I NEED PART FOUR NOWWWWW

I NEED PART FOUR NOWWWWW

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL, no smut in this part but part 4👀

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano @haileycannotcometothephonern @amberbalcom14 @fire-in-her-veinz @roserfz27 @that-sounds-stupid

PART THREE (click here for part 2)

Miguel remains unmoving for what seems like hours.

He’s cleaned himself up; now changed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie — one of your favorites that you like to steal. He’s not bothered to make dinner for himself, limbs glued to the couch.

His mind wonders how your date is going, delirious with fantasy how your date might be treating you. Probably gotten you better flowers, a better gift, maybe even a reservation at that restaurant which recently opened in upper Manhattan, most likely beating your favorite italian place in downtown Brooklyn.

His whirling thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key twisting through the lock.

Miguel frowns, glancing at his phone for the time.

It’s only 10:24pm.

Turning, he finds you walking through the door before shutting it behind you and taking your heels off with haste. Miguel hears you groan with satisfaction as you waddle over to the couch.

“Hey.”

He notices that you have no flowers, not even a gift. The purse that you had taken for the night is now discarded on the coffee table without a second thought, your exhausted body sinks onto the couch next to Miguel with an empty sigh.

“You’re back early.” He figures he won’t even try to not state the obvious.

“Yeah.” You mumble, looking down and fiddling with your hands. “It was a quick date.”

He raises a brow. “Quick?”

You shrug. “Yeah, we went to that new posh bistro near Manhattan.”

Miguel internally curses. He was right after all.

“Was it good?”

“It was alright. I didn’t eat much though.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing looked interesting.” You shug. “Y'know, for a luxury restaurant like them their portions seemed kinda small. I was kinda hoping that you’d make something good for dinner when I came back, m’craving pasta like crazy.”

Miguel perks up a little at your words. “Do you want me to make something for you?”

“No, it's fine.”

“Are you—”

“And why haven’t you eaten?” you cut him off, knowing all too well that he’d get up and start cooking for you. You didn’t want to be a burden to him. You noticed that the kitchen was the exact same as before you left.

“I wasn’t in the mood to eat.”

“Not even take out?”

Miguel shakes his head.

Your brows furrow, finding it unusual but decide to say nothing more about it. The awkward tension from this morning seems to return, lingering around the apartment walls and now beginning to creep in between the two of you.

Your thighs are just brushing his, you can sense his chest rising and falling next to you; you feel so close to him but at the same time so distant all of a sudden. You can sense that there’s something that hangs over the two of you, lingering like melancholic clouds over the late winter skies in New York.

The tension is heavy, too thick to be cut with a knife. You feel a desire to leave perhaps to ease up whatever was going on between the two of you. But before you shift, Miguel seems to finally let his words ease you out of the cage that you were in.

“Did our–uh lesson …work?”

“What?”

It takes a few seconds before realization creeps in, your face softening. He was talking about last night.

“Oh, that.” You avoid eye contact with him. “Yeah, it helped.”

That was the last punch in the gut for him. Internally, his stomach churns. Almost nauseous at the idea of you pleasing someone else and having that look in your eyes which wasn’t solely for him.

He had no right to feel this way, he knows this, you’re free to do anything you want but it takes a moment for Miguel to ease the growing ache in his stomach; letting out an exhale before speaking again.

“You were right earlier.”

“Huh?” You glance towards him only to find that Miguel’s not looking at you, instead staring straight ahead at the window, showcasing the glorious glow of New York.

Skyscrapers of different heights dotted around the landscape, numerous tiny squares glowing with light only emphasized the burn of sonder.

“Y’know you were right earlier, you were right about me having no plans for valentine’s.”

“Oh, I was, was I?” You jump at the chance to lighten up the mood immediately, your tone turning to curiosity.

“Yeah, I had a reservation but uh— I canceled.”

“Oh, why?”

“They uhh – they said they had other plans so…” his voice trails off.

Your teasing grin drops and your voice effortlessly changes effortlessly from playfulness to one of compassion. “Oh, Miguel, I’m so sorry.” Truly, your heart dropped at the thought of him being stood up.

“It’s fine.”

A pause settles between you once again and you muse over what had happened tonight.You let out an exhale before speaking. “If I'd known that the date was going to be shit, and to be fair I should’ve known from the moment that he ignored me at work, and I would’ve stayed with you and–”

“Really?” Miguel interrupts, finally gaining the courage to meet your eyes. “Would you?

“Yes, I would've. You know I would have.”

“Really?” he repeats dumbfoundedly, as if he didn’t believe you the first time.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I just didn’t think–” Miguel cuts himself off, abruptly turning his head away from you. Fear began to build up in his lower abdomen.

He didn’t think that he was worth it.

He didn’t think that you loved him. He didn’t think that you see him in the same way that he sees you.

He sees you in a way which makes him realize that nothing in the world makes sense if you’re not there by his side to explain it all to him.

He sees you in a way that keeps him up at night for hours, staring at the ceiling whilst he conjures up one hundred and one ways to confess to you; working through each scenario before ruling it out because of his fear and apprehension.

If you knew how he felt, how would you react? Would it upset you? Excite you? Do you even feel the same? If you don’t then it could change everything between the two of you. Maybe you’d move out because of his feelings.

No. He doesn’t want that.

Anything but that.

“Your voice is quiet, full of overwhelming empathy. “Miguel, of course I would’ve stayed with you. All you had to do was ask and as a friend, I would’ve done something with you instead.”

“As a friend?”

Your expression turns to confusion, hesitant in your answer. “Yeah, yeah and as a roommate of course.”

You tried to add that on as a joke but he doesn’t laugh, instead taking another deep breath to calm himself.

Fuck, why was he doing this to himself?

“Did I know them?”

“Huh?” Miguel glances at you.

“Did I know your valentine’s date?”

Miguel hesitates. Does he lie about it? He figures that you wouldn’t catch on anyways. He goes with a semi-lie. “I dunno’. Maybe I mentioned them once or twice to you or Peter.”

You nod at his words. He definitely didn’t mention it to you. You remember everything that he tells you.

“Any reason why they canceled?”

Miguel shakes his head. “Not really.” He takes a shaky inhale. “They just said something came up.” It’s still relatively awkward in the room; your fingers digging into the soft fabric of the couch.

“Did you like them?”

Miguel holds back a scoff. To you, it seems like you had asked a stupid question, regret immediately filling your body as soon as the words had left your mouth. Of course, he liked them, why else would he be asking them out?

But to him, he scoffs in frustration. Your use of the word ‘like’ isn’t enough to accurately describe his infatuation with you.

Miguel swallows thickly before giving his answer, it’s breathy and it comes out more strangled that he had expected. “Ye-yeah.”

You glance down, your fingertips still painfully digging into the couch.

You can feel the disappointment emerge within you; jealousy begins to eat away at you but you suppress it just like you have with your other emotions – a consistent coping mechanism.

But this wasn’t about you right now. This was about Miguel and right now you have to be there for him. Whether it be as a friend or roommate, you want to let him know that you care.

The week leading up to valentine’s you spotted his excitement from a mile away: a cheesy grin at his phone on the couch or his feigned confusion that one afternoon when you had come home earlier than he had expected and caught a glimpse of a pack of red balloons in his hands. Of course, your interrogation came to nothing but you estimated that it had something to do with valentine’s.

For him to go through all that effort to be stood up on made your heart ache.

You’re not really sure where to start with your consolation.

“Miguel—”

“Let me repay you for last night.”

His words seem to leave his mouth in a rush. His tongue spilling out the words in a haste.

Your mouth is slightly agape, unsure of what he means.

“If uh– only if you wanted to...uh but you don't-” A hand rubs at his forehead, frustrated with himself for being so blunt. “fuck! I wasn’t–”

“You want to do what we did last night?” you interrupt, suddenly catching on. You’re still unable to make eye contact with him.

“Yes but–” Miguel hesitates, as if his words are lodged in his throat.

“But what?”

“ But you don’t have to feel the same way, I just—” he pauses, taking a breath to consider his words. His eyes flutter shut as he finally explains, finding it easier to not look at you. He can't bear to see your expression as he says this.

