#tap reader

[2022dirt]

Cats taking over metro tap readers.

[the-raindeer-king]

The thing with living with a man like Simon, who's been through so much, is that you pick up habits to help the both of you. There is no tiptoeing through the house, no jumping around corners. Not like you could anyway. He's got a habit of keeping you in sight most of the time.

When he's deployed, you leave a note on the fridge saying where you've gone, in case he comes home without telling you. Sometimes you leave more information, like what time you should be home, which of your friends you left with. Sometimes its just the location and a reminder to take care of himself.

You started doing this after the first (and only) time it happened. You had been out with friends, when he'd returned home from deployment. Home to an empty house. Your car sat in the driveway (you'd carpooled with your friends), and Simon assumed the worst.

He'd torn through the house, desperately trying to find some sort of evidence that you were still there. That you hadn't been kidnapped, or left him. His search ended empty handed, and he'd had a panic attack in the bathroom, reliving the events of losing his family.

You came home thirty minutes later, almost giddy when you'd seen his truck in the driveway. That feeling quickly evaporated, when you stepped inside the house. It looked like a tornado had swept through, living room torn apart, all the kitchen cabinets thrown open.

"Simon?" you call, setting your bags down by the front door.

You've never been scared of Simon, never had a reason to be. But when he came out of the bathroom, staring you down, eye black smeared across his face, looking more like Ghost than Simon, you suddenly understood why people gave your boyfriend wide berth.

"Simon?"

He doesn't respond, backing you up against the door. When he reaches out to gently caress your face, you notice his hands are shaking.

"Thought something happened to ya," he whispers, voice hoarse. And then he's dragging you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, arms like a vice around you. It takes you a second to realize he's shaking all over, that there's tears in his eyes.

"No, baby. I was just out with friends," you reply softly, gently running your fingers through hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Guilt eats at you, feeling horrible for causing him this kind of distress. You hadn't expected him today, didn't think to leave a note or something.

"I'll leave a note next time," you promise. And that's stuck since then.

[mydarlingclaudia]

skin-on-skin is life, but skin-on-skin is a privilege.

skin-on-skin contact is something everyone wants, some want it more than others, some only want it from one person.

Simon wants that skin-on-skin contact from you.

when he’s home, he’s with you. skin-on-skin isn’t an option if it’s not you. it’s only you who can cradle his face, it’s only you who can trail your fingers along his spine when he’s sleeping, it’s only you who can put your hand on his thigh and pull on the little hairs there.

you get to rub sunscreen on his back, you get to button up his shirt for him, you get to spread shaving cream around on his face from time to time. and he gets to sleep on top of you, he gets to rest his head on your shoulder, he gets to trace the stretch marks on your hips and thighs.

his skin on yours is the only contact he needs.

[lvrsfilm]

Johnny and Simon aren't used to domesticity beyond what they can give each other in the quiet of the barracks. They haven't been together quite long enough to share a leave the way they'd like to. But when you came along, and chirped about on one of your weekly calls to them about how they should both just stay at your flat in London when they come back, so the three of you aren't all separated, they couldn't say no.

They didn't know what to expect, duffel bags in hand and covered in grime, sticking out like weeds on the cleanliness of your doorstep. "Door's unlocked" you had told them over the phone when they said they were on their way. Simon does Johnny the favor of opening the door first, stepping inside to cover him as if they're still on the field. But they're not met with gunfire or yelling, not even empty silence. The television is on low, playing a random football (because it is football, birdie) match and the house smells of cinnamon and something hearty bubbling on the stove.

They aren't used to the excited call of your voice from the kitchen, the sound of soft, socked feet padding on the floor towards them. You in a large shirt (one of Johnny's,) and a pair of leggings. They're almost frozen when you take their bags, dropping them to the floor and pulling them both towards you for a hug while you murmur about how you missed them.

But they like it. It's not much different than a shared tray of food in the barracks, followed by a fitful rest on a too hard mattress pad and scratchy sheets. Except it is. It's a shared meal, home cooked, the best thing they think they've ever tasted. It's you checking them over for injury not so subtly as they scarf down their plates, daring to ask for seconds to indulge both themselves and you. A shower, for both of them while you clean up, hot water and soap that smells like you.

They whisper conversation in the shower, about how different and nice it is. Johnny does more of the talking than Simon, who scrubs Johnny's back the way he likes while he listens to Johnny ramble quietly about their lass. About when did she learn to cook like that? About how he never wants to go back to his place, how he could stay here and let her feed him his weight in roast until it was time to leave again. Simon who indulges him with nods and grunts, but who's really thinking about a neat glass of bourbon and having you two draped over his lap where he can bask in your shared warmth because in his mind he's already used to this. He already knows he wants more.

It's Johnny passing out on your couch, drooling onto the armrest, a leg thrown over Simon's lap and a full belly. You coming into the living room with a mug of hot tea for the man left awake. Sitting down next to him and leaning against his side, asking him questions about where work took them and if he needs anything while you comb your fingers through his damp hair, occasionally stopping to catch a stray drop of water with your fingers. Once the cup has gone cold and theres no liquid left, you let him sit in silence as well, not speaking, only lightly pressing your lips to the stubble of his jaw and whispering that you have a surprise for him. Leaving the living room and coming back with a bottle of his favorite. Whispering about how you asked Johnny to make sure this was the right one as you burrowed your way back under his arm. And as he presses a kiss to your forehead, traces circles along your shoulder with his fingers while the other holds the bottle of bourbon on his lap, he thinks Johnny was right.

[studioeisa]

what the fuKCKENFR IM SO MAD I CANT REBLOG YOUR POSTS OR MSG U ON MY SIDEBLOG RN COS ANOTHER??? HOZIER??? FIC????

(work song next WHHAT WHO SAID THAT)

so full of love (i could barely eat) 🍒 seungcheol x reader.

★ established relationship, pet name ['baby'], inspired by hozier's work song. viv, i know this was supposed to be in response to worship in the bedroom (and not really a serious request), but the thought of cheol x work song did not let me go. a little gift for u. <3 word count: 755.

It’s nearly two in the morning when Seungcheol gets home. 

One of those days, he likes to call it. He had been out of the apartment before the sun rose up, had jumped from one schedule to another with something akin to reckless abandon. Fan meet. Radio show. Practice. Meeting.

When he’s busy, the exhaustion is kept at bay. There’s no time to think about the phantom ache behind his knee, the pesky soreness of his thigh.

But then he walks through the front door and it all comes crashing down on him. Suddenly, he is Atlas, bearing the heavens on his shoulders. 

He toes off his shoes with a soft sigh. Evidence of you is apparent from the entryway. The kitchen light has been left on. The humidifier is spewing one of his favorite scents. A collection of sweet nothings, none of which he thinks he deserves.

Had he even texted you today? Seungcheol isn’t certain. He remembers seeing your texts light up his screen, though. Gentle reminders from morning to evening. 

Don’t forget your vitamins. 

Grab lunch. 

Bundle up. It’s snowing, and your bones are weak to the cold. 

Seungcheol had listened at each turn, whether or not he realized it. A multivitamin from Seungkwan. A sandwich hurriedly eaten on the way to the studio. The scarf you had given him, the one that still faintly smelled like you.

He knows there’s probably food waiting for him in the microwave, knows you’ve likely set aside a plate in anticipation of his late arrival. Seungcheol bypasses it in favor of heading for your shared bedroom. 

Sure enough, you’re already asleep. He’ll realize a little later that you texted about that, too— a message of might be asleep when you get home, I love you— but for now, he only lingers by the doorway as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

He feels everything then. The gnaw of guilt. The overwhelming affection. The urge to protect and provide. 

As quietly as he can manage, Seungcheol crosses the room. He can already predict how you’re going to react to him sinking into bed and sliding underneath the covers with you. 

You stir in your sleep at the feeling of Seungcheol snaking his arm around your waist. Despite being half-awake, you have the wits to mumble, “You’re still wearing outside clothes.” 

Bingo. 

Seungcheol knew it, and the thought of that— of correctly predicting what you might do or say— fills him with an odd sense of pride. He doesn’t give voice to it, though, not wanting to rouse you more than he already has. 

“I’ll change.” His voice is a murmur even though there’s no other soul in the apartment besides you two. Something about the early hour and the low light makes him feel like he should tread carefully, like the moment is as fragile as ice on a lake. “Just wanted to hold you for a bit, baby.” 

You grumble something incoherent, the words lost to the way you bury your face into the front of Seungcheol’s shirt. And suddenly Seungcheol can’t help himself. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then one to your forehead. Then one to your temple. Then—

“Cheol.” You whine out his name, your tone edged with exhaustion. You never did take kindly to your sleep being interrupted. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he huffs. 

He kisses the tip of your nose for good measure. 

It’s one of those days. Seungcheol is bone-tired, and home late, and he missed you. If he were a stronger man, a better man, he’d let you sleep. Stalk off to eat his microwaved dinner and change into his pajamas so you don’t gripe about dirty sheets in the morning. 

Seungcheol decides: He’s not a good man. And so instead he holds you a little tighter, leaves a couple more kisses across your face, allows his body to let go of the day’s weight. 

After his nth kiss to your face, you let out another low grumble. He’s about to apologize, about to tell you that he’ll finally, finally let off, when you tilt your head up to lazily slot your lips against his. You’re barely coherent, and yet you’re still giving him exactly what he wants needs. 

Soft, sleepy, sweet. His, his, his.

Seungcheol’s eyes flutter close. He makes no move to deepen the kiss, to ask for more than what you can offer. 

In your arms, he feels a little less like Atlas. 

In your arms, he’s just Seungcheol. 

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

[hai7ani]

Rindou's the kind of husband who cheeses whenever he sees your 4-month pregnant belly peeking out under your favourite cami.

You're flipping magazines in the kitchen munching on some weird food combo of the day and your belly's just... it's not very obvious, but it's round, sort of. Any other person would've thought you were just a little bit too bloated today but he obviously knows that you're having his kid in there. It's such a cute sight to him.

You've started waddling a bit not too long ago because you're not yet used to this kind of slightly heavy feeling in your abdomen lately and he fucking. Loses it in his head whenever he sees it. You're in the store together and he's pushing the cart, following behind you quietly and you're busy ticking the grocery list off your phone and you're waddling a bit as you walk ahead一

He's been grinning to himself the whole shopping trip. Had to get knocked back into reality by a snotty kid who rammed into his leg playing hide and seek with his young sister.

And then he reminds himself that these two could be your children too in a few years time.

He'll wait until you're ready for a second. And he's gotta work even harder for you. You've always wanted to be a mommy.

[lunarvera]

thots on sub!dean being overstimulated to HELL but like its with a gentle femdom!reader (praise kink ⁉️) (mommy kink ⁉️)

it literally gets to the point where he's sobbing and whimpering and big fat tears are rolling down his flushed cheeks. his kiss-swollen lips are parted, showing his sharp canines and letting pretty sounds and escape from his mouth while he drools.

his winces and hisses from initial overstimulation are long forgotten, replaced by cries of pain and pleasure and his fucked-out babble that's making your soaked pussy absolutely drip. he's moaning loudly like a whore, whining, whimpering, crying out "ohhh fuuuck don't stop! don't stop! feels s'good ohh please! please! oh god, mommy!" long eyelashes wet, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. and when you hum back sweetly in response around his dick, the vibrations feel sooo good, making his eyes roll back into his head, pretty mouth forming an o-shape and tongue lolling out.

you don't know how long you've been slobbering over his cock but you can't stop, and he doesn't want you to stop, his fingers tangling in your hair and whimpering out your name pathetically. and if he can still think straight he'll pet your hair as your thumb brushes over his knuckles, fingers laced together.

when he cums again, his body jerks and the noise that comes out of him a primal guttural moan ripping through his throat that transitions to a long drawn-out whine, hips stuttering. you press your cheek to his thick thigh n look up at him— and he's so gorgeous.

so you smack a few kisses on his inner thigh and travel up until your settled in his lap, cradling his head to your chest and rocking him back and forth, pressing kisses to the top of his head and his temple. n real gently you tell him he did sooo good, that he's ur perfect baby and "you did s'good for me baby. always so good f'me. did so good for mommy, pretty baby" and he's just dumb and smiley "uh huh"

[wintfleur]

jack smutty headcanon 🙏

“Shhh, you can take it” Jack cooed in a tauntingly sweet tone, his warm hands softly rubbing your trembling thighs. he couldn’t help but smirk as he looked down on your trembling form, you’re arching your spine into such a delicious curvature, face stuffed into the sheets ; muffling your loud cries and moans.

“Shit- shit, s-so deep- jackk-” you’re mewling out, bringing your hand back to try to push at his abdomen that was pressed against the plush skin of your ass. But he’s quickly grabbing your wrist and pulling you up, your other arm quickly move to help hold you up before you fell on your face.

The lewd sounds of Jack fucking into you from behind filled your shared room along with your pitiful moans and whines, your nails digging into the warm skin of his forearm as he held your arm behind your back. Jack smirks as he stops his thrusts, a loud chocked out moan escaping your lips at the feeling of him being balls deep inside of you.

Your eyes were clouded with pleasure and unshed tears as you tilted your head to look back at your boyfriend, and with just one look at your face he couldn’t see how stupidly cockdrunken you truly are as you cried out “t-too much!”

“Be my good fuckin’ girl and take it — yeahhh fuck yourself on ma cock” jack trailed off into deep groan as your hips cant help but shake and twitch from him being so deep. You sniffle and drop your head between your shoulders, squeezing the sheets until your hand aches, the only thing on your mind was making Jack cum.

Jacks abs clenched and his hold on you tightens as he tilts his head back with a loud moan, enjoying the feeling of you fucking yourself back against him. The sound of skin slapping and your pretty moans n whimpers helps create a cocky smirk on his lips “Ngh-that’s ma girl”

[uc1wa]

jason todd who’s a little religious and says he wants to wait for marriage to fill you full with his cock and cum. jason todd whose tongue is lapping at your entrance and his fingers are circling your clit, reminding you that the bible doesn’t say anything about the inability to do this.

[arminsumi]

Gojo Satoru running in a downpour just to give you an umbrella

💗 さとる

Note : u know like in the s2 ending. it's 4:30 am the birds are chirping n here i am... writing cheesy gojo fluff lol. ignore errors... i'm sleep deprived 😭✌️

"Satoru... did you run all this way... in the rain?"

He's panting and desperately trying to catch his breath, bearing a half-smile at you. His uniform is completely soaked through. His shoes are leaky and his socks are squelchy with rainwater. His hair is completely flat-wet. Water drips off the ends of strands.

You and him are under the highway bridge, it shields you from the torrential rain, which he just rain through all the way from Jujutsu High.

"Y-yeah... well... only because y–you texted me saying... that you didn't... have an umbrella. So." he huffs, a rivulet of water dripping off his pointy chin.

You squint at him in disbelief. It's so funny.

This boy. This poor teenage boy. With noodly arms and legs and a poor posture. Just ran all this way here. To give you an umbrella.

Just to give you a damn umbrella.

"You're nuts."

He makes a smile at that. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Y/n."

A long silence passes.

He sucks in a breath and makes a sideways look.

"Uh... sooo... do I get like... a cheek kiss for this, or something? Maybe? ... please? No? Yes? Or an appreciative "thank you, 'Toru you're my knight in shining armour!" maybe? How about a—"

"No." you tease.

"Aw dang, I'll just go fuck myself then. We're divorcing. And I'm taking custody of the umbrella." He jokes.

He bends his back and knees to lower himself to your height, so he can make sure you get your share of cover under the transparent umbrella. You give him a sudden cheek kiss once he's lowered himself enough to be reachable for your lips.

He malfunctions. His brain has to actively register what just happened to his body. And then once it realizes he's just received a cheek kiss, his whole face starts to glow. His whole body freezes up.

He blushes boyishly. Because of course he would, he's just been kissed by his 3-year crush best friend.

But then he reassumes his annoying Gojo Satoru persona within a minute.

"Awww... you must like me."

"Shut up. And stop crouching like that. You'll scare a child."

"My future wife is so mean to me...! 😩"

"I'm not your "future wife", Satoru."

He sticks his tongue out at you. But then his playful tone suddenly drops. He looks at you. And he earnestly says;

"I will make sure that you are. No matter what... I wanna be yours."

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Tap Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 600

Summary: After saying some mean things about Steve he takes his aggression out during sex. Will he make you tap out?

Warnings: Fingering, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Edging, Brat Reader

A/N: For @avengers-assemble-bingo AA-Kinky Bingo with squares “That’s a good girl” + fingering + doggy style. Card (KB010)

A/N 2: thanks to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @late-to-the-party-81 Also thank you @late-to-the-party-81 for the header.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site or run through AI. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen.

Steve’s sitting sternly on the bed next to you, fingering your wet pussy. Every time he curls them you sing for him. He’s keeping you just on the edge of an orgasm and your naked body is sweating, begging to cum, but he won’t allow it.

“That’s a good girl. I can feel you want to cum but you know what you have to do first. Say it and I’ll put you out of your misery.”

Your mind is swirling with emotions. What you want to say was ‘fuck off’ but you know he’ll just keep you on edge all night with no chance of release. You moan when he lightly flicks your clit with the fingers of his other hand.

He slows down and then stops all together when you don’t respond. “Don’t make me be the bad guy here. You know I can do this all day.” He says in a serious tone.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you Captain Small Dick in front of the group. I was just mad that you left me alone in bed without you eating my pussy or even a morning kiss. It put me in a bad mood.”

“And…” He thrusts his fingers hard into you then pulls them out, licking his fingers clean. His eyes flutter at the taste of your arousal.

“And… I’m sorry I said you have a limp cock for a man of your age.”

“I’ll show you who has a small, limp cock, brat I’m going to split you open and fuck you senseless. You won’t be walking straight tomorrow.”

He flips you over onto your stomach and pulls you up onto your hands and knees. With a snap of hips, his cock is sheathed inside you, stretching your pussy so good that you cum all over his cock. However, Steve doesn’t stop there; he continues to fuck you hard and rough. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, joining with your moans. “That’s right, doll. Scream my name. Let them know who’s fucking you this good.”

Your arms finally give out, your face and shoulders crashing to the mattress, leaving your ass in the air, with Steve holding your hips tightly as he takes you harder and faster. He makes you cum another three times and you’re a wreck. You start hitting the bed near your face with your hand, tapping out. There’s no way you can keep going.

“Please, Steve! I’m sorry. I can’t cum again. My body’s too weak.” You plead with him but it doesn’t work. In fact, it seems to turn him on more.

“Just cum one more time for me, sweetheart. Show me you're really sorry.”

Steve keeps his hard pace up until you finally cum again. Your walls flutter around his cock, milking him, and Steve cums with a shout. He pulls out of you and lets your body collapse completely on the bed. He curls up next to you and pulls you to his chest, as you gasp for air. You feel wrecked by him but in the best way possible.

“Next time you have a hissy fit I will strap you to our bed, Mrs. Rogers, and edge you even worse with one of your vibrators. Do you understand me?” Steve nuzzled your ear as he spoke firmly to you.

You nod your head like crazy. “Yes, Steve. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” You both know that it’s a lie. You’ll be running your mouth by next week and being punished all over again. Oh well, that’s the way you both like it.

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[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 9

Wc. 7.7k

Miguel waits in his car, his gaze not fixated on anything specific; simply forward. He rests his forearm on the car door, window down. The thick hairs of his arm raise as his mind ventures, replaying the past few hours in his mind. A low hum stirs against his chest. There’s a sort of glow he emulates as he sits there idly, smizing at nothing in particular. He probably looks like a total creep with how he’s grinning in his car, alone, looking off into space. No passenger. You've sat there for the past few months, from campus to your place, and vice versa. But today, you aren’t there, yet he’s happy. His heartbeat intensifies, his stomach contracting once or twice due to unfiltered chuckles. As he waits patiently in the car, he lets it consume him, the memory of that morning, and he closes his eyes.

“Okay, what do you think?” you reach your arms out as if to present a prize, and the winner is Miguel. Miguel, who looks uncomfortable in your too-small-for-him lounge chair but shows no sign of strain on his face, fixes his glasses and observes with love-sickened eyes. After a simple, romantic breakfast at his place, he insisted on taking you back home so that you could get ready. Then after dropping you off, you figured he might as well stay so he can take you to the ceremony, too.

“Is it too much?” You give a little twirl.

His eyes scan thoroughly scan you. “Jesus… How’d I get so lucky?” The question sounds genuine, as if needing an actual answer. “You’re beautiful, mama.”

This makes you smile in return. You look to the mirror to see if Miguel is right (obviously, he is), running your hands over your pre-planned graduation outfit. Today, you receive your hard-earned Master’s Degree, and even though throughout the year you were convinced you wouldn’t be, you’re feeling more nervous than ever. “Picked it myself.” Your voice wavers just a hint. Has two years really gone by so fast? More specifically, the second year of your grad. The first one felt like eons. Maybe it’s just because you didn’t score an Adonis of a professor that year.

Miguel stands from his chair and comes from behind, his hands snaking through the gap between your arms and waist, holding you tightly against his plush exterior, “I just wish I was the one who got it for you.” and a kiss is pressed to your temple. His grasp seemed to soothe your nerves a bit, your body sinking into his natural warmth and plush. You can see his face through the mirror, the absence of doubt and judgment in his expression making you fall all over again. You really were a lucky girl. He looks at you with such reverence. And maybe a touch of arousal. Those aren’t his keys you feel on your backside.

“Oh, stop. You’ve given me more than enough, Miguel. All I need is you.” With his chin resting on the top of your head, you reach to cup his face, a picture-perfect moment displayed on the full-length mirror. He whispers into your ear, “Giving you lessons doesn’t count, that’s just my job. te voy a dar el mundo, mi Vida.”

“Right, right, and I’m guessing giving me that necklace was a part of your job description?”

You win a rich, dark chuckle from him, but he ignores you, still sprinkling kisses on your skin, his bifocals bending out of place at times. You giggle and even try to break away, but he doesn’t budge. You fight the urge to kiss back just to spite him.

“Or that skirt? Or those shoes? Or that one purse? Damn, how much does the school pay you?”

And before you can further argue, he presses more kisses onto you, almost sending both of you to topple over. “Just let me spoil you, mama.” He speaks against your jaw.

“Miguel!” the gravel chuckle of his voice continues to rumble against the side of your neck. You can’t complain and never will, but the difference between Miguel now versus the Miguel you met still leaves you baffled to this day. Or it isn’t much of a difference or change, really, but rather an unmasking. This Miguel was just stowed away until further notice; placed in the backest corner of the freezer to never see the light of day. This is the person Miguel was dying to show, he just needed the right person to coax it out of him. Now you have him attacking you with wet kisses in the middle of your living room, his hulking arms locked around you with no chance at an escape.

“Right, enough fooling around and help me into this, will you!” Reluctantly, he’ll let you move your hair for better access to the still-open zipper of your outfit.

“Fine. On one condition.”

Sigh. “Yes?”

“Un besito.”

“Oh my God.”

“Take it or leave it. Last offer. Don’t make me make it two.”

“Given there’s no one else around to zip me up, I guess I have no choice. Just my luck.” you joke, eagerly leaning your head back against his chest, granting his kiss entry to your neck, your chin, and then lastly, your lip. And then one kiss turned to multiple. If you weren’t so completely lost in his tongue and lips, you’d notice his hand rested and wrapped around your neck. The minor callouses provided a sensation that only added to the fervor of the exchange. Once y’all finally pull away, low eyes traveling in triangles, he politely requests, “Step forward for me.”

You move forward slightly so as to give him space to zip you up. But before he can do the job, he takes a second to look over the details of your back, a part of your body his hands have gotten to know very well, but his eyes haven’t gotten the same pleasure of. Miguel was very good at respecting your boundaries and wishes, which meant a lot (a lot) of making out, but nothing further than that. He notes to himself how soft it looks, the hills and curves of your spine creating a Grecian masterpiece.

And you can practically feel his eyes roam every inch of exposed skin, making you feel like art. You think to say something, but you’d rather let Miguel have this moment, and you let yourself have it, too. You’d often think about what it’d be like to see Miguel’s reaction to you. All of you. He’s made you feel nothing but like a deity for the duration of your budding, unlabeled relationship, and you’ve been fully clothed at all times. You can only imagine how he’ll act when you’re completely bare.

You know for sure he loves you. He said so. And he’s shown it to you. You’ve decided that being that vulnerable with him is something you want, it’s only a matter of when.

You start to hear the friction of the tab pulling the teeth together, one by one, that’s how slow Miguel was going. Unable to resist the urge, he stops the zipper and reaches to plant a tender kiss on the back of what’s left of your exposed neck. “I could do this every day, you know?” he admits softly, like a hymn. You turn, not completely, just so that your face is to him, “‘Everyday’? For how long?” You know the answer, kind of, but there’s still curiosity in what he’ll say. There are so many instances where you wait for Miguel to say the wrong thing; to do something that’ll break this spell, but he hasn’t. He just doesn’t have the capacity to. He’s perfect in your eyes.

“For however long you’ll have me. Which I’m really hoping is forever or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.”

Damn, he said the right thing. People can say his stab at humor is mediocre all they want, but Miguel never ceases to make you snicker. If you opened an Oxford Dictionary to ‘adorable’, it’d have his picture.

“Who am I kidding, you could absolutely humiliate me and I’d still say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh, this’ll make some good blackmail.” you finally turn around to tauntingly wave your index finger at his amused expression.

“Oye, Final exam grades aren’t due ‘til next month, so I’d be careful if I were you.” his brow perks when he says ‘you’, and your only response is a sarcastic ‘Oooooo’ before you’re muffled by the millionth kiss of the day, but who’s counting?

“There. Secured. Anything else, princesa?”

You take a deep breath, getting in one last overall look in the mirror before facing him, “Okay, yeah, I’m ready. Just need my chauffeur.” You look over at Miguel, who looks back at you confused, then looks around knowing fully well there’s no one else except the two of you.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Ha ha ha. Very Funny. If expressions could talk, this is what yours would’ve said.

Miguel smiles, taking your hand to kiss the back of it, and rubs your knuckles with his thumb as an apology. “Your chariot awaits, your majesty.”

Wait, where is he going?

“Mig, stadium’s that way.” your thumb points toward the window next to you, the street that leads to the graduation growing farther and farther.

Despite that a mistake has obviously been made, Miguel looks indifferent, eyes aimed straight at the road before them with no sign of a doubt. He huffs from his nose before responding, “I know,” his thumb runs across the back of your hand, “I have something for you, though.” He takes your hand up to his lips, a smile creeping up on your features.

“At your office?”

“Accidentally left it there.”

What is he up to?

His crooked smile tells you a different story. Miguel can feel you questioning him. You can see him physically gather his words in the driver's seat.

“Remember when… we were in the library one of those first nights and we exchanged books?”

You nod. How could you forget?

“And I told you about Gabriella?”

You nod again. He’s asking obvious questions here, it’s sort of scaring you.

“That was my first time talking about her with someone. In years.” His chest and belly deflate as if releasing a weight he’s held onto, “And you’re also the first person who’s said her name out loud. Someone other than me. In a very long time.”

You listen intently, everything that has happened up until now making more sense with this piece of information. You always knew the painful fact that Miguel has been by himself mostly since starting teaching, but it stings even more knowing that he’s never opened up to anyone about this. No one to turn to. No one to be soft with. Sure, he had his friends, from what you remember him telling you about his hero, multi-dimension, whatever-it-was days, but to your understanding, they all left him alone. By means of Miguel’s requests. He wanted those days to be over completely.

“She was beginning to feel like- I don’t know. Like a figment of my imagination. Photos and videos that I rewatch and stare at every single day were starting to… go stale,” this admission makes him wince in shame, “I replay them over and over again… and nothing new. I know what happens in each and every single one of them. And it ends up hurting every single time. I didn’t know how much more I could’ve taken before stopping altogether.” His lips purse, the guilt seeping from every inch of him. “Well, at some point, I even became afraid. Terrified that I was starting to forget the little things about her, or worse, that I’d move on,”

You didn’t even notice, but the car had been parked minutes ago, it’s only when he turns his face to look at you, eyes beginning to gloss, when you realize the car had stopped.

“Until that night.” His narrow gaze softens.

“The night at the library… I told you things that I hadn’t even thought about until that night. Like, for example, how she liked to match the color of her hair ties to her shirt,” Miguel allows himself to softly beam with this memory, “or whenever I’d fall asleep on the couch, she’d always, always, place a blanket on my feet so that ‘the monsters don’t get me��,” you both giggle at this, “Like those things? They had just come back to me in that moment.”

You both had entered campus grounds and turned to his office door, and he whipped out his keys, the metal hitting against the doorknob. The halls are quiet and hollow. It feels like the end of an academic year.

“I just never thought I could possibly let those things slip.” His voice lowers, an air of disbelief in his words.

“Will you ever stop loving her?”

“Of course not. Never.”

“Then she will live on forever. You’ve proven to yourself that you’ll never let the small things leave. They’ll always come back to you.”

Miguel smiles to himself, thinking about this.

He heads toward his bookshelf, reaching for something, but you can’t see given that he himself blocks the entire view of it. “When I hear you say her name,” you see his head bow down at something in his hand, “You sound so… lively... If that makes sense? Like… as if she were still here, as if you knew her. It meant a lot to me. Even in the way you talked about her. Maybe it explains why I was able to recall so much.”

He turns around to you, and you can only make out something small in his hand; something blue?

“I figured that, if she were still here, she’d want you to have this.”

He unfurls his hand and out blossoms a satin blue ribbon formed in a rosette; the words ‘first place’ are displayed in the center. “Wear it today?” He stands before you, the dwarfed ribbon sitting in his hand. His request sounds more like a plea.

“Her teammates gave it to her when she scored their winning goal. She was so happy. It was her last game before she-” Both gazes leave the ribbon and land on each other, glossed and daring to well.

He clears his throat, “She used to- used to show it off any chance she could,” His eyes well up, but regardless of presuming tears, he looks down at the ribbon with a soft smile.

“Miguel,” Your head slowly shakes from side to side, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he persists, “Take it, it’s yours.” He insists through choked words. He places the ribbon in your hand, folding your fingers in, hoping that you’ll accept his gift.

Here stands a man you’ve been falling so hard for for the past year, who is not only giving you a piece of his late daughter’s life, but insisting you take it. You haven’t been around enough to know what love is, but with what Miguel is doing right now, you’re starting to think maybe this is what it might look like. When you started seeing Miguel, who was your professor, you didn’t think all those thoughts of him being yours would ever have come true. You knew it was silly, childish, and most importantly, out of the question. Yet here he is, giving you a piece of himself. This isn’t casual anymore. So he did really mean those three sacred words said last night and this morning.

After letting the ribbon sit there for just seconds but what feels like minutes, you take his hand back, but the ribbon is now pressed between you and Miguel’s palms. You give it a tight squeeze, taking in a deep breath. “It’s ours.”

You look up at him, a trail of a tear down your cheek. “Because I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” a bright smile grows behind your wet eyes. “And I’m really hoping it’s forever, or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.” You actually laugh, and so does he, pooling eyes and all.

“You’re stuck with me. I love you.”

With those words, it was like the past five years of being alone became all worth it. All the lonely nights, all the predictive mornings, and the dune of a civilian life he was leading came crashing down on him because he knew a new one was dawning. Still civilian, but now, he has someone to put all the love he has to offer into. All his fears, all his insecurities, it all dissolved. The label of your relationship was blurry, uncertain if this was the kind of thing you entertained for only a bit and never spoke of again or something worthwhile. If last night wasn’t a confirmation of the answer, then this moment was, marking it as the official beginning of a romantic, exclusive, official relationship.

“I love you. I love you. Te amo. Te quiero. I love you. I love you… I love you…” his soft declarations are muffled in kisses on any spot he could get to. All those fantasies he’s conjured in his mind where you two live together, share a life, make a life… or two… or three… or however many you’re willing to carry, he doesn’t care, all of those scenarios now seem like promises. Like a nearby reality. Solitary nights dreaming about you in ways that leave him hot and bothered will finally come to an end. On a more suggestive note, He’ll finally be able to get through class without raging hard-ons again.

“I love you.” You manage to breathe out between kisses. Arms wrap around the back, hands wrap around the neck, fingers rake through tussles of hair, and legs begin to lose balance and find their way to the edge of Miguel’s desk. Visions become blurred, ears begin to grow hot, and heart rates quicken with beats large enough to feel on each other’s chests. You two are much too deep in it that you don’t hear the creaking of the wood underneath you. “Yes. Please.” Miguel hears your whisper, moving his head to look you in the eye. “You mean…?” He asks gently, to which you nod, repeating your plea. Without much thinking, Miguel taps your thigh. This was it. Miguel didn’t hear you say the exact words, but he knew. He knew what you were saying yes to. You, much less thinking, instinctively raise your leg, allowing Miguel to prop you onto the desk. “I love you. So much, it’s crazy, Miguel. God, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” You mewl in his ear, and in return, Miguel, with softly knitted brows, lets out a pathetic groan. Miguel may be quiet in everyday life, but when it came to the two of you, alone, he wasn’t afraid of being vocal about what he liked, and right now, with what you’re saying plus your legs wrapping securely around his waist seemed to have both an audible and physical effect on him. A big physical effect.

Is this the right spot to do this right now? Couldn’t y’all get in trouble? Was this even a good time?

These are questions that a sane person would probably think of, but with the current circumstances, you simply couldn’t give a damn, let alone Miguel. Even if you tried, you don’t think you would’ve even had enough brain wattage to string a single thought with Miguel touching you like this. However, if you had the luxury of logic, you’d know that:

1. Getting in trouble isn’t of concern since faculty are either at home starting the Summer they’ve been so impatiently waiting for, and students are at home doing the same or at the stadium.

2. Given that the ceremony won’t start until another 2 hours from now, it’ll give you both plenty of time. The traffic would’ve been dreadful anyway, so might as well just show up at the last minute.

3. What better place than here… where you two met.

You breathe heavily along with Miguel, “Remember… the first meeting… I sat right in front of this desk,” Miguel makes an effort to listen, but he’s currently too occupied with straining his hard-on against your heat, “Mm-oh…now look at us.” your breathless voice and coquettish smirk goes straight to Miguel’s cock, the feeling of his pants shrinking in size making him hot all over. Trapping your lips between his over and over again. You're pretty much without oxygen at this point, but you don’t care, it feels amazing. His teeth on your lips, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass deeper against his length. Your fingers tugged onto his now disheveled curls and he whined. He whined.

“Mama, you don’t wanna know how many times I’ve imagined this moment. Fuck, am I dreaming again?” His words hit your skin like the thick air after a calm rain.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him from your neck, and you’re met with a lust-drunken, devoted worshipper; a big man that’s been stricken of sex for far too long. In doing so, you notice the ribbon still in your hand, which knocks a bit of sobriety back into you. It’s almost like Miguel read your mind because the same alarm goes off in his head. With that, the two of you are quick to mend one tiny problem.

Miguel, still between your legs, reaches over to lower any pictures he has of Gabriella, faced down on the shelf. As for you, you stash the ribbon safely in a drawer right behind you. Gabriella shouldn’t be present for this.

Capturing you in a kiss again, your hand ends up untucking his shirt, resting on his stomach, your fingers caressing his skin. He huffs, slightly tickled by your soft touch along his belly. The corner of his lip curves into a dorky smirk as you sneak your hand into the waistband of his slacks and boxers, pushing past his dark happy trail. “Oh fuck. Haven’t been touched like this in so long,” The clank of his belt buckle rings in your ears, making you pulsate, “I need you. So fucking badly.”

“Keep talking. Please.” You murmur, unbuttoning his shirt, unveiling a plethora of chest hair covering a body fit to raise your future children.

“So lonely, honey… miss you every night when I come home. Miss you so much in the mornings, it hurts.”

Once his shirt is on the floor, with hands and eyes, you revel in all his glory: six feet and nine inches of caramel deliciousness, coated in equal parts of muscle and fluff. You could come undone just from this sight.

His hand holds your chin with a soft caress of his thumb, “I used to look a lot better back then. I’ll work on it.”

You pull him down by his neck to eye level in protest. “Don’t you dare change a single thing on this body. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. Finest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Oh, that made his dick twitch. Your free hand wraps around his broad shoulders while the other is in his hair, smashing faces. Miguel, with no hesitation, swipes everything off the desk and instantly pushes you onto your back, his soft husky exterior pressing you against the cold wood. Tongues are down throats. He stutters as his dick twitches, “Tell me I can eat you out.” The question and tone of voice alone make your back arch. You kiss even deeper, tongues intertwining as he moans in your mouth.

“God, yes, please, Mig, please-”

He gives a vicious squeeze to your ass, reminding you of his pure strength, “That’s not what I want. Usa tus palabras, mamita.” Your begging makes his cock ache, but he needs to hear the words. He needs to know you want this as much as he does. He needs your permission.

Your top lip curls before you speak again through hooded eyes, “Professor,” the name catches him off guard, “please… fuck me with your mouth.”

You were playing a dangerous game. Before you was a sexually deprived middle-aged man who’d been silently pining for you since day one, and you were begging him to treat your cunt like a 5-star meal. Having a gorgeous girl like you pleading for him to tongue fuck you like you deserved, it was driving him crazy. He wasted no time going down to the most sacred corner of this divine body.

“Funny… I zipped this up not even half an hour ago.”

“Hey, hey, careful, I still have a ceremony to wear this to.”

You had a point. And as if you were a gift, he bunches the fabric high enough to reveal some panties he’d recently given you. If it wasn’t for him wanting to last for both hours until the ceremony, he would’ve came right then and there. He looks at you with darkened eyes, a gaze intense enough to strip the cockiness from you, your cheeks growing hot from the act, “What? I assumed this was gonna happen later-”

Miguel cuts your sentence short with a French kiss to your clit through the thin lace, the combination of his nose, tongue, and breath on your heat making your thighs shake. “ So wet… you always this wet during class? Fuck.” With how Miguel was moaning and groaning against your sensitive skin, you’d assume he got more pleasure in giving you head than you did receiving it. Your hand darts for his scalp, the other holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life once he hooks the panty with his finger to move it out of the way, pursuing even more thirstily now. The wood creaks with each buck of your hips, but with the way Miguel’s arms hold your weight on his wide shoulders effortlessly, it doesn’t phase you. Breathless prayers of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the table. You can feel the bundle in your core form as your whimpers turn to wails.

“Mig, s’good, feels so good. I’m close, pleasepleaseplease-”

Meanwhile, his eyes were practically to the back of his head, hips pathetically bucking to the matching rhythm of your hips as he took turns treating your clit like a lollipop and your entrance like a fleshlight. “M’gonna- aw fuck… voy a cuidarte, mamita, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” you hear through a whine before his tongue is back at it again. His hands take turns squeezing your thighs tighter around his head and occasionally using his forefingers to stimulate your sensitive bud. His glasses start to fog, and his eyes are covered by humid lenses. This was starting to obscure his perfect view of you and your euphoric expressions, and he just couldn’t have that. So, he pulled away for only a millisecond just to basically rip them off and he was right back to devouring your weeping cunt. There’s no way he was missing this.

You’re choked whines signify the peak, your body trembling uncontrollably. This will be the first of many, and he’s only getting started. When the man promises to take care of you, he’s gonna take care of you.

He spends the remainder of your climax lovingly rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, making sure you ride it out all the way to the very end.

“Good, baby? You okay?” he purs back into your ear, tenderly caressing your thighs and planting gentle kisses of reassurance on your face. You nod with half-lidded eyes, catching your breath before replying ‘yes’.

“Tell me what you want, mama.”

“Fuck me, professor. Please?”

“Say that again.”

You look at him above you, your legs pulling his waist closer so that his aching length meets your pulsing core, “Please, I want you to fuck me, professor.” Whilst maintaining eye contact, Miguel reaches down to put your hand on the bulge. “Look what you do to me.” Your theory of his size is confirmed.

“This what you wanted?”

“Need it.”

“C’mere.”

Miguel sits you up, telling you to relax since ‘he’ll do all the work’. He carries you to his office couch. He plops onto the cushions with you straddled on his lap. While he has your tongue entwined with his, he releases his cock from the restraints of his boxers, the base erects against his lower belly. Not wanting to waste another second, although the view of it was mesmerizing, you sit up on your knees to line yourself up with him, but Miguel sits you back down, “No hay prisa, mamita, need to get you ready, but first,” His hand snakes to the back of the zipper, and the dress unveils, “Need to see all of you, beautiful.” you seem to knock the air out of him as he lets his hands explore you, your breasts the perfect hand full. “You’re so fucking hot.” He even looks up for a moment and thanks God for blessing him with someone like you, making you look down at the endearing gesture.

Your body goes limp once he laps at your chest, sucking and pulling like it was his first meal in ages. The feeling of his tongue circulating your hardened buds made you clench around nothing. He has you in a bear hug, front sides pressed against each other. The small room seems to disappear around the two of you, totally forgetting where you are, in both space and time. It’s just you, Miguel, and the beautiful sounds of pure, raw pleasure.

“Mig, wanna make you feel good, too.”

Miguel unwillingly pulls away, only half-hearing what you said, and not given even a chance to process. You’ve already positioned yourself on your hands and knees next to him on the couch. Kitten licks and tender sucks to the tip send Miguel’s head falling against the back of the couch. You know he’s needing more when his hips buck upward, and you’re more than willing to give it to him. Occasionally, you’d rest your head against his stomach chub to give him a few rewarding strokes, admiring his size, just to let it sink back into your hollowed mouth. You managed to get Miguel growling, hoarse moans spilling from his bitten lips as you tend to his stiffened cock that you’ve daydreamed of tasting.

“Baby, please, slow down, not gonna last long.” But it was no use. You were relentless on his aching manhood. The only way to get you to go easy on him was to reach over your ass and pump his fingers into you, so that’s exactly what he did. You whine with his tip in the back of your throat, but you’re able to still keep him in. To Miguel’s hopes, you do slow down, the mutual pleasure putting both of you in sync.

“Let’s come together, mamita, hm? Can I put another one in, baby?”

He takes your eye contact as a cue to put in a third, thick finger, eliciting a high-pitched moan against his veiny shaft. Having both ends of you completely filled was, in all honesty, a bit overwhelming, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt. There’s no one else you would’ve rathered have you like this than your Mig.

His fingers get faster, and your strength to keep his cock inside is dwindling, but for him, you try, nonetheless.

“That’s it, mamita, that’s it…” His fingers are unbelievably fast at the point, droplets sent flying and falling onto the fabric of the couch. That’s something he’ll worry about later, but right now, his goal was to get you absolutely fucked out and coming all over his hand. Unable to hold it anymore, you free him from your mouth, letting yourself cry and whine freely as he finger fucks your second orgasm out of you. Still determined to have him come with you, you pump him with your hand as you ride off your high on his hand. Miguel wants to praise you, but his panting and mewling get in the way. You had this gentle giant making what would be considered embarrassing noises, but symphonic music to your ears. At the first sign of his juices, you place him back into your mouth, but this time, he holds your hair and fucks up into your mouth in short, fast, desperate thrusts until he’s finished.

You don’t even let him have a moment to breathe once you start kissing up his happy trail and to his stomach; what once was a pack of abs has given way to pudge. You kiss a little higher, giving his pec a gentle lick where it’s most sensitive, making him sharply inhale as a result. They proceed to the valley of his pecs, up his neck, to his jaw, and cheek. If Miguel still had doubts in the back of his mind about your love for his body, they’ve vanished now.

Your lips meet now, and various soft ‘I love you’s’ are exchanged.

“Just want you to sit back n’ relax now, mami. Wanna see that gorgeous face,” Holding onto your head and lower back, he carefully lays you on the couch, “Can I?” The gentle dominance this man radiated was good enough to make you already contemplate marriage. The expression on his face reflected utter devotion and praise. You thought his kind were only written in books.

“Of course, professor. Gotta repay you for all those private sessions.” Even after two orgasms, you still had to keep the cliche going. Miguel was unable to help a small chuckle. He had no problem playing right along, though. “You made it so hard to focus in class, you know that?” His voice is dark and low, a stark contrast to the noises he was making just a minute ago. He speaks while spreading your legs like precious artifacts, lining himself up. Finally.

“Sitting there all gorgeous n’ smart. Drove me insane.” He whispers into your ear, his leaking tip making a connection to your entrance. “And then having the audacity to help your classmates? How dare you have a heart just as beautiful.” He kisses you while sliding inside, muffling your gasp.

He tuts against your mouth, “Yo se, bebita, me too…mmnnshit,” His hand caresses your hair in an effort to soothe at least some tension, “I’ll go slow, mama, m’kay? Gonna take care of y- oh fuck,” His forehead presses against yours, his free hand holding onto yours as he slowly slides in and out, gauging how deep you can take him. The stretch induces a euphoric pain, causing you to squeeze his hand, but he squeezes right back, your cunt sucking him in all too well.

Miguel starts to go stupid once he’s halfway in. The sensation has him beginning to babble, choked words coming out in a gentle lull.“Que rico…Feel good, mamita? It’s okay mama, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you.” He talks delicately as he continues to go in and slowly draw out with only half of himself, just to be sure you're warmed up enough for all of him. Your eyes are closed, trying to focus on breathing, but it only makes it more difficult. It worries Miguel. “Too much, baby? I’ll stop.” And just as he’s about to pull out, you use your other hand that was clinging onto the arm of the chair to stop him, “Nonono, please,” He lowers himself, still connected, “Need you, Mig. Please, keep going, don’t stop.” You beg, the undeniable need in your voice making Miguel go weak. He puts all his weight on you, cautiously going all the way inside. When he gets as deep as he possibly can, his tip kissing you right in the perfect spot, he pecks your forehead before telling you, “You look so pretty taking it, beba.”

Miguel’s words are slurred as he begins fucking you, thick fingers playing at your clit as he does. He can’t help but prop himself on his elbow just to get a look of himself going in and out of you, the slick sounds and what looks like a bulge of his cock sending him into insanity, driving him to go desperately faster. He gets lost in the way every time he pumps in, he creates a hill in your stomach. You look down, too, seeing what he’s seeing, and it only makes his name fall from your mouth embarrassingly loud, as well as telling him how good he feels and how much you love him, every syllable coming out with pure verity.

Not now since you’re too busy getting amazingly fucked, but later on, you’ll surely think about how good of stamina Miguel has for his age. He should’ve been tired by now, but the man was rutting and there was no sign of him slowing down anytime soon. When his mouth wasn’t latched onto yours, he’d speak nonsense to you. He’d let out long, exasperated ‘Yes’s’ into your ear, unafraid to let his unfiltered noises fill the room. When he knew he was being too rough, he’d slow his thrusts until he was dragging his dick in and out of you, pumping ever so slowly and lovingly. It was then he’d be able to coherently form sweet words of nothings, “I’m obsessed with you. Wanna keep you like this forever.”

Whether he was going rabid or making sweet love, Miguel still made sure to hold your hand through it all.

He can feel himself coming soon. As if he needed to be deeper into you, he only stops for a nanosecond to bring your knees over you, pressing you even deeper into the couch, so as to better ram your already abused pussy. Your panting heightens in pitch. “Right there, sweetheart? Aww Fuck, there it is.” His big, strong hands hold your knees in place where they frame your head. Your bodies are sweaty, only enhancing the lewd sounds of his hips smacking your ass with each thrust. When your pussy flutters around him, it makes his eyes roll back. He’s already made you orgasm twice by now, getting his juices all over you, but he needs more. “I can’t stop.” He stammers through a slack jaw.

“Mig…dunno if I c-can… going-”

He slows down his rhythm, hands cupping your face to make eye contact, “Baby, please, gimme one more, just one more. Promise.”

With a nod of your head, he buries you in his arms, his face in your neck, body on body, leaving no space between you, and he rams into you like no tomorrow, luring one last orgasm from you. The way the curve of his belly and muscles rubbed against you was the icing on the cake. You feel Miguel getting closer with the way he moans into the crook of your neck. You are, too.

The dam breaks loose with an outcry of his name, to which Miguel lifts his head to kiss your tears as you peak, his own following right behind. Once it starts to descend, a rain of butterfly kisses fall on your face, “I’ve got you, sweetie,” he coos, “I love you so much… mamita,” he gently calls to get your attention, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You at least accomplish a weak smile, requiting the love with a kiss to his swollen lips.

There was no need to rush, so the two of you just lay there, embracing each other.

“Miguel,”

“Hm?” He hums against your skin.

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale.”

“Me too.”

6:49 PM.

You don’t know how, but in one hour, Miguel and you were able to go back to your place, shower (separately. You two knew a joint shower would’ve most definitely led to other things.), redo your makeup, fix your and Miguel’s hair, and leave to the stadium with moderate traffic. You look in the passenger seat mirror for the last touch-ups.

“Praying I don’t trip on that stage. If I do, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll happily take the blame.” He gives your thigh a small squeeze, in which you glare at him in return. The shit-eating grin on his face still made you smile, though.

You sit in your assigned seat among a sea of students, dawning the traditional cap and gown, with numerous achieved stoles and ropes around your neck, but only one stands out from them all, and one that you consider your best achievement: Gabriella’s Blue Ribbon.

You look down at it, giving it a little tug to straighten it out. You look up to search for Miguel in the enormous mass of seats, but it isn’t too hard. All you had to do was find the freakishly tall man with glasses, and when you do, you smile at him. As subtly as possible, he mouths ‘I love you’, and you do it back. You think to blow him a kiss, but given the situation, you also think it better not to in public. You still don’t have that degree in your hand, and you can’t risk anything, especially not when you’re so close. But trust, the second that piece of paper is in your hand, Miguel is all yours, no shame attached.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entirety of waiting for your name to be called, and once it is, you feel you could cry. You walk across the stage, a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment filling you to the brim. Miguel watches on, a prideful expression on his face. You shake hands with a few faculty members, some you grew to love and will cherish, some you secretly wished would accidentally fall through a manhole, before you get to the dean, who currently holds your degree in their hand. You’re congratulated once it’s in your hand, the feeling of two very difficult years weighing down on your hand. It feels good. Smiling ear-to-ear, you look out into the audience as you walk across, degree facing outward for the whole stadium to see because one thing for sure is that everyone in the establishment will know that you did that. Your smile shines like a thousand stars, at least to Miguel. His heart could explode with how much love and awe he feels for you. Heaven knows he tried to make a new life for himself by putting the Spider-Man title to rest, and though he was successful, he was still missing a piece of himself. In this moment, he’s thanking you for taking a chance on him; for letting a different man, a happy man, come out for a while, and hopefully, for the rest of his life.

And that’s where he sits now, in the car, waiting for you in the parking lot. Prior to the ceremony, it was agreed that Miguel would slip away just a couple of minutes early (basically skip the dean’s farewell speech) so that you and Miguel could beat the crowds and go celebrate wherever he had planned for you. Hoards of crying mothers and cheering students catch his attention. It must’ve ended. It only takes a moment for him to pick you out from the crowd, immediately exiting the car to open the passenger door for you.

“Congratulations, mi vida.” He calls out, leaning against the car.

Elated, you crash into him, arms around his neck, legs lifted in the air, and you kiss him. You pull away with a joyous mwah.

You both retreat into the car. “You helped, my cute lil geneticist.” Giddiness beams from your voice. You reach over the center console to cup his chin and squeeze it, puckering his lips to kiss him again and again. This makes him chuckle. He may be older and bigger in every sense of the word, but at the end of the day, he is and always will be your dork. Your teddy bear.

“I just taught you a few formulas. This was all you, mama,” he starts the car but glances at you for a second. “What?” You tilt your head.

“I wanna thank you.”

“For what?” Every time Miguel opens his mouth, you’re reminded of what a lottery win you’ve made. You grab his hand to hold it up to your heart; the same spot where Gabriella’s ribbon is pinned.

“For loving me. The way you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me.”

His brows furrowed, his lips curled into a soft smile. He notices the blue ribbon. He caresses one of its tails, and a few of his heartstrings pull at the sight. He knows that if Gabriella were there, she would’ve been the loudest in the stands. “Wish she could’ve been here.”

You press his hand against your heart.

“She is.”

Miguel has told you so much about her that at this point, she feels like yours, and you feel that she’s there. You know with your whole heart that she is.

You both share one more tender kiss before Miguel pulls out of the lot.

“Well, it’s official. I am no longer your student. How do you feel about that?” you smirk, relaxed in your assigned seat; your rightful throne as passenger princess.

“Speaking of which, I hope you know that that degree is for decoration purposes from this day forward.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re quite the comedian today, huh?”

“You think I’m kidding? I want you home 24/7, you hear me? In the kitchen, an apron and all. I’m dead serious.” The sarcastic tone in his voice sends you chuckling through the nose.

“I’ll stay home and be your housewife if you give me a perfect score, how about that?”

“Deal.”

“Ok, no, but seriously, baby, please score my paper accurately.”

“Of course, beba. Just jokes. I’m kidding about the staying-home thing, too. You can do whatever you want,” He looks over at you at a red light, “Just as long as you always come back home to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You two snuggle in Miguel’s bed after a nice dinner celebrating you. The sheets are warm and soft, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth and softness of Miguel’s body on yours; skin to skin. You’re both entangled and nude, having just had another (or a few) rounds of passionate love. Sleep looms over both you and Miguel, a little heavier on you. You’re quickly learning that Miguel does not have the endurance of an average man.

Knowing how much you loved his speaking voice, he decided to finish and read aloud to you Pride and Prejudice, a book you recommended to him and has become a new favorite of his. A king of aftercare. How more perfect can he be?

Miguel, seeing your eyes grow heavy, kisses your temple and smiles before starting again, “ ‘I love you. You have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.’” He recites the notorious line written by Austen, but not for the sake of reading aloud anymore, no. This line was directed to you. And only for you.

“And I love you.” You whisper back.

And for the first time in much more than just 5 years, Miguel didn’t have to go to bed alone. And he won’t have to ever again.

Miguel hasn’t thought about the canon theory in a very, very long time, but a fleeting thought went through his mind before drifting away:

If going through everything that he had to, may it be the day his genetic makeup was altered, the spider-verse, Gabriella, trading in the suit for a life of solitude, everything; Despite the pain, if it all had to happen in order to have met you.

Then it’ll all have been worth it.

<3 Tags <3

@mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni @shaquilles-0atmeal @nina-from-317 @exoticb-utters @sugurusyndrome @aphinthestars

A/N: Fav chapter I've ever written. It was made with love <3 Really hoped you guys enjoyed it <3 n thnx sm for sticking around even if I made y'all wait so long 😭 love youuuuuuuu‼️ MWAH!!!

[macfrog]

the beginning and the end | masterlist

alpha!joel x omega!reader | ao3

some secrets are meant to be kept. tucked safely under your mattress. plugged by years of medication and conditioning. sealed by a sweet smile, fingers crossed behind your back. some secrets are just waiting. waiting for someone, flannel-clad and a southern charm, to come along and set them free.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading. this series features adult content.

series warnings: alpha/omega dynamic (heats, ruts, nesting, knotting, etc.), soulmate shit, protective & possessive!joel, social hierarchy, difficult parental relationship, smut, angst, fluff. as series progresses, there may be more warnings added.

follow @macfroglets to be the first to know 🤍

main series

one : the end

two : the alpha

three : the omega

four : the beginning

[bulgingforbucky]

When You Don't Push, He Pulls

NSFW Warning: Car sex, Comfort sex, Crying, Unprotected sex Bucky Barnes x afab!reader Word count: 2814 Summary: You've been stressed for days and Bucky wants to help you. Uhh well, this was gonna be a more... rough fic but I was listening to the neighborhood (alleyways specifically) and it got me into my feelings 🧍🏾‍♀️I shouldn't have taken this much time to write this.

Opening the door to the car you put your things in the back seat before closing the door and opening the front door. You get in the car closing the door before your eyes meet with Bucky's soft ones before it turns into concern. A raspy soft "Hi," comes from you greeting him while his fingers drum on the steering wheel. "Hey," he responded hearing the tone along with your nibbling on your lip as soft music plays in the background. Bucky knows you've been having a rough couple of days, you're a strong woman you can take a lot of things but it is constant, anyone could break under the stress.

Thinking to himself, he could either stay quiet and act like everything is alright. Eventually, time will only know when your feelings will start to unfold on their own. The other option is he could talk to you now asking how your day was and if you are ok. Ninety percent of the time if he asks if you're ok knowing that you're not will cause you to cry right there. He doesn't want to see you cry, but he has told you countless of times to stop bottling everything up. That's rich coming from him. His hand meets your back as he slowly comforts you hearing a sigh emerge from you.

"I didn't have a good day," you admit as your eyes become glossy looking down. Bucky looks at you before he grabs your hand squeezing it, "It's ok to have a bad day." You nod, "I guess," your voice strains as you resist crying, but tears roll down your face regardless. "Hey c'mere," Bucky whispers pulling you over to him and sitting you onto his lap adjusting his seat back. His arms embrace you hearing your sniffles, he rocks you side to side slowly while staying silent.

"I'm tired and my heart hurts," you whisper to him sniffling softly feeling defeated. Your body and mind are tired; everything is making you tired. A tingle is felt underneath your hot skin from Bucky's hand rubbing your back tugging on your shirt feeling the heat come from you. "Everything is fine you're ok, don't think about anything, it's only you and me." He whispers to you turning on the air to cool you down as well as turning up the music just a little.

"Just listen to the music," he suggests as he holds you against him. Listening to his advice, you listen to the music breaking it down from the tempo to the vocals and beat. You tend to not focus on your breathing as it'll just make your heartbeat faster, so instead you listen to Bucky's. Your eyes blink slowly as a tear falls from your eye traveling over your nose to your other cheek. The ache in your heart grows slightly causing you to cling to Bucky while he constantly rubs and pats your back to help you.

It's just us. It always is.

Bucky's voice is low as he hums the lyrics to the song causing your mind to relax. This isn't the first time this has happened; he has done this plenty of times for you. The last time he did this was a week ago. Bucky has a calming voice, it's smooth and raspy but it can be soothing to anyone. Leaning forward towards you, his expression is soft as you look into his blue eyes. Reaching out to you he slowly wiped the tears off your cheek before placing soft kisses on your wet skin. A sigh escapes you at his caring actions leaning into his touch yearning for more of what he has to offer. And what does Bucky Barnes have to offer you?

Everything.

Pulling away from you he takes in your tear-stained face before you hesitate to lean in brushing your lips against his. He kisses you softly feeling you relax against him; his metal hand holds the back of your neck in a soft firm grip. A soft whimper comes from you getting overwhelmed by your boyfriend's touch and just him in general. You feel his tongue swipe the bottom of your lip making you slightly part your lips for him. The feeling of his warm wet tongue enters your mouth, and you can't help but moan at the feeling.

The heat in your bodies start to rise as the seconds go by. You pull away from him panting softly feeling him place a kiss on your chin. "Want more?" He asks slowly in a whispered tone just as he analyzes your expression before he presses a kiss to your nose. Fear immediately strikes you making you look around at your surroundings, "Buck someone is going to see us." The possibility of getting caught is something you do not feel like dealing with right now. "No one is going to see us," Bucky tells you confidently reassuring you to soothe your worries.

"And how do you know that?" you scoff at his comment.

"Look around," he says somewhat bluntly as you look at your surroundings.

The windows are tinted, and it's dark outside.

"Oh," you mumble hearing a chuckle coming from him. "So, do you want me to continue, or do you want me to drive us back home, and when we get to our room, I can give you a bubble bath. We can relax and I can give you a massage, whatever you want," He caresses your thigh as he throws out that suggestion. "Well, why can't we continue and then do what you said after?" You ask softly before turning your attention from outside to him. He smiles before giving you a nod wanting to boost your mood any way he knows how, "Whatever you want baby."

The dark-haired man presses kisses to your forehead, his big arms that's shown by his rolled-up sleeves wrap around your waist giving you a small squeeze. The kisses transfer to your cheek traveling towards your jaw before he sucks gently. You bite your lip feeling his stubble pressed up onto you in which you grip his shirt. His soft kisses look travels to your neck also making dark marks on your skin. "You smell good doll," his voice muffled as he kissed your neck.

The hem of your shirt gets tugged on causing you to pull away giving him space to take it off. "You sure?" He asks to make sure you're certain about your decision. A nod is given in response as you quickly wipe your tears. He starts to take off your shirt pulling it over your head and putting it in the passenger seat. Small kisses are placed along your chest while his hands find the clasp of your bra unhooking it. The hand of the veteran starts to slide the straps down your shoulder placing a kiss on it as your breasts are revealed to him.

Bucky's thumbs make contact with your nipples rubbing them slowly and making them harden under his touch. He gives your breasts a soft squeeze before leaning down as his mouth slowly latches on one of your nipples. The feeling of the suction from his mouth makes you moan gripping his hair. "Bucky, c'mon please," you arch into his touch desperately wanting more of him. Bucky gives your sensitive nipple a tug with his mouth before he pulls off you, "What do you want baby?"

"I need more, please?" You beg desperately squirming a little in your lap. He chuckles at your tone, "Don't worry, I got you," his fingers fiddle with the button of your pants following the action by unzipping them. You lift your hips while his hands pull down the waistband of your pants and underwear as he pulls them off your legs one by one. Your pants are thrown to the side before he grips your thighs spreading them slowly making your cheeks get warm. "Don't get all shy on me doll you wanted this," he tenderly exclaims giving you a soft kiss.

Your hand reaches for his flesh one guiding him in between your legs to your clit shyly. He starts to rub your clit making you moan softly feeling the instant tingles planting kisses on your forehead. Your cunt starts to pulse under his touch eager for more making your body temperature rise. His middle finger teases your slit feeling it clench against his finger making him smirk slightly, "I know what you need doll we'll get there I promise." The finger that's pressed against you starts to push against you as your body almost immediately invites him in. Your body starts to get invaded as the motions on your bundle of nerves is continued. A whimper escapes your throat as his finger proceeds to get deeper making your body squeeze around his finger.

Bucky starts to move his hand pumping his digit slowly in and out of your pussy. The feeling of his finger filling you makes your mouth drop open as moans start to escape from you. Your thighs quiver from the feeling, "That's my girl, look at how well you're doing. Such a good girl." Your eyes roll back as he curls his finger pressing it up against your g-spot. Soft mewls are coming from you as he continues his ministrations on your clit and pussy. "I-I can't-" Your breath gets caught in your throat as the feeling of his finger and your clit starts to get overwhelming.

You whine trying to wiggle your hips away from his touch making him stop. His metal hand holds down your hips keeping them in place, "Where are you going huh? If you're acting like this now, how do you expect to take my cock hm?" You rock your hips trying to chase the pleasure he was giving him before you receive a slap on your thigh. "Answer me doll," Bucky demands firmly. "I'll be able to take it, I can take it now. I want it now," you beg for him making him smirk in satisfaction.

He pulls his hand away giving you small kisses on your nose. You get pushed back a little so Bucky can tug down his sweatpants to his thighs revealing his dark grey briefs. A large tent is revealed causing you to lick your lips before you see him palming himself. Soft groans come from him as he touches his aching bulge, you reach down hooking your fingers around his waistband as you tug on them. He chuckles softly before he stops touching himself reaching down in his underwear and pulling his cock out. Your eyes widen slightly seeing his thick veiny cock with a bead of precum seen spurting a little out his tip.

No matter how many times you seen him like this you're amazed every time.

"See what you do to me, sweet girl? You got me all hard and aching for you," he breathes heavily. His cock is held in his hand stroking it slowly as you bite your lip watching the veins pop out. "Bucky, c'mon," you whine impatiently making him laugh at your behavior. You reach out grabbing his hand wanting him to touch you, "I need it." Bucky leans forward connecting his lips to yours kissing you softly, "I know." He grabs your hips lifting you up before positioning his cock in between your folds. He teases you rubbing his tip against you, the slickness of your arousal coats his shaft causing it to twitch.

He pushes his tip in, and your body slowly accepts him as his hands hold your hips still. He continues pushing into you, the stretch makes you gasp slightly feeling the sting as he keeps going. Once he's fully sheathed in you, his flesh hand rests on the back of your head gently, "It's okay, I'm here." Your nails dig into his shoulder blades feeling his lips on your neck, "I can feel you," you whisper to him feeling his length twitch inside of you. Bucky pulls out halfway before thrusting into you making your mouth drop open in a silent moan.

"Fuck," you whimper feeling the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you. His lips trail kisses along your collarbone and jaw, "Feels good doesn't it." You nod in response, and the hand on the back of your head moves to the front of your neck squeezing lightly. Your cunt squeezes him as you're already getting emotional. "I got you, you know I do," he whispers to you placing a kiss on your chin and rubbing you're back. You start to grind down on his cock as your mind starts to daze, the pleasure of his cock fills your mind. His hand on your hip is gripping you hard, and the other remains wrapped around your neck.

You sniffle softly; tears start to pool in your eyes. His metal hand reaches up wiping them away, "I know," Bucky knows everything, he knows what you're feeling. His hands slither down to your ass gripping it softly moving you on your cock. "Bucky," a mewl comes from you as he moves you back and forth on his cock sending a shiver down your spine from the pleasure. He moves a little faster hitting deeper in you making you gasp as he presses his lips onto yours. "Bucky," his name falls from your lips in a whisper once more as he presses his forehead onto yours.

His fingers dig into your hips as you know it will be a bruise there later, "Sweet girl you're stressed I know." Bucky coos giving you kisses on your temple feeling you clench around him. You grip the seat as you whimper feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of you. Moans emerge from you as you grip his dark blue shirt with your other hand your tears staining it leaning more into his chest as if it's your safe place. "Breathe doll," his tone is deep and low as you nod. He pumps his hips slowly enjoying the feeling of being inside of you, "You're my good girl. Taking my cock like this, hm? Such a good girl, my sweet girl I love you so much."

Your moans become louder at his praise, the feeling of his cock filling you up and the words coming out of his mouth has your body melting. Tears fall down your face once again making him wipe them away before he starts to pick up his pace. Your eyes widen as you gasp softly at his faster pace. He grunts lowly, "You feel so good." You start to pant at the new speed he's going, and the sounds of skin slapping and wetness echo through the car as it rocks. The heat in the car rises as both of your bodies are getting hotter. Your hand that's gripping the seat moves to grip the door handle; the window is fogging up due to the heat of the situation. You moan as your body squeezes his cock making him groan.

Everything around you is hazy as your feeling sensitive and vulnerable right now. Bucky's hands touching, caressing, squeezing you all over. You cry out softly as his tip rubs against your sweet spot repeatedly, your breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips as he watches them hungrily. He dives forward sucking on one of your nipples making you let out a high-pitched whine, his teeth graze over it causing the coil in your stomach to tighten.

His metal arm tightens around you as he keeps pumping into you giving you what you need. "Bucky, I'm going to come," you cry out softly, the heat in your abdomen getting too hot for you to handle. "I know, I can feel you. Come for me," his deep voice says against your tit as he pumps his hips making his abs flex. The rush of pleasure goes through your body making you let out a sob as tears fall down your face. Bucky grunts feeling you clench and unclench around him as your release coats his cock; he lets go of your breast and presses his forehead against yours.

You feel his cock twitching inside of you as he continues pumping into you. A growl rumbles from his throat, his metal arm squeezes you as he pushes deep into you as his cock spurts ropes of cum inside of you. Your legs shake from the pleasure, and the sound of his soft groans in your ear has goosebumps appearing on your arms. You lean into him giving him a kiss as he kisses you back holding you to him. He pulls his hips back and slowly his softening cock slides out of you. The sound of a low grunt comes from him as he places his hand on your back giving you one last kiss on your forehead.

[utilitycaster]

the secret to good longform sf writing is you need to know every significant character's favorite food and whether they can cook. this will prevent you from writing something that's like a Plot and Worldbuilding Exploration that fails to include any kind of compelling characters; it also forces you to consider what the world looks like and how the characters act when it is not Time For The Events Of The Story. the second secret to good longform sf writing is you do need to know when to get back to the story. this will prevent you from writing the Redwall series.

[miss-kuki-nz]

Push ups

Roman Reigns x girlfriend reader

Author's Note-This is a dialogue only fic and I'm posting it on Valentine's Day (NZ time) 🥰. So Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate ❤. Gif credit to owners.

Tag list: @there-goes-thefighter @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @madhatterbri

Warning(s)-Dirty Talk, MDNI!!, Not proof read.

Y/N is lying underneath Roman while he is doing push ups on top of her

Y/N: Remind me again why you thought that doing push ups on top of me was a good idea?

Roman: Because you're my motivation baby girl

Y/N: Motivation for your cock to get hard you mean

Roman: You know you love it when I rub my cock against that sweet pussy of yours

Y/N: (Giggles) Oh shut up!

Roman: *Winks down at her* Now be a good girl and let your man workout

Y/N: Yes daddy!

*Minutes later*

Y/N: (Whispers) Ooh right there daddy, right there, yeeees, I love it when you go deep

Roman: (Groans) Y/N I'm trying to workout here but you aint exactly helping with your nasty'

Y/N: It's not my fault that you're practically thrusting your hips like you're actually pounding into me

Roman: *Rolls his eyes*

Y/N: *Grins* I mean if you wanted my pussy so bad daddy, all you had to do was say soo

Roman: *Scoffs* Behave yourself

Y/N: Make me!

Roman: *Growls* That's it we're leavin!

Y/N: But-

Roman: No buts, imma teach your ass a lesson when we get home......