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yominero · 2 months ago

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DEVIL MAY CRY — FINISHING TOUCHES EDITION

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dmc men x fem!reader (separate)

your body is a blank canvas, and he is the artist. every stroke, every gasp, every drop left behind is a signature.

NOW LOADING... where he finishes, how he claims you, why you’ll never forget it. BREEDING LEVEL: LEGENDARY.

NERO MESSIER THAN HE MEANT TO BE SPARDA REVVED TOO HARD INSIDE, ON YOUR STOMACH

You’re on your stomach, ass up, face buried in the sheets, and Nero’s trying so hard to be quiet. He’s panting against your spine, trying not to lose it as your body rocks with every sloppy, desperate thrust. His metal arm clutches your waist, keeping you right where he wants you… No, where he needs you.

“F-fuck—you feel so good,” he grits, voice cracking, cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I swear to god, baby, you’re gonna kill me like this…”

You moan his name—soft, ruined. He chokes. Actually chokes on air, and then you say it. You say the words that ruin him. “Inside. Nero… please. I want it.”

Everything stops, because shut up he is trying so hard not to cum.

He pulls back just enough to stare down at you, wide-eyed, pupils blown. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. His next thrust hits deep, harder than before, as if your plea just flipped a switch in him because it did.

“Shit—fuck, baby—are you sure?” he gasps, voice wrecked. “You say shit like that and I’m gonna fucking devil trigger, I swear to god…”

You nod, reaching back to grab at him, begging with your body now too. He groans. Loud. Desperate. He can’t hold back, and with one more thrust, he’s gone.

Nero cums with a growl, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. His body curls over yours, trembling with the force of it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other braced against your lower back as he fills you full—hot, thick, way too much.

“Ah, goddamn it,” he whines into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect…shit, I didn’t mean to, but I wanted to…”

He stays there, cock twitching with your cunt fluttering around him, milking every drop. When he finally pulls out, he watches it leak from you and his eyes go wide, reverent, wrecked. He exhales a curse, dragging a hand down his face.

“…I’m gonna be broke from buying Plan B.”

You hum, still hazy, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Then stop doing it.” He glares. Blushes. Cums again in his fucking mind.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, reaching for a towel, then staring at the mess on your thighs instead.

...But he doesn’t clean it up. Because just then you slowly roll onto your back aching, dripping, and stretch like a goddamn goddess. Your stomach’s already smeared with him, slick between your thighs, glowing in the low light. And Nero loses it again.

“Oh—oh fuck,” he gasps, jerking forward like a man possessed. His cock, still hard, twitches at the sight. “I—I can’t—”

He fists himself, frantic, not even trying to hold back. He finishes all over your stomach and tits with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering, ropes of cum painting you again like it’s instinct, unholy thought filling his head.

“I’ll do it again,” he pants. “As many times as you let me.”

DANTE UNHINGED IN THE HOTTEST WAY SPARDA HITTING THE JACKPOT INSIDE, ON YOUR TITS OR ASS

Dante’s not just fucking you—he’s painting you. A masterpiece of moans, soreness, and his cum exactly where he wants it. His favorite spot? Depends on how feral he's feeling.

When he finishes inside, it’s deep and messy, punctuated by rough groans and his hips twitching as he empties himself into you. But Dante’s an exhibitionist with no one to impress but you. So sometimes, just to prove a point, he pulls out last second and strokes himself, watching your tits bounce or your ass jiggle beneath him and whistles at the sight of you looking like a fertility goddess. A second later he covers your body with thick ropes of cum while grinning like the devil himself.

"Gonna need a round two just to clean it up.”

He wants you to feel it drip, see it pool on your belly, or drip down your thighs. To him, you’re not just his partner, you are art itself, and he makes the finishing touches.

On the occasions when he finishes inside you (which is every time), he’s nested deep. Not just emotional damage deep, you swear you can feel his dick reaching your throat: thick, throbbing, filling every inch to perfection. His hips grind slowly, then a little faster, and your legs are shaking from how long he’s kept you right on the edge. You already had your orgasms. What is taking him so long?

“Shit… you feel too good, baby,” he mutters, burring his head in the crock of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he leaves a soft kiss there. “So tight, like you were made for me, yeah?”

Then he sinks in fully with one final thrust, and you feel the twitch. The hot warmth of him spilling inside, not pulling—even worse, he is not even trying to, because he loves this level of closeness and intimacy. Body to body, soul to soul.

Your body clamps down involuntarily, and you whimper at the sheer fullness and the way it stretches you, the way you swear you feel it in your belly. He chuckles, sinfully and proudly reaches down, pressing a hand flat to your lower abdomen.

“Well, look at that,” he pants, eyes glazed with lust and something a little unhinged. “All mine, sweetheart. You are so beautiful when you are full of me.”

You shiver beneath him, dazed, needy, a little too into it. Your breath catches at the pressure blooming inside, the slick, hot mess. He pulls out slow, and when your hips jerk, his cum leaks out in thick white drips.

“Now you really look divine,” he murmurs, thumbing it back in like he can’t help himself. “Shit, I’ll grab Plan B in the morning, I swear. Just...let me enjoy this one, alright?”

You nod, voice lost somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. Right now, you don't have the mental capacity to respond or to think about anything other than him.

And the worst part is that you secretly love it. Love the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you for the very first time. Love the way he shows just how much he loves you. Love the way you already want more.

VERGIL TAKE EVERYTHING I OFFER SPARDA THE APROACHING STORM INSIDE, ON YOUR THIGHS

He always finishes inside. Always. You won't catch this man slacking or not doing anything the way it's supposed to.

There’s something empowering about the way he holds you when he’s close—one hand gripping your thigh to keep you from moving so much, the other hand cradling your throat, not tight, just enough for you to feel how fragile you are under him. His face is buried in your neck, breath cold despite the furious way his hips grind into yours.

“You will take it,” he murmurs, voice low, trembling with control, with hunger. “Do you understand?” You nod, too far gone to speak, thighs trembling from the pressure building with every thrust. You can feel it—his restraint snapping thread by thread, unraveling.

And then it hits, like a silent storm that no one knew would come. As an unexpected surprise that was more than pleasant.

He sinks in with a final, bruising thrust and stills. You feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood you, thick and deliberate, marking you. He groans low in his throat—a rare, vulnerable sound—as his jaw clenches against your shoulder. You clutch at his back, panting, moaning, full in the deepest, most primal sense.

He doesn’t pull out, never does.

He stays inside you, hips pressed flush, as if trying to carve the shape of himself into your womb. You shift under him, overstimulated, but his hand presses your hip still.

“You feel that?” he breathes against your ear. “Mine.”

When Vergil finishes inside you, it’s not just sex, it’s a silent promise to keep the connection between two souls sacred. He doesn’t moan or curse, just breathes out your name like a command, like a claim, because he has control over you, but you are also his weakness.

Each time, his eyes go half-lidded, that stoic expression crossing his face, like he’s giving you something sacred that will break any minute, something he shouldn’t even think about. He’s breaking a rule he made for himself, and when his cum leaks out of you, hot and heavy, he only watches it, lips twitching faintly. “Waste nothing.”

But on the rare occasions he doesn’t finish inside you, when he has to pull out, because you’re sore or overstimulated or too full already; he’ll wrap a hand around himself at the last second and cum over your thighs, groaning through gritted teeth. Something about the way it drips down your skin drives him feral. His breath hitches, drunken on the sight of the mess both of you created.

There’s awe in him when he sees you like that—ruined, shivering, legs sticky with him. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice caught between worship and mockery, typical Vergil. “Greedy little thing. Always asking for more... and yet you can barely take it.”

The words aren’t cruel, not really. They come wrapped in quiet praise, veiled affection, something soft only you ever get from him. He leans down, mouth brushing your temple. And then stares at you like he always does, in a whisper so raw it almost doesn’t sound like him:

“I love it.” A pause. “I love you.”

Yeah, you have this man wrapped around your finger … or inside you.

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ne0ncowb0y · 2 years ago

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would truly love to find out why I'm so fucking tired all the time and then alsp after that legally change my name and do all the stuff that comes with that. but I am so tired first. doctor please take my upcoming blood test and solve it in the name of the father (Odin) the son (Thor and Baldr) and the holy spirit (Loki Loki)

#literally im so exhausted my memory is suffering. who is the goddess of medicine or health or healing in norse myth. im going to cry #cant remember shit can hardly work out all the energy goes to my kid or work & i barely have anything left after picking her up from school #in the last months ive gained so many KGs and im eating generally better than i was before. but my energy levels have not improved #im so sick of this #i just want to be able to function like a fucking person

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oddyseye · 6 months ago

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Let’s talk about translations of the Odyssey for a second, because, honestly, I’m over here sobbing over how ridiculous some of these choices are.

Every time I pick up a new translation, I hope it’ll finally capture the true grit and messiness of Odysseus, but nope, every one of them polishes him up too much, turning him into either a tragic hero or a charming rogue. Where’s the Odysseus who lies as easily as he breathes, who manipulates his way through every encounter, and who leaves a trail of ruin wherever he goes? I want the man whose brilliance is as sharp as his selfishness, whose cleverness cuts both ways — not just a hero, but a survivor who’s as flawed as he is formidable.

Anyway, I’m gonna break down the biggest mistranslations that really make me want to pull my hair out and remind everyone how different the original Greek actually is. Prepare yourselves.

Let’s start with the absolute disaster that is Telemachus and Peisistratus’ bond. Homer used the word ὁμοφροσύνη to describe their relationship, a term that’s about fucking soulmates, alright? But what do these translators do? They water it down to “just good friends” or “nice companions.” It’s about a relationship where minds and hearts are aligned — telepathic level shit, not just a handshake between two dudes. Yet these translators just gloss over the whole thing, so you get this milquetoast version of their relationship when it’s actually so much more.