“Just...uh, fuck, how do I say this? Just... let me have you for tonight...please. Just this once and we can forget that it ever happened but I– I just want –”

His sentence is cut off once he feels your hands cup his face. For once, you forced yourself to look at him. You could tell how much he refused to look at you, his expression was painted with a deep yearning that you’ve never seen before, painted with a starvation for love.

“Miguel.” You don’t even know where to start with your own words.

“Can I show you?” He mumbles softly. “Can I show you how bad I’ve wanted you? Please?"

There’s a pause in the room before you give an answer.

“Yes.” The word leaves your lips so softly you weren’t sure that he heard it the first time.

“Yes.” you repeat a little louder this time.

For him, it was always a yes.

reblogs are much appreciated!!

(😮‍💨 I know this took me ages to upload but tysm for hanging in there…maybe I’m done torturing you guys…maybe…)

𝔡𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔦𝔱

+18 Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: I fantasize about it all the time; if you were mine, I’d give this pussy to you nine to five by tonight.

You never wanted to go to work; you just wanted to get to work. After Miguel gets a haircut and gets something new, you decide to test it to see if you can still get a good grip.

Trigger Warnings ⚠️: switch!Miguel (duh), a bit of praise (from Miguel), size kink, cunnilingus (f! receiving), humping, Miguel breaks a couch 😏, breeding kink towards the end, unprotected p in v sex, and wrap it before you tap it. (OOC MIGUEL) if I missed any, let me know!

Word Count: +1.6k words

Author’s Note: Hi, hi, hi! I am somewhat notoriously bad at writing smut, but here we are! I want to improve on it and give you all a well-cooked meal, which is switch! Miguel. (I think the man is a submissive; this is my headcanon that I believe in.)

To my girlies who love submissive men who have the prettiest moans and groans 💌

Miguel didn't want to admit it but damn it, he loves it when you ride him. The way your legs trembled, the way you slammed your weight down into him, feeling his bulbous tip getting bullied into your cervix. The man loved it when you took control.

He loves it when he holds you; you are light, but the moment you're on top? The man caves in and begs for more.

This unlocked something in him by simply trying something new on a lazy, rainy Thursday evening…

“The barber did well with your hair…” You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling how soft it was under the pads of your fingers. “Why the taper fade?” You adjusted yourself on the couch where the two of you cuddled and shared a blanket. “It just became a nuisance to deal with after a while. So why not? Something new.”

As you spoke, you could feel a sense of longing. "Imma miss it; I'm not gonna have any leverage to grab when you're eating me—" You expressed, but suddenly stopped when you realized he was staring at you intensely. You could feel his gaze piercing your soul, focusing mainly on your eyes. Feeling embarrassed, you cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted your attention to the TV, which was playing softly in the background. “Sorry.”

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly and focused on the dramatic telenovela on the TV screen. "You never really were the type to grab onto my hair," he admitted. "You always seemed to prefer grabbing onto a pillow, or sometimes a blanket, maybe even your shirt, but that's about it." You lifted your head from his chest, surprised at how observant he was. "How on earth do you know that?" you asked incredulously, a tone that sounded forced. "I just do," he replied confidently. "I can tell you that you tend to whine a lot before you finish."

“Please, I don't whine when I come.” You scoffed before you covered yourself with the soft blanket you two shared.

“Yeah, you do, cariño.”

“Don't push it.”

/

You rolled your eyes back in ecstasy, feeling the wet muscle against your entrance, lightly giving it kitten licks, making it a point to flick at your clit. The man lapped at your juices and slurped up the clear arousal like it was the final meal of his life. Your hands grasp onto his hair, grinding your clit against his nose, moving your hips down towards the top of his nose.

“You're so cute, even with that little clit waiting to get suckled on…” You felt him grab your hips, and his thumb ghosted against the bundle of nerves, immediately feeling something slip out of your entrance. He pulled away from your warm and wet entrance and slipped his ring finger in, feeling your gummy walls flutter at the sensation.

“There you go, you're doing perfect. Take deep breaths.” He hummed, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Spit on it…” You demanded, squirming your hips. “Not just yet, cariño.” He shushed you, pulling his fingers out and licking the clear arousal off. His tongue lightly probed at your fluttering hole a bit and slowly pulled away. The way your walls contracted, begging to be filled with his length, was enough for the man wanting to cave in.

“We’re going to do something different, cariño.” He breathed to you before he managed to toss you around on the couch, eventually with you on top and him below you. “Come on, put yourself to work.” He demands, feeling your soft, wet pussy against his aching cock.

Reaching down, your hand finally found his length, and you felt yourself playing with it more than anything. You tapped the tip against your entrance, excited to sink into his girth. “No, no, I don't think you understand. I don't want it to be inside just yet.” He pauses for a moment before he moved his hips away from your needy, wet entrance.

“I want you to grind on it.” He breathes out.

You hesitate before you let his cock go, allowing his length to land against his happy trail and lower stomach. Adjusting yourself and placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly moved your aching core up and down his cock, feeling your clit get the right amount of friction. A quiet moan escapes your lips while the veins down his cock rub against the pearl of nerves. “There you go, cariño…” Miguel groaned out, feeling your arousal coat against his aching length.

“Put your whole weight down; none of this squatting bullcrap.” He grabs you by the hips and pushes you down; you feel his dick in between your folds, causing a gasp to escape. Before even having the time to get yourself comfortable, the hold he had on your waist while he moved you up and down against his length felt as if you were withering under his control. A familiar, warm, tight sensation builds up in your lower stomach before you erupt out a loud, whimpering moan.

“Does that feel good? Do you like that?” He heaves, still guiding you closer and closer to your orgasm. The way you trembled and made a whimpering sound was an indicator for Miguel. “All you gotta do is feel good for me, understand?” You nod, dumbed down by the arousal. The tension was almost palpable and thin, like a threading needle waiting to be snipped off by the sisters of faith with their sharp scissors.

“Aww, you can't speak? Is my girl getting dumbed down by grinding herself on my cock? Qué sucia. Dímelo, ya lo quieres?” His words sounded like venom—sweet but intoxicating venom escaping from his tongue and lips. The only response from you was a moan while you moved your hips after Miguel seized his movements. “¿Lo quieres?” He groans out, feeling his cock lubricated by your arousal.

“¿Quién te hace sentir bien? Dímelo fuerte, cariño. Quién.” He seizes your movements, not letting you reach your first high for the night. “You…” You breathed out. “Fuck, damn right you are…” Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, creating little crescent indents on his skin, but the man didn't care.

Slowly, Miguel sat up from where he lay down and decided to help his girl. “Here…” His hand reached down to his length, with his fingers holding onto the base of his cock. “Spit on it.” You demanded once again. “Eager, aren't we?” He mused before he spat down, and you felt it land on your clit, causing him to rub his thumb against it slowly, allowing your clit to be doused in his spit.

“C’mon, ride me. Ride me the way I like it.” You felt him tap his now-doused tip against your entrance before you grind yourself into his length, earning a moan for the both of you. “Jesus, your so fucking tight and small.” He groaned out. “Are you trying to make me come—” You felt your knees immediately regret the position, knowing that you're going to be the one to do a lot of cardio for this overstimulated man.

While bouncing on his cock, you felt his grip on your hips tighten, almost as if you were going to slip away from him. “There you go…” Miguel heaves out, soon pulling you into an embrace. “Let me fuck it in you, stay still…” He breathes before you slow your movements down to a halt.

The sound of skin slapping and your loud moans crescendo filled the living room space while being held onto a tight embrace and feeling his cock pumping inside you. Your whimpering cries became more noticeable as your cries went in sync with his harsh thrust. “More…” You whined out, feeling your fingernails dig into his skin; the fast-paced thrusts soon turned sloppy, with his cock sliding out of you every once in a while. “You're killing me, neña…” Miguel groans quietly, keeping up with the rapid, uneven pace, creating a wet, slapping noise.

“C’mon, let's finish together, make me proud.” Tears began to form, and some rolled down your cheeks while you kept up with the overstimulation and with how his tip aggressively bullied at your cervix. “More…” You demanded, moving in sync with his harsh thrusts.

As you were getting your guts rearranged on the couch by Miguel, you couldn't help but notice the creaking sounds coming from underneath the both of you. It seemed to be getting louder by the minute as if the old piece of furniture couldn't bear the weight of two people anymore. Just then, a sharp crack echoed through the room, causing you to jolt and lose your balance. Miguel, however, seemed unfazed by the noise and rolled his eyes as if he was used to it. He continued to keep up with the rapid movements, brushing his happy trail against your lower stomach. “I'll get a new couch soon…” You wanted to laugh at how nonchalant he was being bit the only sounds you can produce is a loud, needy moan instead.

The sounds of whimpers, moans, and cries were palpable; knowing that the two of you would get a noise complaint from neighbors, you didn't care. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, feeling your climax slowly building up. Clear liquid gushes out, while a loud moan is the last sound you can produce deep into your chest. “Please let me breed you, fuck, I'm gonna breed you, cariño.” He pants to you, thrusting his cock into you, earning another orgasm from you and a splash zone on the already collapsed couch. “You feel so good…”

The way you felt him twitch inside you, along with his rapid rhythm slowly coming to an end. The pullout was swift, with some of Miguel’s remnants seeping out of your fluttering hole. “Good girl…” He rubbed his hand on your hip lovingly, seeing his semen oozing out and onto the fabric of the couch. A kiss to your lips brought you back to your senses as you happily returned the kiss and calmed down from your high.

“The couch…”

“I needed a new one anyways.”

Me with Miguel O’Hara

UPDATE

It's going okay. I think. Something may or may not be posted during the weekend if I have the time. And ngl, this took me a MONTH to plan out and a week of typing it out.

I'm not even gonna lie, I struggle to write smut sometimes. It's one of the reasons why I take so long to release some of my posts. I think about it too much and then back down and change the plot completely 😭

The way Miguel's one want, one reasoning for essentially--as we as an audience know it-- killing an entire universe was not to have a love interest, not to gain wealth, not to have power, but to have a daughter hurts me so bad. Grown man. Big man, tough, big muscles, highly intelligent. One would assume his one want would be to have a hot wife, a big house, riches, power, etc. But no. He wanted a daughter. He wanted a daughter who would play soccer and want piggy back rides and smash cupcakes in his face and want to be held in his arms and giggle and stick her tongue out at the camera and call him Papá.

It's so cute 🥹🥺

I'm Here.

Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader

Synopsis: Miguel is here to help fix your back pain. Fluff ensues. 💕🖤 Word count: 2k

A/N: for the lovely @ilovetoomanymen . Thanks for the inspiration! I ran across one of their posts with this prompt in mind and decided to give it a go. Hope you like it. 😁🫶🏽 Cuddles with Mig would be soooo heavenly. Mrpmphhhhjj. This was written for fem pov, but besides the gendered terms the story could be enjoyed by anyone.

TW: established relationship, back pain, crying, fluff, some heavy kisses

Miguel sighs loudly as his mask dissipates, rubbing his temples as he shuffles towards your shared bedroom, nearly tripping over the jam-packed laundry basket with a mountain of clothes that's now begun to lean lopsided, until he knocked it slightly, sending the underwear, shirts, and dirty sheets on top into a heap on the floor with Miguel rolling his eyes in annoyance.

He kicks a stray sock off his foot and opens the door carefully with a small creak. The TV is playing your favorite show, but it's long forgotten, the autoplay on its sixth or seventh episode by now, no longer following the plot. You're sprawled out in the middle of the bed, sheets askew. You let out a small groan, your sweatpants you're wearing are starting to ride up on one leg, socks mismatched, your hoodie is making your skin itch but you're in too much pain and feel too lazy to move. Your hair is wild and one of your arms is covering both of your eyes as it lays across your face. You dip slightly as Miguel sits on the bed next to your torso, the soreness of your back triggered by the mild disturbance and you let another loud groan escape, this one slightly more dramatic than the previous.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, one of his hands gently pulling at your arm that's covering your eyes, wanting to have you look at him. "Looks like both of us had a shitty day, huh?" A very faint chuckle rolls from his chest as he notices your arm flops like a dead fish, but his eyes grow slightly wide in alarm when he notices your eyes are wet. Your glistening lashes blink rapidly at him as more tears build up in your irises below, gravity already causing some to leak out of the corners, racing down your face and grazing your ears, the temperature warm, the feeling salty, your face puffy indicating this wasn't the first time today you cried.

¿Qué pasa? ¿Por qué lloras, mi alma? (What happened? Why are you crying, my soul) Miguel murmurs, laying on his stomach as he cups your face in his hands, looking down at you as you look up at him, his face upside down in your vision because of how you're positioned.

You shake your head with a small sniffle, one of your hands pawing weakly for the tissue box that lay next to you. Miguel reaches over, taking the box and offers you one. You greedily pull out one after another, Miguel's brows raising slightly at how many tissues you could possibly need. You sit up, a pained wince flashing across your face as you blow furiously into the Kleenex bouquet.

Miguel watches you patiently as you furiously rub your nose, your breath shaky as it exits and you turn and look at your boyfriend fully for the first time. "My back is killing me."

Miguel's eyes flicker across your form, as though he was trying to search for the spot that was giving you trouble. "Where?"

"Everywhere..." you whine feebly, a scowl appearing on your face as you go to lay backwards again. "I slept on it funny last night...I had to call off work today because there was no way I could do everything in this much pain..." You suck in air between your teeth as you try and shift positions and move the pillows.

Miguel sits up, trying to stop you from overexerting yourself. "Hey...hey..." He drags a pillow to your front, patting it so it's nice and fluffed, flipping it to the colder side. "First of all....you shouldn't lay directly on your back if it's hurting, mi vida..."

You brace yourself for more pain to radiate through your body, squinting as you gently lower yourself down, laying on your favorite side. Miguel places both hands on either side of you, guiding your head to the pillow which you hit with a gentle sigh. The cold temperature of the fabric brushing your face in a satisfying feeling that tickles your brain, soft purrs of contentment leaving your lips. Miguel smiles and hums, one of his hands sliding down your hip as he gently lifts your knee, propping another pillow between them for support.

"That better...?" he asks in a soothing tone, careful not to make his voice too loud and disrupt the pain-free trajectory you were finally on after hours of discomfort.

"Much better, baby...thank you."

"You're welcome, baby..." He presses a soft kiss into your cheek which you answer with a faint twitch of your mouth.

Miguel's eyes wander to your overcrowded nightstand, the space being taken up by empty bottles, plastic drink tumblrs, bobby pins and a couple of your favorite books you keep forgetting to finish. "You been drinking enough water?"

"Mmm..." you lazily answer, the cozy position you were laying in already making your eyes droopy, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts to audible sentences. "Yeahhh kiindaa.."

Miguel shakes his head and gets your water cup off the night table, brushing all the empty bottles into your mini trash can, carefully creeping across the room and down the hall to get you a fresh glass.

Once he's back, he sets the glass in the nightstand, gently waking you up for you to take several generous sips before you get comfy again. Miguel brings the bed comforter over you, tucking your feet in like a human burrito. "Where you going, babe?" You ask him, your voice a little sad at the thought of him leaving you already.

Miguel gives you a soft look, crouching down to your level next to the bed. Crimson irises flicker with tender study as they look back into your own. "I was gonna see if you needed anything else?"

You shake your head, one of your hands reaching behind his head, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, making his face go warm. "Just you..."

Miguel gives you a dazzling smile, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He lays behind you in the spoon position, being careful not to press too forcefully against you and hurt your back again. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, running his fingertips across the side of your face, tracing the outline of your body as you squeak out a small yawn.

"Rub my back, please?" You ask, closing your eyes. Miguel nods, sitting up, gesturing for you to reposition so you're on your tummy. You wince again as you lay on your stomach, Miguel positions himself over you so his knees are in between the gaps in your legs, lowering his upper body so he's hovering and careful not to press too much weight onto you.

He brings both hands to your shoulder blades, working his palms into a gentle caress on the skin below. You suck air between your teeth, jerking your head slightly upwards in pain with a whimper.

Miguel tilts his head in concern, "I hurt you?"

You nod a little, pressing your cheek back into the pillow. "It's okay..."

"Pobrecita..." (Poor thing) Miguel murmurs, moving his hands away from that spot for now, working on the other areas of your back.

Miguel's not a stranger to back pain, although his physical ailments he's dealt with are usually few and far between after his transformation into a Spider person. If he is feeling crummy he doesn't need to deal with it for long, thanks to his enhanced ability to heal. The scientist he is, he loved anatomy and studied muscle groups, incorporating it into his trainings and used the knowledge to help him maintain his envious physique. Now, he was transferring what he knew into this moment as he began his massage on your tender back.

He hummed quietly as he worked on you, calloused hands from climbing, webbing, and fighting normally tense and rough handling you as though you were made of glass and paper. Gently kneading, skillfully transferring weight between different parts of his hand, murmuring to you in a sweet tone, checking to make sure you were doing alright, that he wasn't overwhelming you, that he was handling you gently and properly rubbing the muscles without triggering your pain.

Your skin utterly melted under his touch. His hands the brush and your back morphing into something of a canvas. Your chest gently heaved, breaths becoming more relaxed, more content as you just allowed your discomfort to leave you and he soaked it up like a sponge. You could feel the tension and worry being tugged out of your body with each ginger press of his fingers. You could never get over the way this seemingly intimidating man to those who didn't know him seemed to evolve into the biggest sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly the moment you entered his orbit.

You were dissipating at this point, your skin and your body rendered to a liquid underneath this man. He stayed silent, save it for his soft murmurs and your gentle purrs of satisfaction. He looked at you when you weren't looking like you were responsible for putting the breath in his lungs, a quiet sense of pride making him feel warm all over when he saw how successful he was at making you feel better. His sweet girl.

When you were fully satisfied with his work and your pain much more manageable, he shifted so he was laying behind you once again. You felt an emptiness when you could no longer sense him above you. "Miggy..."

"I'm here." He reassures. His tone dulcet. "I'm here...." he coos again. Mellifluous, soothing melody that silenced all your fears and put them to sleep. You exhaled as you felt his body press against yours in the bed, making yourself small against him. His strength wrapping you up like a hug.

He pulled you closer to him, a fuzzy feeling running through his veins at the outline of you. A shape he could never get used to, a pattern he became an expert in. Handling and taking care of your body was a job he'd gladly accept and take ownership in. It made him feel special, the way you so trustfully lent yourself to him, though he knew how stubborn you could be. You all but turned to putty in his hands.

He rests his chin in the crook of your neck, letting the silence between you amplify in tranquility when the gentle patter of raindrops begins to beat against the window. He presses soft kiss after kiss into your temple, the plump feeling of his lips on your skin is too sweet to resist. You gently roll over, meeting his kiss and he groans feebly, his turn to become completely helpless under the tenderness of your touch.

You lay there and kiss him, your fingers tangling themselves in his tousled locks, the soft moan you release in his mouth causing him to respond by lightly sliding his tongue into your mouth. You oblige, the kiss deepening, making him sigh. His pleasant noises leaving you with a healthy dose of desire, your pain all but a distant memory at this point.

He pulls away for a moment and you shift your face closer to his, your gazes become intertwined for several intimate moments.

"I love you, you know that....?" you ask softly.

Miguel places a hand on your hips, his thumbs leaving tiny circles, gradually finding residence underneath your hoodie so he can feel your bare skin. His touch sending a tiny pulse of electricity up your spine. He leans in closer, "I sure do, beautiful..."

He plants a kiss in the middle of your forehead. "Te quiero tanto, mi cielo(I love you so much, my sweetheart)..." He murmurs against your skin, the tremor of his voice calming your soul.

"Mi cielo..."(My sweetheart) He presses another kiss, this time on your cheekbone, gently dragging his lips down to yours, a trail of adoration on your face. You lock lips with him again, softly sighing and moaning, both your hands and his all over the other's body, raindrops persistent on the roof of your little apartment, light slowly draining, leaving the sky a murky gray, his lips the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment as your heart stirs alongside his in your cozy bed.