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oharaslove · 2 days ago

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Heyyy

I love your stories so so much

I was wondering if you could do one where reader and Miguel love each other so much but reader moved abroad.

They both stayed in touch getting intimate in the beginning but after a while he started dating readers friend

Reader is devastated when she finds out and distances herself from him.

Theyy reconnect online and they both find out that they’ve been yearning for each other all that time and they have spicy time together over the phone .

They both feel guilty because Miguel is still with readers friend and they decide to speak online every so often because they both genuinely don’t want to be away from each other .

My theory for them is that they’re endgame but life put them apart for a while as a way to learn ( reader is anxiously attached and Miguel is avoidant)

Feel free to freestyle

Thank you 🩷

Hi anon!!! I'm so glad you like my stories!!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I hope that the wait is worth it.

This is so spicy, I like it hehehe. I mean, obviously I don't condone cheating in any way, but like come on. One, we know Miguel is canonically a cheater (comic Miguel I'm looking at you), and Two, girl, what did you expect dating your bf's ex-boyfriend? Honestly, I would lose all respect for my friend if she ever did this, so fuck her hahaha.

Anyway... let's get into it!

Summary: You and Miguel used to date but life pulled you apart. What happens when after not talking for months you two reconnect online? Word count: 6.2k Tags: MiguelxFem!Reader, Miguel O'hara AU, cheater!Miguel O'hara (Reader's friend is a bitch, so whatever), Phone sex Warnings: Cheating (obvs), Masturbation (fem and male), dirty talk all over the place.

✎masterlist✎ ✎AO3✎

𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐

You don’t value what you have until you lose it. That’s what everyone says, right?

Well, in the same way, you don’t realize how much you love someone until he is more than 5,000 kilometers away. How your heart yearns for him, getting goosebumps in your skin when you remember how he used to touch you. Kiss you.

But, can all that love survive distance? Time differences? Can a person madly in love, with the need to hold its partner close every chance they have, keep going back to the person who constantly avoids them?

You and Miguel were highschool sweethearts. You loved him with all your heart, and you knew he loved you too. You just… had different ways of expressing it.

While you were always trying to be by his side, shower him with love and appreciation, Miguel sometimes avoided you. Not entirely. Is not like he would see you in a corridor and pass right through you without even saying ‘Hi’, but more in the way of you wanting to spend every free time you had together, while he preferred other things.

You always wondered why it was, but after learning about his upbringing, everything became clear. Miguel didn’t think he was capable of love, he never thought he deserved it. Deserve you.

You understood, or at least tried to. Although, it didn’t help that Miguel wasn’t communicative. If you thought you weren’t capable of being loved, you would like the other person to show you that you were wrong, that it was okay. That you could be appreciated. Loved. Be taken care of.

But Miguel…. Well, it worked out, you don’t know how, but you two worked out. You didn’t want to leave him, because you loved him, and he didn’t want to leave you because, even though he always thought you deserved better, he was selfish. He wanted you, and no one else could have you.

Everything came tumbling down when you graduated. Miguel and you were the best of your class. While he decided to stay in Nueva York and continue his studies in Alchemax school, you had other plans.

No one knew about them, not even Miguel. With how possessive but at the same time avoidant that he was, you didn’t want to tell him.

You wanted, no, needed this. It was your dream, and even though you loved your boyfriend and would trust him with anything, you felt like letting him know would bring to a stop your plans. Sour them and your mood. And even… your relationship.

Of course, that happened eventually.

You got what you wanted. To study abroad. Oxford had given you the opportunity to have an interview with them, and you took it. You didn’t expect anything from them, didn’t think you would hear back from college, but you did.

You got in, but at what cost?

It was mid June. You were hanging out with Miguel when you got the call. You two were having a picnic in Central Park, the last few places with green in the stoic city. Your head was laying in his chest, his arms around you. The last time you had felt them hold you, the last time you had felt his warmth against your body.

You didn’t recognize the number, but you answered anyway, having a gut feeling that it was important. You sat up, your attention fully on the caller. Miguel watched you, his face puzzled.

“Yes, yes, thank you!” you said excitedly. “I’ll be there. Thank you again for the opportunity.”

You hung up the phone smiling. You could feel happy tears in your eyes.

“Job offer, preciosa?” guessed Miguel, reaching to play with your hair.

Right! Miguel. He didn’t know.

“I–” you bit your lip. “Not exactly”

“So…. college?”

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah… umm” you looked down, playing with the hem of your shirt. “It… it was Oxford. I.. I got in” You looked to the side, avoiding his gaze.

You could feel Miguel’s stare in the side of your face. A minute went by, neither of you spoke or moved. The air was thick, you were finding it hard to breathe. You knew that hell would break loose at any moment.

“Oxford?” Miguel said in disbelief, sitting up slowly. Resting his body weight on his arms.

Here we go…

“Yes.”

“Oxford?!” Miguel said louder. “As in Oxford, England?”

You pressed your mouth shut. Your silence was enough to answer the question.

“I can’t believe you” Miguel stood up in a second, turning his back to you. You still didn’t dare to look at him.

You could hear Miguel muttering words in Spanish. Some you couldn’t decipher, but they were mostly curses, which you didn’t know if they were directed to you.

Miguel ran his hand through his hair. He turned around.

“You are moving abroad?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me. If you have the guts to leave me behind, at least have the balls to stare at my face.”

You didn’t move.

“Look at me!” he shouted with.. Fury? Disbelief? Betrayal? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to find out.

You looked at him reluctantly. Tears pricking your eyes.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” he said, greeting his teeth, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare cry. You are the one leaving.”

You stood up, anger now bubbling inside of you.

“Yes, and what?”

“And what?!”

“Yes, what?” you repeated. “You knew this was my dream. Or you would have if you cared.”

“You think I don’t care?”

“Sometimes it feels like that”

“Well, I do care. You aren’t leaving.” he stated.

“Excuse you?!”

“You heard me” he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“That is not your decision to make. This is my life. Mine,” you pointed to your chest. “Not yours” you shoved your index finger in his chest.

“I’m your boyfriend. Don’t I have a say in this?”

“Did I have a say in your college decision? No! So you don’t either”

“That’s not even fair! I stayed in Nueva York, you are leaving!” he grabbed the sides of his head, as if not believing you are arguing against him. “And I’m not talking about leaving the state. You are leaving the country!”

You bit your lip. He had a point, and you knew it.

“We can work things out” You mumbled, searching for his eyes. Those beautiful brown orbs you learned to love.

“Work things out…?” he repeated slowly. “Work things out” he left out a sarcastic laugh turning around and running a hand through his face. “And how do you expect us to do that, huh?”

“I don’t know, but–” you stammered.

“You don’t know,” he laughed again. He placed his hands on his hips, giving you a full view of his back muscles. “So much for someone who got into Oxford”

“What’s that supposed to mean”

“Nothing. Forget it. Forget me for that matter” Quickly he turned around and grabbed his jacket from the floor, putting it on.

“Miguel, wait!” you begged. “Let’s talk about this. Please!”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You already decided for the both of us. Goodbye” He grabbed the rest of his things and left, and you just stared as his figure became smaller and smaller, walking towards the horizon.

Your feet were glued to the floor, you couldn’t move. You looked at the spot where he had just been for what felt like hours, before crumbling down to the floor, crying. Tears came down like a river, wetting your cheek and running down your jaw. Sobs broke out of your mouth. You curled in a ball on the floor, clutching your stomach.

What have you done?

The next few weeks after the fight with Miguel went by in a blur. You wished you could say that with all the packing and planning you weren’t thinking of Miguel, but that would be a lie. Everything reminded you of him. His clothes in your closet, the gifts he made you through the years that you always kept, pictures, memories. Everything.

You thought that Oxford was all you ever wanted, but… your heart was aching for Miguel. You wanted to call him, cry, beg him for a chance to make things right. If you had told him from the beginning, would things have turned out differently? You hoped so.

You knew Miguel loved you, and he would understand. But you did things wrong, and you couldn’t blame him for avoiding you; for being angry and feeling betrayed. Hell, you would probably feel the same if things were the other way around. Though, you also needed him to answer one of your calls. You yearned for him.

You wanted to hear his voice, at least one last time before leaving.

You heard a knock in your front door, but you didn’t pay much attention to it. You knew your mom would answer it, you weren’t expecting anything anyway. So, you carried on packing the things you wanted to take with you to the U.K.

“Darling!” your mom called. “Could you come down for a second?”

You huffed. You knew that if you stopped now, you would take a long rest and not finish till tomorrow. But your mom’s voice seemed urgent, so you decided to go down.

“Coming!” you called, using the back of your hand to clean the sweat on your brow.

You rushed down the stairs, but stopped dead in your tracks seeing the person standing in front of the front door.

“Miguel?” you said in disbelief.

“I’ll leave you to it.” your mom said, sending a smile your way.

You continued going down the remaining steps, slowly this time, eyeing Miguel. You wanted to cry and jump into his arms, but you held back. His body language wasn’t of someone who was happy to see you again. He had his hands in his back pockets, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you answered, scanning his face.

He breathed in and exhaled deeply, brazing himself for the conversation ahead.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted last time, I–” he started.

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I would have reacted the same way. I don’t blame you.”

At that, he met your eyes, and gave you a tight smile.

“Is that all?” you said, hopeful. You hoped he was there to tell you that you could work things out. Yeah, it was a lot of distance, but your love could stand it, or so you thought.

“No, I–” he bit his lip, looking down, shuffling his feet. “I’ve been thinking…”

“About?”

“Us” he stared at you again, his eyes burning holes in your own.

“Us?”

“Yes, I– I thought about what you said. About working things out, and… I don’t know if we can”

Your heart shattered at the words. What, what did he mean? Was he breaking up with you?

“Oh?” you hugged yourself, suddenly feeling cold.

“Is not that I don’t love you. I do!” His arms reached for you, but stopped halfway. He clenched his fists, pressing his eyes shut. “It's because I'm doing this.”

“Doing what? Breaking up?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yes prec–” he cut himself off. “Yes. We will be busy with college and all. Plus the time difference. You will be better off without me.”

You scoffed, you couldn’t believe him.

“You said I was deciding for the both of us,” you looked away. “Looks like you are doing the same”

“It is for the best,” he shifted, looking to meet your eyes. “You need someone to be there for you. I can’t be that someone.”

You sniffled, tears now running down your cheeks. You didn’t even realized when you began crying.

You wiped the tears with the back of your hand. “We can still be friends, right?”

“Of course. We’ll text when we can”

“Okay”

Silence consumed the space between the two of you. You continued staring at the wall, while feeling Miguel’s eyes on you.

“Alright.” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have a safe flight”

“Thanks” you said, kind of bitterly.

Miguel opened his mouth, trying to say something else, but he closed it, without uttering a sound. He turned around, opened the door and left, leaving you there trying to process what just happened.

You’ve been a fool thinking Miguel was going to go with you to the airport to see you off. Your heart had wished, even though your head knew he wasn’t going to show. Your friends were there, telling you what a stupid asshole he was. That you would find a cute, handsome British man in no time and you wouldn’t think about Miguel. Not even for a second.

You wanted to believe them. Laughed at their jokes, at their attempts to make you feel better. But, deep down, you knew Miguel was more than just a mere boyfriend. He was so much more, and you didn’t think you would get over him in a long, long time. And, a selfish part of you, hoped he wouldn’t get over you either. You, foolishly, yearned for the idea of meeting up again. Destiny was going to put you in his path again, and you would live happily forever. It didn’t matter when, just that it would happen.

So, you boarded the plane with that idea in mind. The dream intensified when, before activating airplane mode, you received a text from Miguel.

Miguel ❤️ ---Safe flight

That single text fueling your deep desires.

As Miguel promised, well not promised per se, but agreed, you two texted, when it was possible. Unfortunately, as he predicted, you two were busy. The first month went well, texting and calling almost three times a week. Even… some calls turn into some heated things. Neither of you wanted to address it, but those weren’t friends calls. They were something else.

You didn’t mind though. That was what you wanted. You never wanted to break up, so it was perfect. Still, there was a barrier. You knew Miguel wasn’t your boyfriend, and 90% of the time, you didn’t treat him or talk to him like he was, but during those calls… it seemed like you were back in highschool. Everything was so present, so vivid in your mind.

However, the semester’s became harder. More and more assignments, tests, projects. You could barely keep up with your social life in London, let alone with the few friends you had back in the States. So, the calls were no more. Conversations fell short. Texting from time to time, when you found the time. Sometimes, not even in real time, given the different time zones.

It was no surprise when you had no contact at all with Miguel. You never reached him, and he didn’t try to reach you. You only knew what was happening back home with the occasional story he posted on Instagram.

Your friends kept in contact though. You texted from time to time, and they were more active on Instagram, so you could comment on their posts and reply to their stories. One of them, really sheepishly, told you she was seeing someone. You didn’t understand why at the time, maybe because your break up with Miguel was really fresh, which was nice of her. But she was your best friend, of course you would be happy for her despite your own heartbreak.

You tried to pry information out of her, but she never relented. She was really secretive, which turned on an alarm in the back of your brain, but you trusted her, so you brushed it off.

What you didn’t expect was her hard launching the mysterious man on Instagram. First, the betrayal of not telling your best friend first, before telling the whole world, basically. Secondly, the man was Miguel. Your Miguel.

The Miguel she knew you were still in love with. The same man who broke your heart, who you hoped would never get over you. The love of your life. Tears ran down your cheeks seeing the post. His hands, the same hands that once couldn’t detach themselves from your flesh, were now around her body. His smile was as bright as you remembered, but now looking down at her, with the same look you knew all too well.

He got over you so quickly. Your head couldn’t comprehend why. Your body didn’t know how to feel. Sad. Betrayed. Angry. Everything came crashing down at once. All you could do was block them from every socials, not wanting to say something that you would regret someday.

And so, all your friendships and love from home was gone.

You tried to continue your life like nothing happened, but it was hard. Every time your mom or dad texted you, you were reminded of the things occurring back home. Your mind is wondering how your friend and Miguel were doing. Did he treat her the same way as he did with you? Did he see you when looking at her?

You would be lying if you said those thoughts weren’t consuming you. Draining the little amount of energy you had left after University. You barely went out. Your friends here begged you to go with them to a club. They didn’t know the whole story, but they could sense something was bothering you. And, what better remedy than getting shitfaced and maybe making out with a stranger. That would for sure get your mind off Miguel, or so you thought.

So, you gave it a try one day. Before going to the club, you met up with your friends to get ready, and start drinking, of course. You had never drank before, so after a few shots, you were already tipsy, which wasn’t a good combination with the turmoil of emotions that were bubbling inside of you. Waiting for the moment to come out. Explode.

And they did. Blame it on the alcohol, on the misery, on the jealousy maybe. But your mind had no better idea than unblock Miguel and put him in your close friends list. You never really posted much, but that day you wanted to show everything. And you meant everything. Even the guy… What was his name again? Oh, you didn’t remember, but it really didn’t matter.

You were drunk, but not that much. You really didn’t plan to go back to his place. You just danced with him a little, filming it for your story. What were you looking for? You don’t even know. Is not like you were hoping Miguel would get jealous. No, not at all.

But, you didn’t expect to kiss this guy. He made the move, and you didn’t back away. Your brain was too hazy to react in time. The kiss wasn’t unpleasant, per say, but your mind wandered back to Miguel. How his full lips felt against yours, his taste. And the one you were feeling right now wasn’t his. You pulled back, pushing at his chest, gasping.

“I’m sorry” you said, loudly so he could hear you above the music. You ran out, the club feeling suffocating. You could hardly breathe. Your eyes weren’t able to focus properly. As best as you could, you texted one of your friends, letting them know you were okay.

“This was such a bad idea” you mumbled under your breath, once you had calmed down. The cold air hit your face, getting you out of that foggy state. You groaned, only imagining the hangover you were going to have tomorrow, soured your spirits.

You debated between walking back to your dorm or taking a cab. You weren’t too far off, and the walk could help you clear your head. So you went by foot. You tried to be alert as possible, but everything seemed quiet. Great. More time between you and your confused thoughts. What the hell were you thinking? Maybe that was the issue. You weren’t.

Your train of thoughts was cut off by a notification on your phone. Thinking it was your friends replying to your text or asking where you were, you looked. It wasn’t. It was an Instagram DM from none other than Miguel.

Your feet froze. Fuck.

What were you supposed to do now? You didn’t know why you had unblocked him in the first place. A part of you just wanted to run, block him again and get him out of your life. He deserved it. How dare he date one of your friends?

However, the most sentimental part of your being wanted him back. As you said, he was the love of your life, and part of you still believed it. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You knew that if you answered… there was no going back. For better or for worse.

You opened Instagram, checking your DMs. Miguel had replied to one of the stories of your close friends. It was the one of you dancing with that guy. Ugh, just the thought of his lips against yours made you want to vomit.

The text read: “Hope you had fun”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Were you reading too much into it, or was he jealous? No. No, he couldn’t. Miguel had no right. He was taken. Why would he? But, what if he was? You decided to test the waters.

You “I did! As much as you are having with “

Your fingers froze. Writing her name felt…wrong. So you just settled with:

You “I did! As much as you are having with her” Miguel It isn’t much then

Oh. Oh. He was jealous. You giggled to yourself. This was so wrong, but it felt so right. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as the first day you had talked to Miguel.

You Well… you are right. He was nothing compared to you.

You knew the implications the text had. You just kissed, but you were hoping Miguel thought you had done something else. You were throwing fuel to a fire, and you knew it. But, what could go wrong?

Miguel Unblock me, now. I need to call you.

Shit. You weren’t expecting this.

Give me a second.

You rushed to your dorm. Excitement cursing through your whole body. Could this be one of those calls. The calls you had in September? Where you were just friends, but didn’t behave quite like it. You sure were hoping so.

You fumbled with the keys to your door. Your frenzy state prevented you from functioning properly. You managed to open the door, rushing inside and closing it behind you. You rested your back and head against it, catching your breath. Your chest was going up and down rapidly. You didn’t know if it was from the sprint you just did or the anticipation.

You pulled out your phone, unblocking Miguel’s number.

Just a few seconds later, you saw his name pop up on your screen. He was calling. This was it. You swallowed heavily, sweat running down your neck, sending chills down your spine. Stay calm, you thought, it is just a call.

You answered, placing your phone in your year.

“Hello?” you mumbled.

“Hola preciosa” he said, his voice deep and raspy. It was late in the States too, maybe he was in his bed. Oh, how you wish he was. FUCK.

“Princesa?”

“Oh, yeah…” you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m here”

He chuckled.

“How are you?”

“Fine” You said, trying to sound as normal as possible. Even though you weren’t fine, not at all.

“You sure?” he taunted.

What did he want you to say? No, Miguel, I miss you so so much, every day apart from you is hell. You weren’t going to fall that hard. The tone of his voice made your anger come out. The one emotion you repressed for so long.

“What do you want me to say Miguel? That I’ve missed you?” You spat, probably with more venom that you had intended.

The other end of the line went silent. Good. It gave you time to think. To regain your composure.

You started pacing in front of your bed. Thank god you didn’t have a roommate. This situation would be so uncomfortable to explain.

You could hear Miguel’s thoughts from across the phone. His breathing, how he exhaled from his mouth. He was opening it and closing it for sure, not knowing what to say. You bit your fingernails, waiting. You were about to cry, you could feel the sting behind your eyes. Your lip wobbling.

“I’m an asshole” He stated, breaking the silence.

“This is why you wanted to call?” You laughed. “To tell me things I already know?”

“Yes, No, No!” Miguel hurried. “I… I wanted to hear your voice. I needed it” He finished, barely above a whisper, as too embarrassed to let it out.

“Well, now you have. Bye Miguel”

“Wait! Please,” he cried. “I miss you”

You bit your lip, the words ‘I miss you too’ threatening to escape out. A single tear rolled down your cheek. The dam was about to break. You didn’t know how much more you could stop the inevitable.

“I–” your mouth felt dry. You could sense Miguel at the other end of the line waiting, expecting, hoping you felt the same. “Miguel…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just–”

“I miss you too” you cried, tears running down your face now, the water breaking the barriers. You weren’t even bothering to hide your sniffling and your trembling voice.

“Shhh baby. I didn’t want to make you cry.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled. “I just… I just wish you were here.”

“Me too preciosa”

“You don’t mean that”

“Yes I–”

“No you don’t!” you screamed, probably waking up your neighbours. “You don't,” you repeated softly. “You are with… with her now. She is–”

“Nothing” Miguel finished your sentence for you. “She is nothing compared to you.”

“Then why?”

“I was desperate. Clinging to the thought of you.”

“So you decided to date my friend?”

“I said I was an asshole didn’t I” he laughed, trying to ease the tension.

“You are more than that”

“I know. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Yeah, well. That worked perfectly for you.”

“I’m sorry”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say that. It doesn’t erase what you did.”

“I know”

“So what?” you hugged yourself, feeling vulnerable. “That’s all?”

“No. No it isn’t. There is something else.”

“What?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Where are you?”

You looked around confused. “Why?”

“Just answer”

“My bedroom…?”

“Perfect” You heard some shuffling coming from the phone. “Lay in bed for me, would you?”

What? Why? You were perfectly comfortable talking on your feet. What exactly…

Oh. Oh.

“You said he was nothing like me, right? Well, you must be unsatisfied.”

Realization hit you like a train. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, failing. You giggled excitedly before jumping in bed and getting comfortable, kicking your shoes in the process.

“Someone’s excited”

“Oh shut up, as if you aren’t”

“Never said I wasn’t”

“For the record. I’m not unsatisfied. We didn’t do anything. Well, maybe just a little kiss.”

Miguel growled. Good. You liked teasing him a little.

“He shouldn’t have touched you. Any part of you.”

“Says the man touching someone else.”

“Would you drop that?”

“Would you drop her?” The words escaped your mouth before you could think about what you were saying. You covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide.

“For you?” Miguel asked. “I would do that and more.”

You smiled from behind your hand. You dropped your arm to your stomach.

“Prove it then”

“What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice somehow becoming lower.

“Oh please,” you teased. “As if you haven’t watched that story a billion times.”

He laughed.

“You caught me. You looked really pretty in that dress.”

“Mmm”

“Hike it up for me, past your hips”

Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine that the hands touching your body weren’t your own, but his. Hands you knew too well. Hands that knew your body inside out, that could coax sounds and reactions out of you as if it was second nature. It was difficult, his hands and yours were so different.

You missed them. His hands. His big, big hands. How only one of his fingers made you feel full. How he touched you, and you could feel how rough they were, a stark contrast against your skin. How they always seemed to be warm, no matter the temperature outside.

You pulled the hem of your dress up, arching your back, lifting your ass off the bed to make the job easier. Which wasn't easy to begin with given you were holding your phone with the other hand.

“I’m sure you look so pretty right now.” Miguel purred. “So beautiful, spread out for me. Right?”

“Yes Miguel” you breathed out.

“Mmm. Tell me, how wet are you?” He murmured

You didn’t even have to touch yourself to know. The minute you saw his name on your screen, arousal pooled in your panties.

“So wet Miggy. Only for you.”

He groaned at that. From the other end of the phone, you could hear some rustling. Sheets shifting, clothes being pulled down.

“Miggy…?”

“Si preciosa?”

“Are you–” you swallowed hard. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet, but I plan to. Listening to your pretty sounds.”

The confirmation of what was about to happen made you clench your thighs together. You ran your free hand down your body. Starting from your neck, down the valley of your breasts over the fabric of your dress. You continued downwards, reaching the hem of your panties. You touched your clit through the fabric. The friction made you shiver. You let out a shaky breath.

“Uh uh uh, I didn’t say you could touch what’s mine.” Miguel said

“Please Miguel” you begged. At this point you didn’t care how you sounded, you needed him to let you touch yourself. To let you imagine it was him between your thighs. Miguel making you reach your orgasm. For a moment, you wanted to believe he was right there with you, not 5,000 km away.

“Spread your thighs,” Miguel instructed. “Ran your index finger through your center, above your panties.”

You did as you were told. Just a small touch, but you could feel electricity already sparkling. Your eyes were close, focusing on the sounds coming from the phone. Miguel’s quiet and for now, steady breath.

You applied more pressure, a moan slipping past your lips.

“Good” Miguel growled. “Pull them to the side, touch yourself baby.”

You moaned, embarrassingly so. Miguel groaned in return. Now, paying more attention to him, you could hear him stroking his dick. The sound unmistakable.

Carefully, you pulled your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the cold air of the night. You gasped. Using your middle finger, while the other kept your panties in place, you stroked your whole, teasing yourself. The way you knew Miguel would.

You grinded against your finger as best as you could. It was difficult holding your phone with one hand and teasing yourself with the other. Also, the sounds Miguel was making from the other end of the phone were making you weak.

You remembered all so well. How he used to groan in your ear while making love to you. How his big hands roamed your body, groping everything on their paths. His mouth against the inside of your thighs, teasing you. Kisses going up and down, but never where you needed him the most.

“Miguel” you whined. You couldn’t resist. You felt like you could come untouched by just listening to him and the images on your head.

“Take the out hermosa” he breathed out. “Throw them to the floor.”

You stood up fast, your phone never leaving your ear. You were not about to miss the noises leaving Miguel’s lips. You pulled your panties down to your feet, kicking them out god knows where, before climbing back into bed.

“Please, let me touch myself.” you cried, desperate.

“Yes, do it!” He growled, his breathing becoming erratic. “Make circles on your clit, just the way I used to.”

You dropped your hand between your legs again. Your index and middle finger finding your clit, drawing tight circles on it. You tried to match Miguel’s pace as best as you could, from the sticky sounds you were getting.

“Mm.. Miguel” you moaned, throwing your head back against the pillow. “Feel so good”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm”

Your mouth fell open. Every sound was now free. You didn’t care who listened. What mattered was that Miguel was, and you were hearing him. You arched your back off the bed onto your hand.

“Like that baby?”

“Yeah” you whined

“Push a finger in, hmm? Do it for me”

You moaned, doing as he said. You circled your hole first, before pushing in. You were so wet and tight. Oh, how you wish Miguel was here so he could put his cock in, or fingers, or tongue. Whatever he could give you was better than your finger, but that had to do. You had to imagine it was him, that’s all.

You curled your finger, trusting upwards into your core. The palm of your hand rubbing against your clit.

“Miggy..”

“Add another finger, come on” He was close, you could tell. He sounded desperate, but so were you.

Your ring finger went with your middle finger, both curling inside. Your walls clenched around them. Your hips grinded against your fingers, wanting more, needing more. You went faster, rougher, trying to reach that spot inside than it seemed only Miguel managed to find.

A film of sweat covered your body. The sheets stuck to your flesh, overwhelming you. The smell of sex was in the air, as well as your desperate cries. Your toes curled, legs shaking, trapping your hand between them.

The palm of your hand continued rubbing against your nub. You jerked, the feeling overcoming you. Your trusts and grinding became desperate, trying to reach your orgasm. Miguel was groaning your name in your year. You could hear his hand stroking his dick. You could almost smell and taste his precum, how it must be pooling in his stomach. How his balls were probably tightening with each stroke. The prominent vein that went from the base to the tip. His tip so wet and red, begging to be inside of your pussy.

“Mi– Miggy”

“Si mi, ugh” he groaned. “Mi amor”

“I need to come”

“Wait for me baby, I’m close” He growled. “So close baby. Let me hear you”

“Miguel” you moaned.

Your legs were now shaking violently. Your vision blurred, all you could see was white. Your mind was clouded with pleasure, one you hadn’t felt in so long. You added a third finger, looking for the stretch Miguel’s cock provided.

You whined and cried, begging him to let you come all over your fingers. You pressed your palm of your hand against your clit, grinding against it harder, harsher. You could feel your juices coating your fingers and inner thighs. Running down your ass to the sheets, but you didn’t care.

“Cum for me hermosa, let me hear you scream.”

And so you did. The knot that had been forming in your lower stomach exploded. Your mouth fell slack, eyes rolling back. Your whole body tensed for a second before relaxing. Your fingers kept trusting, getting you through it. Your orgasm crashed over you like waves on a beach. You felt on fire, your whole body burning.

Miguel came seconds after you, He groaned and moaned in your ear, like all those months ago, back home. If you hadn't been so busy already cumming, you would have probably cum again just from the sounds he was making.

For what felt like hours, the only sounds you could hear were yours and Miguel’s heavy breathing. Your hand was still between your legs, the realisation of what you had just done hitting you. Yes you wanted this, and you enjoyed it but… He cheated on your friend, well ex-friend. She wronged you first, but still, you felt horrible.

“Preciosa?” Miguel mumbled, after catching his breath

“Mmm?”

“What are you thinking about? I can hear the wheels spinning from hear” he chuckled

“Mig–” you choked on your words, pulling your hand from between your legs. “What we did was wrong”

Silence.

You waited for a response.

Miguel exhaled. “Yes. But it felt right”

You gulped. He was right. “I know but–”

“No one has to know. It’s just between us. Please, I need you.” He begged. He used that tone that he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Miggy, I–”

“Please”

You closed your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. You weighed the consequences.

“Fine. We can keep doing this.”

“Great. I miss you”

“Miss you too. Sleep well Mig”

“Sleep well hermosa”

You hung up the phone, and that wouldn’t be the last time you finished a conversation with Miguel, lying on your bed with cum between your legs. It was wrong, but it felt right, and no one could take that away from you.

Translations:

Preciosa and Hermosa are basically the same thing, which is Beatiful. More accurately: Preciosa (Precious), Hermosa (Beautiful)

Princesa: Princess

Amor: Love

✎masterlist✎ ✎AO3✎

I hope this was worth it!! I really had fun writing this, more than I should have honestly.

I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request. The writing took me to where it wanted. Hope you don't mind!

Again, I honestly hate cheating, but is fiction, so whatever. Besides, again, fuck the best friend bro, what the fuck was going through her head? (Again, not a reason to cheat, there isn't a justification, but bruh)

Anyway, hope you enjoy anon! and all the lovies who read this

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oharaslove · 2 days ago

Note

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. spread the self-love!

𝑯𝒊𝒊 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒆!! 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔!!

𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒉𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒉𝒂. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚:

𝐺𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦𝑥𝐺𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 (𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓)

𝐾𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑦 (𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓!!! 𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑡, ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑢𝑡𝑒)

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 (𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠. 𝐴 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡)

𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 (𝑁𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑙. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑒, 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑)

𝐿𝑎 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 (𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑)

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏!!! 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒂𝒂𝒂

#self love #self rec #fanfic authors #miguel ohara x reader

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oharaslove · 3 days ago

Text

Another thought I had today:

We know Miguel is tall. He is hugeee, so, when you two are standing, I feel like Miguel is a sucker for forehead kisses.

Don't get me wrong, he loves kissing your lips (mainly because 8 out of 10 times, a quick peck ends up in a make out session). BUT, he is much taller than you, so he has to bend down all the time.

So, without realising, he starts just bending down enough to brush his lips against your temple. Just quick pecks here and there, every time he enters a room you are in or you do.

Kissing your lips is an action reserved for when you are lying down in bed, sitting on top of him or sitting on his desk, where his back doesn’t hurt.

BUT!

When Miguel really really wants to kiss you, he comes from behind you. He grabs your throat slightly, applying just enough pressure. He forces you to tilt your head back, and he kisses you, hungrily.

It is like an upside down typical Spiderman kiss, but with both you feet on the floor.

And after he pulls away from the kiss? He smiles, before kissing you again. And again and again, until your neck hurts from the position.

Miguel O’hara is a man written by a woman when he loves okay (At least from my perspective). He isn’t the one to take, and take, but never give. NO

He gives his all to you. He finds pleasure in giving you that. Pleasure.

Many would say he is grumpy, avoidant, distant, reluctant to touch, cold. But all that is far from the truth when you two are together. When his hunger for you consumes his whole body, clouds his mind, his brain goes back to his most primitive instincts. However, Miguel is still aware of how delicate and soft you are, and he treats you as such.

Miguel would never, ever, just take your body and look for his release. He would make sure you find yours first. And… not only once, maybe not even twice.

You are his everything. His goddess. The person who made him want to love again; the one that made him see that being vulnerable was okay, that he wasn’t an unlovable monster. So… every chance he gets, he puts you on that pedestal and praises you. He talks you through it, and I’ll die on this hill.

Miguel who, despite how desperate he is to make you feel good; to have you in his arms, he takes his time. He kisses you slowly, all his feelings poured in it. His lips brushed against sure, tongues fighting one another; tasting. Miguel loves kissing you; loves the way your breath becomes ragged, your hands roaming his body, while he does the same.

He would break the kiss, allowing you to breathe, to gasp for air, while his mouth pays attention to other spots on your body. Miguel kisses the corner of your mouth, moving downwards towards your jaw, where he peppers small pecks, before attacking your neck. He leaves open mouth kisses along your throat, occasionally sucking hard, leaving bite marks behind, which he loves.

While his mouth focuses on your throat and face, his hands explore the rest. Miguel begins touching you slowly, shy even. He caresses your exposed skin. First, he starts cupping your face, tittling it just the way he wants it, giving him more access to your neck or a better angle to devour your mouth. But, as the kisses grow hungrier, needier, his hands become bolder.

Miguel would slide his hands under your clothes, sometimes teasing you over the fabric. He would play with your nipples, earning gaps and moans from you, while you arched your back towards his hands. The only time his being would detach himself from you, is when taking off your clothes, so he can appreciate your naked beauty. And have more access to what he wants.

When you first started being intimate with Miguel, you were shy about your body. Though, you quickly stopped, because this man loves you. He makes sure to make you feel wanted and loved and taken care of. I mean, you think that you are imperfect? That you don’t have any titties, or ass or curves or whatever?

For him it was no problem. Miguel would make you feel like the most beautiful person on Earth. You don’t have to have breasts or ass for Miguel to be all over you. You just have to be, well you. Only your waist, hips, legs, whatever size, colour, shape, texture, anything, is enough. Miguel is starved. He gives his everything for you, because from his point of view?

You are the incarnation of the word perfection. If Aphrodite were real, he wouldn't mind starting a second Troyan war. Miguel would straight up tell her, to her face, that her beauty is nothing, NOTHING, compared to yours.

Miguel who loves kissing all over your skin. Every time he peels a piece of clothing out of you, you better count on the fact that his mouth is on your flesh before the fabric touches the floor. He pecks, gives open mouth kisses, leaving a trail of saliva across your skin; he bites occasionally being mindful of his fangs (Though, you didn’t mind if sometime he would just sink them, just for research, of course).

Miguel loved leaving marks on your body, they were a sign of a job well done. Across your neck, chest, lower stomach and all over the inside of your thighs. He would tease the heck out of you, kissing closer and closer where you need him the most, but not coming close. Not until you are a whining mess, begging him to eat you out, he gives in. And oh, when he gives in.

Remember when I said he was starved? Well, he could eat you out every day and still be starved. He eats you out like it is his last meal on this Earth. He leaves open mouth kisses on your clit, sucking from time to time, before moving down. First, he makes out with your hole, swirling his tongue around it, teasing you. He loves the sounds you make, you can’t blame him for that.

His tongue enters your hole skillfully, knowing exactly what makes you shiver. What makes your legs shake and eventually, what makes you come all over his face. But he doesn’t stop. He gets you through your orgasms, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, slurping against your core, overstimulating you. He makes you come again against his tongue, and only then, after cleaning you out, and you having to basically push him off, grabbing his hair, he seems satisfied.

But the night doesn’t stop there. Before making love to you, he uses his fingers to pry to open. There is no teasing this time. He crawls over your body, like a wild animal. He kisses you slowly, making you taste yourself in his mouth. You moan, making him groan in return. His hands caress your sides, squeezing your hips and thighs.

You make out for a while, until he decides to trail a hand down your body, starting from your chest. One finger caressing your skin, going down the valley of your breasts, continuing over your stomach, gently brushing your clit, making you jump. He reaches your hole, where he sticks two fingers in and starts pumping.

You hold onto his arms for dear life, the pace of his fingers making the third orgasm of the night approach quickly. You whine and moan, bubbling incoherent things. Strings of “Miggy please” and “Gods yes, right there”. You arch your back, giving Miguel full access to attack your breasts, kissing and sucking over your nipples, rolling them between his fingers of his free hand. Once he feels your pussy squeeze his digits harder, his thumb draws tight circles on your clit, matching his pace, throwing you over the edge.

When you come, Miguel’s face is over yours, he loves seeing how it contorts in pleasure when you reach your high. You never see it, because your eyes roll back or are closed, but he always smiles down at you. He pecks your lips, then your cheeks and your nose, helping you calm down after the peak. He pulls his fingers out, sucking on them and groaning.

You are a panting mess. Your hair is all over the pillow, your skin with a layer of sweat, his love marks painting your skin. You never looked more perfect.

Slowly, Miguel gets off the bed, stripping out of his own clothes. His dick finally being free from his pants, pre-cum already smearing over his red, angry tip. He would crawl into bed, opening your thighs slowly and settling between them.

You can’t tell me Miguel’s favourite position isn’t missionary. That man needs to see you at all times. He wants to see your face when he enters you slowly. Despite your first three releases, his cock still stretches you out, and you love it. Miguel loves watching his length disappear inside of you, a small bulge forming on your lower belly, signaling where he rests inside. He gives you time to adjust, as any gentleman would, while he peppers kisses on your jaw, reaching your ear and licking it.

“So tight beba” he would groan. “Always so good. Taking me so well. Such a good girl”

Miguel also loves missionary because it means he can hear your moans right in his ear. Missionary means your hands will be on him, scratching his back, grabbing his biceps for dear life when he starts trusting harshly. His hips snap against yours, his balls against your ass. The room feels with sex sounds; the slapping of skin, both your moans, groans and panting, the bed frame hitting the wall continuously, matching Miguel’s relentless pace.

You cry in his ear, burying your face where Miguel’s shoulder connects with his neck. Your legs wrap against his waist, keeping him in place. Your hands run down his back, nails digging on his skin leaving marks Miguel loves to look at in the morning.

His arms cage you in, keeping himself over you. But he leans over, leaving kisses and whispering praises in your year.

“You are doing so good, Fuck. Just like that”

“Sos tan hermosa mi amor” (You are so beautiful mi amor)

“Are you going to cum for me, mm? Just one more time, please beba”

You always knew that, one last time, meant two. Your already overstimulated body couldn’t keep up with his stamina. In order for him to cum, you needed to come twice.

You could tell when Miguel was close, his arms would begin to shake, his pace would falter, becoming irregular. His groans would become louder, moans would make his way out of his plump lips. He would kiss you harder, needier, hungrier. Miguel would hold you closer, trying to crawl into your skin. When he comes, he bites down hard against your shoulder, realising inside of you.

You stay holding each other, Miguel basically crushing you. Your legs tangled together, hands roaming each other's body lovingly, until Miguel finds the strength to detach himself. He smiles down at you. Miguel pushes the hair out of your face, before leaning down and capturing your lips in a more tender kiss. He would grab your hands and kiss your knuckles before pulling out of you, watching how his cum drips out.

And of course, aftercare. He is the king of it. He would make sure you use the bathroom, carrying you to it if necessary. Miguel would clean you up, draw a bath where you can sit together and relax. If you fell asleep he would carry you to bed. If not, after helping you dry and helping you to bed, he would bring you your favourite snack and water. He would do anything for you, anything.

Sex with Miguel is something more than just that, sex. Is not only the act of connecting both your bodies. It is…

Love. It is making love. It’s beyond your corporeal beings, it’s about worshipping one another. Showing, feeling that love through acts, words and so much more. Because he loves you, and you love him back. Forever.

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oharaslove · 3 days ago

Text

Stop, this are the best tags ever 😭😭😭

Thank you so much @mamas-dream-journals 💖💖💖

Miguel O’hara is a man written by a woman when he loves okay (At least from my perspective). He isn’t the one to take, and take, but never give. NO

He gives his all to you. He finds pleasure in giving you that. Pleasure.

Miguel would never, ever, just take your body and look for his release. He would make sure you find yours first. And… not only once, maybe not even twice.

You are a panting mess. Your hair is all over the pillow, your skin with a layer of sweat, his love marks painting your skin. You never looked more perfect.

“So tight beba” he would groan. “Always so good. Taking me so well. Such a good girl”

His arms cage you in, keeping himself over you. But he leans over, leaving kisses and whispering praises in your year.

“You are doing so good, Fuck. Just like that”

“Sos tan hermosa mi amor” (You are so beautiful mi amor)

“Are you going to cum for me, mm? Just one more time, please beba”

You always knew that, one last time, meant two. Your already overstimulated body couldn’t keep up with his stamina. In order for him to cum, you needed to come twice.

Sex with Miguel is something more than just that, sex. Is not only the act of connecting both your bodies. It is…

#im cryin #so adorable #thank you so so much #oharaslove '*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

205 notes · View notes

oharaslove · 3 days ago

Text

Posting Schedule

So, this is for me to force myself to write and for you to know (if you are interested). Which probably no one is, but whatever.

Masterlist - AO3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Love (Blurb) - POSTED!!!

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ / ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

A small writing of how I think Miguel O'hara loves, or more accurately, how he makes love.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ New Beginnings (Request) - Sunday, 6th of April

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Reader tells Miguel she is pregnant

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Firsts (Bonus The One and Only) - Sunday, 13th of April

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

A series of firsts (sex stuff) with Miggy. Examples: Miguel eating you out for the first time, shower, etc.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Just a Theory (One-Shot) - Sunday, 20th of April

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

Threesome between reader, Miguel and Jayce Talis (Arcane)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Changes (Blurb) - Wednesday, 23rd of April

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

No one knows you and Miguel are dating. They could never imagine it. BUT, they start noticing weird changes in Miguel's lab that suggest he doesn't spend so much time alone as they initially think. Basically, Jess, Peter B and maybe the Spider Gang, noticing some things laying around that appeared gradually in Miguel's lab. It's from their point of view.

Symbols and Meanings

Fluff: ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 Smut: ୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ Angst: ☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐 Hurt/Comfort: ૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

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oharaslove · 4 days ago

Text

Tell me why I had this programmed for 8 p.m and when I come to see if it posted, IT NEVER DID!!! I'm so sorry. It is basically 40 min late, but here it is. SORRY

Miguel O’hara is a man written by a woman when he loves okay (At least from my perspective). He isn’t the one to take, and take, but never give. NO

He gives his all to you. He finds pleasure in giving you that. Pleasure.

Miguel would never, ever, just take your body and look for his release. He would make sure you find yours first. And… not only once, maybe not even twice.

You are a panting mess. Your hair is all over the pillow, your skin with a layer of sweat, his love marks painting your skin. You never looked more perfect.

“So tight beba” he would groan. “Always so good. Taking me so well. Such a good girl”

His arms cage you in, keeping himself over you. But he leans over, leaving kisses and whispering praises in your year.

“You are doing so good, Fuck. Just like that”

“Sos tan hermosa mi amor” (You are so beautiful mi amor)

“Are you going to cum for me, mm? Just one more time, please beba”

You always knew that, one last time, meant two. Your already overstimulated body couldn’t keep up with his stamina. In order for him to cum, you needed to come twice.

Sex with Miguel is something more than just that, sex. Is not only the act of connecting both your bodies. It is…

205 notes · View notes

oharaslove · 4 days ago

Text

Miguel O’hara is a man written by a woman when he loves okay (At least from my perspective). He isn’t the one to take, and take, but never give. NO

He gives his all to you. He finds pleasure in giving you that. Pleasure.

Miguel would never, ever, just take your body and look for his release. He would make sure you find yours first. And… not only once, maybe not even twice.

You are a panting mess. Your hair is all over the pillow, your skin with a layer of sweat, his love marks painting your skin. You never looked more perfect.

“So tight beba” he would groan. “Always so good. Taking me so well. Such a good girl”

His arms cage you in, keeping himself over you. But he leans over, leaving kisses and whispering praises in your year.

“You are doing so good, Fuck. Just like that”

“Sos tan hermosa mi amor” (You are so beautiful mi amor)

“Are you going to cum for me, mm? Just one more time, please beba”

You always knew that, one last time, meant two. Your already overstimulated body couldn’t keep up with his stamina. In order for him to cum, you needed to come twice.

Sex with Miguel is something more than just that, sex. Is not only the act of connecting both your bodies. It is…

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