Homer says: "ὁμοφροσύνησιν ἐνὶ καρδίᾳ ἐνθα καὶ ἄλλων οὐδὲν ἐπέλθομεν" ("In like-mindedness of heart, where no other man could compare.") So, Telemachus sees Peisistratus as someone he’s totally aligned with, in a way that’s almost romantic in its depth. ὁμοφροσύνη is usually used for romantic couples most often.

Then, we’ve got Odysseus and Calypso, which — oh my god, don’t even get me started on this absolute trainwreck of a translation. The term ἀνάγκῃ is used when Homer talks about Odysseus’ “relationship” with Calypso, but translators somehow miss the force behind the word. It doesn’t just mean “necessity” like they’d have you think. It means force, violence, and distress. When Odysseus is on Calypso’s island, stuck there with her, it’s not this peaceful love story where Odysseus is some willing lover. It’s a prison. There’s no choice, and no one’s riding off into the sunset together. But translations just gloss over this desperation and make it sound so much more peaceful and comfortable than it ever was. It’s forced captivity, and the use of ἀνάγκῃ screams that: “ἔνθα μὲν ἀμφ᾽ ἀνάγκῃ, τῇ δὲ θεὰ ἐρῶσά μιν ἔσχε.” (“There he stayed out of necessity, for the goddess, in her love, held him there.”).

Homer uses the same word when Odysseus describes his time with Circe: “ἀλλ᾽ ἔμεν᾽ ἐν σπέσσι λαῶν ἀνάγκῃ.” (“But I stayed in her halls by necessity.”). Again, ἀνάγκῃ shows that Odysseus's relationship with Circe is dictated by forces beyond his control. His connection to her isn’t out of love or desire, but out of a divine obligation, a situation where choice is completely stripped away. It’s not love; it’s divine manipulation. So much for romantic freedom!

And let’s not forget how Homer actually portrays the suitors and their reaction to Antinous’ violence. After Antinous, in his full rage, decides to throw a chair at disguised Odysseus, other suitors chime in, disapproving of his actions. They say things like “ἀργὸς εἶναι,” which roughly translates to “you’re acting cowardly,” and “ἀτασθαλία,” meaning “reckless.” They’re still on the same side, sure, but they can’t quite get behind the utter savagery of his actions, and it’s maddening how this detail is often glossed over in some translations. They make it sound like they were all in on the violence, but in the original text, these suitors are not all cut from the same brutal cloth, no matter how much some translators want to make them seem like one big mob.

Homer uses the word οἰκέτες to refer to the people in Odysseus' house. "οἰκέτες" means slaves, people who are literally owned by the household. But oh, what happens in the translations? We get “maids” and “servants,” as if these slaves were just there because they wanted to be, doing chores like it was a normal job. But no, they’re not “maids,” and they sure as hell aren't "servants" in the modern sense. These people have no freedom — they belong to Odysseus. The translation of οἰκέτες as "maids" completely erases the brutality of the system that Homer is talking about.

Interestingly, Telemachus, who is often portrayed as rude or immature, calls these individuals “servants” or "maids" in a more respectful manner. This is the same guy who can barely get his act together most of the time, but here he is, calling the οἰκέτες — slaves, remember — not just slaves but “ἄνδρες ἰκέτες,” which translates to "men-servants" or “butlers.” Like, hello, Telemachus! For once, he’s actually treating them like people instead of just the property that they are in Homer’s original telling. Respectful? Who knew?

And lastly, let’s talk about Penelope. Odysseus, when he finally speaks to her, he says: "ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐπεὶ καὶ σὺ μὲν ἔμπεδος ἐν οἴκῳ, ἔτλησαν δ’ ἐμαὶ ἄλγεα." ("But you, steadfast in your home, endured my sorrows."). Odysseus sees Penelope as the rock, the one who has suffered patiently in his absence. Unlike the goddesses, she’s his equal in suffering, not a forced relationship due to divine will. He longs for her, and her presence stands in stark contrast to the chaotic, imposed relationships he’s had with Circe and Calypso. Penelope is the constant, the one Odysseus has chosen — no divine manipulation, just pure, enduring love.

Anyway, all of this goes to show that translations can twist what Homer was actually trying to say — especially when it comes to the relationships in the story. It’s frustrating to see these critical, subtle moments get flattened into bland, palatable phrases. Maybe if they spent less time trying to make everything sound "noble" and more time actually getting at the grit of what Homer wrote, we wouldn’t have to deal with these watered-down, emotionless versions of The Odyssey that everyone is so obsessed with.

#the odyssey #greek mythology #odysseus #calypso #circe #telemachus #i love the odyssey #but i hate mistranslations

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bumpkinspice0 · 3 months ago

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Take a Bullet

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: “I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away…but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in. Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool. OR Logan never told you he couldn't die, and it scares you how far he's willing to go to keep you safe.

AN: Just the briefest sprinkle of smut. Didn't feel right to go full feral in this one. This is another one that's vaguely tied to my first Logan fic HERE. Totally not required reading, reader just has the same powers and codename cause I'm lazy. She's an earthmover called Dozer. The GIF choice is incredibly unserious but I couldn't not

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, injury, shock, Hurt/comfort, angst (obvi), Logan has some low self worth guys, Confessions of love, Protective!Logan, Smut, Tender sex

AO3 if you prefer to read there

Logan Masterlist

_______

You weren’t new to fighting. Hell, you’d been doing it most of your life. You were an X-man after all— but this was getting ridiculous.

They just kept coming.

You faced down the brotherhood countless times, fought gods and mad scientists— but a few dozen humans with guns was proving to be the most exhausting task you faced with the team. Their ranks were depleting, that much was true, but holy shit was this getting old.

“Dozer!” you hear Scott shout your codename from the left. “Barrier on the east entrance, quicksand for the ones approaching from the west!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” you, a little less than enthusiastically, respond before plunging your fist into the dirt to change the very earth to your will.

As an earth-mover, you have the wonderful task of being both on defense and offense— well, mostly defense. A lot of defense. You could put up walls and literally stop people in their tracks. If all the firepower was focused outside, the job could be finished inside.

This was a prison break, after all.

“The last of them are out!” Jean’s voice crackles in your ear. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The last of the MRD facilities is finally falling. It’d been over a year since they’d been defunded and mutant registration was banned. Still, hate always found a way to limp on.

And limp on with a few hundred guns at that.

A stray bullet whizzes past your ear as you move behind a newly erected stone wall. You’d been at this for hours. You're tired. You’re slower and it’s making all of this a hell of a lot more dangerous.

“We need some support over here!” Scott screams into his comm, sliding behind the shelter next to you.

“North gate is clear. I’m coming to you!” You almost sigh in relief at the sound of Ororo’s voice. She’d be tasked with taking care of all other possible exits while you and Scott got the main entrance. With the power of flight and hurricane-level winds at her fingertips… Well, you always thought Storm could take care of herself better than the rest of the team.

The barrage of bullets stops as soon as there’s a crack of thunder, all of the armed men looking up to the sky to see the goddess that brought their demise. In an instant, tyrannical winds start to sweep through their ranks.

“Almost out!” Jean announces in your ear.

“Dozer, give them a clear path!” Scott orders you, jumping out from behind your barrier to help Storm thin the herd of armed men that waited.

You call to the dirt beneath your feet, pulling up several jagged walls of rock to protect the entrance and path to the Blackbird. They’re sloppy and uneven, but they’ll do for cover. You catch just a glimpse of the team through the cracks in the rock. Somehow, Logan’s eyes find yours in the fraction of a second you have.

“Spare anyone you can. Let’s clear the last of these scumbags out before we evacuate.” Scott orders through the comm set. You want to argue back and groan in protest. The mission was complete. The prisoners were out and heading for safety, but you knew he was right— Time to cripple MRD once and for all.

With any final strength you can muster, you send a shockwave through the battlefield, several agents falling in its wake. You quickly enclose whatever parts of their bodies in rock that you can. You just have to immobilize them and there are only a handful left. It’s almost over.

“Remind me never to piss you off, sweetheart.” a familiar gruff voice cheekily says behind you. In a flash, he’s at your side— Logan. If the situation were different, you’d have kissed him. Too bad there’s a task at hand.

“Oh, you should know never to piss me off by now.” you chuckled back, doing your best to multitask in the chaos of it all.

Logan jumps in front of you defensively. He was against you being the outside offense since the beginning, likely just because he couldn’t be there if you needed him. In the handful of months since you’d been together, he’d proven to be a rather protective partner. The more you learned about him, the more you understood why. He’d only had a small handful of things happen to him that were actually good. You did your best to be one of them.

“Two dozen left at most,” Scott shouts in the dwindling chaos.

Looking out at the jagged battlefield, Scott’s estimate seemed to be correct. This could be over in a matter of seconds, and your job would finally be done. You could take the last of them out with the same move you’d just done… that is if you had one more in you still.

You reach your weary hands out and call to the earth one final time. Cripple them. Immobilize them. The ground starts to rumble under your command.

You're so focused on your finishing move that you don’t hear it. Storm warning you all reinforcements are coming up from the south, directly behind you.

“DOZE!” It’s Logan’s voice that pulls you out of your concentration.

You only have a split second to turn your head to see him jumping for you. He pushes you to the ground, your body skidding a few feet away. There’s a deafening ring of new gunfire before it’s immediately silenced by a new jagged wall of rock you rip out of the ground. With a crack of lightning, Storm rushes over to Scott’s side, quickly followed by Rouge and Kurt. You scramble to your feet, ready to join them, but Logan doesn’t move. He just stands there, back to you, completely stone still.

“L-Logan?” You dare to take a small step toward him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He starts to turn around, his movements jerky and stiff. It hurts him to move.

You attempt to hide the horrified gasp that escapes your lips, covering your mouth with your hands at the sight of him. Your eyes immediately meet his and you can almost feel it through his gaze— the excruciating pain.

You weren’t fast enough to stop them.

Bullet holes peppered his entire body. God, even his face— the bullets still sat embedded in his metal skull. The blood pouring out of each new hole in his body was starting to stain his suit— painting over his skin with red. He choked out a pained sound that almost sounded like your name before collapsing to his knees and falling face-first at your feet.

“Logan!” You immediately drop down and pull him into your arms, the battle around you now completely forgotten. You erect three more small walls on your remaining sides. The team could handle the rest. They’d be fine. Logan would be fine. He just needed time to heal, and you’ll give it to him.

You cradle his head in your arms. All hope disappears when you look into his eyes.

There was… nothing.

Those warm, hazel eyes that were always so inviting are now cold and blank. Lifeless. Streams of blood marked his rugged face you adored so much, a bullet in his forehead and two through his left cheek. You’d seen death a handful of times in this rotten job. You’d just never seen it in someone you loved.

You can’t help the wail that escapes when you pull him in. You clutch his lifeless body, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Yes, Logan healed, he barely aged, but could he cure death? He’d never mentioned it. How could a mutation still possibly work after you died? It couldn’t. Logan was dead. He’s dead because of you. Because you weren’t fast enough to stop this.

You only faintly register the battle falling silent around you. The commanding voices of your friends at least tell you that you’ve won. There was no joy in this small victory for you. Not while you clung to the body of your now dead lover.

You jump at the sound of several metallic pings within your space. Has someone breached your quickly constructed walls? You pull back and gasp at an entirely new sight.

Logan was healing, newly formed tissue and bone pushing the bullets out of his body one by one. The final ones to leave are three that marked his face. As soon as they’re gone, there’s light in his eyes again.

His whole body arches in your arms as he heaves in his first gasping breath. His hands grasp onto you, finding anything to ground him. You can’t bring yourself to say anything comforting, shock grabbing hold of your vocal cords.

He’d come back to life in your arms in a matter of seconds.

He takes a few steadying breaths before his eyes finally find yours.

“Are you okay?” His voice is shaken, almost ragged.

You still can’t force yourself to speak. You only look at him, only able to see the blood that streaked across his face in every direction. His blood. He was still covered in his own blood. The hole in his forehead is still mending itself back together and he’s asking if you're okay?

He sits up from your lap, his hands gently resting on your arms.

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up to look him in the eye. Warm and inviting again. Full of life, “Talk to me.”

You’re not sure how long it is before you can force words out of your throat, but eventually, you do.

“You died.”

The silence that follows is haunting. Suddenly, it feels like there’s an ocean between the two of you. You should be the one comforting him through this, yet here he is, cradling your face in his hands, suddenly unable to make eye contact. He’d saved you, he was alive, you were alive, yet you feel like something in you changed. A small piece of you died with him just then. Unequivocally fear that you could never forget. He died. You just watched him die.

“But you didn’t.” He says it with no regret in his voice. No pain.

He knew his actions would likely be fatal. He sacrificed himself to save you. But was it worth it? Was it worth it to watch him die in front of you?

And knowing Logan… he’d do it again without hesitation.

“Hey, guys!” It’s Kurt's voice that pulls you out of your little world, calling for you just beyond the walls. You quickly lower them to see the rest of your fellow X-Men standing in wait. How long have you both been sitting here?

“Jesus, what happened?” Rouge exclaims, clearly referring to Logan still caked in blood. His blood.

He was still fucking covered in his own blood.

You quickly get up, not sparing Logan a single glance, and brush past your teammates as fast as you can. You board the Blackbird alone, hugging yourself in the corner. None of them come after you, and truthfully, you don’t want them to.

Your face collapses into your hands, sobs racking your whole body.

______

The flight home was dead quiet. Even the rescued prisoners said almost nothing except a quick thank you once you dropped them off at a secure mutant-run location just past the border. Logan was smart enough not to sit directly next to you. You’re not sure if you're relieved or mortified by that fact. No, no, you needed space and he was giving it to you.

You still felt his eyes on you the whole time.

He may not have sat right at your hip, but he was in eyeshot of you at all times. Logan’s emotions were always so palpable to you. You can always just feel him. He was worried.

Ororo was the first to approach you with a quiet hello and a gentle hand on your knee.

“What happened out there?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.

You took your sweet time answering, shock still grabbing some part of your mind and urging you to just keep staring at your feet like you had been the entire time.

“I saw him die, ‘Ro.” you eventually answered.

You swear you felt her touch tense a little.

“But Logan can’t die.” Maybe she was holding back a laugh, you thought briefly. You’d been with this man for months, and you had no idea his healing factor was so advanced. You were a child pouting in the corner over seemingly nothing— but it was everything.

“But I didn’t know that, ‘Ro,” you spat back at her. “I didn’t know that.”

And, of course, she pulls you into a hug with a comforting warmth only Ororo Munroe seemed to have. It was stupid of you to think she’d mock you for something like this.

You’re in your bedroom now, sitting on the bed with your knees curled into your chest, stripped out of your suit and freshly showered. Logan was in the bathroom just a few feet away, brushing his teeth. Just fucking brushing his teeth like nothing happened. Like his soul hadn’t left his body and you had to fucking watch.

It wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t the fact that he was brushing off the fact that he’d died and come back to life.

You loved him.

It’d been a good handful of months, and neither of you had said the big one yet. People always said you and Logan were the same kind of stubborn, probably what drew you to each other in the first place. Both skittish and afraid to ruin something by going too far. But it’s gone past that point for both of you now, hasn’t it? What risks are there left to take? It took seeing the light draining from his eyes to realize you loved this man. God, why can’t anything in your life be easy?

You feel the mattress sink behind you, but still don’t turn to look at him. His body shifts with a heavy sigh.

“I can’t…we can’t go to bed like this.” There’s that gentle pleading in his voice you’d only heard a handful of times. When he woke up from nightmares, mostly.

A heavy hand comes to rest over yours and to your surprise, you don’t pull away. You finally turn to face him… and there he is. As rugged and beautiful as he always is. Not a speck of blood left. No holes in his body. The familiar hair of his bare chest already grown back in the same familiar patterns. The man you loved, as good as new.

With a deep breath, you ask your first question.

“Have you died before?”

He’s taken aback at first but eventually answers.

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“Logan—” you bury your face in your hands, not sure if you are willing away tears or an irritated groan.

He reaches out for you, ready to pull you into him before he decides against it.

“I’m sorry,” he simply says.

“Logan, it’s not—”

“I thought you knew,” He quickly cuts you off. “You knew how old I was… what I’d been through. I figured you knew.”

In retrospect, it seems obvious. He’d fought in wars, been ripped apart and put back together, he’s hundreds of years old, for God's sake. But what normal person would ever correlate that to complete and total resurrection? You knew Logan had suffered… but this…

“You’re okay and I’m okay. That’s all that matters.” He reaches out to you again. You stand up from the bed and start to pace before he can touch you.

“It’s not about that! It’s not about being okay now— it’s that I had to watch you. I saw you die. I saw you suffer because of me and I—” You cut yourself off before admitting to your newest and most terrifying secret. “You can’t do that again. I can’t watch you go through that again.”

He just sits there, looking up at you like a scolded puppy.

“I can’t promise that.” He says without an ounce of regret in his voice.

“Then you’re going to have to try.”

You see a flame flicker in his eyes then before he looks away. He sits there, hands squeezing into white knuckled fists on his lap before he releases them with a deep breath.

“You can’t just ask me not to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You did tonight.”

You turn away again, trying to keep yourself from screaming. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t fucking get it.

You pause, facing the wall adjacent to the bed, and take a few deep breaths before daring to continue.

“I don’t want you to just be a human shield for me.”

“I’m not…I will do anything as long as it means you stay alive.” He’d finally raised his voice, the tendons in his neck tensing from what little restraint he had. “You have no idea… No idea what I’d do.”

And finally, his nonchalant attitude toward this monumental thing started to make sense. What he’d done, sacrificing himself for you— it meant nothing to him. A blip in his long existence. What’s a little more pain to it all? Logan never gave a shit about himself, you already knew that— but the people he cared about…he’d move mountains for them.

“I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away… but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in.

Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool.

You have to show him he’s more than that. More than some blunt object. More than a weapon. He’s a man… the man you love.

You pull at his wrist, urging him to lean into you. He does, his arms circling around your shoulders and yours sneaking up around his back.

“Logan… you still don’t get it…but I guess I’m not getting it right either,” you start gently, running your hands soothingly up his back. “I’m not saying I’m not happy to be alive. That we’re both alive…but…I can’t be entirely grateful because…because I watched the man I love die tonight.”

You feel him tense around you.

“Just for a moment, I thought I lost you. I lost you and it was my fault. You’re not just something that’s expendable. You’re a man. A man that I— And I’d never get to tell you…” You trail off, the thought of it is too unbearable.

He doesn’t let you bury your face in his chest like you wanted, hiding yourself from his searing gaze. Instead, his hands come up to cradle your face, gently craning your neck back to look at him. You were right to want to hide away from him, his eyes are more desperately burning than you’d ever seen.

He holds you there, unmoving, unspeaking. Just boring into your soul with a million words that his mouth could never say. You don’t need him to speak. Those deep pools of hazel and topaz say it all.

In a way, Logan took the first step. He took a few dozen bullets for you, endured unspeakable pain and the first thing he did when he could breathe again was ask if you were okay— what is that if not love?

You don’t recall the last time a kiss felt more natural. Kissing Logan always felt right, but this was different. Whatever words he couldn’t say, he was pouring into this kiss. An all-consuming embrace. A silent promise. His own way of saying he loved you back.

Logan was always a man of action rather than words.

He pulls you into him, holding you flush against his body with a desperate moan and a need to have you impossibly closer. He cradles you like a treasure, tongue coming out to explore your own.

He pulls you down to the bed, hands starting to desperately paw at your whole body. You straddle his lap, cupping his jaw so tightly you fear hurting him. As if you ever could. Your shirt’s discarded in some blinding flurry of motion, his lips immediately trailing all over your chest as soon as you're exposed to him.

Logan was always a lustful and sometimes feral lover. It was always something that was intoxicating about him. This was more than that, though. There was a sense of desperation in his touch— a need. A need to have you closer. To touch you. To taste you. To have you just feel how much he needed you.

How much he loved you back.

He brings you down to the bed, pulling off your sleep shorts before you can even get a breath in. You rise to meet him once he’s discarded his own pants and straddle his lap again. He pulls you back into him as you sink down over him, your cunt stretching to his familiar girth.

“Don’t leave me again,” you plead as your hands reach up to cradle his face, tears pricking at your eyes. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”

“Okay,” He says passively, dropping his mouth down to nip at your neck. “F-for you I’ll… Okay…Okay…”

It’s not a promise, not really. But it’s a start.

You both find a rhythm here, pushing and pulling into each other in ways that were already familiar and somehow completely new at the same time. It’ll never be the same after tonight. Whatever you and Logan are, it’s something entirely new. Equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Love always is.

It’s hours, it’s days, it’s… You don’t really fucking care. An eternity with Logan inside you would still not be enough, but eventually, you both find solace in your pillows, your bodies and hearts weary from… everything.

You both lay there, finally still and the initial emotions quelled. There was still so much more to talk about, so much more to say… but not tonight. Not right now.

“Do you ever remember anything… when it happens?” you find yourself asking, your fingers lazily brushing through his facial hair.

He says nothing at first, hand reaching up to yours and bringing it down for a kiss.

“No. Never. But… waking up to you wasn’t half bad.”

You flinch again at the memory of those empty eyes.

“I don’t want to see that happen to you again.”

“I can’t promise that, darlin’.” He reiterates from earlier.

“I’m not asking for a promise… I’m just asking you to try.”

He pulls you into him, resting his chin on top of your head and his hand gently stroking up and down your arm. It’ll take time, but you’ll show him. You’ll show Logan his life is worth something.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says, placing a kiss on your head, “l’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan smut #Wolverine #logan howlett fic #wolverine x f!reader #wolverine fanfiction

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bunnysdollette · 8 months ago

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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ Main character energy ⟢ ⭐️

⟢ Heyy angels!! today, I’m gonna share my top secret formula on how to start attaining what I like to call main character energy. This will be a long post sharing all my secrets on how I’m working to become THAT GIRL. ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WHAT IS MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY? 🕯️ ⊹₊⟡⋆

• main character energy is basically walking into a room with all eyes on you, full of confidence, joy, and hypnotic magnetism.

• if you want to start feeling like that girl, first you have to realize that you already ARE. YOU are the main character of your life. YOU are the star.

• it’s extremely important not to flip flop with this mindset, or it literally won’t work. in order to persist in this idea I really reccommend manifesting it and listening to SUBS that help affirm that “main character” identity you’re going for. my fav sub I use to manifest a sweet, magnetic, and feminine energy . .

the sweetest girl they know works so welll ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SETTING THE STAGE 🎀 ⊹₊⟡*

• main character energy is a FEELING. In order for you to harness that powerful energy, you have to set the stage in your life

•what do I mean? Removing bad influences from your life. How do you expect to be an admirable and magnetic person if you’re surrounded by terrible people?

• anyone who is vibrating on a very low level threatens your ability to elevate your own self. you are who you surround yourself with so choose your friends wisely.

• you should also actively try to curate your social media feed and social space with things that are positive and helpful. social media has a HUGE impact on us and it should be used for our improvement, not to bring us down.

another way I love to do this is MUSIC! you can create an uplifting and confidence boosting playlist full of songs you like.

for example I really like songs like perfect night by le sserafim (kinda controversial ngl…) my world, lucky girl syndrome by illit, a lot of ari grande songs too. ♡ also girlblogging duh and looking at other girlblogs.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STOP TAKING SHIT 🩰 ⊹₊⟡

• Stop TAKING SHIT from others. You are a walking goddess capable of doing amazing things, who is actively trying to better themselves. Who are you to take someone else’s crap?

• Walk with purpose and confidence, show people that you are secure in yourself. BUT when people are disrespectful to you. DO NOT LET IT SLIDE. That sets a terrible precedent for how others can treat you.

• You CAN Respond in a mature and calm way. But sometimes ignoring it and simply not letting it affect you can work too. Acknowledge what was said, take a deep breath and move forward. Let it go and don’t let anyone else’s comments hinder your journey. You are the one in control.

ways I calmly respond to people trying to check me:

• friend gossiping about me? bye!

• someone’s whispering under their breath about me? block out their voice and instead think about how perfect and beautiful I am.

• someone spreading rumors about me? Correct them to people who may bring them up around me, but be okay with that being misunderstood as long as it isn’t something genuinely harmful that requires adult intervention

• literally anyone has anything to say about me? distance myself from them. they aren’t worth my time, presence nor my precious energy. make that known.

my other post on this which I’m currently working on redoing. . here

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PUTTING YOU FIRST 🍵 ⊹₊⟡

• put you first ALWAYS. you are the main character in this life, not everyone and everything is worth your attention! never feel obligated to go above and beyond for someone who doesn’t deserve it.

• self care should be a huge priority in your life, because the most important relationship you will ever have with someone in your life is with YOURSELF. it will dictate everyone according to your mindset, the way you view yourself, and the WORLD.

ways I started putting me first:

• dropping the people pleaser thing: practicing saying “no” or “I don’t want to” or “I didn’t like that” in the mirror, then trying my best to apply that in everday life

• stopped answering random unplanned calls from people when I knew I was busy and texting them when I could talk

• stopped agreeing to every hangout as well

• I stayed kind, but I stopped letting people treat me like a doormat.

• letting go when people were displeased with something I said or did.

⟢ that’s basically some of the three main points I had in this post, didn’t wanna make it tooo long. I hope something in here helped someone today and as always stay cute dolls. my inbox is always open for cuties who wanna ttm ♡

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thedomesticanthropologist · 2 years ago

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What's really funny is Gale having all the arrogance of an Archwizard but the Netherese Orb ate all his magic (it's canon I don't have the quote but it's a thing) and THEN he got tadpoled which Wyll mentions Nerfs Them (used to be able to do a lot more prior to being infected, was more powerful)

So we have this level 1 wizard acting like hot shit and Tav being like??? Man he's got the Hubris AND HE DOES but like he USED TO BE ABLE TO BACK IT UP and now he cant but he still stands there in his velveteen pajamas acting like he hasn't just been nerfed down to nothing as well as having the literal goddess of magic break up with him like

Man got fucking STEPPED on by the universe and it DUG ITS HEEL IN for good measure and he still has the balls to pull out lines like

"Oh I meant are you STUDIED in magic? Are you a WIZARD? I thought not ✨✨✨✨"

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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18+, PWP, based on this delicious NSFW Twitter Link

The lovely @g00miato has now done smutty artwork based on my imagining of this! You should find it on Patreon, where she is very reasonably priced, and very generous with requests...

Hiromi wasn't sure how he had ended up in the position he was; still suited, dishevelled, and unzipped just enough for his throbbing cock and balls to be released, strapped to a chair by his arms and legs. Bound. Immobilised. At the mercy of some vengeful goddess. The tie across his chest fluttered beneath his needy panting.

"...I'm sure--" Hiromi swallowed thickly, unconvincing in his self-assurance, "-- I'm sure it can't be that strong...I'll hold out."

"...really? I give you...two minutes. Maximum."

"--fuck-- shit--...anything, my love. Anything. Don't-- don't leave me like this-- please--"

Eyes blown, and panting in anticipation as his cockhead wept sticky rivulets down his belly, Hiromi's breaths fluttered to watch you approach him with the vibrator he usually used on you; a wand so powerful it often left his palm numb while he held it between your legs. It was usually Hiromi watching you squirm, pinning you down while you went to heaven and back; not the other way around.

You knelt in front of him, your obsessive fascination bone-deep, desperate to see him fall apart in front of you. Desperate to watch. The camera set before Hiromi, proved you would continue to be desperate to watch...again, and again, and again. Hiromi swallowed once more, his tongue claggy as he imagined you pleasuring yourself to his seed spilling across his belly, bound and twisting, his voice muffled against the--

"Open up," you whispered, tasting his mouth just one more time before you filled it. Hiromi chased your lips with a whine as you pulled away, his back arching, snatching his waist in as the chair creaked against his straining arms. With a whimper and a buck, Hiromi felt you cram his tie into his mouth, rolled up and muffling his cries.

Hiromi tried to curse, his groans suppressed by the silky fabric, when you lowered your mouth to his cock, slick, and hot, and lubricating him in one smooth deepthroat from tip, to balls, and back again. Hearing Hiromi's muffled cries of ecstasy above you, feeling his thick thighs and corded forearms strain against his bonds, set your heart racing.

You ached to watch it back, to drink down his glossy eyes, the twitching micro-expressions colouring the very soul of him onto film. You stroked one thumb over his strained lower lip, eyelashes fluttering as he looked up to you in reverence. You whispered to him.

"God, you're gonna look so pretty, cumming all over your suit..."

You slid the silicone sleeve over Hiromi's cock, feeling it twitch and leap in your hands as you pressed the head of the wand in place just beneath his tip. Anticipation had already taken Hiromi half the way, and your hands were dripping with his arousal before you had even begun. Hiromi choked out a whine as you looked into his eyes, licking your fingers clean.

With a remote control in your hand, and the persistent low-level thrum of a vibrator in your panties, you stepped back to survey your handiwork; one desperate, gagged, suited man, frayed and bound against a chair, about to be milked for every last drop of cum.

Sitting behind the camera, you bit your lip, your own pleasure warm, low and constant. Watching would take you the rest of the way. The anticipation hung for just long enough for Hiromi to make a muffled noise of complaint-- before you set the wand vibrating against his reddening cockhead.

The vibrations burst through Hiromi in a haze of pleasure. He roared, muffled by the tie, his head thrown back with another bellow, and his fingers splaying outwards. You gasped under your breath, squirming as he squirmed, biting your lip as his head threw forwards, his eyes glossy and beseeching.

Hiromi had never been thrown so viciously into pleasure, his mind wiped blank by the vibration, cuffed against the underside of his cock, and forcing him to fuck his lubricated length up through the sleeve, with what little motion his bonds gave him.

It had been forever, and no time at all, by the time he felt the wildfire burn throughout his loins, warning him of impending orgasm. Hiromi almost sobbed, twisting and straining, his whines and cries for his peak growing louder and more desperate by the second.

You edged yourself, one finger between your teeth, watching for the safeword stamping foot that your husband never gave. Your pupils dilated, to see his balls clench, dragging up towards the base of his cock, semen loaded for what would surely be the most exquisite ejaculation you had ever witnessed.

Hiromi was so blinded by unholy bliss, he didn't notice when cum began to spill down his black trousers, a few weak slugs dripping out, before his orgasm caught up, hitting him like a sledgehammer behind the navel. Hiromi shouted through his tie, moans drawn and husky, staccato with gluey white seed spurting in heavy slugs up his suit, rendering patches of his crisp white shirt transparent, sticking to his belly. He convulsed, a messy, twitching wreck.

Overstimulation made him shiver, thick dribbles of cum continuing to be milked out of him, collecting at the rim of the cock sleeve, before sliding, viscous and creamy, into his zipper, down to his thighs, splatting onto the seat and floor beneath him. Hiromi's hangdog eyes begged you, his hips still trying to fuck his seed up into a vessel that wasn't there.

You hadn't expected to cum through such little physical stimulation, but the visual stimulation sliced through the very viscera of you. You rolled through your peak, grinding your thighs together, tangling your fingers in your hair. Hiromi stared, moaning, at your blissfully parted lips, a few final spurts of cum leaving his pulsing tip, just from the vision you presented.

After a few more seconds of his weak little pants, you slowed the vibrator down, and down, and down, bringing Hiromi down, and down, and down with it. You watched him slump, held up only by his bonds. You walked to him with wobbling legs, turning the recording off on the way.

You pulled the damp tie from his mouth, cupping his cheeks, shushing him as you thumbed drips of sweat away from his temples.

"That was amazing," you praised him, his cheekbones flushing with your joy, " you looked amazing."

Hiromi panted, weak in your palms, and offering a crooked little smile; "...'m sorry I'm...I'm late all the time...hope that helps, when I'm-- when I'm not here..."

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moonreader1010 · 1 year ago

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Pac: how people perceive you<3

Note: 1. take what resonates.

2. Take a deep breath. Ask your spirit guides to help you choose the pile and choose the one that calls out to you.

3. Pictures used are from Pinterest. All rights go to the original owner.

Pile 1:

She'll put you in a trance at first glance

Don't wanna fall in love, but I'll take a chance

straight up I got vision of this one picture that I saw on Pinterest a while back. It was a rabbit in an armour with some sort of spikey weapon and it said “soft but not available for mistreatment”. Very do not harm but take no shit vibes. I see major cancer placements. You can tame anyone. I keep getting beauty and the beast vibes. Like, you know how to tame people. People listen to you but I don’t see and boss employee kind of relationship but more like a goddess and her followers kind of relationship. I see you being hurt in the past. Was growing up difficult baby? Did someone hurt you? I wanna hug you right now. You are an inspiration. You are a warrior and you are so so strong and wise. I feel like we are getting away from the actual question of the reading but I feel like someone wanted me to tell you this hahah. So onto the question that how people perceive you, I think they can tell that you have been through something that changed you. Made you stronger and wiser. People definitely see you as someone who will nail the trope of “taming the bad boy” haha. But ofcourse remember that it’s not your job to fix anyone and I feel like you already know this. People see you as someone who dances in the rain, confident (lots of cards show me the theme of confidence actually), hopeful. They also see you as this boss lady (gender neutral). They see you as someone who is busy building empires.

Additional: student, business, garden, summer dresses, flowers.

Song: Dangerous woman by Wieland

Pile 2: You wear that cast so cool

And I'm in awe

A face like you've never seen before

Around

people see you as someone who is constantly moving(it could be traveling or you know, making moves generally) you are not a still entity. You are always doing something. People see you as someone who is very private and mysterious. It’s hard to know anything about you. Moon seems to be really significant for some reason. People also see you as someone who cuts people of very quickly. No bullshit kinda person. You can deal with absence but won’t take disrespect. You are an achiever. People see you as someone who is constantly trying to learn something. You are open to experiences. You walk away from a situation that doesn’t serve you and that’s what many people admire about you. Young hear and old soul is what I keep hearing. People feel like they can come to you for help and also see you as someone who is very sensible.

Additional: wood, earth signs, moon, 3, heart on your sleeves, white flowers, driving far away.

Songs for you: Ever (foreign sleep) by team sleep.

Pile 3: Baby, this is what you came for

Lightning strikes every time she moves

And everybody's watchin' her

But she's lookin' at you,

people see you as someone who works really hard. They see you as someone who is very responsible and completes tasks like a pro. They see you as a leader. Is acts of services you love language? People feel like they can always count on you. You are always there to help people. You honestly are a great leader you know? Some people seem to see you as a rival. A competition. You make people competitive pile 3. People see you as someone who is very faithful. You are almost untouchable to people. You seem to be on an entire different level that they cannot reach. People see you as someone who is smart and has a way with words. You seem like someone who would do great in negotiations and business exchange lol.

Additional: ships, sea, commerce, green,

Song for you: this is what you came for by Calvin Harris and Rihanna. (Very Rihanna energy lol)

#tarot #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a pile #free readings #tarot requests #tarot reading #tarot cards #intuitive readings

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teenidlegirl · 4 months ago

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꣖　 BEAUTY OF THIS MESS 　꣓　 ᤢ♥︎　 CHAPTER　.　2O 　!

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　as your pregnancy progresses and endure bodily changes, you begin feeling a bit insecure. however, miguel shows you how much he admires your changing body.

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　fluff, tiny angst, body insecurity, 18+ mdni, smut, pregnancy sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, cowgirl, cunnilingus, breast play, body worship, lactation, breeding kink

꣖　　previous　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　masterlist　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　next　　꣓

as your pregnancy progressed, you endured numerous changes. thicker hips, bigger tits filled with milk, swollen feet, achy back and feeling tired as shit most of the time. with all those bodily changes, you begin feeling a bit insecure about yourself. your body is forever changed and not how it used to be. of course these are the effects of motherhood and you should embrace them because you’re doing the most incredible thing ever, creating life.

however, that doesn’t shed away those negative thoughts plaguing your mind. in the beginning of your pregnancy, you were doing fine and simply enjoyed the process. but now with visible proof of the pregnancy, your mindset flipped a switch. every time you stare at the mirror, you sulk at your tired swollen state. those damn saggy tits filled with milk that leak sometimes and stain your clothes which pisses you off. the additional thickness and roundness of your hips accommodating your growing baby. swollen feet that bother you indefinitely. the bags under your eyes, sighs of trouble sleeping sometimes due to the aching. you just look like a damn mess.

you just feel so unattractive and not enough for miguel. when you first began dating, you were so much different. now, you’re a giant balloon. you know miguel doesn’t only love you for your body. he adores you completely, your soul, body, spirit, heart. he would, still, worships your body like a goddess because you are a goddess in his eyes. that man always managed to make you a bashful mess due to those sweet praises and compliments he’d whisper while planting kisses here and there. especially now you’re pregnant, oh he’s been worshipping you overboard. kneeling in front of you and kissing your swollen belly, gently holding it in his hands as he whispers sweet praises of love to you and your unborn daughter. massaging wherever you needed, boobs, back, feet, anything that brings discomfort. gently lift up your belly to relieve you of the weight. miguel would reassure you that he loves you, appreciates you, and says wholeheartedly that you are the most beautiful woman in the universe. the man is your number one worshipper.

yet, you still feel not enough for him. you don’t feel pretty enough for him. miguel is such a handsome man, he deserves to have someone match that same level of beauty by his side. you don’t fit the category, not with baggy titties, thick ass hips, and swollen feet. you just feel so… unattractive. those negative thoughts were ruining your mind to the point where you believed miguel would’ve be better off with a much prettier woman by his side.

you hate it so much. you hate how this pregnancy makes you feel negative about your changing body. you hate how it makes you feel so insecure. you hate it how affects your relationship with miguel. you just want those stupid thoughts to stop but you can’t. it’s taking control of your mind at this point.

now here you are, sulking at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. wearing nothing but underwear since your breasts are swollen so you discarded a bra. thick, heavy, swollen are words to describe your appearance. heavily sighing as your fingers lightly trace over the stretch marks under your belly and hips. another burden of pregnancy, something you should embrace yet those negative thoughts take control and tell your mind the opposite.

the sight in front of you brings tears to your eyes. how could miguel love this thing? how could he be willing to kiss, hug, touch this thing? how could he say this thing is the most beautiful woman in the universe? the dark thoughts were getting too intense. you quickly wipe away tears that were about to spill, put on your robe, and frustratingly exit the bathroom. a frustrated groan falls from your lips as you throw yourself on the bed, cover your entire body with the sheets, and let out soft sobs meaning to be released.

you look terrible, disgusting.

you should be ashamed to be standing by miguel’s side while looking like that.

how could he love a gross thing like you?

endless dark thoughts plaguing your mind, making you sob more underneath the sheets. it’s unhealthy, you want them to stop but you just can’t. they won’t stop, you can’t stop thinking about them. not to mention the pregnancy hormones aren’t much help. in fact, they make it even more worse.

you are drowning yourself in those dark thoughts that you don’t hear miguel coming home. he returned from the bike shop to pump his tires. he stopped by the habit to pick some food up for you both since he figured you’d be hungry by the time he returned home. he also knew you were craving the chicken sandwich with teriyaki sauce.

“mi reina, i’m home.” he calls out, expecting you to respond but instead it was only silence. that confuses him a little. miguel calls out your name again yet there was no answer.

okay, now he’s concerned. especially more when he hears soft sobs and sniffing from your room. miguel doesn’t hesitate to rush over, panicking. are you hurt? is something wrong with the baby? many negative thoughts ran across his mind.

opening the door but not aggressively since he doesn’t want to scare you, he stands there confused at you completely covered with the bedsheets.

“mi reina?” miguel calls out softly but all he gets is a soft whimper. he walks around the bed to your side but is taken aback when you pull the sheets more over your head so he won’t see you.

and you don’t want him to see how much of a sobbing mess you are right now.

you don’t sound in pain yet your entire body is covered so it doesn’t prove anything and he only gets more concerned. “mi amor, what’s wrong?” miguel kneels next to the bed in front of you. “are you hurt? is something wrong with the baby?”

“no…” you answer with a quiet sob.

his brows furrowed at that, specifically at the quiet sob. “are you sure?” he leans a bit closer.

another quiet sob but more of a whine. “yes…”

if you’re fine physically, then what’s wrong emotionally?

miguel believes you but he wants to know why are you crying and covering yourself. his fingers find the top of the sheet and slowly tries to pull it away but you instinctively pull it back with a whine.

he retracts his hand. “¿mi amor, qué paso? why won’t you let me see you?”

“just go away, please…”

his heart breaks, at both your request and the sadness in your tone. one thing miguel hates is being away from you, he learned his lesson hard. but something tells him that this is different.

he gently rests his hand on your back and give it a few tender rubs. “por favor, mi reina. i just wanna see that you’re okay, i wanna see my pretty girl.”

miguel waits patiently, not wanting to rush you and allow you to take your time. all he wants is to see you and if you’re okay, physically at least.

oh you can’t resist that loving tone. it always makes your heart ache in a good way, with much love.

very slowly yet reluctantly, you pull down the sheets but only revealing your teary eyes. miguel’s heart breaks, once again, at the sight of the tears in those gorgeous eyes he adores so dearly. another thing he hates is seeing you cry, it breaks his heart.

“oh mi reina… por qué llores?” his hand in your back moves up to gently wipe your tears away but you move away from his touch with a soft whine.

you wipe them yourself frustratingly, refusing to look at him. “it’s just the hormones.”

it’s more than the hormones, he can tell. this was different, you’ve never behaved like this before during your pregnancy. miguel wants to know the problem so he can help you.

“bebé, i think it’s more than just the hormones.” his hand returns to your back, gently rubbing it. “dime, por favor. i wanna help you, mi amor.”

you sniffle as you roll your eyes, weakly shaking your head against the pillow. “it’s stupid…”

he sighs sadly, leaning closer. “dime, amor.”

you shouldn’t tell him, it’s just stupid thoughts that got the best of you. but you also hate making him worry, especially over dumb stuff like this. it’s the last thing you want yet here he is worried about why you’re crying while wrapped up in bedsheets like a burrito. you probably look ridiculous even.

with a heavy sigh, you shove your face into the pillow to conceal the tears. “i look gross…”

“mande?” he doesn’t understand since you’re muffling into the pillow.

goddamnit.

groaning, you turn your face away from the pillow but cover your mouth with the bedsheet, still refusing to look at him. “i look gross.”

miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “gross? you’re not gross, bebé.”

a scoff left your lips. “yes, i am.”

“no, you’re not. you’re beautiful, a beautiful woman going through the process of becoming a mother.”

that elicits another scoff. he doesn’t get it. how could he say you’re beautiful when you literally look like a walker from the ‘the walking dead.’ a pregnant walker at that. he just… he just doesn’t understand.

miguel notices how reluctant you are and it breaks his heart even more. he’s telling the truth, you’re a beautiful woman enduring the process of growing a baby and becoming a mother. it’s a beautiful thing.

he is, however, aware of body insecurity that pregnant women endure. it’s strange to see your body change in various ways. some changes are temporary and others are permanent. you, just like another other pregnant woman, are enduring various bodily changes. miguel finds it fascinating how the female body changes with pregnancy. all these altercations for creating and carrying a baby. women are powerful beings. however, it doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t ache seeing you so upset.

“mi amor, escúchame por favor. you’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”

“no, i’m not!” you abruptly sit up but being mindful of your belly. “i’m gross, fat, swollen, all of the above!” you throw your hands up frustratingly before lowering them and finally looking at him with teary eyes. “how could you love me?”

miguel is shocked, in disbelief actually. how could you say much a thing? how could he not love you? he loves you with all his fucking soul, for fucking eternity. however, he understands the hormones and doubts are getting the best of you.

“bebé…” he starts softly, bringing a hand to cup your cheek ever so gently. exhaling softly when do you move way from his touch. “i understand why you’re having these thoughts pero i’ll tell you that i love you and will always love you no matter what. even pregnant, i still love you. no matter what.”

tears prickle in your eyes. god he’s such a sweetheart, his kind words always melting your heart. how did you deserve such a sweet man?

“i-i’m sorry… it’s just…”

“don’t be sorry and take your time, amor. i’m here forever, no rush.” he reassures you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“it’s just… i feel so unworthy. i’m not how i use to be. i’m just so big and swollen and it drives me fucking crazy. i’ll never be the same again. a-and you, you’re so fucking handsome and i feel so unworthy to be by your side. like you deserve someone who has the same beauty level as you, not some big balloon like me. i know you’re gonna say i’m the most beautiful woman in the universe blah blah blah, i just… i feel not pretty enough, for you or in general.”

miguel was attentive to every word. it pains him to hear you feel so lowly of yourself but ultimately understands why. he just wished he could show you how beautiful you, how you are in his eyes. all he wants is to comfort you, make you feel loved and appreciated by him, make you feel worthy.

“mi reina,” he starts softly, cupping your cheek, making you lean into his touch. “you’re right, i will tell you that you are beautiful because you are beautiful to me, siempre. yes, your body has changed but it has changed porque you’re carrying our daughter.” his other hand rests gently on your swollen belly through the sheets, caressing it. “you’re carrying a baby, a life. isn’t that amazing?”

“well… yeah but also kinda weird, y’know? there’s literally another human being inside me.”

that elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend. “pues, si. it is kinda weird growing another human being inside pero it’s still a fascinating phenomenon.”

while tears trail down your cheeks and he gently wipes them, you can’t help but smile a little at that. pregnancy is a weird, fascinating phenomenon.

“mi reina, i’m the one who feels like i’m not worthy of you. after what i put you through for three weeks, i felt so undeserving of you. not as much now since we’ve been making so much progress and doing much better now, there are times when i feel like that. but when i see you and our little one,” he gives your belly a few gentle rubs. “i remember that i’m very grateful to have you both in my life, to have my two girls in my life.” much adoration in his tone.

your heart swells with much love. he always knows the right words to say to melt your heart.

“i know i can’t take away those bad feelings but i am always here for you. please believe me when i say you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen and i love you. one else has my heart but you, siempre.”

finally, you break down and begin sobbing. miguel quickly sits on the edge of the bed and takes you in his arms, wrapping his arms around you as you sob into his chest. his hold on you tightens a little as he feels your trembling form. one hand rubs gentle circles on your back as comfort. he holds you and never lets go. you break down and miguel is there to catch you, just like you did with him that one night when he told you what happened to gabriel.

“i love you…” you sob softly.

his heart swells, gently squeezing you with love. “té quiero tanto, mi reina. more than you know.”

you two stay like that for a while until you finally calm down and the tears finally stop. just a tender moment of embracing one another.

“i’m sorry… the hormones fuck me up.” you lean back, letting out a few sniffles.

“don’t be, it’s okay.” his hands slowly rubbing encouraging circles on your arms before one of them reaches out to grab a tissue from your nightstand.

“thank you…” you take the offered tissue from him. “god… i know you just said those sweet things but i really do feel like a mess after all that crying.” you glance down at yourself. flushed cheeks, dried up tears, messy hair, and still in your robe.

“you can take a bath, clean you up so you can feel better.” miguel suggests.

“yeah, a bath does sound really nice.”

he softly chuckles before helping you up from bed. “vamos, amor. let’s go prepare your bath.” as he guides you to the bathroom, miguel leans down towards your ear. “afterwards, i can show you exactly how much i adore you and this gorgeous body.”

there’s a hint of seductiveness in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine. you know exactly what he means and you anticipate for what plans he has.

after a relaxing bath with miguel’s help washing you and cleaning you up, you find yourself spread out on the bedsheets wearing a fresh, thin satin nightgown and a pregnancy pillow underneath for comfort. your heart beats quick with anticipation as miguel slowly approached towards the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats, your favorite. that mix of lust and adoration glint in his eyes increases your anticipation. those same brown eyes admire your plump, glowing form.

“tan hermosa.” he notices your bashful face and makes him smile. miguel loves his effect on you and how simple sweet words can make you shy.

slowly kneeling in front of the bed, miguel leans down towards your legs and gently grabs one leg and brush his lips against your ankle. his lips leaves a trace of soft kisses as he slowly trails up your leg, reaching towards your inner thigh.

“i love these thighs.” he murmurs against your skin. “wanna wrap them around my face all day.” before you can say anything, your breath hitches as you feel his lips suck your inner thigh, silencing you.

your core begins throbbing with want. “miguel…”

“so soft…” he whispers in between kisses and light sucks, earning soft gasps and moans from you. alternating between thighs, spreading them to access more skin and leave more kisses.

the teasing kisses were wearing your patience thin and your body started feeling hot. “miguel, please~” a soft whine from your lips.

“relájate, bebé. lemme worship you.” miguel can’t help but grin at your impatience. it’s so adorable when you whine and beg for him.

trailing upwards, miguel slowly lifts up the hem of your nightgown exposing your swollen belly and panties. a soft gasp falls from your lips as the cool air hits your core. he doesn’t ignore the wet stain on your panties, making him grin. but miguel’s attention is on your belly. he peppers it with adoring kisses and whisper sweet praises, making your heart flutter and mind floaty while feeling hot and bothered.

miguel feels a faint kick against his lips, both of you chuckle. “si, princesa. papí is taking care of mamá.” he softly whispers against your skin.

that melts your heart.

“té quiero, mi reina. té quiero tu pancita. your gorgeous belly, growing our baby.” he murmurs between kisses, worshiping your tummy. each kiss earns a faint kick from your baby.

you reach down and dig your fingers in his hair, brushing through those soft wavy curls. “miguel~”

“such a pretty mamí.” very slowly, his lips trail back down to where you really want him. he chuckles at the way your hips buckle ever so slightly. “don’t worry, bebé. i’ll take care of you.”

gripping the sides of your panties, miguel slowly slides them off your body. he curses quietly at your glistening pussy, dripping already for him.

“dios, you’re dripping, bebita. ¿todo para mi, huh?” his eyes never leave your glistening cunt as he tosses your panties somewhere on the floor.

“y-yes, miguel por favor—”

“shhh, i’m here…” he shushes you softly, calloused hands spreading your thighs and rest them on his bulky shoulders. “let me know if it’s too much.” miguel glances up at you with sincerity, you nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to dive into your sweet cunt.

a moan erupts from your throat as miguel’s lips suckle on your throbbing clit, causing your back to arch off the bed. the bedroom is filled with your moans as your boyfriend eats you out passionately. his tongue draws delicate circles on your precious pearl, sending your mind haywire and squirm underneath his hold. a loud moan echos in the room as miguel’s tongue begins penetrating you.

“oh my- miguel!~” you arch your back, gripping tightly on his brown locks, earning a groan from him.

you’re so fucking sweet, an addictive nectar that he can’t get enough of. you always tasted sweet but even more now that you’re pregnant. miguel is going fucking crazy at your sweetness, slurping and eating you up as if you’re his final meal.

“fuck- you’re so- fucking sweet, bebé.” he moans in between slurps and licks.

unfortunately, you swollen tummy blocks the beautiful view but you can still see those cute brown locks. while alternating between his tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit, miguel reaches a hand up and places it on your belly, his thumb caressing it. the multiple sensations of pleasure he was providing was overwhelming, your mind haywired. using your free hand, you interlock yours with miguel’s that is on your belly, making the connection more intimate. the familiar warm sensation in your tummy gradually develops, building and building up as miguel continues pleasuring you in miraculous ways.

“m-miguel, i’m gonna—”

“dámelo, bebé.” he gently squeezes your hand.

god you love it when he says that, so fucking hot. his tongue movement increase, determined to make you reach the pinnacle of pleasure. your pitchier and louder moans echo in the bedroom as your orgasm approaches. finally, with a loud whine of his name like a prayer, you gush around his tongue. the death grip on his hair makes him groan but miguel doesn’t give a shit, too busy devouring your sweetness. miguel is a greedy little shit, devouring every ounce of your sweet nectar. swirling his tongue around and slurring up everything he can get, not wasting any drop as if his life depends on it.

“m-miguel, please stop- no more, i can’t—” your legs tremble as you begin to feel overstimulated by the never-ending pleasure he still provides. plus, the pregnancy hormones make you extra sensitive. if he doesn’t stop, you will have another orgasm and right now you’re desperate for his cock.

your boyfriend slurps up any leftover sweetness and gives your now sensitive clit one final suck before finally rising from your trembling thighs.

“you taste so fucking sweet, mamí. even sweeter now because you’re pregnant.” his tongue runs over his lips glistening with your come, collecting the leftover. the sight makes your pussy flutter.

goddamnit, this man drives you crazy.

“¿estas bien?” he returns to his sweet, caring nature. a huge contrast from his seductive nature a few seconds ago. while wanting to provide you pleasure, miguel still focuses on your wellbeing.

you hum softly with a weak nod, recovering from your high. melting into his touch as his fingers stroke your cheek with such tenderness. sudden discomfort hits you when you feel wetness on your chest. glancing down, a frown settles on your face when two small wet stains are found on your nightgown. your face grows warm with embarrassment.

“goddamnit…” you curse frustratingly at the sight.

miguel’s brows furrowed in concern for a moment then follows your line of sight.

oh… you’re leaking.

you pinch the bridge of your nose while sighing frustratingly. great, now you ruined the sexy time. “sorry… didn’t expect this shit to happen.”

miguel quickly shakes his head. “no, no, no. don’t be sorry, it’s natural, mi amor. no te procupes.” he caresses your face as a sign of reassurance.

he might be weird but miguel can’t stop… looking at those two damp spots, more specifically your tits. he figures you’d start leaking since your breast are overflowing with milk prepared for your daughter when she arrives. it’s just… so fascinating to see. miguel is so fascinated that his hand has a mind of its own and slowly reaches towards your covered breasts. a frown settles on his face when your hand stops him, glancing at you worryingly.

“perdóname, mi reina. i just…”

god, how the fuck can he say it? i wanna suck on your tits, drink your milk that’s clearly meant for our daughter? you’d think he’s fucking insane.

you look up at him with slightly confused eyes but brush it off. “it’s okay… i’m just gonna go change.” you’re about to get up before his hand on your upper arms stop you, gently holding you in place.

“don’t change. it’s okay, preciosa. don’t feel about it, like i said, it’s natural for a pregnant woman.” he reassures you sweetly, caressing your arms.

you shrug, sighing. “i just wasn’t expecting that to happen right now. they just feel so fucking heavy.” leaning towards him, you hide in his chest and you feel his arms wrap around you lovingly.

he understands your discomfort and wishes to take it away. miguel is a problem solving guy and he wants to solve this problem. then, a light bulb imaginably appears on the top of his head.

“want me to message them for you?” he asks.

“sure.” you’re about to scoot over and expect miguel to sit beside you but instead he guides you to lay back down on the bed, leaving you slightly confused.

he notices your confused wide eyes. “do you trust me?” his thick fingers fiddle with the bow attached to the top of your nightgown where it holds your breasts, a sign of asking for consent.

your heart leaps in anticipation and excitement, knowing what he means. “always.”

with your consent, his fingers slowly untie the pretty bow and opens up the top of your nightgown, revealing your swollen breasts. his pupils dilate dramatically as he admires your beautiful breasts. licking his lips subconsciously at the small white droplets leaking from your perky nipples.

you recognize that glint in his eyes.

hunger.

that hungry look makes your clit throb but your mind says otherwise, feeling a bit insecure. you try to cover your chest but his hands gently pry them away.

“don’t hide from me, preciosa.” miguel looks up at you with sincerity and pleading. “ever.”

his whispered reassurance makes your heart flutter, a task he never fails to do. obliging, you allow your arms to move away and rest flat on the bed.

staring in awe of your breasts, miguel’s hands slowly come up and carefully cups them. that elicits a soft gasp from you. his cock twitches at the soft sensation of your breast in his palms. board palms gently message the soft, sensitive squishy fat. message out the knots and swollenness of your breasts, relieving you of that discomfort. the addictive sensation elicits soft moans and whimpers from you, arching your back into his touch.

“more, please…” you whimper, needing more pressure to feel more relieved.

“okay, mi amor.” miguel obliged and applies a bit more pressure with his hands, messaging your tits with care. each cute sound you make goes directly to his cock, twitching and throbbing with want.

miguel loves making you come undone with his touch. all he wants is to make you feel good.

those brown eyes stare in awe of your moving breasts, admiring the squishy fat moving in his large palms. but miguel is more focused on the tiny white droplets leaking from your nipples. a sudden wave of hunger courses through him like a tsunami. the longer he stares, the harder his cock becomes.

his honey mind also conjures up naughty thoughts. so much milk… flowing inside those pretty breasts of yours… begging to be drank.

fuck- does he have a lactation kink?

well, he does now thanks to you.

allowing those naughty instincts to take control, miguel leans over and captures a nipple with his lips hungrily. a gasp falls from your own when you feel him suckle on it, instinctively gripping on his hair.

“miguel!~” your chest arches into his mouth with a moan, seeking for more and more.

fuck, your pussy is so sweet and addicting but your milk is just something else.

another part of you he’s addicted to.

“y-you taste amazing, bebé.” he can’t get enough of your sweet milk, the warm liquid flowing down his thirst, humming happily. his hand squeezes your tit with a little pressure to gain more milk.

you feel his adam’s apple bobble with each gulp. his cheeks hollowed as he continues drinking. miguel alternates between both breasts, drinking one while his hand squeezes the other. the sensation sends tingling of pleasure to your clit. each suckle, lick and squeeze leaves you a throbbing mess. the pleasure is so intense, so good that you feel hot and bothered. as if he knows your body well, miguel lowers one hand down and gives your clit some attention after being neglected for a little. the sudden sensation causes a sharp moan to erupt from your throat.

“oh! miguel!~ please, don’t stop~” your fingers grip tighter on his hair as you feel that familiar warm feeling in your lower belly coming back with each flick of his finger on your sensitive pearl.

miguel continues suckling on your tit while playing with your clit before pushing in two digits into your tight folds, eliciting a heavenly whine. now that warm feeling was approaching fast. overwhelmed with the intense pleasure miguel continued providing. the next thing you know it, another loud moan of his name echos in the room as you come for the second time, gushing over his thick fingers. miguel gives your nipple one last suck while your chest arches as you come before finally breaking away.

your panting echos in the room, overwhelmed with the pleasure yet feel so good. god you love your boyfriend. a prideful grin on miguel’s face for making his girl feel good for a second time.

“you okay, amor?” he carefully slides out his fingers from your dripping folds while looking down at you with a loving, caring expression.

“holy shit, miguel. fuck yeah, damn…” you weakly chuckle, feeling utterly fucked out.

he chuckles as well, sheepishly. “sorry for going overboard, you just tasted so good.”

you weakly shake your head, giggling. “i can tell.”

a sheepish smile graces his lips as he rises to grab the cloth on the nightstand. miguel begins cleaning up in between your thighs but stops when you tug him back his dog tags and bring him down for a kiss. it surprises him but immediately reciprocates, hovering over you, mindful of your tummy. although, he doesn’t expect you to be so eager. practically devouring his lips as if your life depends on him.

“bebé—”

“get on the bed, now.”

now miguel is the surprise one but honestly is turned on by your command. he loves it you boss him around. authority looks so good on you.

all that pleasure left you a throbbing mess and craving for him, specifically his cock. not to mention the pregnancy hormones going bonkers now.

you’re a horny mess thanks to your boyfriend.

the man knows better than to keep you waiting so he swiftly takes off his sweats and lays in bed. his pupils dilate immensely as you get on top of him, groaning when your cunt meets with his aching cock. you’re so hot and bothered that you take off your nightgown, leaving yourself bare to miguel’s hungry eyes. you feel his cock twitch underneath.

“joder, bebé…” those brown eyes roam over your gorgeous figure, admiring the angel above him.

actually, a goddess above him.

once aligned with his cock, both of you let out a moan as you slowly sink down his length. fuck, you’re goddamn so tight, miguel’s mind goes haywire. his tip glazed your cervix perfectly. of course with miguel’s help, guiding you with his hands on your hips. however, your hips seem to have a mind of their as you begin already bouncing on him. finally riding his cock after what felt like forever.

moans and groans linger in the hot air of sex, bouncing the four walls of the bedroom. miguel admires his angel riding his cock to oblivion, admiring your bouncing tits. his hands leave your hips and cups your breasts, giving them squeezes. relishing the soft squishy fat in his palms, earning angelic moans from you since they’re extra sensitive. his hands move down to your belly and holds it securely. possessive thoughts ran across his mind.

your gorgeous belly, your baby growing inside. it’s his baby growing inside you. he is the one who got you pregnant, no other man. proof that you belong to him. miguel never felt that possessive of you but the longer he admires your pregnant belly, the more possessive he is of you. the fact it’s his baby, he is the father, he got you pregnant ignites that certain possessive side of him. it drives miguel insane.

“mira, mi niña hermosa.” his sweet praise makes you flustered, moaning softly. “growing our baby.” he gently rubs your baby bump. “my baby… growing inside you… so fucking beautiful.”

each praise goes straight to your pussy, making you clenching around him which causes miguel to groan. you’re extra sensitive so the praises hit different than usual, feeling more shy and vulnerable.

“m-miguel~” you arch your back.

“sí, hermosa. doing so good, baby~” miguel groans and throws his head back against the pillow as you continue riding him. relishing the sensation of your sweet pussy squeezing the fuck out of his cock.

he keeps his hands on your rest so he can do most of the movement, despite you wanting control. even though he’s deep in a state of ecstasy, miguel is still attentive to your wellbeing and makes sure you don’t accidentally harm yourself due to your pregnancy. the moment you feel discomfort, he’s stopping. however, you seem to be in a deep state of ecstasy too considering your pitchy moans and furrowed brows of pleasure. such a pretty sight.

“miguel, miguel, miguel.” a mantra of his name.

“ay mi amor~ so fucking good.”

the lovemaking process increases intensely. each thrust, the tip of miguel’s cock kissing your sweet spot, his thumb flicking your clit. you release another loud moan, coming for the third time. jesus, that is the most orgasms you’ve experienced and it all thanks to miguel. speaking of him, miguel soon follows and releases his thick seed deep in your pussy with a groan of your name. if it was possible, you would’ve made another baby. your hips finally come to a stop while indulging in your high, utterly fucked out. miguel’s hands give them gentle rubs. noticing how exhausted you are, miguel lays you down on the bed after pulling out and you come off top of him. calloused hands slowly guide you down until your back meets the mattress.

“you okay?” your boyfriend asks, caressing your cheek. “both of you?”

“mhm, we’re fine.” you hum, exhausted.

miguel leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead, making you smile droopingly. reaching from the nightstand, he grabs the prepared water bottle and brings it up to your lips once you’re sit up, with his hand on your back as support.

“más, preciosa. we pushed your limits tonight.” he encouraged, feeling a bit dissatisfied with the little water amount you drank. you came three times tonight, that exceeds your usual count.

you obliged and drink more water, relishing the refreshment to cool down your body. once you finished and miguel was more satisfied with the amount, you hand the bottle to him and he drinks.

“let’s get you washed up, amor.”

“but i don’t wanna get uuuup.” you whine, flashing that cute pout miguel adores.

“mamí, you know you hate not taking a shower before bed and you won’t stop complaining about feeling dirty until you do.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, arching a brow.

you sigh grumpily. “true… okay, fine.”

“don’t worry, i’ll carry you.” he smiles before setting down the water bottle and carefully scoops you up in his arms, heading to the bathroom.

you and miguel indulge in a relaxing bath together. well, your second bath but with miguel this time. your back rests against his chest, eyes closed while relishing the warm water and his body heat. his calloused hands rub gentle circles on your belly. a quiet, relaxing moment with the man you love.

“¿estas bien, hermosa?” he whispers.

you hum contently. “yeah, just perfect.”

he smiles and presses a kiss on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “i’m glad.”

instinctively, you lean into his embrace and softly sigh. “thank you for everything tonight… the talk and mind-blowing sex but really the talk, i really needed that. the hormones can be a bitch sometimes.”

miguel softly chuckles at that. “i understand and of course, bebita. i’ll always worship you and love you no matter what.” he raises a hand and gently turns your chin so you can meet his eyes, brown pools of adoration. “té quiero tanto, mi reina. siempre.”

his sincere words of adoration melts your heart. faint tears begin prickling in your eyes but you blink them away. “té quiero, miguel.” cupping his cheek, your lips collide in a soft, passionate kiss.

after a moment of basking in each other’s presence in silence, miguel begins washing you. a happy sigh escapes your lips as his fingers gently scratch your scale covered in shampoo. after rinsing your hair with the nozzle, miguel grabs the loofah with soap and begins lathering your body ever so gently. his eyes admire every inch of your body. from every detail of your angelic face, eyes, lashes, lips, other facial features. to your chest, swollen belly, hips, thighs, legs. everything about you is perfect.

his perfect little angel.

his loving stare makes you look away shyly, feel heat rising in your cheeks and heart beating rapidly in your chest like a drum. even though he has seen your body before, he still makes you shy.

miguel noticed, softly chuckling. “¿qué?”

“don’t look at me like at.”

“i can’t admire the woman i love?” a smirk on his lips.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “estas loco.”

“para ti, sí.”

oh my god- this man. he’s just so… ugh!

once he washed your body and rinsed you off, you do the same with him, despite his many objections. after treating you with adoration and pleasure, it’s only fair to wash him. besides, you love washing his hair, feeling those soft brown curls through your fingers and gently scratching his scale with your nails just the way he likes it. you also love peppering kisses over his face while washing his hair, you get to see that pretty smile of his, a sight you love.

once you washed him and he rinsed off the remaining soap in the tub, you two finally get out. miguel steps out first to grab your towel and gently drys you off before wrapping it around you and help you step out of the tub. with a towel wrapped around his hips, very low by the way, miguel helps you slip into fresh panties and a different nightgown. he then applies lotion on your skin. calloused hands rubbing amongst your skin, lips pressing soft kisses on each area he applied lotion on, whispering endless praises of love. just the way you like it.

while drying out your hair with your towel, miguel dresses himself in a red flannel sweats and applies lotion on himself as well. your eyes can’t stop lingering on his body and the flexing of his muscles as he maneuvers around. wet streaks of hair sticked to his forehead, the sliver dog tags adorned around his neck shimmering in the light.

he’s so pretty, dreamlike.

after miguel brushed your hair and you both brushed your teeth, he carries you back to bed. oh he’s so giving you princess treatment right now but you love it. plus, you know he loves carrying you to have you in his arms and to show off his strength. even though you’re lighter than a feather (no matter what, the man is a tank and can carry anyone any size).

once rested comfortably in the sheets, you snuggle up in miguel’s arms that are wrapped around you protectively. his broad chest against your back, his hands caressing your swollen tummy. that triggers another faint kick from the baby.

“she says goodnight.” you smile.

leaning towards your belly, miguel plants a soft kiss on top. “buenas noches, mi princesa.” he whispers sweetly then lays back down and embraces you, kissing your temple. “buenas noches, mi reina.”

“buenas noches, bebito.”

after a beautiful evening, you and miguel sleep peacefully in each other’s arms. his hand on your belly never left throughout the night.

꣖　𝓣ags. ♡ྀིྀི　꣓⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ꣖　if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why　꣓

#⠀⠀૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა⠀˚⠀.⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀ ྀ⠀.⠀♡⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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