual, intimate space from the affectionate act that's taking place.
The world quiet and desolate outside completely separate from the one you're currently lost in. Morning still hours away as your souls tangle with one another in the deep nighttime.
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🖤
@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer