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glaciertea · 3 days

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Tickets for Two

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader two-shot

Part 2 (coming soon)

This is part one of this story that's been on my mind for quite a while.

Summary: Working the graveyard shift at a movie theater has it quirks. It's not the best thing, and it's not the worst.

Well, there is one thing that keeps you from leaving this job.

The huge, gorgeous man who comes in every Thursday.

CW: Nothing for this chapter, just having a crush on Miguel.

Word count: 1.7k

There was something about Thursday nights in the movie theater that always made you exhilarated.

It wasn't the smell of freshly stale popcorn that stunk up your nostrils or the fact that you were able to score the after-hours time slot on this day. The ones many would kill to have because after 9 p.m., the place is a barren ghost town. Oh, no. It wasn't one of those reasons.

It was him.

Throughout the year and a half you managed to survive working here; you've never seen a man like that before in your life. Yes, you've seen your fair share of attractive people come in and out; of course, this was a place to watch the latest hit-or-miss films. But this one, this one was different.

Tall, high cheekbones, a jawline that could shapren diamonds merely by looking at them, those piercing eyes, and those muscles. You always have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming.

He started coming three months ago for the ‘Traditional Thursdays’ feature presentation. Your theater would show old movies from the 1930's ranging to the 2020's or 2030's. It was a nice addition, as your boss wanted to have that “retro-style feel,” and it was pretty successful… if one were to go at the 9 p.m. slot. That frame usually brought in a decent amount of customers, but you were happy to not deal with that anymore.

You managed to get in the ten-to-one schedule block. It was a ghost town during those hours, especially with the midnight showings. You would lounge behind the concession, eyeing a few nightcrawlers emerge, but you would wait for him.

He would walk through the sliding doors exactly at midnight. Never a minute early, never a minute late. The actual film doesn't begin until 12:10 to showcase the following week's feature and a trailer or two.

So it gives him enough time to head in your direction. He has become a regular for you, always ordering a medium black roast coffee, a small popcorn, and a pack of gummy worms. It got to the point where you realized the items were never going to change, so you made it a habit to have them prepared for him on hand. You barely speak because you don't know what to conjure up, and you certainly don't want to make a fool of yourself, so you stick to the basic “Here's your order” and “Enjoy your film.”

He always responds with a “Thank you” or an “I appreciate it,” and each time, your knees will wobble. His voice was smoother than the butter that you poured on the popcorn. He had you weak. His chiseled profile, his domineering height—he was too good to be true. You want to know more about him, but he's very much to himself. You are intimidated by him; his demeanor can make him seem unapproachable, but that only draws you in more.

There will be a day you will finally find the courage to strike up a conversation. One day.

You just weren't expecting it to be today. You manned the concussion stand, eyeing the time and counting the milliseconds. It was, of course, slow, but you loved it. Easy money to you.

His order was fresh and ready to go; he was going to stroll in less than a minute, and you had to put a lid on your excitement. And like clockwork, he came in and made his way right to you.

Putting on your best smile, you placed the snacks and beverage on the counter. “I got everything ready to go, sir. Piping hot and a new batch of popcorn made.”

“Actually, I want to switch it up. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

Your brain practically malfunctioned. Not from the request, but from the fact he uttered more words to you. Your reaction must have given something away as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If not, that's fine. I don't want you wasting supplies on me.”

Scolding yourself, you shook your head and waved your hands. “No, no! No, sir, it's not an inconvenience at all. I'll gladly ring you up with a new order. Anything for the customer.” You despised saying that phrase as it got so many ungrateful, smug idiots out of problems they decided to cause. But for him? You would repeat it endlessly.

Discarding the usual and clearing the order from the register, you nodded. “What are your taste buds tingling for?” Did you really say those words in that order? Your body suddenly wanted to combust.

The man raised a brow as you chuckled nervously. “That sounded... less dumber in my head.”

His lips turned upwards at that, and your heart stopped. He smiles? He can smile! You never once saw him do that, but if you did, you managed to miss it. He managed to look more radiant; how was that possible?

“Well, my taste buds are craving pretzel bites, fruit snacks, and... can I make my medium roast into a large?”

“Yes, sir, I'll try to get it done before the film starts.”

“No hay necesidad de apresurarse. Take your time.”

“Okay.” You squeaked out, hiding your flustered state from him.

Miguel rested his arms on the countertop and observed the way you moved back and forth, blending new beans and meticulously placing the hot pretzels in a bag.

“Here you go.” You reached down and took a packet of fruits and propped it nicely on the pretzel bag. “Steaming and raring to go.”

“Are you usually precise when making these orders?” Miguel pulled his wallet out and paid for the meal, leaving a nice tip.

“Kind of. Maybe it's because I have more time to do these things, and I like my regulars to enjoy nice treats.” You grinned and went to clean up his usual. “I hope you enjoy.

“I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Definitely keeping sure. Thank you again.”

You didn't know what meant by that as he took up his things and headed off to catch the film. You put your hand to your chest and calmed your heart rate, going on about your night. You honestly believed that would've been the end of that interaction and that the following week would revert back to the same old, same old, but you were far from it.

The next Thursday, he was there, but fifteen minutes earlier, asking for a new item from the menu alongside the other treats. You were once again thrown off, but that didn't mean you got to be near his presence more, and if not longer.

It started off with small extras. A bag of pretzels, sized up on the popcorn, an extra bag of candy—nothing too extravagant. However, as the weeks coasted by, the orders got bigger. A hotdog, flatbread pizza, sliders—those meals took you longer to make, but you did not mind one bit.

You got to chat with him constantly; when Thursday rolled around, you had that extra pep in your step. The conversations ranged from his tedious office filled with people of the same personality, the many tales of strange movie customers from you, or anything that springs to mind. He was awkward, loveable, and sweet, and your crush for him only grew more with each visit. To the point that it was overwhelming.

And it wasn't blowing away anytime soon.

You were fixing him up a basket of curly fries and chicken tenders casually yapping away when the topic of movie genres popped up.

“I'm into animated movies. They seemingly are able to convey more emotions than actual humans.”

Miguel enjoyed watching you; he honestly preferred looking at you than the film he was supposed to see. “I enjoy them as well. They tend to have moments that resonate with you on a higher emotional level.” He tapped his finger on the glass counter. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Hmm.” You rubbed your chin before moving back over to the fries and dumping some extra salt and pepper on them (they barely had any flavor to them). “I like a good Lixar film. It's funny how they're able to give certain things sentiment. Rather it's inanimate or not, they find a way. I mean, they gave a torso and sweater emotions. A sweater!” You poured the fries into the plastic basket and moved onto the tenders. “Now in particular, I love Bouillabaisse. Up is a heartbreaker, but I can understand the older man's pain. Searching Elmo is so gorgeous, especially for the time it came out. And Coco, that's a tearjerker. That ending scene when he's singing to her? Gets me every time.”

“I enjoyed all those as well.” Miguel took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee. “Especially the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” You grabbed some tongs and flipped the tenders to cook them evenly.

“Sí. A bit of a bias though.”

“A bias?”

“I share the name of the main character.” He stared right into your eyes as he said that.

“Miguel.” It was velvety as it slid off your tongue.

Was that a suave way of him giving his name? It never occurred to you that you actually never learned his name. He knew yours because of the required name tag, but you were glad to know it now and took it with no complaints.

“It fits.” You smiled and finally finished and rang up his meal. “I shouldn't keep you from the movie. I hope everything is of satisfaction for you.”

“You already know it will be.” He paid and reached for his goods when he stopped.

You crooked your neck and looked down to make sure you didn't miss anything. His usual and the new meal were there, so you didn't know what was up.

“Is everything okay? Did I mess up your order?”

“Everything is fine. I only want to…” he snatched up a napkin and scanned, even going as far as peering over the counter.

“Miguel?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Yes?” You took one from under the register and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He scribbled down at lightning pace and folded it half, sliding it across to you. “I'll see you then.” He bowed his head, snagged up his meal and left.

You had to wait several seconds to recover from your shock when you hastily snatched up the napkin and opened it up. You drew your lips to your teeth to prevent yourself from screaming.

There were ten digits written in blue.

#miguel fanfic #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #two shot

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naeverse · 2 days

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Fortis Et Liber (2/2)

A/N: Hi everyone, here is the second and final part of, 'Fortis et Liber.' The love expressed for this story has been greatly appreciated so I hope you all enjoy the conclusion of it. Also...I might have something in the makings for you guys so...stay tuned. 😏

👑⚔️staring: Kingsguard!Miguel x Fem!princess Reader

🔷 Preview: You were the future of Valoria, and he was but a Kingsguard sworn to protect you—the very duty he had accepted when he was given his cloak.

His hidden desires and thoughts for you needed to cease.

They must…

“Let us…put our swords away, Your Grace,” Miguel stated, his voice hoarse, deep, and strained, but unable to break his gaze from yours. He waited for you to remove his sword from his neck, his body tense, heart pounding in his chest, with a silent plea to the gods to keep him from making a grave error here—far from the Kingdom and in the seclusion of this very forest.

You gulped, almost missing his suggestion. Nodding slowly, you drew his blade away from his throat, setting it on the grass nearby; but you found yourself incapable of moving from the spot atop him.

Your eyes roamed his face once more, finding the Kingsguard of age eight-and-thirty years old to be exceptionally alluring. You’d always found him attractive, often marveling that this was the man chosen to protect you until the end of your days.

Yet, despite your constant fascination, he seemed to have a new glow to him—a glow that made you meet his conflicted amber orbs, and your own eyes to flood with desire.

“I-I believe…I deserve a reward for my victory, Sir Miguel,”

💜summary: Being the Princess of Valoria comes with expectations of being proper, respectful, caring, and, above all, perfect. However, such a title is one you detest. You seek escape to your hidden meadow in the forest to indulge in your favorite yet forbidden pastime—swordfighting—a hobby you grew to love from observing your Kingsguard, Sir Miguel O’Hara, practice in the training yard. With this adoration for the blade, nevertheless, come taboo feelings towards the one meant to safeguard and protect you until the end of his days.

Sir Miguel O’Hara, since his early days as a knight, has learned the importance of remaining dedicated to his duties and keeping his cloak unsullied. With a raging temper, brooding aura, and an undefeated reputation in combat, the Kingsguard takes his duty seriously and handles any misdeeds with an iron fist. Yet, he harbors improper feelings for his charge, you, the Princess of Valoria. Upon discovering you training once again in your secret glade in the nearby forest, Sir Miguel finds himself torn between his duty and his own desires once more.

💎tw/cw: Age Gap, Body Worship, Cockbulge, Class differences, Cunnilingus, Desperation, First time (kinda), Forbidden love, Oral Sex, Outdoors Sex, Power Difference, Virgin Y/N

🪻Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear), Mi Amor (my love), Alteza (Your highness), Princesa (princess)

💙 Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

💜 Word Count: 7.9k

The first part of Fortis et Liber >> Click here

“I do wish to express that despite your teachings of the basics, sword fighting is extensive, Sir Miguel.” You explained with a small smile, eyes tracking every feature upon the older male’s face. “One can learn uniquely and expand upon the skill on their own, and with the many times I ran off to practice…

I have no doubt that I can take you, Sir Miguel.”

The statement was utter idiocy; no guard, being, or man of their right wits would challenge Sir Miguel O’Hara, Valoria’s Kingsguard and royal guard willingly, and yet, here you were doing so.

You couldn’t help feeling brave for saying such a thing, but also like a fool, already seeing your future with you on the ground just like the rest of Sir Miguel’s past opponents.

Miguel eyed you for a mere moment, wondering if he’d misheard your words.

‘A challenge with the Princess of Valoria? A sword fight, no less?’ The idea was not only audacious but foolish to agree to. The mere thought of a speck of dust tarnishing your dress was enough to worry the Kingsguard, let alone a fight aimed at victory.

The Latino Kingsguard rested a hand on his sword hilt, mirroring your stance subconsciously. An amused smile graced his normally scowling lips despite his reluctance about the duel. “I admire your courage and confidence, my lady, but my duty is to protect you, not to harm you in any way,” he said with a grin, tapping his metal thumb on the pommel of his sheathed blade.

“And I stand by my words. I taught you the basics, alteza. The techniques I’ve shown you are the most rudimentary of what the royal guards learn. There’s a vast chasm between the knowledge I possess and what you’ve acquired without my tutelage,” he continued, stepping closer to you.

The natural scent of grand berries and flowers enveloped his senses—an aroma he secretly adored. As anticipated, his words made your beautiful eyes roll in irritation.

“Why must you always see me as the Princess of Valoria?” you asked with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, causing your bosom to push up over the collar of your dress. “There is no one here, Sir Miguel.” You gestured to emphasize the empty clearing of grass and trees.

“The Kingdom is a horseback ride away, and here, in this clearing, Sir Miguel,” you said, stepping closer to him and looking up to meet his eyes.

“Here, I’m simply Y/N.”

The smirk that spread across your lips stirred something in Miguel—different from the usual interest he felt when you made contact or brushed too closely. This smirk wasn’t of the princess he’d always known; for once, he believed he’d caught a glimpse of Y/N…

The sight made his heart race and his gauntlet hand grip the hilt of his sword. As if enchanted, Miguel said something he would never have said before to his princess.

“Fine, draw your sword, Your Grace.”

The words slipped from his mouth, and before he could retract them, he saw the huge grin that overtook your face.

Never had he seen you beam so brightly as when he offered to be your first opponent—the first person to challenge your skills.

Mierda, what a monster he would be to take away that happiness from you.

So instead of worrying and being, as you might call him, a lump on a log, Miguel gave you a smirk of his own. His eyes locked with yours, the challenge clear in his gaze. “You can’t just bare your teeth and not show action, Your Grace. Show me you can take me,” he taunted, pulling his longsword free from its sheath with a hiss of cold steel.

Your heart beat rapidly against your chest as your breath hitched at his gaze. Never in your life had you imagined being on the opposite end of your Kingsguard’s blade, and oddly, it filled you with excitement.

You grinned, drawing your own sword from its sheath on your hip. “Why, would you like to stretch first, Sir Miguel? I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle,” you jested playfully. To your surprise, your Kingsguard laughed, his deep chuckle echoing through the forest clearing, warming your heart.

“I believe my muscles should be the least of your worries, Princesa,” he teased. “I’ve had years of experience, fought in countless battles, and faced real enemies.” He acknowledged with a prideful sneer.

“So let us see if your practice alone can overcome my years of training, alteza.” He took his fighting stance before you—a stance you had seen many times before, his longsword drawn and poised, the sun’s dappled rays reflecting off his raised blade.

“Ready when you are, Y/N.”

A warmth engulfed you at the sound of your name on his lips and the playful wink he gave you. Normally, his speech was harsh, every word delivered roughly and authoritatively, but now, he spoke your name gently, almost delicately, as if safeguarding you even through simple utterances.

Your eyes traced Sir Miguel, noting his stance and attributes that you had observed many times before—his towering height, burly arms, and the strength that could take one’s breath away with just a jab.

After a brief but thorough observation, you gave your Kingsguard a curt nod, showing your readiness.

Taking a deep breath, you assumed your stance—a quitte different one from your Kingsguard and teacher. You placed a foot forward, the other back, slightly bending your knees and relaxing your posture above the waist. Your body showcased an air of control and readiness as your sword was held lightly in your palms, angled downward but prepared to strike at any moment.

Every muscle in your frame was coiled like a spring, ready to unleash the skills you had learned over the past two years before the male who had inspired and taught you. Without a word, you pushed off the ground, sprinting towards that very man.

Your footsteps were featherlight, racing across the grassy field to strike his blade with your own. For a brief moment, your eyebrows rose at his speed, meeting his gaze to catch sight of the rumored red glint in his amber eyes. The sight only encouraged your efforts.

Pouncing away, you followed up with a series of attacks, your swords clashing and echoing through the trees like a recurring melody played upon a music sheet—occasionally faltering only to be picked up again, following the same notes repeated once more.

Miguel’s eyes tracked your movements, noting how graceful yet lethal each of your strikes was. Every swing of his sword met another from you, but always in a different location than the last.

The Kingsguard was pleased; your speed and agility impressed him. He could see faults and errors he could exploit, but to his surprise, your defense was as exceptional as your offense.

Miguel’s heavy footsteps moved across the grass, parrying your attacks with ease. His face remained stoic, but the corner of his mouth twitched in admiration. His arms moved like the wind, countering blows with fluid precision.

Suddenly, he crashed his blade against yours, halting your movements. His eyes locked with your determined ones through the clash. “Impressive, Y/N, but I will not hold back any longer. You’ll feel the full force of your Kingsguard, so prepare yourself.” He growled, tossing your sword back with his own, causing you both to separate. The force made you stumble, but you quickly regained your balance.

You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath while circling your protector. “Then I shall await your full force, Sir Miguel.” You replied with a grin, noticing how his amber eyes seemed to darken to a scarlet at your words, his bushy eyebrows knitted together and his face devoid of all emotion.

Instead of awaiting your attack, you watched as your Kingsguard lunged. Briefly, your eyes widened as you countered his powerful strike with your own blade, feeling the force of his attack send you staggering back.

Miguel hummed in approval, watching you hold your own against his overwhelming jabs. Using his size, speed, and strength, he attacked you fully, promising to not hold back any longer. When he saw an opening, he took it without hesitation.

Pushing your steel away from him, he lightly jabbed the leather hilt of his sword into an unguarded spot on your side, surprising you. In that moment of shock, he spun his longsword in his massive hands, delivering a heavy blow to your weapon, sending it flying into the grass and leaving you unarmed. Miguel smirked, landing the final blow with a low swing of his blade, tripping you in one swift motion.

Everything happened in a blur—the attack to your torso, your sword escaping your grasp, and the sweep to your ankles that sent you crashing to the ground. You landed on your back with a groan. Your world felt dizzy for a moment, eyes screwing shut in pain from the rough collision with the grassy surface underneath you.

You figured this would be the end of your duel with Sir Miguel—tasting defeat and him victorious. But despite anticipating this, you couldn’t help feeling disappointed..

After the adrenaline wore off and the competitive red glint in his gaze disappeared, Miguel’s eyes widened, unable to celebrate at the sight of his princess laying on the dirt. “Your Highness!?” he exclaimed, rushing over and hastily sheathing his sword.

“Mierda, I shouldn’t have fought you so harshly. Where the hell did my wits run off to?” The Latino scolded himself, his voice filled with worry, concern, and anger. His amber orbs ran over you as you lay there, your eyes closed. He could practically feel the foreign pain coursing through you.

Miguel’s cold heart tugged even more when you painstakingly avoided him, whimpering softly and hiding behind the disheveled strands of your hair. “P-Princesa, let me assist you. Please,” he pleaded, never before feeling so vulnerable and felt even more like a fool for challenging you.

His gauntlet hands reached out to cup your face, turning your chin to meet him. He grew more frustrated with himself at the look of agony you gave him—eyes squinted in pain, lips tightened as you grasped your side.

“Lo siento mucho, alteza, debería arrojarme a los leones por lo que he hecho.” Miguel mumbled in guilt. His eyes glanced down, noticing your beckoning fingers urging him closer.

The Latino didn’t hesitate to obey, coming face-to-face with you. He expected a request to be escorted back to the Kingdom for a doctor, anger, or even a slap across the face, which he would accept wholeheartedly. But instead, he was met with something different.

His princess smirked at him.

Before Miguel could detect the deceit in your actions, you pushed him from his crouched position on the ground, sending him crashing to the grass with a heavy thud.

Miguel groaned as the wind was momentarily knocked from his lungs. The dust from the grass filled his senses, making him cough. Hastily, you unsheathed his sword from his unguarded hip, climbing onto his massive form to straddle his waist. A triumphant grin spread across your lips as you aimed the blade at his throat.

“With your ‘training’ and ‘experience,’ I’d think you’d know better than to drop your guard with your opponent. And neither did I yield,” you taunted, looking down at your fallen Kingsguard with a pleased expression.

“And a mere trip will not cause me to cry to the heavens in agony. Do not take me as weak, Sir Miguel, I can handle more than you think.” You smirked, pressing the blade closer to his unguarded throat.

“So yield, my Kingsguard, and accept defeat.” You ordered, your chest heaving from exhaustion after the duel.

Your protector breathed heavily, looking up at you with slight annoyance at having his emotions played with like a mere fiddle. “You yielded when you were disarmed in combat and fell, Y/N.” He said through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the grass tightly to calm his simmering anger.

Not in years had the Kingsguard been bested and felt the ground of battle touch his backside, and yet, here he was, lying on the grass with you atop him.

Miguel’s eyes furrowed at the situation. His princess was over him, straddling his legs like a lover. His gaze ran over your flushed and triumphant features, the sweat coating your neck, trickling down to form a teasing line down to your exposed cleavage, evident over the gaping collar of your blue gown.

The Latino hesitated, gulping thickly and averting his gaze. “But if you insist on such theatrics, I’ll admit defeat.” The skilled guard muttered, despite his pride, his princess held a special place in his cold heart.

At your protector’s words, you gasped in surprise. “R-Really!?” you exclaimed, not actually believing you would ever hear the words of surrender from your mighty Kingsguard, let alone hear them said to you.

“Sí, I yield, to you…Y/N.”

Miguel clarified, and a wave of glory engulfed you. You exhaled a sigh of relief, a huge smile spreading across your lips. Your dreams of fighting in combat, of using your skills even for a brief moment, had been achieved today. Not only did you fight, but you also won against your valiant Kingsguard, Sir Miguel O’Hara.

In this moment, you had never felt so accomplished and victorious before, and it was a wondrous feeling.

You met Miguel’s eyes once more, only to find him hastily avoiding your gaze, his amber eyes shifting from yours with every second. Your eyebrows furrowed, noticing the faint shade of pink coloring his olive cheeks—a sight foreign to you.

The longer you looked at him, the more you found yourself lost in the sight of him beneath you.

His disheveled dark brown curls, narrowed brown eyes, broad nose, perfect lips, pinkish cheeks, and bulging Adam's apple—the many features you had fantasized about and even dreamt of—were right before you.

And nothing could compare to the real thing.

Your protector could feel his body burning up like a furnace beneath his layers of armor, his heart racing. His every muscle tensed as you, with your body pressed so closely to his, set off a chain reaction in his core.

The thought of being disarmed in combat was always something Miguel detested. It left him vulnerable and weak to his opponent, no matter how foreign this occurrence was to him. But right now, with his longsword in your hand, pressing it against his throat, it felt like his wildest dreams came true.

It took all of Miguel’s self-control to not pull you closer, to lose himself in those precious eyes of yours thatalways held beauty and fiery determination. It was only by an invisible thread that he stopped himself from tangling his lips with yours, from tasting the forbidden sweetness of your mouth.

His mind raced as he painstakingly reminded himself of his oath to the crown.

You were the future of Valoria, and he was but a Kingsguard sworn to protect you—the very duty he had accepted when he was given his cloak.

His hidden desires and thoughts for you needed to cease.

They must…

You gulped, almost missing his suggestion. Nodding slowly, you drew his blade away from his throat, setting it on the grass nearby; but you found yourself incapable of moving from the spot atop him.

Yet, despite your constant fascination, he seemed to have a new glow to him—a glow that made you meet his conflicted amber orbs, and your own eyes to flood with desire.

“I-I believe…I deserve a reward for my victory, Sir Miguel,” you said without thinking, but found yourself not regretting it.

Miguel’s breath hitched, his mind swirling with carnal thoughts, but his duty kept him grounded. Still, he could not help but give in to the temptation that miraculously appeared to be reciprocated in his princess.

His gaze roamed over your lips, his mouth dry, throat tight. “Your reward, my lady?” Miguel breathed, the question thick with yearning and anticipation.

Time seemed to stretch as the duel from mere moments ago was forgotten, engulfed by the heat of forbidden desire. The Kingsguard practically melted at the sight of your nod, his hands itching to touch you, to feel the softness of your being through the thin blue fabric of your gown.

His scorching need only heightened at the evident perky tips in your dress, visible through the fabric. Miguel knew he should feel shame for his dishonorable ogling, but found himself feeling anything but.

In the midst of yearning, your mind wandered back to your favorite memory of Miguel—his practice in the training yard, where he had trained in the most improper manner you've ever seen him. You remembered the defined pecs and exceptional eight-pack, and the trail of hair stretching from his trousers to his navel like the most tantalizing of morning suns. Despite his body being covered with battle scars from his days as a knight of valoria, the imperfections only seemed to enhance his appeal.

You recalled your secret desires for his touch, his kisses, and the sensation of his massive frame against yours, enveloping you in his arms and chest.

A familiar sensation you’d experienced before when thinking of Miguel began to overtake you—spreading from your lower area to your chest, and tingling all the way to the tips of your toes.

You were completely entranced by these sensations and fantasies that felt surreal in your head that you almost missed Miguel’s question: “Is it one that I can grant, Your Grace?”

Goodness, you could practically feel his breath upon your face. His inquiry made you place your hands on his breastplate to steady yourself. “M-My reward?” you stammered, trying to pierce through the fog of your cluttered thoughts.

At his nod, your breath hitched. The images of your desires filled your mind all at once, causing the feelings of bliss to intensify. “Y-Yes… You will be able to grant m-my reward, Sir Miguel,” you affirmed, gazing into his eyes and feeling the world around you fade like a fairytale, leaving only you and your guardian in this secluded space.

Miguel felt a chill run down his spine at your reply. With you straddling his lap, your rear pressed against the apex of his manhood, his desire for you was a crackling fire that seemed impossible to control.

You were the object of his deepest desires—the forbidden fruit he would never dare to touch, yet the idea was becoming increasingly appealing.

“And what reward do you seek, Y/N?” The older male asked, your name feeling wrong yet so right to say. His oath felt like a boulder crushing him under its weight, while the stirring in his loins begged him to defy it.

You gulped, pushing down your fear as you tried to voice what you truly wanted. “T-the reward I seek m-may seem absurd, l-laughable even,” you started, maintaining contact with him. “But what I seek is y-your touch, y-your kisses, and if you may, y-your body, Sir Miguel.” Your cheeks flushed as you spoke, never breaking eye contact with your Kingsguard, not even when the confessions that escaped you seemed too vast and preposterous to achieve in reality.

You continued, revealing your innermost feelings as if cornered at knife point, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability. “Sir Miguel, I’ve…desired you like a desert craves rain, a flower that yearns for sunlight. I’ve…longed for you, unbeknownst to my very being for the past years, wishing to be close to you, whether physically or through the very sword I fight with.” You declared, not backing down despite your embarrassment.

“I-I cannot express how many improper thoughts have clouded my days and how I wonder how our lives could be if circumstances were different. If I was no longer the Princess of Valoria and if you weren’t…you, m-my Kingsguard and a part of the royal guard. “You were certain your face was completely red, changing a shade unknown to man before the very male that you so much adored, but you couldn’t be bothered.

He needed to know and you wanted him to be aware of the feelings you’ve harbored for him for so long.

You felt horribly embarrassed, and unable to comprehend what expression was upon your Kingsguard’s face, but you proceeded on, nevertheless. “S-So, I, your princess, implore you to bestow upon me this reward, because I do not believe I can contain my wits if I leave here today w-without knowing…” The conclusion escaped you in a whimper that you deemed pathetic. Your heart pounded against your chest so harshly as you averted your eyes, fearfully anticipating his impending response.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his heart racing as he processed your requests and confessions. He had never considered himself desirable. Many times through his life the Latino has faced scrutiny for his temper, stoicness, and unwelcoming presence. His horrible characteristics was what caused his first marriage to end almost a decade ago.

His aura caused individuals to not approach him, his scowl drove people away, and his raging fury kept them from him permanently.

The Kingsguard became accustomed to being alone and disliked, so hearing the sweetest of souls, his princess, consider him favorable made his heart soar in a way it hadn’t in years.

The Latino hesitated, reaching up to cup his princess' tender face and turning you to meet his gaze again. The Kingsguard had done this action many times before, but now, led by a different emotion, it wasn’t the same. “Do not be bashful about your desires, Your Grace,” he said, his voice softening as he watched your beautiful eyes that were practically on the verge of tears widen in surprise.

“Desire is a common feeling—even the strongest of men and beasts aren’t immune to it, so how could a sweet young woman like you suppress such a powerful emotion?” Miguel asked, his thumb brushing gently along your soft cheek.

Every fiber of his being urged him to give in—to grant you the reward you so desperately sought. But he couldn’t…

You weren’t his to have…

Miguel swallowed hard, his amber eyes flicking down to your breasts, which hovered mere inches from his face, concealed by lace that demanded his attention. His tongue flicked over his dry lips as his hands moved from your delicate skin to grip the grass, trying to hold himself back.

“However, I am sworn to protect you, Y/N, even your purity, your…virtue,” the Kingsguard said, shaking his head with vulnerability and pain in his features. “I am not to take what is not mine to take, no matter how much I…share your desire.”

Your stomach twisted in agony at his gut-wrenching admission. “I-I know that, Sir Miguel. B-but please,” you practically begged, never before doing so.

“I…cannot leave here without knowing what it would feel like. How your kisses could bring me bliss, and how safe I’d feel not just in your presence, but in your arms, sharing your warmth as mere commoners in love, our stations and titles forgotten.” You stated, struggling to contain your desperation.

“I…I know what I ask isn’t proper, ladylike, n-nor what the Princess of Valoria should desire, but—” Your words faltered, ending in a sigh of exasperation, wishing the earth would swallow you whole in this moment.

Miguel felt his resolve shatter at your pleas. His hand landed on your hip, caressing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. “Ateza, you do not need to beg for anything,” he said, brushing a stray tear from your red cheek.

He pondered the rash decision brought upon him, knowing that if he proceeded, things would never be the same. But looking into your eyes, he saw a yearning far deeper than lust.

His princess was asking for this reward out of necessity, not merely desire.

How could he ignore the wishes of his charge?

Miguel gave you a rare smile, the corners of his lips rising slightly. “Your request may not be ladylike nor proper, but you are here, my sweet princess,” he said, motioning with his chin to the secluded forest clearing around you.

The Kingsguard cupped your face with both hands, his heart palpitating. Miguel pulled you closer to him, his lips being just a hair-breadth from yours. His restraint hanging on by a thread at the heightened tension. “And here, as you’ve told me, you are not the Princess of Valoria, Valoria’s future, nor the daughter of the King…

You are simply Y/N.”

Your eyes watered at his words, actually feeling seen for the first time. Placing a hand over his on your cheek, you nuzzled his metal palm, a shaky and relieved exhale escaping you.

Miguel’s chest warmed as he stroked your face with his thumb. “Are you certain, princesa?” he asked, his question pulling you back to the surreal reality before you. “I cannot promise I’ll leave you satisfied in the manner that two lovers share, but I can promise to grant your reward, Y/N.” Miguel assured, his brown eyes searching your face for any doubt, fear, or regret, but found none.

With a firm nod, your gaze remained on him, his metal gauntlets cooling your heated skin. “Yes, I am certain, Sir Miguel,” you confessed, never feeling more sure of a decision in your life.

At your permission, Miguel broke the last of his restraint, pressing his lips against yours. He groaned softly, the sweetness of your mouth coating his like a burst of sweet fruit juices.

His tongue coaxed an opening, slipping past your lips to slide and tangle with yours, deepening the kiss. When the Latino felt your soft pecks in return, his desire grew tenfold.

His deep grunts were like music to your ears as he kissed you passionately, his hands gripping your waist to hold you steady. You whimpered against his mouth, overwhelmed by the intense sensations. His metal palms roamed your body, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

“Y/N,” he whispered hoarsely, pulling away to cradle your cheek, ensuring this was real, but the dazed look in your eyes and your kiss-swollen lips were the only proof he needed.

Wishing to feel the softness of your skin against his rough hands, your Kingsguard began to undo the clasps of his gauntlets, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. When the final metal piece concealing his sense of touch fell away, his freed fingers moved to the enticing lace of your bosom that had been teasing him since he saw you today.

“Do you wish for more, princesa? Do you want me to cease?” Miguel asked, his amber orbs meeting yours, seeking clarity of comfort in his actions.

But upon receiving a nod, the Latino slowly began to untie the binding that concealed the beauty before him. “You seek my touch—my kisses, princesa?” he asked, noting how you bit your lip and how your gaze was captivated by his hands as they pulled each lace of your dress undone.

“Y-Yes, Sir Miguel,” you whispered breathlessly. After the many kisses he'd given you thus far, it was seemingly difficult for oxygen to fill your lungs.

“Very well, Y/N.” He replied, removing the final lace. Your morning gown fell open, revealing the sight of his princess' glorious breasts. As the cool air brushed your exposed skin, your nipples instantly hardening, and Miguel felt a deep stirring in his trousers.

At the sight of your chest before him, your Kingsguard felt his breath catch. You blushed heavily, uncertain of his next actions but trusting your protector entirely.

“Goodness, eres tan hermosa—so exquisite, my lady.” The older male's winded compliment only intensified your flushed features. “T-thank you,” you stammered, unsure how to respond to such lewd praise.

Miguel found your flustered state utterly breathtaking. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck, his stubble tickling you. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered, not wishing to mark you and bring scandal upon his princess.

You moaned softly at his kisses along your throat, his assurance of gentleness only making your skin warmer. The sensations he bestowed upon you were utterly new, yet so fascinating and addictive.

Your fingers found their way into his dark brown curls, combing through the strands of hair you’d always wanted to touch. Miguel’s grunts of delight at every scratch of his scalp only encouraged your caresses, unwilling to cease such a marvelous sound.

The thought of this very act being forbidden, despite how good it felt with Miguel, made your veins course with frustration. Your hands moved to cup his face again, wanting to claim his lips once more. You pecked his lips softly, allowing him to take the lead and slip his tongue into your inexperienced mouth, devouring you once more.

'Gosh, why can’t a princess be with whom she’d like to be with?’ You wished to question aloud, wanting to understand such a cruel fate, but each of his kisses stole the words from your mouth, making you fall deeper into his spell.

Miguel’s hands squeezed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His mouth began to wander from your lips, moving down to your neck and collarbone before descending further to his princess' untouched and pure body. His lips soon found themselves upon the forbidden tits of Valoria, and Miguel could hardly believe he was granted the chance to please you.

The older man’s tongue flicked out to trace the hardened peak of your right nipple, feeling its unique texture and enjoying the shudders that coursed through you. He sucked gently, painstakingly trying not to leave behind any love bites on your sensitive flesh. While his mouth pleased you, his calloused hand massaged your opposite breast, the feel of your soft flesh in his calloused palms only making him harder than stone itself.

Miguel groaned, switching to your left nipple to swirl his tongue around the bud before sucking it into his mouth. His eyes were locked on your face, ensuring your pleasure as he noted your moans, flushed expressions, and sharp tugs on his hair for any sign of discomfort.

Your eyes followed Sir Miguel’s actions, never before witnessing and experiencing such intimacy. Tingles of delight erupted through you with each of his laps and suctions on your peaked chest. Sounds you’d never made before escaped your throat, leaving you gripping his beautiful curls in bliss.

The Kingsguard’s large hands rubbed and kneaded your breasts, his fingers sinking into the flesh as he drew deeply on your nipple, his cheeks hollowing before releasing it with a loud, wet pop. The gasp escaping you at his suckles was enough to drive him wild.

The scent of your sweet arousal was steadily growing, filling the clearing and intensifying the older male’s desire for his sweet princess. “Is this satisfactory, Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse and eyes dark with longing.

With dazed eyes, you met your protector’s gaze from beneath you. Your chest heaved with each breath as you loosened your tight grip on his hair, trying to steady your thoughts. “Y-Yes, Sir Miguel,” you replied, overwhelmed by the sensations he had given you. “You have quite the skilled…mouth.” You complimented, your cheeks burning, unsure how to converse in such a situation.

The sound of your approval and compliment sent a jolt of yearning through Miguel. A rare smile graced his lips as his hands left your breasts and moved lower. “I know ways that are far greater than what you are experiencing now, my lady,” he said, his calloused palms finding purchase on your ankles as he slowly drew up the hem of your blue morning gown.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Miguel asked, expecting his actions to be daunting to you, noticing how your eyes widened at him lifting your skirt. “Only if you do, can I further please you.” He continued, hoping you’d entrust him with your body just as you did with your life each and everyday.

Your heart skipped a beat; you had never experienced such intimacy before, however, deep inside, you knew that Sir Miguel would never harm you. The forbidden love you harbored for him gave you the certainty to transverse such unknown lands with your Kingsguard as your guide.

Releasing a soft exhale, you gave him a timid nod. “Always,” you whispered wholeheartedly. “I’ll always trust you, Sir Miguel.” You repeated, meeting his eyes and allowing him to lead you through the uncharted waters of the taboo world of intimacy.

Miguel’s eyes briefly widened in surprise at your trust, and his heart swelled. “First, I’ll need you to stand for a moment,” he instructed, his voice so loving that it was unfamiliar even to himself.

Following his words you stood as your Kingsguard joined you. You watched him remove his blue cloak from his backside and lay it on the ground. You were shocked that he would use his cloak in such a way, but his reassuring gaze eased your worries.

“Rest here, my lady. I do not wish for you to lie on the earth while experiencing such pleasures,” Sir Miguel said, offering a hand. You complied, taking his rough palm, and laying on your back upon the soft fabric of his cloak, though the idea of using his sacred cloth this way still troubled you.

Miguel looked down at his sweet princess, noting the usual determined and fearless fire in your eyes had been replaced with a sweet bashfulness that warmed his heart.

“What do you know of intimacy, Y/N?” Miguel asked, settling on his knees between your thighs, his gaze looking up at you from between your legs. His calloused palms stroked your bare ankles as he lifted your dress to rest on your hips, revealing your lower body and, most importantly, your flawless and untouched pussy.

The older male gulped thickly, trying to contain his desire as he met your reddened cheeks once more, awaiting your response.

You could hardly focus on his inquiry but did your best to answer. “I…know little about intimacy. M-my father, the King, forbade me from knowing any of it.” You reminded him, knowing your Kingsguard was aware of your father’s adamant attempts to keep you pure for your future husband, though you never fully understood what he meant by ‘pure.’

Your protector hummed, keeping his gaze on your eyes rather than the sweet source of his attention between your legs. “Then, allow me to be the first to teach you,” Miguel said softly, leaning in to press gentle kisses on your inner thighs. He smiled against your skin at your surprised gasp, pleased with your reaction.

“As you can see, Y/N, between your legs lies the entrance to your most intimate place,” the older male began, his voice steady. “Some call it the ‘flower,’ others the ‘garden.’ When aroused or…pleased, a small, sensitive bud becomes prominent. That bud is a source of great bliss.” He breathed, aiming to guide his princess gently to avoid frightening you.

”However, underneath that bud is an opening—an entrance. There, when connection is made can you experience sensations beyond imagination, Y/N.”

Miguel smiling, pulling away slightly to check your comfort, stroking your thighs with his thumbs. “These are the basics, Y/N, but if you have any questions or feel discomfort, I implore you to speak up.” The Kingsguard said, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of confusion.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sensations of his lips and stubble against your sensitive skin making it harder to focus, but you were certain of one thing he stated. “T-the most…glorious of sensations?”

“Sí, very magnificent, indeed.” Miguel chuckled, feeling a buzzing warmth of excitement at the pit of his stomach in anticipation to please his princess for the first time, despite not sharing the most intimate form of connection with you.

Your face bloomed with warmth at the idea of the possibility of experiencing such things, in particular, by Sir Miguel's hands. “And…how might these…feelings be ignited?” You asked when a sound you’d never made before escaped you as an electrifying burst of delight coursed through your being. Your eyes widened, feeling Miguel’s thumb rubbing against your lower area.

“By touch and taste upon your flower, princesa,” your Kingsguard stated as with a gentle touch, he brushed against your outer folds, feeling the warmth radiating from within. His thumb teased the surrounding area, locating the hidden pearl of your bud.

The Latino groaned softly, the sweet citrus scent of your arousal enveloping his senses. “I will be gentle, and we will take it slow, Y/N. But if you feel discomfort at any time, do not hesitate to tell me to cease.” Miguel whispered, continuing his soft strokes along your folds, relishing how you trembled softly.

Your eyes fluttered, not recalling when your hands had found purchase on his blue cloak beneath you, gripping the fabric so tightly you feared it might tear. Frantically, you nodded, struggling to hear through the overwhelming sensations.

His fingers roamed your sensitive folds, following its curves and soft skin, relishing in your gasps, jerks, and choked moans that filled the clearing. Miguel bit his lip, loving the sweet sounds his princess was making by his touch.

“Tell me, Y/N, how do you feel?” The gruff voice of your royal protector filled your ears once more, practically white noise amidst the overwhelming pleasure.

“S-strange… b-but a… good strange,” you managed to whimper, following the small circles he made on your bud with your eyes shut.

“Muy bien,” Miguel muttered, glancing up to see your flushed cheeks, hidden pupils, and parted lips, eager to give you more. “Perhaps now?”

A sharp moan erupted from your throat when you felt the taboo sensation of your Kingsguard's tongue upon your center. His pink, warm muscle flicked and swirled around your bud in soft, teasing motions, making you twitch uncontrollably.

“S-Sir Miguel—” Your words choked off as you felt his massive hands grip your thighs, holding them open. Your Kingsguard tasted you with the reverence of a starved man improperly licking his bowl clean after supper, devouring you sloppily and humming all the while.

Miguel groaned, burying his face between your thighs, unwilling to come up for air. He clasped his lips over your hidden pearl, softly suckling and savoring your arousal.

“Mierda, you taste... so delicious, my lady.” The older male murmured, pulling away briefly to check on your comfort.

“Are you well, Y/N? Is this too much?” Miguel asked, his brows furrowed as he noticed your heaving chest, a sign that he might need to slow down.

You breathed heavily, opening your glazed eyes to meet his. “Yes... I-I am quite well, Sir Miguel.” You whispered, cheeks reddening profusely. “But I wish for more. I-I…can take more.” You told him in a bashful tone, but holding the same fire in your eyes when you held your sword.

“I am not as weak and fragile as you believe me to be.” You affirmed, hoping that today’s events had proven you were anything but a delicate sculpture meant to be coddled.

A smile touched the corner of Miguel’s lips, that infamous look of boldness with the blend of flushness upon your features was a sight to the Kingsguard, one he couldn't deny. “Very well, my lady.” He murmured, lowering himself back down to the sweet core of his princess, increasing his excellent suckling and kissing of your intimate area.

Your head fell back onto the cloak, hips involuntarily rising as his efforts intensified, just as you had requested.

“M-Miguel!” You wailed his name, something you’d never have dared to say without formality; yet, you seemed to be slowly losing your composure with every passing moment.

The Kingsguard’s name on your lips only fueled his determination further. His tongue caressed your untouched entrance, thrusting softly whilst grinding his broad nose against your engorged pearl. “Hmm... say my name again, Cariño.” Miguel mumbled, longing to hear his name without the constraints of station or duty.

Your face reddened at your protector’s request that was heard through the foggy storm of pleasure in your mind. A gasp broke free from your lips, a hand snapping from the cloak to grasp his hair.

You found yourself pulling him deeper into the depths of your core, allowing your desires to boldly take control.

“M-Miguel… p-please, do not… cease.” You moaned into the clearing, the natural noises of your hidden sanctuary keen to you, now lost in the background of your ecstasy.

Miguel grumbled, your fingers in his hair becoming a favorable sensation. He buried his tongue deeper into his princess' flower, driven by your plea as if commanded to war. He wasn’t to stop until you were satisfied and his jaw was sore.

“Te lo prometo, nena… que no me detendré. Ni siquiera… cuando mis pulmones fallan y… me ahogo en mis esfuerzos,” the Latino slurred between slurps.

His tongue flattened against your entrance, running along your garden in a slow grind before returning to its gentle penetrations with the pink muscle. Your Kingsguard sought to please you thoroughly.

Slowly your mind began to cloud and your body trembled like a fawn in the cold. Your whines became more strained as a rising sensation overwhelmed you.

“M-Miguel,” you called out through moans. “s-something is... coming.” You whimpered, unsure of the approaching feeling but aware that it was intensifying with his touch.

At your warning, Miguel moved up on your body, his thumb returning to your bundle of nerves, rapidly stroking it and pressing into the engorged bud to amplify your pleasure.

“Let go, Y/N.” He whispered, his body pressing against yours. His amber eyes, filled with unprecedented affection, remained on you as he guided you to your peak. “Release and fall, querida, knowing I'll be the one to catch you.” Miguel assured, circling your rosebud rapidly and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You kissed him with intense fervor, trembling violently as you clutched his chest plate. Tears clouded your vision, and your limbs went limp upon reaching your climax. A loud moan escaped you, only to be swallowed and silenced by your Kingsguard’s kiss.

Afterwards, you felt as though you were a bird soaring through the sky, your body feeling weightless. Soft tremors coursed through you, ensuring that you would remember every moment of bliss with the man you had fallen for.

True to his word, Miguel withdrew his hand from between your thighs, cradling you in his strong arms.

“Was that satisfactory, Y/N?” He asked with a soft chuckle, kissing the stray pleasurable tears that escaped during your release.

Your Kingsguard shifted to lay on his back, pulling you onto his chest, and using his body like a bedding for his princess. His calloused hand stroked your back, feeling your soft skin through the fabric of your gown. Your protector seeking to calm your ragged breathing and return you to your senses.

Once settled, you looked up at him, blushing with embarrassment at how dazed and lightheaded you felt. “Y-Yes, my Kingsguard. It was satisfying.” You replied with a warm smile, reaching up to stroke his stubbled cheek. “Thank you for granting my reward. I will be forever grateful.”

Miguel’s heart fluttered at your soft touch. He returned your smile and clasped his hand over yours that cupped his face. “No, thank you, princesa, for making me see that I can be wanted—desired, despite all my flaws and callousness.” He said earnestly, pressing a tender and lingering kiss to the inside of your palm before holding you close.

You leaned into him, allowing his large arms to envelop you and keep you safe, just as you had always imagined.

Laying with him, his warmth engulfing you through his armor and the mere content you felt in his arms made the confession that you'd kept from him for so long escape you.

“My... heart burns for you, Sir Miguel.”

You suddenly whispered, looking up to meet his widened eyes. Before he could respond, you placed two fingers over his lips to silence him. “I... do not desire a reply so as not to worry you about the outcome of such words and feelings. I simply wished for you to know.” You replied, feeling your body warm with adoration for your protector.

Despite not wanting an answer for his shared feelings for his princess, the older male gave a curt nod. “As you wish, Y/N.” He smiled, snuggling you against his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He held you close, like a lover would their beloved, like a mate would do their partner, his actions speaking volumes to his princess about what his response might have been had you allowed it.

‘My heart burns for you too, mi amor…’

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the last and final part of 'Fortis et Liber.' Like I said previously, I loved writing this, the characters, the dynamics, especially the forbidden love, lol, was a joy to write. Perhaps this won't be the last you see of Kingsguard Miguel and Princess of Valoria? We'll never know, lol. 🤷🏾‍♀️❤️

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message or submit an ask! Don't be nervous, your idea could be really good!

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